Daniele Barbaro’s

Vitruvius
of 1567
Translated and Annotated
by Kim Williams
Kim Williams
Editor

Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius

of 1567
Editor
Kim Williams
Kim Williams Books
Torino, Italy

Forewords by
Branko Mitrović Robert Tavernor
Department of Architecture and Technology Tavernor Consultancy
Norwegian University of Science and Technology London, UK
Trondheim, Norway

Translated and Annotated by Kim Williams

Book design and layout: Felicita Bertiero, Zazì, Torino www.zazigrafica.it

ISBN 978-3-030-04042-0 ISBN 978-3-030-04043-7 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019

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 Contents

Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory............................................................................. xi

Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body............................... xxxix
Kim Williams, Translator’s Note.................................................................................................................................. lxxiii
Acknowledgements..................................................................................................................................................................... cii

Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Daniele Barbaro, Dedication to Ippolito II d’Este................................................................................... 3
Francesco de Franceschi Sanesi, To the Readers............................................................................................ 5

Book I....................................................................................................................................................................................................... 9
Life of M. Vitruvius..................................................................................................................................................... 10
Preface..................................................................................................................................................................................... 12
[Chap. I On the training of architects].......................................................................................................... 19
Chap. II. The things of which architecture is composed................................................................. 53
Chap. III. On the parts of architecture......................................................................................................... 71
Chap. IV. On the selection of healthy places and the things that are
noxious to health............................................................................................................................................................. 78
Chap. V. On the foundation of [city] walls and towers..................................................................... 83
Chap. VI. On the division of the works that are inside the walls,
and on the disposition of those to avoid the noxious gusts of the winds............................. 95
Chap. VII. On the selection of places for common use in the city........................................114

Book II................................................................................................................................................................................................117
Preface...................................................................................................................................................................................117
Chap. I. On the life of ancient men, and of the beginnings of human life,
and of houses and their development........................................................................................................... 121
Chap. II. On the principles of things according to the philosopherss................................ 127
Chap. III. On bricks................................................................................................................................................. 131
Chap. IV. On sand...................................................................................................................................................... 137
Chap. V. On lime and how to make it into a paste............................................................................ 139
Chap. VI. On pozzolana.........................................................................................................................................141
Chap. VII. On the places where stone is cut.......................................................................................... 143
Chap. VIII. On the manners of building walls and their qualities,
ways and places.............................................................................................................................................................. 146
Chap. IX. On cutting timber............................................................................................................................. 160
Chap. X. On highland and lowland fir, with the description
of the Apennines.......................................................................................................................................................... 169

v
vi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Book III............................................................................................................................................................................................ 171

Preface.................................................................................................................................................................................. 171
Chap. I. On the compositions and compartitions of temples,
and on the measure of the human body..................................................................................................... 196
Chap. II. On the five species of temples.................................................................................................... 220
Chap. III. On foundations, columns and their ornaments,
and architraves, in locations solid, shifting and clotted................................................................. 232
Book IV............................................................................................................................................................................................. 271
Preface................................................................................................................................................................................ 271
Chap. I. On three manners of columns, their origins and inventions.............................. 273
Chap. II. On the ornaments of columns.................................................................................................. 280
Chap. III. On the Doric rationale................................................................................................................ 287
Chap. IV. On the distribution inside the cellae and the pronaos......................................... 296
Chap. V. On making temples according to regions......................................................................... 301
Chap. VI. On the rationales of the doors and frames of temples......................................... 302
Chap. VII. On the Tuscan rationales of sacred temples...............................................................317
Chap. VIII. On ordering the altars of the gods................................................................................. 329
Book V................................................................................................................................................................................................ 333
Preface................................................................................................................................................................................ 334
Chap. I. On the forum........................................................................................................................................... 340
Chap. II. On the aerarium, prison and curia: how they are to be ordered.................... 358
Chap. III. On the theatre.................................................................................................................................... 361
Chap. IV. On harmony.......................................................................................................................................... 369
Chap. V. On the vases of the theatre.......................................................................................................... 401
Chap. VI. On the conformation of the theatre.................................................................................. 408
Chap. VII. On the roof of the portico of the theatre......................................................................414
Chap. VIII. On three sorts of scaenae...................................................................................................... 420
Chap. IX. On the porticos behind the scaena and the ambulatories................................. 427
Chap. X. On the disposition and parts of baths................................................................................ 430
Chap. XI. On the building of palaestrae and xysti.......................................................................... 435
Chap. XII. On harbours, and on building in waters...................................................................... 438
Book VI............................................................................................................................................................................................. 445
Preface................................................................................................................................................................................ 445
Chap. I. On various qualities of countries and the various aspects
of the sky according to which buildings must be disposed........................................................ 449
Chap. I [recte II]. On the measures and proportions of private buildings.................... 454
Chap. III. On the cavaedia of houses......................................................................................................... 457
Chap. IV. On atria, to tablina.......................................................................................................................... 463
Chap. V. On triclinia, rooms, exedrae, libraries and their measures................................. 475
Contents vii

Chap. VI. On halls in the Greek manner............................................................................................... 477

Chap. VII. The part of the sky that buildings must face in order
to be useful and healthful.................................................................................................................................... 479
Chap. VIII. On sites proper to private and public buildings,
and the manners suited to every rank of person................................................................................. 480
Chap. IX. On the rationales of rustic edifices, and distinctions of many
of their parts.................................................................................................................................................................. 483
Chap. X. On the dispositions of buildings and their parts according
to the Greeks, and on the names that are different and very far from
the customs of Italy.................................................................................................................................................. 487
Chap. XI. On the solidity and foundations of buildings............................................................ 494
Book VII.......................................................................................................................................................................................... 499
Preface................................................................................................................................................................................ 499
Chap. I. On rubble pavements......................................................................................................................... 505
Chap. II. On steeping lime for applying marmorino to walls..................................................511
Chap. III. On the disposition of vaults, and how to cover the walls................................. 512
Chap. IV. On finishing in damp places.....................................................................................................519
Chap. V. On the rationale of painting in buildings........................................................................ 521
Chap. VI. How to prepare marble for finishes.................................................................................... 526
Chap. VII. On colours, and first ochre..................................................................................................... 526
Chap. VIII. On the rationales of minium.............................................................................................. 528
Chap. IX. On the temperament of minium.......................................................................................... 529
Chap. X. On artificial colours.......................................................................................................................... 530
Chap. XI. On the tempers of cerulean...................................................................................................... 531
Chap. XII. How to make ceruse, verdigris and sandarac........................................................... 531
Chap. XIII. How to make marine purple, the most excellent
of all artificial colours............................................................................................................................................. 532
Chap. XIV. On purple colours........................................................................................................................ 533
Book VIII........................................................................................................................................................................................ 535
Preface................................................................................................................................................................................ 535
Chap. I. On the discovery of water.............................................................................................................. 537
Chap. II. On rainwater.......................................................................................................................................... 541
Chap. III. On warm waters, the powers they derive from diverse metals,
whence they spring, and the nature of various springs, lakes and rivers..........................552
Chap. IV. On the properties of some places and springs............................................................ 559
Chap. V. On testing water.................................................................................................................................. 561
Chap. VI. On conducting and levelling water, and the instruments suitable
for those effects............................................................................................................................................................ 561
Chap. VII. The ways of conducting water.............................................................................................. 564
viii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Book IX............................................................................................................................................................................................. 569

Preface................................................................................................................................................................................ 569
Chap. I. The method discovered by Plato for measuring a field of land.......................... 572
Chap. II. On the set square, the invention of Pythagoras for forming
the right angle...............................................................................................................................................................574
Chap. III. How to know the portion of silver mixed with gold
in a finished work....................................................................................................................................................... 579
Chap. IV. On the rationales of gnomons found from the shadows of the rays
of the sun; on the world; on the planets................................................................................................... 604
Chap. V. On the course of the sun through the twelve signs.................................................. 640
Chap. VI. On the constellations in the northern region............................................................. 649
Chap. VII. On the stars that are from the zodiac to the south.............................................. 659
Chap. VIII. On the rationales of sundials and the shadows of gnomons
at the time of the equinox in Rome and some other places....................................................... 663
Chap. IX. On the rationale of sundials, their use, invention, and inventors............... 709
Book X................................................................................................................................................................................................ 727
Preface................................................................................................................................................................................ 727
Chap. I. On what machine is, how it differs from instrument,
and on its origin and necessities..................................................................................................................... 734
Chap. II. On the tractive machines of sacred temples and public works........................ 739
Chap. III. On diverse names of machines and how they are erected.................................743
Chap. IV. On a machine similar to that explained above with which greater
things are done by merely changing the windlass into a drum...............................................745
Chap. V. On another sort of machine for pulling............................................................................. 748
Chap. VI. On an ingenious rationale of Ctesiphon
for transporting weights....................................................................................................................................... 752
Chap. VII. How the stone quarry was found, from which the Ephesian
Temple of Diana was built.................................................................................................................................. 753
Chap. VIII. On the straight and circular motions that are required
to lift weights................................................................................................................................................................ 754
Chap. IX. On the sorts of instruments for raising water, and first
the water wheel............................................................................................................................................................ 770
Chap. X. On the wheels and drums for milling flour................................................................... 774
Chap. XI. On the screw that raises great quantities of water,
but not very high........................................................................................................................................................ 776
Chap. XII. On the machine made by Ctesibius that raises water very high................ 779
Chap. XIII. On the hydraulic machines used to make organs............................................... 782
Chap. XIV. The rationale for measuring a journey made by carriage
or by ship.......................................................................................................................................................................... 789
Chap. XV. On the rationales of catapults and scorpions............................................................. 793
Chap. XVI. On the rationales of ballistae.............................................................................................. 797
Contents ix

Chap. XVII. On the proportions of the stones that must be thrown

to the hole of the ballista...................................................................................................................................... 798
Chap. XVIII. On the tempering and loading of ballistae and catapults........................ 799
Chap. XIX. On things for assailing and defending, and first
on the invention of the ram and its machine........................................................................................ 800
Chap. XX. On the apparatus of the tortoise for ditches.............................................................. 802
Chap. XXI. On other tortoises....................................................................................................................... 803
Chap. XXII. The peroration of the entire work................................................................................. 805

References....................................................................................................................................................................................... 809
Index of Names and Places.............................................................................................................................................. 829
Index of Subjects....................................................................................................................................................................... 834
 Foreword

Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory

Branko Mitrović

Daniele Barbaro’s translation of and commentary on Vitruvius’s De architec-

tura is one of the highest achievements of Renaissance Vitruvian exegesis.1
The author was one of the most prominent Venetian intellectuals of the era,
the Patriarch-elect of Aquileia, a participant of the Council of Trent, a pa-
tron of Andrea Palladio and Paolo Veronese, as well as the author of a com-
mentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric, a study on Porphyry’s Isagoge, and a treatise
on perspective.2 Barbaro’s work on Vitruvius concluded the hundred-and-
fifty-year quest of Renaissance scholars and architects to understand and
interpret the work of the ancient Roman architectural theorist. Vitruvius’s
text presented its Renaissance readers with numerous difficulties: the origi-
nal text needed to be reconstructed from manuscripts in which scribes’ errors
abounded; illustrations that were crucial for the understanding of important
sections of the text were missing and had to be reconstructed; Greek ter-
minology that Vitruvius used needed to be interpreted. But these are only
details; more fundamentally, Vitruvius’s presentation of many topics relied
on knowledge of both science and ancient Roman technology that required
a polymath of massive learning and competence in order to cover the wide
range of the topics discussed in the treatise. Barbaro was, indeed, a rare man
in his era who could achieve such a synthesis.
At the same time, Barbaro’s commentary, together with the Italian
translation on which it relies, is not merely the most comprehensive Re-
naissance presentation of Vitruvius’s views and an exceptionally valuable
document about the Renaissance reception of Roman (and Greek) scientific
1 
First edition: Barbaro (1556); second edition: Barbaro (1567); Latin edition: Barbaro
(1567 Lat.).
2 
Respectively Barbaro (1544; 1542a; 1568).

xi
xii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

knowledge and technology. It is also a comprehensive statement of his own

views on architectural theory. Barbaro’s extensive explanations far exceed
the content of Vitruvius’s treatise and constitute a system of architectural
theory in their own right.

Daniele Barbaro and his worldview

Daniele Matteo Alvise Barbaro was born in 1514 and died in 1570.3 The
Barbaro family belonged to high Venetian nobility and had produced, in the
preceding century, a number of prominent humanists including Daniele’s
granduncle Hermolao Barbaro (1454-1493).4 Daniele’s own biography was
not particularly eventful: as appropriate for a scion of Venetian nobility, he
studied at the University of Padua, where he received his doctorate in 1540.
In the ten years that followed he held a number of appointments in the ad-
ministrative apparatus of the Serenissima, including the post of the Venetian
Ambassador to the King of England from April 1549 to March 1551. In 1550
he was appointed to the position of Patriarch-elect of Aquileia. The Patriar-
chate of Aquileia had great strategic importance for the Venetian Republic,
which took care that, in case of the death of a Patriarch, a pre-appointed
Venetian Patriarch-elect was ready to succeed to the post. Barbaro held this
position until his death. The ecclesiastical appointment precluded any other
appointments in the state apparatus; since the actual Patriarch Giovanni
Grimani was in charge of the Patriarchate itself, Barbaro’s only job was to
wait for the Grimani to die. (As it eventually turned out, Grimani died
twenty-three years after Barbaro.) The appointment thus provided otium and
optimal conditions for independent intellectual work; the commentary on
Vitruvius is one of its fruits. Barbaro did not, however, withdraw from public
life. During the last twenty years of his life he actively promoted a number
of prominent artists; his collaboration with Palladio was particularly close
and has attracted much attention from architectural historians in the past.
Palladio designed the Villa Barbaro in Maser for Daniele and his brother
Marcantonio and contributed illustrations to the commentary on Vitruvius.
In many ways, Barbaro became the intellectual mentor of Palladio after the
death of Giangiorgio Trissino. In the capacity of the Patriarch-elect, Barba-
ro was an active participant of the Council of Trent. Barbaro was certainly
a very ardent Catholic—at least Pope Pius V, who knew Barbaro personally,
had no doubts about this, since twice he offered him the position of cardinal.
3 
For Barbaro’s biography see Lavin (1957).
4 
For more about Hermolao Barbaro see Bici (1964).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xiii

A less appealing aspect of Barbaro’s biography is his willing collaboration

with the Roman Inquisition, which went far beyond what was required or
expected from a Venetian priest at the time.5
Barbaro’s understanding of Vitruvius and his theoretical positioning
must be understood in the context of the philosophical worldview that he
received during his education at the university in Padua. The Paduan univer-
sity was a major center of Aristotelianism during the era and Paduan philo-
sophical debates implicitly and sometimes explicitly filter into the positions
in architectural theory that he takes and formulates. Paduan Aristotelianism
hugely affected Barbaro’s worldview and he was remembered for his state-
ment that had he not been Christian, he would have sworn on the words of
Aristotle.6 The form of this worldview we can best gauge from his Exquisitae
in Porphirium commentationes, a commentary on Porphyry’s Isagoge published
by Barbaro in 1542, when he was twenty-eight and two years after complet-
ing his doctorate from the university. Barbaro’s philosophical works belong
to his life in Padua, and it is possible that as a young man he had considerable
philosophical ambitions. In addition to the commentary on Porphyry, the
published works from that period of his life include the dialogue Della Elo-
quenza and the commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric.7 He also edited two com-
pendia by his granduncle Hermolao Barbaro on ethics and natural science,8
and we know from Paolo Manutio’s preface to Exquisitae commentationes that
he made a translation of Hermogenes’ Ideas; that translation and a study in
logic by Hermolao Barbaro were in preparation for publication in 1542 but
were never published.
Among Barbaro’s writings, his Exquisitae commentationes comes clos-
est to a real philosophical work. While the ideas he presented can hardly
be qualified as original, they can be taken to illustrate the philosophical
education students received in Padua at the time. Porphyry’s Isagoge cir-
culated widely through the Middle Ages as well as in the Renaissance, as
demonstrated by the eighteen printed editions of the book that were already

5 
In 1566 Guido da Fano was arrested for heresy by the Venetian authorities and then sent
for trial to Rome, following the intervention of Daniele Barbaro. The Roman Inquisition
regarded this as a great service since the Serenissima was reluctant to send anyone arrested
for heresy for a trial in Rome. See Paschini (1959, p. 131).
6 
The statement is recorded in Thou (1620, vol. 2, p. 615). For the impact of Paduan
Aristotelianism on Barbaro’s commentary on Vitruvius, see Mitrović (1998).
7 
Respectively Barbaro (1557; 1544).
8 
H. Barbaro (1544; 1548).
xiv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

available before 1500.9 The book was often regarded as a commentary on

Aristotle’s Categories, though it does not discuss the categories stipulated by
Aristotle, but rather quinque voces (genus, differentia, species, proprium and
accident) which resemble Aristotle’s list of predicables (genus, differentia,
definition, proprium and accident).10 Barbaro’s book is not a proper com-
mentary on Porphyry’s Isagoge; rather, it strives to place Porphyry’s theory of
quinque voces in the context of Aristotelian psychology. It is better described
as an introduction to Porphyry’s Isagoge than a genuine commentary. It con-
sists of sixteen commentationes, only the last six of which deal with Porphyry’s
quinque voces. The first two commentationes discuss psychology; the next four,
epistemology and the cognitive powers of the soul; the seventh and eighth,
scientific methodology; the ninth, dialectics; and the tenth, the problem of
universals. They can be read as a general survey of Aristotelian philosophy
as taught in Padua in Barbaro’s days. The section that actually deals with the
content of Porphyry’s Isagoge offers hardly anything more than a reformu-
lation of Porphyry’s explanations. The interesting part is thus the opening
section about the soul and its functioning (commentationes 1–5) in which the
discussion follows Aristotle’s account in De anima, whereby individual com-
mentationes discuss the division of the soul, the senses, the imagination, and
the intellect. The discussion is not particularly technical and Barbaro merely
provides a popular survey of Aristotelian cognitive psychology. The value of
the exercise, however, is in Barbaro’s effort to connect these psychological
considerations about the functioning of the human mind with Porphyry’s
description of the logical structure of human thought. Commentationes Sev-
en, Eight and Nine, about the system of sciences, dialectics, and universals
are meant to achieve this. The crucial moment in human cognition is the
extraction of the universal from a phantasm and this occurs, following the
standard Aristotelian description, through the functioning of the passive
and the intervention of the active intellect.11 The theory of universals that
he presents is fully Platonist (he postulates their immaterial existence) and
there seems to be no concern about the compatibility of such an inflationary
ontology with the Aristotelian worldview.12

9 
See Bochenski (1963, p. 104) and Schmitt and Skinner (1992, p. 788).
10 
For a modern publication of Porphyry’s original text, Porphiry (2004). See also Porphiry
(1975, pp. 11-12). The list of predicables according to Aristotle is not identical with Porphiry’s
quinque voces ; see Bidez (1923) and Evangeliu (1985).
11 
Barbaro (1542a, Nii3-4).
12 
Barbaro (1542a, Nii5).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xv

Architecture as a habitus
Aristotelian psychology also constitutes the backbone of Barbaro’s archi-
tectural system. It is with the introduction of the Aristotelian concept of
‘habitual intellect’ into the understanding of architecture that Barbaro opens
the theoretical discussions in the commentary on Vitruvius.13 A habito (or
abito, as it is sometimes written), the Italian term that Barbaro used for the
scholastic habitus, may be rendered in English as ‘habit’—as it is in this pres-
ent translation—but one should not forget that it is a technical term. As
Barbaro explains, it is a quality that can be removed from the mind only with
difficulty; it includes any science, art, virtue, or vice. Some habiti belong to
the intellect, others to will; among the former, some lead to truth (such as
science), others to error (ignorance). Science, for instance, pertains to neces-
sary truths while art is among the habits that pertain to contingent truths.
Among contingent truths, those that pertain to social interaction are called
prudence (for instance, the work of lawyers, orators); others produce utility
and commodity, and this is art. Art is thus a habito of the mind. It uses rules
and reasons in order to produce things useful for life. Barbaro uses the Ital-
ian term arte the way it was used in the Renaissance, as a rational activity
useful to humans. On this account architecture is classified together with
navigation, medicine, agriculture, painting, and sculpture. (This is the clas-
sification that he states and justifies, but he is not consistent in this classifica-
tion and we shall see that occasionally he talks about it as a science as well.)
Barbaro’s systematization of human activities presented in the open-
ing of his commentary on Vitruvius is coherent; nevertheless, the idea of
describing the entire spectrum of human activities as a system of ‘habits’ is
likely to strike a modern reader as unusual. At the same time, the under-
standing that the arts are habiti is a Renaissance commonplace. In a lecture
read to the Accademia Fiorentina in 1547 Benedetto Varchi (whom Barbaro
may have known from his time in Padua) defined art as abito intellettivo,
‘habit of the intellect’, and related this view to Aristotle.14
The concept of the habitual intellect on which the understanding of arts
as habiti is based has a long history in the Aristotelian tradition, though it
13 
See Barbaro (1567, pp. 2-4). This and all the references that follow in bold red characters
are cross-referenced to the page numbers indicated in bold red characters in this present
edition of Barbaro’s translation and commentary of Vitruvius.
14 
See Varchi (1549). Benedetto Varchi, ‘Lezzione...nella quale si disputa della maggioranza
delle arti’, read to the Academy of Florence in 1547 and printed for the first time in Florence
in 1549 together with Varchi’s lecture about Michelangelo’s sonnet ‘Non ha l’ottimo artista
alcun concetto’.
xvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

is not properly Aristotle’s own. The concept appeared already in the work of
Alexander of Aphrodisias15 and subsequently played an important role in
medieval and Renaissance commentaries on Aristotle’s De anima. Accord-
ing to the standard Aristotelian account, human cognition starts with sens-
es; the information that senses obtain is combined together in a part of the
soul that is called the common sense and this combined information enables
the imagination to form the phantasm of the object perceived. It is from this
phantasm that the intellect extracts the essence of the thing perceived—in
other words, realizes what the thing is. Intellect itself, on Aristotle’s account,
has passive and active parts. The passive intellect has no other characteristic
but the ability to receive, while the active intellect enables the extraction of
the essence of the thing observed; Aristotle compared this process with the
way light makes actually visible the colors that are potentially visible.16 The
active (agent) intellect comes from outside—it is separable from and un-
mixed with the body and consequently immortal—whereas the nature of the
passive intellect and its immortality remained widely discussed throughout
the history of the Aristotelian tradition. Also, following this scheme, the
passive intellect would constantly require external intervention in order to
think, while it is reasonable to assume that it can still think at will, especially
on the basis of previous experiences.17 As Aquinas put it, before learning,
potential intellect is like a tablet on which nothing has been written but,
after it learns, it becomes actual in accordance with the habit of science, and
this enables it to work on its own.18 The passive intellect that has acquired
this ability to recognize previous situations and has the skill to reapply pre-
vious knowledge is the habitual intellect.
Considering that the operations of the habitual intellect are based on
previous experience, it is not surprising that Barbaro insisted that art is born
from experience. Experience comes about through numerous repeated ob-
servations of similar things, he says.19 He also pointed out that art is not
reducible to experience; it is closer to knowledge, because it understands
causes and reasons of things:

15 
Alexander of Aphrodisias, Anima §85.
16 
For Aristotle’s account of the intellect see De anima 429a10-430a25.
17 
See, for instance, the discussion of the habitual intellect in Davidson (1986, esp. p. 91)
and Papadis (1991).
18 
St Thomas Aquinas, De unitate intellectus contra Averroistas §§89-90.
19 
Barbaro (1567, p. 4)
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xvii

[E]xperience is the principle for discovering the arts, yet it is not

part of any art. Thus the things subjected to the senses are not the
principles of the arts, but are an occasion, as can be clearly seen.
Even though the principle of art is universal and not subject to
human senses, it is found by means of the senses … art is greater
and worth more than experience, because it is closer to knowledge,
understanding the causes and rationales of things, where experi-
ence works without rationale. It follows that the intelligent maker
is more ready to resolve and give account of the things than the
simple, even expert one. Thus art is closer to wisdom, which is the
most noble habit. 20
Arts are weak in the early stages of their development, but gain strength over
time. Early inventors have few universal insights; their short lives give them
no time to gain enough experience. Nevertheless, they leave their discoveries
to posterity. Similar emphasis on the accumulation of knowledge is to be
found in Barbaro’s other writings too; it is strongly stressed in Exquisitae
commentationes, where it is explained as a combination of memory and the
capacity to connect and collate similar things.21
In the commentary on Vitruvius, the emphasis on experience then pro-
vides the basis for the ability to judge which is, according to Barbaro, the
differentia specifica of architecture. The architect is not a carpenter or a ma-
son, but the head of all these professions, so that the dignity of architecture
appears to be close to that of wisdom, because only an architect under-
stands the reasons of things.22 An orator is distinguished by the capacity to
convince; a medical doctor by the ability to cure. An architect, however, is
distinguished by the ability to judge and approve the works of other arts.23
The capacity to judge is an excellent ability, Barbaro says, that only wise
and prudent men possess.24 To be able to judge and approve of the works
20 
Barbaro (1567, p. 4): la isperienza è principio di ritrovar le arti, & non è parte di alcuna arte;
perche le cose a i sensi sottoposte non sono principij dell’Arti; ma occasione, come chiaramente si vede,
perche il principio dell’Arte è universale, & non sottoposto a i sensi humani, benche per via de’sensi
ritrovato … l’Arte è piu eccellente, & piu degna della isperienza, perche è piu vicina al sapere,
intendendo le cause, & le ragioni delle cose, là dove la isperienza opera senza ragione. Appresso lo
intelligente Artefice è piu pronto a risolvere, & dar conto delle cose, che il semplice, et puro esperto.
La onde l’Arte è alla sapienza, che è habito nobilissimo, piu vicina. This and all other English
translations of quotations from Barbaro (1567) are by Kim Williams.
21 
Barbaro (1542a, A1).
22 
Barbaro (1567, p. 7).
23 
Barbaro (1567, p. 7).
24 
Barbaro (1567, p. 7).
xviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of mortals is an act of a superior virtue towards to an inferior one.25 Few

achieve this ability, which is the final aim in architecture.26 From this there
follows the definition of an architect:
The architect is the one who, by dint of certain and wonderful ra-
tionale and method, both with the faculties and with the mind,
knows how to determine—with teaching and with working—and
lead to conclusion those things which, through the movement of
weights, the compartition of bodies, and the composition of the
works, commend themselves to the benefit of men.27

Imitation
The fact that architecture is counted as an art raises the question about the
role of imitation in architecture. The belief that the arts should imitate na-
ture, was, of course, another commonplace during the Renaissance.28 Bar-
baro’s writings are no exception; his commentary on Vitruvius’s Books III
and IV, for instance, is full of statements about the imitative origin of the
elements of the classical orders. Barbaro thus states that echinus signifies
the chestnut husk;29 that volutes imitate a woman’s hair;30 that guttae below
triglyphs imitate drops of water; that triglyphs stand for the projections of
beams;31 that the fluting of the column imitates a woman’s skirt.32 Similarly,
in Book VII Vitruvius was highly critical of those paintings that represent
things that were not or could not have existed—a criticism that Barba-
ro endorsed in his commentary.33 At the same time, imitation introduces
theoretical problems in the discussion of art or architecture; theorists who
rely on imitation need to explain what is achieved by imitation and what
kind of objects should be imitated. For instance, does the fact that guttae
imitate drops of water contribute to their beauty or elegance? Or is their

25 
Barbaro (1567, p. 8).
26 
Barbaro (1567, p. 8).
27 
Barbaro (1567, p. 7): Architetto eßer colui, che per certa, & merauigliosa ragione, & uia sì
con la mente, & con l’animo sa determinare, come con lo insegnare, & con l’opera condurre à fine
quelle cose, che dal mouimento de i pesi dal compartimento de i corpi, & dalla compositione delle
opere à beneficio degli huomini saranno commandate.
28 
See Battisti (1960). See also Battisti (1956).
29 
Barbaro (1567, p. 145).
30 
Barbaro (1567, p. 149).
31 
Barbaro (1567, p. 145).
32 
Barbaro (1567, p. 160).
33 
Vitruvius VII.V.4; Barbaro (1567, p. 321).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xix

beauty independent of such associations, which merely report of the origin

of shapes? The variety of answers that can be given suggest that it is better
to talk about different imitative theories than about one imitative theory of
the arts. Also, it is more meaningful to talk about imitation when it comes
to painting and sculpture—paintings and sculptures may be said to be made
in order to convey what things look like—whereas imitation in architecture
is a much more problematic idea.
Barbaro’s discussion of imitation, however, is only marginally concerned
with the replication of forms or even stories about the origin of the shapes
of architectural elements. His theory of imitation—more precisely, what he
means by ‘imitation’—is part of a much more comprehensive metaphysical
perspective. Art imitates nature, he says, because:
[T]he principle of art, which is the human intellect, has a great
resemblance to the principle that moves nature, which is an in-
telligence. From the resemblance to the virtues and the principles
is born the resemblance in operating, which for now we will call
imitation. This imitation is seen in all the arts, but much more so in
that which is the judge of all. We thus imitate nature in the treat-
ment of that art. Hence architecture—that is, the science—declares
the material, the form, and the composition of the works. Imitating
nature by dint of the hidden virtue of its principle, it proceeds from
the things that are less perfect to those that are more perfect. …
Because the principle that governs nature is of infinite, optimum
and all-powerful wisdom, it makes its things beautiful, useful, and
durable. Appropriately, the architect, imitating the maker of na-
ture, must regard the beauty, utility, and firmness of the works.34
Since the principle that rules nature is an infinitely good, wise, and powerful
intelligence, and makes things beautiful, durable, and useful, the architect
should do so as well.35 The concept of imitation that he has in mind thus

34 
Barbaro (1567, p. 37): lo intelletto humano, ha gran simiglianza col principio, che muove la
natura, che è una intelligenza dalla simiglianza delle virtù, & de i principii nasce la simiglianza
dell’operare, che per hora chiameremo imitatione. Questa imitatione si uede in tutte le Arti, ma
molto maggiormente in quella che è giudice di tutte. imitaremo adunque la natura nel trattamento
dell’Arte. La dove l’Architettura cioè la scienza dichiara la materia, la forma, & la compositione
delle opere, & imitando la natura per l’occulta virtù del suo principio, procede dalle cose meno
perfette alle piu perfette....ma perche il principio, che regge la natura, è d’infinita sapienza, ottimo,
& potentissimo, però fa le cose sue belle, utili, & durabili: convenevolmente lo Architetto imitando il
fattor della natura deve riguardare alla belezza, utilità, & fermezza delle opere.
35 
Barbaro (1567, p. 37).
xx Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

pertains to the imitation of divine creation, not shapes of objects that it

generates.
Very similar statements about imitation in the arts are to be found in
other writings of Barbaro’s. In the Exquisitae commentationes one can read
that art imitates nature, while nature itself is led by the wisest mind.36 A par-
ticularly emphatic formulation of this kind of theory is presented in the dia-
logue Della eloquenza, written when he was twenty-two years old.37 The in-
terlocutors in that dialogue are Nature, Art, and Soul. The relation between
Nature and Art is described as the one between mother and daughter.38 Art
there says that her imitation does not increase the dignity of Nature, just as
ants do not become more dignified because men imitate them when prepar-
ing for winter.39 Rather, Art’s industriousness increases Nature’s poor inher-
itance.40 Nature’s response is that every work presupposes a subject without
which nothing can be done; and this subject proceeds from Nature.41 But
Art responds that Nature herself did not exist from the beginning, and that
she is not only Art’s mother but also a daughter of the powerful, wise and
good Creator.42 She has always marveled at the occulta virtù (hidden virtue)
by which Nature is so gently governed. Considering that it is the job of Art
to discuss, order and complete things that have been foreseen, Art infers that
she is older than Nature and must have been originally in Heaven with the
Father before Nature, and participated in the creation of Nature.43 Nature
responds to this argument by saying that the way the Father created things
differs both from her own or Art’s way of operating.44
The understanding of imitation on which Barbaro relies thus assumes
that when art imitates the divine works present in nature, she also imitates
the divine process of ordering the world—or, in other words, when an artist
imitates the works of God present in Nature, the artist repeats the steps of
the divine process of ordering the World. Obviously, there are limits. One

36 
Barbaro (1452, Hii5).
37 
Barbaro (1557). There are different views about the dating of the dialogue. For the
discussion of the problem, as well as an analysis of the content in relation to Hermogenes’
Ideas see Girardi and Signori (1997).
38 
Barbaro (1557, p. 1).
39 
Barbaro (1557, p. 1).
40 
Barbaro (1557, p. 1).
41 
Barbaro (1557, p. 2).
42 
Barbaro (1557, p. 2).
43 
Barbaro (1557, p. 2).
44 
Barbaro (1557, p. 2).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxi

cannot talk about the imitation of the divine creative process in the sense
of creation ex nihilo. In the commentary on Vitruvius Barbaro observes that
the Creator of the world created matter from nothing. Nature cannot do this
and insofar as she wants to be similar to its Creator, she ‘takes the material
that has one being, without form, but with the power and ability to receive
all form’.45

Music
It is the use of proportions, and especially proportions that correspond to mu-
sical intervals that provides the link, from Barbaro’s point of view, between
architecture and divine creation. He often mentions that the ratios equiv-
alent to pleasant musical intervals are pleasing to the eyes as well. While
discussing the dispositions of columns on temple fronts, he observes that the
various ways in which they are perceived (and especially intercolumniations)
produce various effects, such as sweetness, beauty, grandeur or severity, the
way musical intervals do as well. This is because ‘that which is consonance
for the ears is beauty for the eyes’.46 The same proportion, he points out, that
exists between spaces and between bodies is the one that exists between
sounds, when these spaces and bodies can produce sounds.47 Once the ar-
chitect considers everything that makes a thing beautiful, Barbaro says else-
where, the architect will notice that those proportions that produce delight
in the ears delight the eyes as well.48 This kind of view—that the presence
of the same proportions that generate consonances in music also explains
the beauty of architectural works—can be found in the writings of other
Renaissance authors as well. Andrea Palladio, for instance, pointed out in
his memorandum for the cathedral of Brescia that as proportions between
sounds that produce harmony for the ears, so too proportions between di-
mensions produce harmony for the eyes.49 Leon Battista Alberti in De re ae-
dificatoria similarly stated that the same numbers that result in proportional
relationships that are pleasant to the ears, also fill the eyes and the mind with
delight.50 Music, in this context, is understood as a much wider concept than

45 
Barbaro (1567, p. 38): piglia quella materia, che ha uno esser, ma senza forma con potenza, &
habilità a ricevere ogni forma.
46 
Barbaro (1567, pp. 124-128): quello, che è consonanza alle orecchie, è belezza a gli occhi.
47 
Barbaro (1567, p. 244).
48 
Barbaro (1567, p. 282).
49 
Magrini (1845, Appendix, p 12).
50 
Alberti (1485, 9.5); (1988, p. 305).
xxii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

what we normally call music today; the word pertains not only to music that
can be heard, but to non-audible music, understood as systems of numerical
ratios that structure the universe. A part of this view is that the musical
proportions and those found in the human body are the same. The view was
widespread in the era and in the commentary on Vitruvius Barbaro cited
Girolamo Cardano’s discussion of the proportions of the human body.51 A
good example of this view is the discussion of the proportions of the hu-
man body in Gian Paolo Lomazzo’s Trattato dell’arte della pittura, scoltura
et architettura.52 Lomazzo’s book was published after Barbaro’s death and
his formulations are often direct paraphrases of Barbaro’s commentary on
Vitruvius, so that his writing can be taken as indicative of sixteenth-century
reception of Barbaro. The equivalence of musical and corporal proportions,
according to Lomazzo, is direct and he expresses the proportions of the body
as equivalents of musical proportions.53
Traditionally, the origin of this type of theorizing is attributed to Py-
thagoras, who is credited for the discovery of the fact that certain musical
intervals can be expressed as arithmetic ratios. For instance, if the ratio be-
tween string lengths is 2:1, the interval between the notes they produce will
be an octave; if in a ratio of 3:2, the interval between the notes will be a fifth;
if 4:3, a fourth, and so on. At the time this discovery was made—possibly
about a century before Plato—it must have been an astonishing one, since it
directly related phenomena from two very different fields, mathematics and
music. In subsequent centuries the Pythagorean tradition added more and
more speculations about the ways numerical relationships that correspond to
musical intervals pervade and determine phenomena in various segments of
the physical world, including, for instance, movements of planets, propor-
tions of bodies, minerals, and so on. The oldest written systematic exposition
of these theories is probably Plato’s Timaeus, but by Plato’s time there must
have existed a considerable, maybe only oral, tradition that motivated the
theories that he presented in the dialogue. Ancient writings on arithme-
tic are heavily permeated with related numerological speculations. Treatises
such as Nicomachus of Gerasa’s Introduction to Arithmetic or Theon of Smyr-
na’s Mathematics Necessary for Understanding Plato rarely contain proofs of the
theorems they expose, and are much more concerned with the numerologi-

51 
Cardano (1550, pp. 217r-218v). For Renaissance discussions of the proportions of the
human body see Zöllner (1987).
52 
Lomazzo (1584).
53 
Lomazzo (1584, p. 40).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxiii

cal qualities of individual numbers; the Theologumena of Pseudo-Iamblichus

does not contain any theorems at all, but only an extensive treatment of the
mystical qualities of different numbers.
In the long-term, the most influential synthesis of this kind of worldview
was the one formulated by Ptolemy. Ptolemy possessed extremely broad sci-
entific knowledge in astronomy, music, and mathematics, and a pronounced
ability to combine this knowledge in a speculative and highly convincing
manner. His Almagest, De musica, and Tetrabiblos remained the foundational
texts of their respective fields until the end in the Renaissance. The first of
these treatises presents Ptolemy’s astronomical theories based on the geo-
centric system; the last is an astrological treatise. For our discussion here, De
musica is particularly important, among other reasons because Barbaro, in
his commentary on Vitruvius’s account of musical theory in Book V, replaced
Vitruvius’s presentation based on Aristoxenus with the one based on Ptole-
my. Ptolemy’s treatise consists of three books and the first two deal with
music in our modern sense—i.e., audible music. Ptolemy’s Book III, how-
ever, is a synthesis of astronomy, astrology, and music, in which he explains
that musical intervals express certain primary relations, whereby everyone
who cares for beauty admires their inner strength and harmony.54 His point
is that everything that is moved by natural laws participates in reason; espe-
cially those movements that give form, such as the movements of the stars
and the human soul.55 There are three forces of the human soul— the ability
to think, to feel, and to live—and they correspond to the following musical
intervals: the octave (2:1), fifth (3:2), and fourth (4:3).56 Ptolemy also postu-
lates direct correspondence between musical intervals and movements of the
heavenly spheres that carry planets. The ratios that define angles between
different positions of planets are definable as musical ratios.57 The movement
of the celestial spheres from east to west thus corresponds to a continuous
movement through the system of musical tones.58 If the circle of the zodiac
is divided into 360°, then one can assign different positions on it to the tones
of the Greater Perfect System.59 Further extension of these theories is to be
found in Ptolemy’s astrological treatise Tetrabiblos, in which he explains how

54 
Ptolemy, De musica 3.3.92.
55 
Ptolemy, De musica 3.4.
56 
Ptolemy, De musica 3.5.
57 
Ptolemy, De musica 3.9.
58 
Ptolemy, De musica 3.10.
59 
Ptolemy, De musica 3.15.
xxiv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

these musical ratios between planets affect events on Earth, influencing hu-
man lives and causing historical events.
The understanding that musical proportions structure the universe, in-
cluding the movements of planets and human bodies, remained influential
through the Middle Ages. It was, for instance, present in the works of Boethi-
us, Cassiodorus, and Macrobius, whose works were widely read. The Renais-
sance recovery of Greek learning added considerable sophistication to such
theorizing. Renaissance musical treatises regularly contained large sections
of material on non-audible music, understood as the music of the heavenly
spheres, mathematical proportional theories, and the proportions of living
creatures. As Claude Palisca observed in his work on the late-fifteenth-cen-
tury musical theorist Franchino Gaffurio, this is the view ‘that harmony is
universal, and audible music only one of its manifestations.’60 Gaffurio’s own
treatises on musical theory are good examples. They are often extensive sum-
maries of writings by different authors on audible and non-audible music.
Book III of his De Harmonia deals with the three types of means (arithmetic,
harmonic, and geometric), and discusses the way they correspond to public
affairs (arithmetic to those regulated by magistrates, harmonic to those gov-
erned by the best men, and geometric to those governed by all people). He
also explains how musical modes and ratios between string-lengths relate to
muses and constellations; muses are presided over by Apollo, who is the god
of harmony. The heavenly spheres that carry the planets correspond at the
same time to individual muses (the Moon to Clio, Mercury to Caliope, and
so on), to individual tones, and to distances between the spheres, defined as
tones and semitones.61 Some celestial bodies have masculine sounds, others
feminine; heavenly sounds are perceived by means of virtue alone.62 Gaffurio
repeats Ptolemy’s analysis of the relationship between musical ratios and the
human soul,63 discusses how these ratios affect the human body,64 and how
they appear in natural phenomena.65
A similar example is found in the writings of another prominent mu-
sical theorist of the era, Gioseffe Zarlino, who discussed the music of the
world in his Institutioni Harmoniche (1558) and pointed out that it is not

60 
Palisca (1985, p. 167).
61 
Gaffurio (1518, 4.12).
62 
Gaffurio (1518, 4.14).
63 
Gaffurio (1518, 4.17).
64 
Gaffurio (1518, 4.18).
65 
Gaffurio (1518, 4.19).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxv

limited only to what can be seen in the skies, but also in the binding of ele-
ments or changes of seasons.66 The harmony of the spheres is observed in the
distances, movements, and parts of the spheres, their aspects, and the nature
of the planets. He ascribed to Pythagoras the view that such a huge machine
could not move without producing some noise, and supported his claims
by a reference to a passage about sirens in Plato’s Republic. A siren, Zarlino
says, is a singer of God. He also repeated Cicero’s explanation that we do
not hear the great noise caused by the movements of the spheres because we
are used to it.67 In his view, the celestial spheres are intelligent beings who
adjust their movements to harmony; the distances between the earth and the
planets stand in musical ratios, and the positions of the planets explain their
astrological virtues.68 The world is thus a musical instrument of God.69 The
Great Architect God created the world according to number and measure,
and organized everything according to the four qualities and on the basis of
the four elements.70

Barbaro and the Great Theory

The understanding that the world itself is a rationally organized structure—
ultimately a building—permeates Barbaro’s commentary on Vitruvius. He
thus talks about ‘the building … that we call world’;71 in Book IX he trans-
lated Vitruvius’s formulation in his locis naturalis potestas ita architectata… as
in tali luoghi la virtù della natura cosi ha come Architetto fabricato (in such plac-
es the virtue of nature has fabricated, like an architect).72 He also explains
that the ‘heavenly bodies concur in sending down their divine influences
here in the centre’73 and that ‘the rules of arithmetic thus unite music with
astrology, because proportion is common and universal in all things aimed
at being measured, weighed, and numbered’.74 The world itself is perfect

66 
Zarlino (1558, pp. 12-18).
67 
Zarlino (1558, p. 12).
68 
Zarlino (1558, p. 12).
69 
Zarlino (1558, p. 12).
70 
Zarlino (1558, p. 12).
71 
Barbaro (1567, p. 97): la fabrica … che noi mondo chiamamo.
72 
Vitruvius IX.I.2; Barbaro (1567, p. 368).
73 
Barbaro (1567, p. 23): i corpi celesti concordano a mandar qua giu nel centro i divini loro influssi.
74 
Barbaro (1567, p. 24): le regole adunque dell’Arithmetica sono quelle, che fanno la Musica unita
con l’Astrolgia. perche la proportione è commune, & universale in tutte le cose atte ad esser misurate,
pesate, & numerate.
xxvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

while celestial bodies have the ability to influence the events of the Earth.75
It is in this context that we also have to understand Barbaro’s treatment
of the section about music in Book V of Vitruvius’s treatise. For Vitruvius,
the chapter about music prepared the explanation of the use of sounding
vases in theaters. Barbaro simply dismissed Vitruvius’s presentation of musi-
cal theory, which was based on the work of Aristoxenus of Tarentum, with
an account that relied on Ptolemy. By doing so, he emphasized the under-
standing of music and harmony that is not limited to acoustical phenomena.
Aristoxenus was a disciple of Aristotle and one of the major musical theorists
of antiquity; since he denied the relevance of numerological speculations to
musical theory, his views were traditionally regarded as opposed to those of
the Pythagorean tradition. Aristoxenus advocated the development of tun-
ing systems by ear alone and not on the basis of numerological speculations.
Barbaro was, of course, well aware that the choice of Aristoxenus did not
suit his program for interpreting Vitruvius in the context of the ideas about
the role of non-audible music in architectural theory.76 He clearly stated his
concerns with Vitruvius’s choice: one should not rely on Aristoxenus, he says,
because Aristoxenus is a licentious and dubious theorist who relied only on
the ears and paid no attention to reason. He also divided a tone into two
equal parts—something that is not approved by competent experts in har-
monics, Barbaro insisted.77 Music, Barbaro points out, deals with numbers
in relation to other numbers, including sounds. An important part of music
is based on reason and studies the nature of proportion, consonance, and dis-
tinctions between things that cannot be judged by the senses, while Aristox-
enus says nothing about this.78 Aristoxenus’s mistake, according to Barbaro,
75 
Barbaro (1567, p. 367).
76 
Barbaro had a very clear idea about the theoretical consequences of Aristoxenianism,
although it is impossible to say whether he had actually read Aristoxenus before the
publication of the Latin translation in 1562; what Barbaro explicitly says about Aristoxenus
is what he could have learned from other sources, for instance, Ptolemy and (or) Boethius.
The only formulation suggesting that he actually read Aristoxenus is the statement that
Aristoxenus contains little about the non-audible music. In fact, for the greater part of
the Renaissance, Aristoxenus was mostly known only from secondary sources. Claude
Palisca (1985, p. 48) remarked that: ‘The name of Aristoxenus came up frequently in the
literature about music theory … yet he remained a phantom author throughout most of
the Renaissance. His Harmonic elements did not attract much attention, partly because it
was incomplete (only three books survive), partly because it was extremely technical, but
mostly because it contradicted Pythagorean doctrine’. If Barbaro had read Aristoxenus, this
was probably from the manuscript that once belonged to cardinal Bessarion and is today
conserved in Venice’s Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana (ms. Marciana Graecus 257).
77 
Barbaro (1567, p. 227).
78 
Barbaro (1567, p. 227).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxvii

was that he believed that he could know differences between sounds without
measuring them and consequently entrusted all judgement to the ears.79
The most significant musical aspect of the rejection of Aristoxenus per-
tains to the account of musical tetrachords. Our modern understanding of
relationships between tones is based on the visual model of the piano key-
board, but ancient musical theorists worked with the monochord. The sys-
tem Vitruvius talks about (and which was common in both Antiquity and
during the Renaissance) is the Greater Perfect System, mentioned earlier,
which worked with chains of tetrachords, either conjunct (the last tone of
one tetrachord is at the same time the first tone of the next) or disjunct
(separated by a whole-tone interval which itself does not belong to any of
the two fourths). Tetrachords span the interval of a perfect fourth, and are
subdivided by two tones into three smaller intervals. The division into small-
er intervals can be done in three ways (these are the genera Vitruvius talks
about)—diatonic, chromatic, and harmonic:
diatonic: semitone, tone, tone;
chromatic: semitone, semitone, trisemitone (tone and a half);
harmonic: diesis, diesis, ditone (two tones).
Having dismissed Aristoxenus, Barbaro provided his account of tetra-
chords, which is ultimately derived from Ptolemy, although he did not state
the source.80
The endorsement of Ptolemy’s system of tetrachords does not mean that
Barbaro also endorsed other aspects of Ptolemaic system, such as astrology.
Barbaro was well versed in astronomical theories and the latest scientific
developments in astronomy of his time; we also know from his last will that
he actually made astronomical instruments himself.81 However, Barbaro had

79 
Barbaro (1567, p. 231).
80 
See Ptolemy, De musica 1.15.35 for the harmonic and chromatic genera; 1.15.87 and
1.16.40, for the diatonic. In 1562, six years after the publication of the first edition of
Barbaro’s commentary on Vitruvius, he collaborated on the Latin translation of Ptolemy.
Since the first half of the fifteenth century the Barbaros had had in their possession a codex
of Greek musical treatises containing, besides those of Plutarch and Quintilianus, also
Ptolemy’s De musica with Porphiry’s commentary (Palisca 1985, p. 27). Palisca says that this
codex (today Marciana MS VI.10.) is today regarded as the optimal source for the treatises
it contains. See also Diller (1963, p. 255). As for the division of tetrachords, it can be found
in Renaissance musical treatises long before the publication of Antonio Gogava’s 1562 Latin
translation on which Barbaro collaborated—for instance, Gaffurio exposed it in full (De
harmonia, chap. 19). Because of this, it is impossible to claim with absolute certainty that
Barbaro relied on Ptolemy’s De musica; he could have known it from other sources.
81 
Boucher (1979).
xxviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

little appreciation for astrology, in the sense in which we use this word today.
Vitruvius mentioned the importance of (what he called) astrology for archi-
tects in order to determine north, south, east, and west and to make sundials
(one of the architect’s jobs, according to Vitruvius) and Barbaro agreed that
architects need to know about stars in the sense of elevations and distances
of planets, and the use of the astrolabe.82 (This is de facto what we call as-
tronomy today; Barbaro’s term for it is non-fucata, ‘not-false’ astrology.83) As
for the part of astrology that strives to infer future success from the position
of stars at the time of birth, he says it is of little use for architects.84 Knowl-
edge of such things, he says, is as dubious as useless.85 Barbaro’s statements
about astrology justify Tafuri’s remark about ‘the absence of any kind of
esoteric teachings’ in Barbaro’s commentary on Vitruvius.86 In fact, in the
1556 edition of the commentary on Vitruvius Barbaro explicitly stated that
he hated superstition more than heresy.87 Barbaro thus endorsed the idea
that the same numerical relationships play similar roles in the visual arts and
music and endorsed Ptolemy’s teachings about music as well as his geocen-
tric system, but one will not find in Barbaro’s commentary numerological
speculations such as those which, as we have seen, dominated the writings
of Renaissance musical theorists.
One should also not think that his negative stance about what we call
‘astrology’ had anything to do with Barbaro’s ardent Catholicism. In the
context of the sixteenth century, astrology was not necessarily seen as he-
retical—the belief that stars send down their divine influences was well
entrenched in the Church at that time, and even authors such Heinrich
Kramer and Jakob Sprenger relied on it for their arguments in the 1487
Malleus Maleficarum (The Witch Hammer).88 That book—the handbook of
the Inquisition for the prosecution of witches—can surely be taken as a reli-
able indicator when it comes to distinguishing which views were regarded as
heretical during the Renaissance. Its authors took astrology seriously in their
arguments. For instance, when they rebutted the view that devils cannot
cause illnesses, since the latter are caused by the movement of the stars, they
did not deny celestial influences; rather, they accepted that the movements
82 
Vitruvius I.I.10; Barbaro (1567, p. 20).
83 
Barbaro (1567, p. 38).
84 
Barbaro (1567, p. 21). He makes a similar statement in Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 12).
85 
Barbaro (1567, p. 21).
86 
Tafuri (1998, p. xvi).
87 
Barbaro (1556, p. 82).
88 
Kramer and Spenger (1928).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxix

of celestial bodies cause illnesses but explained that the actions of devils can
still have an evil impact on humans.89 Rather than rejecting astrology, they
insisted on differentiating it from astromancy. Astromancy involves attempts
to cause events in the material world by invoking the spirits of the celestial
spheres and influencing their movements.90 It should be distinguished from
astrology proper, which does not include the invocations of the spirits of
celestial spheres and is merely limited to the predictions of future events on
the basis of the movements of celestial bodies. In order to grasp the type of
superstitions that the Inquisition persecuted, one should look at the medi-
eval sources that describe rituals for evoking spirits (including the spirits of
the celestial spheres), such as the Picatrix,91 which offers methods of practic-
ing talismanic magic by relating talismans to individual celestial bodies.92 It
gives, for instance, texts for the invocation of the spirits of individual plan-
ets and prayers to them,93 discusses powers of these spirits,94 gives advice
about how to attract the sympathy of kings,95 to get married,96 and to combat
enemies.97 Obviously enough, this goes far beyond the belief that celestial
bodies can influence humans—the latter view having been acceptable for
the Roman Catholic Church of the time. Barbaro, nevertheless, dismissed it
as superstition, together with a large corpus of numerological speculations.

Rhetoric and the theory of proportions

Barbaro’s youthful writings on rhetoric further illustrate his views on the
role of proportions in the structure of the universe, including human af-
fairs. Rhetoric seems an unlikely field in which one could apply proportional
theories, since it is not clear how relationships between words can be quan-
tified—a problem that does not exist when it comes to musical intervals or
relationships between the dimensions of parts of buildings. Nevertheless,
during the Renaissance, proportional reasoning was often applied to rhet-
oric. Paolo Manutio, whom we know to have been in personal contact with
Barbaro from his preface to Exquisitae Commentationes, published a short es-
89 
Kramer and Spenger (1928, p. 2).
90 
Kramer and Spenger (1928, p. 17).
91 
Pingree (1986).
92 
Pingree (1986, p. 86).
93 
Pingree (1986, p. 183).
94 
Pingree (1986, p. 150).
95 
Pingree (1986, p. 256).
96 
Pingree (1986, p. 264).
97 
Pingree (1986, p. 263).
xxx Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

say in 1560 that can serve as an example of such views. Manutio there states
that a narration without order is confused and cannot move the listeners.98
Humans love order by their nature because the mind is order, the body is
order, and the human being itself is order. Order derives from the Crea-
tor of the human being; God created the human being, the way he created
the world.99 Starting from this, orators then discovered the dispositions in
speech that delight humans the most. This discovery was made by consid-
ering the form of the world.100 Everyone loves the cause of their own origin
and since the human being derives from God, he loves God; since God is the
highest beauty he loves beauty wherever he sees it whereas beauty is nothing
but a proportioned composition of many different parts, says Manutio.
Numeric relationships could be introduced into rhetoric in two ways:
either as relationships between the physical properties of speech or between
the meanings of words. Both approaches were described in a collection of di-
alogues by Sperone Speroni edited by Barbaro.101 In Speroni’s dialogue Delle
lingue one reads that the harmony of an oration results from the relationships
between the lengths of its syllables.102 However, in the dialogue about rhet-
oric from the same collection, this numeric foundation of rhetoric is related
to the signs of the intellect.103 In this case the assumption is that numeric
properties relate to the meanings of words, and result from relationships
between the semantic elements of speech. A similar discussion can be found
in Barbaro’s commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric104 and Barbaro developed
it systematically in Della eloquenza, where Art describes oration as a bella
creatura that must be able to move, so consequently a speech must be given a
course that is achieved by the movement and pause of its parts.105 Numbers
then pertain to the content that is expressed using parts of the oration. An
example is the combination of opposite parts in a sentence that produces
‘wonderful temperance’:
Where dishonestly she was a friend to you, she honestly becomes
your wife.106
98 
Manuzio (1560, p. 38r).
99 
Manuzio (1560, p. 39r).
100 
Manuzio (1560, p. 39v).
101 
Barbaro (1542b).
102 
Speroni (1912, p. 53).
103 
Speroni (1912, p. 100).
104 
Aristotle, Rhetoric 1408.b; Barbaro (1544, pp. 426, 428).
105 
Barbaro (1544, p. 37).
106 
Barbaro (1544, p. 78): Dov’ella disonestamente amica ti fu, che’ella onestamente tua moglie
divenga.
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxxi

Similarly, if speech is divided into three parts, it gives ‘wonderful perfec-

tion’—Barbaro’s example is:
Because no other delight, no other pleasure, no other consolation
has your extreme fortune left you.107
Barbaro’s examples pertain to the effects that spring from the use of a differ-
ent number of elements in a sentence. In these cases, numeric relationships
in both examples are based on number of meaning-bearing elements and
suggest the view that, even when it comes to rhetoric, numbers decide the
qualities of composition.

Architectural applications
The question that needs to be asked is: in what way can speculations about
the world order be relevant for the actual design process? Is Barbaro suggest-
ing that architects should intentionally choose proportions that correspond to
musical ratios? Famously, it was Rudolf Wittkower’s contention that the mu-
sic-based proportional theories of the Renaissance found their direct appli-
cation in the works of Renaissance architects. In his 1949 book Architectural
Principles in the Age of Humanism Wittkower endeavored to show that Pallad-
io’s designs, and especially the proportions of internal spaces in the build-
ings he designed, were motivated by music-derived ratios. Through the 1950s
Wittkower’s book enjoyed a huge success.108 Its message coincided with the
then-current commercial interests of architectural offices. This was the era of
post-World War II re-building programmes in Europe, when architectural
offices were overwhelmed with work; Wittkower’s book provided justifica-
tion for the simplification of the design process as well as the suppression of
the use of the classical orders and ornamentation in general. The message of
the book was that ornamentation and the orders were irrelevant in the views
of Renaissance architects; what mattered were only proportions—ultimately,
proportional relationships between bare walls. The book thus provided ideo-
logical justification for the endorsement of modernism in the moment when
this was indeed the financial necessity for the profession.
Subsequent historical research, however, has not confirmed the valid-
ity of Wittkower’s thesis. It has been pointed out that Wittkower analyzed
only eight buildings out of forty-four that Palladio presented in his treatise

107 
Barbaro (1544, p. 79): Perchioche niun’altro diletto, niun’altro diporto, niun’altra consolatione
lasciata ti hi la tua estrema fortuna.
108 
See Millon (1972) and Payne (1994).
xxxii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

I quattro libri dell’architettura and that he selected those that best fitted his
claims.109 In some cases there are serious indications that Palladio used differ-
ent, non-musical proportional systems.110 More generally, anyone who reads
through Renaissance architectural treatises will find it hard to believe that
the architectural principles on which Renaissance architects relied did not
pertain to the use of the classical orders. When Renaissance theorists actual-
ly discussed proportional precepts, these discussions mostly pertained to the
proportions of the classical orders and their elements. At the same time, con-
sidering the complexity of the detailing of the orders and the sheer number
of dimensions whose ratios would need to be taken into account, it is incon-
ceivable that the proportions of the classical orders were derived from some
music-based proportional scheme. A good example is the proportions of the
Corinthian entablature. The morphology and proportions of the Corinthian
entablature were not standardized until the time of Palladio and Vignola.111
Both Palladio and Vignola proposed their own proportions for the Corinthi-
an entablature—but it is impossible to claim that their choices were musically
motivated. In fact, it is possible to show mathematically that they were not.112
The same problem—determining the extent to which speculations about
the harmony of the world are meant to provide guidance in the actual design
process—can be found in Barbaro’s commentary on Vitruvius. Here we face
a gap between general theoretical statements about proportions and the pre-
cepts for their use. These two sides are not necessarily contradictory, but it is
hard for a present-day reader to grasp how they mutually relate and whether
they are meant to relate at all. For instance, Barbaro opens his commentary
on Vitruvius’s Book III with an account of proportions derived algebraically,
and then talks about the proportions of the human body as the generative
principle of the theory of classical orders. Earlier, in the commentary on
Book I he had already argued that architects should make their works sim-
ilar to some effects of nature—and since the human body is the most perfect
thing in nature, one should regularly consider its proportions.113 However, as
it turns out, when it comes to the actual discussion of the application of the
proportions of the human body consideration does not imply application. In
the commentary on Book IV, Barbaro repeats Alberti’s explanation that the
diameter of the human body from the left to the right side is one sixth of
109 
See Howard and Longair (1982).
110 
See Mitrović (1990) and Mitrović (2001).
111 
See Mitrović (2002).
112 
Mitrović (2001).
113 
Barbaro (1567, p. 38).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxxiii

the height, while the distance from the umbilicus to the back is a tenth of
the height.114 He then dismisses these two ratios (6:1 and 10:1) as unsuitable
for column height/diameter ratios on the basis of ‘the innate sentiment that
enables us to judge’.115 Consequently, he says, early architects decided to use
arithmetic means between these numbers in order to determine the correct
ratios:116 the arithmetic mean between 6 and 10 is 8; between 6 and 8 is
7; and between 8 and 10 is 9; 7:1, 8:1 and 9:1 are height:diameter ratios of
the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian columns respectively.117 It follows that the
ratios of the classical orders are not those of the human body: they were ad-
justed according to the demands of the inborn ability to judge that eventu-
ally led to the discovery of the correct proportions.118 Subsequently, Barbaro
says, architects also discovered various refinements and placed them in their
appropriate places.119 These discoveries were made because the capacity to
judge is largely inborn.120 On the whole, when it comes to the actual design
process in architecture, Barbaro makes little effort to show that proportions
of the classical orders derive from the human body; he sees in such stories
only an account of their history. The actual generative principle on which he
relies is the innate human ability to judge.
More generally, while he repeatedly states that the same ratios are
pleasing to the eyes and the ears, Barbaro says very little about the actual
application of musically-derived ratios in architecture. There is no reference
to musically-based proportions among the prescribed ratios for the classical
orders in Books III and IV, although in this section he deals exhaustively
with the proportions prescribed for application in actual architectural works.
Also, musical proportions are not discussed in relation to room proportions
in the commentary on Vitruvius’s Book VI, where one should expect such
discussion on the basis of Wittkower’s interpretative approach, since this is
where internal spaces of residential architecture are discussed, and where
Palladio’s views would have influenced Barbaro, if Wittkower’s interpreta-
tion of Palladio’s approach to design were really accurate.
Hence there exists a substantial gap between Barbaro’s theorization of
the role of proportions in architecture and the absence of the discussion of
114 
Barbaro (1567, p. 164).
115 
Barbaro (1567, p. 164): lo innato sentimento, col quale potemo giudicare.
116 
Barbaro (1567, p. 165).
117 
For the origin of this explanation see Leon Battista Alberti, De re aedificatoria 9.7.
118 
Barbaro (1567, p. 165).
119 
Barbaro (1567, p. 165).
120 
Barbaro (1567, p. 165).
xxxiv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the applicability of this theorization in the actual production of architecture.

An explanation may be that the references to harmonic proportions and the
proportions of the human body belong to humanist literary production and
were not seriously intended to find application in architectural design at all.
One may also argue that the expectation of the applicability of a theory is a
pragmatic demand that reflects our modern attitudes, but is unlikely to be
satisfied by a Cinquecento author. In any case, the theoretical consequences
of the acceptance of this fissure in the system are going to be very grave. If
Barbaro’s statements about the harmony of the world, the imitative theory of
the arts, and the universal diffusion of harmonic ratios in music, the human
body, and architecture were not meant to have any relevance for the design
process, then how to explain the assumption about the universal validity of,
say, the correct proportions of the elements of the classical orders? The parts
of the commentary where the classical orders are discussed are at the same
time richest in the ratios prescribed for application, and this segment of Bar-
baro’s commentary on Vitruvius’s Book III is a treatise in its own right. The
discussion of proportions in the commentary on Book III treats proportions
from their most abstract manifestation, through their manifestation in the
divine works, to their application in the works of humans. The organization
of the material suggests strong ties between these segments—yet, when he
comes to state the actual ratios of the elements of the orders, these ratios are
prescribed on the basis of empirical considerations, and leave serious doubts
about the purpose of the preceding exposition of the ratios of the human
body. Barbaro does say that the proportions of the classical orders originate
from the human body and they were found unsatisfactory and had to be
modified according to innato sentiment (innate feeling).121 He explains the
subsequent development of the orders by referring to the innate capacity
to judge.122 Similarly, when he has to justify his introduction of the ratio
6:5 instead of Vitruvius’s 7:6 as the ratio between the width of the capital
and the diameter of the column at its foot in the Doric column, he gives a
simple empirical statement: riesce meglio (it turns out better).123 What then is
the foundation of the theory of the classical orders, and how can one justify
claims about, for instance, the proper ratios of trygliphs? More generally,
how can we say that some design is better than some other design? And if
we cannot, then what is it that architects are doing at all?

121 
Barbaro (1567, p. 165).
122 
Barbaro (1567, p. 165).
123 
Barbaro (1567, p. 145).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxxv

Regina Virtus
The problem is resolved once we consider the wider context of Aristotelian
psychology that is the starting point for the formulation of Barbaro’s theory
of architecture and his views on the arts in general. In Exquisitae commenta-
tiones he describes the intellect—and the intellect enables the arts, as men-
tioned earlier—by saying:
Mind … a natural capacity of the soul and the main and the prin-
cipal part of a human being, implanted in us at the time of birth,
forms the subjected body like matter and completes it. From this a
human being is born as a rational animal, and capable of prudence,
and by this natural inclination he can be said to be a dialectician,
physicist, mathematician, architect, skilled maker, governor and
the artificer of many beautiful things.124
The account of the ‘agent intellect’ then follows what Aristotle says in De
anima.125 Barbaro writes:
The mind is born into us from outside, incorruptible, existing by
itself, since it is not a capacity of the soul that is in us, and [is]
separable…126
As we have seen, the inborn ability to judge—‘ingenerated’ from outside—
makes the arts possible. This ensures the similarity between the divine intel-
lect and the intellect of an artist:
[T]he principle of art, which is the human intellect, has a great
resemblance to the principle that moves nature, which is an in-
telligence. From the resemblance to the virtues and the principles
is born the resemblance in operating, which for now we will call
imitation.127

124 
Barbaro (1542a, Fii4-5): Mens... uis animae naturalis, & princeps, praecipuaque hominis
pars, nobiscum eo tempore quo noscimur ingeneratur, subiectumque corpus tanquam materiam
informat, & perficit: unde homo nascitur animal rationis, & prudentiae capax, quo fit, ut hac
naturali inclinatione, dialecticus, physicus, mathematicus, architectus, faber, gubernator & artifex
multarum, & pulchrarum rerum dici possit (my translation).
125 
Barbaro (1542a, Fii.5).
126 
Barbaro (1542a, Gii2): Deforis enim in nobis genita est mens illa, & nulli corruptioni obnoxia,
per se existens, cum non sit potestas animae, quae in nobis sit, & separabilis (my translation).
127 
Barbaro (1567, p. 37): il principio dell’arte, che è lo intelletto humano, ha gran simiglianza
col principio, che muove la natura, che è una intelligenza. dalla simiglianza delle virtù, & dei
principij nasce la simiglianza dell’operare, che per hor chameraemo imitatione.
xxxvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

It also ensures the validity of artistic and architectural judgements, on which

the accumulation of experience is based. Imitation is not meant to be the
mere replication of the forms found in nature, but the imitation of the divine
process of ordering the world:
Hence architecture—that is, the science—declares the materi-
al, the form and the composition of the works. Imitating nature
by dint of the hidden virtue of its principle, it proceeds from the
things that are less perfect to those that are more perfect. First it
puts the things into being, then it adorns them, because what does
not exist cannot be adorned. Because the principle that governs na-
ture is of infinite, optimum, and all-powerful wisdom, it makes its
things beautiful, useful, and durable. Appropriately, the architect,
imitating the maker of nature, must regard the beauty, utility, and
firmness of the works.128
In other words, it is in the nature of the arts that they develop gradually
through the accumulation of judgements; their development is based on the
accumulation of knowledge.129 These accumulated improvements are accu-
mulated judgements, or better, the accumulated judgement activity of gen-
erations of architects. A very good example is the history of the classical
orders, which developed from very crude to very refined forms.
The response to the apparent fissure now seems obvious. It now appears
reasonable that Barbaro was so intensely concerned with empirically-based
improvements of the theory of orders. Such empirical improvements are in
the nature of any art as a gradual process of the accumulation of knowledge.
But this does not mean that there could exist a gap between proportions
used in architecture and those of music or the human body. Art is not only
the work of a single individual; according to this view, through the accumu-
lation of knowledge the divinely-inspired power of judgement is at work as
well. When an architect imitates the works of the Divine Maker, he is not
simply repeating the process of ordering the world; through the power of

128 
Barbaro (1567, p. 37): La dove l’Archiettura cioè la scienza dichiara la materia, la forma, &
la compositione delle opere, & imitando la natura per l’occulta virtù del suo principio, procede dalle
cose meno perfette alle piu perfette: & prima pone le cose in essere, & poi li adorna; percioche non si
puo adornare quello, che non è. Ma perche il principio, che regge la natura, è d’infinita sapienza,
ottimo, & potentissimo, però fa le cose sue belle, utili, & durabili: convenevolmente lo Architetto
imitando il fattor della natura deve riguardare alla bellezza, utilità, & fermezza delle opere.
129 
Barbaro (1567, pp. 4-5).
Branko Mitrović, Daniele Barbaro’s Architectural Theory xxxvii

judgement he is participating in the divine forces that arrange the universe.

It is the divine, externally ingenerated part of his soul that judges and makes
creative decisions. The development of the arts will yield proportions identi-
cal to those that the Divine Maker used in the harmony of the world or on
the human body. The divine origin of the ability to judge ensures that the
final result of the development of the arts would eventually yield the ratios
in accordance with the harmony of the world.

Conclusion
Barbaro’s commentary on Vitruvius presents a comprehensive perspective on
the Renaissance reception of ancient Greek and Roman scientific knowledge
and technology. It also summarizes this reception into a system of architec-
tural theory. This system, as one may expect, reflects the massive learning of
its author—but also the fact that Barbaro was much more of a compiler than
an original thinker. Unlike the works of another great Renaissance theorist,
Leon Battista Alberti, Barbaro’s writings do not contain groundbreaking
insights; instead, they provide an exceptionally wide panorama on the views
on architecture, science and technology—including but not limited to pro-
portion theory, astronomy, and mechanics—that would have been credible
to the sixteenth-century public. That this was intentional is made clear by
Barbaro’s comments. For instance, in a remark following Vitruvius’s state-
ment to Caesar about not having altered or coopted the work of others for his
own glory, Barbaro writes: ‘I have said nothing that I have not sought and
understood from others’.130 In another, well-known remark about Palladio’s
forthcoming Quattro libri, he writes:131
I will refrain from describing in detail many things whose meas-
ures and ways are not given by Vitruvius, because I know that a
book about private houses composed and drawn by Palladio will
soon come to light; having seen that his book leaves nothing to be
desired, I won’t take the efforts of others for my own. It is true that,
once his book is printed, and having to reprint my Vitruvius again,

Barbaro (1567, p. 308): niuna cosa ho detto, che da altri io non habbia cercato, & inteso.
130 

Barbaro (1567, p. 303): Io non mi estenderei in discrivere particolarmente molte cose, le misure,
131 

& i modi delle quali non sono posti da Vitr. ma sapendo che presto venirà in luce un libro delle case
private, composto, & disegnato dal Palladio, & avendo veduto, che in quello non si puo desiderare
alcuna cosa, non ho voluto pigliare la fatica d’altri per mia. Vero è, che staampato il suo libro, &
dovendo io ristampare di nuovo il Vitruvio, mi sforzerò di raccogliere brevemente i precetti di
quello, accioche piu utilmente posti nel mio Libro, l’huomo non habbia fatica di cercarli altrove, &
sappia da cui io gli havero pigliati.
xxxviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

I will exert myself to summarise briefly the precepts of his book

so that, more usefully placed in my book, one needn’t seek them
elsewhere and will know from whom I have taken them.
The perspective that Barbaro presents differs in many elements from our
modern understanding of the world; few people today would take seriously
an architectural theory based on the assumptions of the geocentric system,
the harmony of the spheres, or musical proportions that determine the pro-
portions of the human body and the movements of planets. Nevertheless,
this is the perspective that underlies the Renaissance understanding of how
the world works and defines the assumptions that would have been credible
in architectural discussions of the era. More generally, it defines the intel-
lectual worldview of the Quattrocento and Cinquecento. The great value of
Barbaro’s commentary for us today is precisely in the fact that it provides us
with comprehensive access to this worldview.
 Foreword

Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context:

Text, Figure, and Body
Robert Tavernor

Introduction
Marcus Vitruvius Pollio’s Latin treatise De architectura (‘On architecture’),
written in the second decade of the first century BC, has influenced two
millennia of architectural theory and practice. Organised in ten books (and
so commonly referred to as Vitruvius’s Ten Books of Architecture1), it describes
an architecture founded on ‘natural’ principles derived from the form of an
idealised human body, the numbers and geometry that order the universe,
the building types that once shaped and contained Greek and Roman soci-
ety, the education of the architect, and the engineering techniques required
to produce such architecture. As the only comprehensive account of archi-
tecture from the ancient world to have survived, Vitruvius’s Ten Books has
provided the primary touchstone for those drawn to the classical tradition of
the ancient Greeks and Romans.
There were several major Vitruvian-inspired renaissances of architec-
ture all’antica in Italy starting in the fourteenth century, and especially in the
early fifteenth century after a good copy of Vitruvius’s original manuscript
was discovered in 1416 in the monastic library of St Gallen in Switzerland
by Poggio Bracciolini (1380–1459), one of the greatest Florentine humanist
scholars of that time.2 His find provided the Early Renaissance architecture
in Florence with its intellectual substance, direction, and longevity: Vitru-
vius’s text was the key to unlocking a more complete understanding of the
remains of ancient Rome, which were surveyed and re-evaluated with a re-
newed fervour by artists and architects.

See my introduction, ‘Vitruvius and his De architectura’, in Schofield (2009, pp. xiii-xxxviii).
1 

2 
Poggio Bracciolini recovered numerous ancient texts from monastic libraries and it was
in the greatest treasure trove of them all, the library of St Gallen in Switzerland, that he
discovered the manuscript of De architectura. See Pellati (1932); Ciapponi (1960); Krinsky
(1967); Pagliata (1986).

xxxix
xl Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The editio princeps, or first printed edition, of the Latin text of De ar-
chitectura was published in Rome in 1486, seventy years after Bracciolini’s
discovery.3 While the printed book version of Vitruvius’s treatise made it
more accessible, the text proved difficult to fully comprehend. Its specialised
Greek and Latin terminology referred to building details that were not well
known, and a range of building types—from temples to public buildings
such as baths and palaestrae—that were no longer experienced, had long
been in a ruinous condition, and were difficult to identify. Survey meas-
urements demonstrated that not even the main column types conformed to
Vitruvius’s descriptions. Thus the editio princeps was followed by numerous
attempts to present, clarify, and develop Vitruvius’s teaching by means of
text (translations, commentary, and amplifications) and figures.
In 1511, Fra Giovanni Giocondo (ca. 1433–1515) of Verona produced a
scholarly edition of Vitruvius’s De architectura in Latin accompanied by 136
woodcuts and an index.4 Ten years later Cesare Cesariano (1475–1543) trans-
lated Fra Giocondo’s Latin edition into the vernacular and supplemented it
with his own commentary and illustrations, which drew on the architecture
of northern Italy and, most famously, Milan Cathedral, the Gothic character
of which he claimed to be structured by the design geometries, particularly of
the equilateral triangle, that Vitruvius describes.5 In 1544, Philander (Guil-
laume Philandrier, 1505–1563), a classical philologist, published his Latin
Annotationes on Vitruvius in Lyon, France, which he republished in 1552 ac-
companied by Vitruvius’s text and improved figures.6 The German polymath
Walther Hermann Ryff (ca. 1500–1548) produced a printed Latin edition of
Vitruvius in 1543, and in 1548 the first German edition, Vitruvius Teutsch,
published in Nuremberg, which included illustrations after Cesariano.7
It is at this point that we find the work of Daniele Barbaro (1514–1570),
who produced the first Italian edition of Vitruvius since Cesariano when
his folio edition translation of I dieci libri dell’architettura di M. Vitruvio was
published in 1556, with commentary and illustrations. This was followed in
1567 by his Latin translation of the 1556 work, and a revised and abridged
version of his Italian edition, which Kim Williams has translated here into

3 
Sulpitius (1486). About one hundred manuscript copies of Vitruvius are known dating
from the ninth to the fifteenth centuries: most were copied during the fifteenth. See Krinsky
(1967, pp. 36-70).
4 
Fra Giocondo (1511); this was followed by a later edition in 1522.
5 
Cesariano (1521; 1981).
6 
Philander (1544; 1552).
7 
Respectively Ryff (1543) and Ryff (1548).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body xli

English—the first-ever complete English translation of Barbaro’s great work.

Barbaro’s insightful commentary amplified key parts of Vitruvius’s text and,
in so doing, informed the architectural debates among the members of his
circle in Venice and the Veneto, notably Andrea Palladio (1508–80) with
whom he worked closely.8
Daniele Barbaro’s literary endeavour was informed by the scholarly
studies a century earlier by the renowned antiquarian, Leon Battista Al-
berti, who was the first to comprehensively recast Vitruvius’s De architectura
through his De re aedificatoria (‘On the Art of Building’).9 Writing before
the revolution of the printing presses,10 Alberti’s mid-fifteenth-century Lat-
in manuscript was printed posthumously in 1485, and, very appropriately,
almost simultaneously with the first printed edition of Vitruvius’s original
manuscript.11

Vitruvius and Text

Leon Battista Alberti
Leon Battista Alberti (1404–72) was stimulated by close engagement
with the Florentine circle of humanist intellectuals and artists to write the
first detailed treatise on architectural theory and practice since Vitruvius. A
graduate of the University of Bologna, where he had pursued his doctoral
studies in canon and civil law, he went on to hold positions in Rome, first as
secretary to the head of the papal chancery and then as a papal abbreviator,
drafting papal briefs, a long-term appointment that left him ample time for
travel and friendships in the main intellectual and artistic centres of Italy, and
for pursuing scholarship on his own terms. He became well known in these
circles for his Latin treatise on painting (De pictura, 1435), followed almost
immediately by an Italian (Tuscan) version (Della pittura, 1436) dedicated to
Filippo Brunelleschi (1377–1446), who had developed a technique for repro-
ducing accurate perspective and is best known, of course, as the architect of
the dome of Florence Cathedral, which Alberti considered to be ‘[s]urely a
feat of engineering, if I am not mistaken, that people did not believe possible
these days and was probably equally unknown and unimaginable among the

8 
D’Evelyn (2012).
9 
Alberti (1988).
10 
Febvre and Martin (1976).
11 
See Alberti (1966); and Alberti (1988, p. xviii), where Joseph Rykwert suggests that the
two volumes were both printed in 1486.
xlii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

ancients’.12 Alberti also makes reference in his dedication to other great art-
ists in Florence: Donatello, Ghiberti, Lucca della Robbia, and particularly
Masaccio, ‘a genius for every laudable enterprise in no way inferior to any of
the ancients who gained fame in these arts’.13 His contact with this leading
group of artist-architects also prompted him to write on sculpture (De stat-
ua, between 1443 and 1452), and to physically survey the city of Rome (De-
scriptio urbis romae, ca. 1444), before moving to his most ambitious treatise,
on architecture.14
Composed in Latin, the De re aedificatoria is concerned with what,
how, and why architects and their patrons should design and build, and with
re-establishing architecture as a liberal profession.15 It is likely that Alberti
initially conceived his treatise as a commentary on Vitruvius, before being
overcome by the difficulty of fully comprehending that text:
I grieved that so many works of such brilliant writers had been
destroyed by the hostility of time and of man, and that almost the
sole survivor from this vast shipwreck is Vitruvius, an author of
unquestioned experience, though one of those whose writings have
been so corrupted by time that there are many omissions and many
shortcomings. What he handed down was in any case not refined,
and his speech such that the Latins might think that he wanted
to appear a Greek, while the Greeks would think that he babbled
Latin. However, his very text is evidence that he wrote neither
Latin nor Greek, so that as far as we are concerned he might just
as well not have written at all, rather than write something that we
cannot understand.16
To be fair to Vitruvius, he was the first to admit to a lack of refinement and
eloquence, writing in the opening chapter of Book I:
[I]t is not as a consummate philosopher, nor as a fluent rhetorician,
nor as a grammarian practiced in the highest skills of his art that I
have laboured to write these books, but as an architect with only a
passing acquaintance of these cultural themes.17

12 
Alberti (2004, p. 35).
13 
See Tavernor (1998a, pp. 3-5).
14 
See Tavernor (1998a, pp. 17-23).
15 
See Alberti (1988); Tavernor (1998a).
16 
Alberti (1988, p. 154).
17 
Schofield (2009, p. 13).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body xliii

Notwithstanding his self-acknowledged lack of linguistic refinement,

Vitruvius had considerable first-hand practical experience as an archi-
tect-engineer working across the Roman empire, and he was determined
that his treatise should reflect a lifetime of professional service to the Re-
public, and ‘not only for those who build but also for all men of culture’.18
He dedicated De architectura to the Roman Emperor Augustus, ‘Caesar,
Supreme Ruler’ whom he had served, as he had Augustus’s father, Julius
Caesar, before him.19 Conversely, while Alberti was undoubtedly a man of
culture, he had limited or no direct experience of building when writing his
treatise on architecture. Alberti’s approach when formulating the De re aed-
ificatoria appears, therefore, to have been to assimilate the views on relevant
matters of other scholarly writers since Vitruvius, particularly those of the
Early Christian period, and on these literary foundations he sought to ele-
vate the practicalities of making into an exalted act of creation. There is ev-
idence in his treatise, for example, of references to the Etymologies (ca. 623)
of Isidore, Archbishop of Seville, written as a homily to Pliny the Elder’s
Natural History (ca. AD 70), and to the mid-ninth century encyclopaedia De
universo of Hrabanus Maurus.20
Vitruvius alludes in his text to illustrations that were to have clarified
his written descriptions, and it is estimated that his original manuscript was
accompanied by ten or twelve technical drawings appended to six of his
books, though none have been found.21 Alberti provided no figures, either
because he was wary that his original manuscript might be corrupted by
copyists (he avoided using Roman numerals for this reason), 22 or because he
thought his clear and elegant Latin prose was all that his elite readership re-
quired. His architectural treatise was certainly well received by his intend-
ed audience. However, manuscripts were time-consuming and expensive to
produce, and only nine or so manuscript copies of the De re aedificatoria are
known to have been made.23 Their owners included the highly distinguished

18 
Schofield (2009, p. 13).
19 
Tavernor (2009, p. xiv).
20 
See Onians (1988, pp. 74-5, 147-57).
21 
It was unillustrated in the surviving medieval copies, of which the oldest is from the ninth
century and is conserved in the British Library (ms. Harley 2767); it is one of just three
surviving from between the ninth and eleventh centuries. See Krinsky (1967, pp. 36-70).
22 
See Alberti (1988, pp. 200-201): ‘Here I ask those who copy out this work of ours not to
use numerals to record numbers but to write their names in full; for example, twelve, twenty,
forty, and so on, rather than XII, XX, XL’.
23 
See Rykwert (1988, p. xviii).
xliv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Bernardo Bembo, ambassador of the Venetian Republic in Florence, and

Federico da Montefeltro, duke of Urbino; two were made for Matthew
Corvinus, king of Hungary; and Lorenzo de’ Medici, the virtual ruler of
Florence who had been guided as a young man around the antiquities of
Rome by Alberti, also had a precious copy. Having loaned it to Duke Borso
d’Este of Ferrara, he wrote to the duke in 1484 requesting its return, as ‘it
was very dear to him and he read it often’.24 The first printed Latin edition
of De re aedificatoria was dedicated to Lorenzo de’ Medici by the schol-
ar-poet Angelo Poliziano, a year or so later, but it was not translated into
vernacular dialects until the mid-sixteenth century—first into Venetian (by
Pietro Lauro in 1546), then into Florentine (by Cosimo Bartoli in 1550
and 1565), when illustrations were also added, undoubtedly broadening its
readership.25

Sebastiano Serlio
It would have been the Latin printed version of Alberti’s treatise that
the artist-architect Sebastiano Serlio (1475–ca.1554) knew when compiling
his own response to Vitruvius. Serlio’s Tutte l’opere d’architettura et prospetiva
(‘Complete Works on Architecture and Perspective’), the first illustrated
treatise on ancient architecture to be accessible to architects and patrons
alike, exerted immense influence throughout Europe.26 Serlio had been in-
troduced to ancient architecture by his master in Rome, Baldassare Peruz-
zi (1481–1536). Through Peruzzi he developed a detailed understanding of
Roman—specifically Augustan—architecture, as well as an admiration for
the early sixteenth-century architecture of Donato Bramante (1444–1514).
Following the Sack of Rome in 1527, which forced many architects to seek
patronage elsewhere, Serlio found particular favour in Venice, Padua, and
eventually France, where he became architect to the French king, François
I. Serlio took with him a refined appreciation of Roman antique and modern
architecture, supported by a collection of Peruzzi’s drawings.
Serlio’s treatise is subdivided into seven books, which were published
separately and non-sequentially—commencing with the publication of Book
IV in 1537, followed in 1540 by Book III and a new edition of Book IV. The
first five books (I, ‘On Geometry; II, ‘On Perspective’; III, ‘On Antiquities’;

24 
‘perchè lo ha molto caro e spesso lo legge’: Morselli and Corti (1982, p. 29).
25 
For a full listing of the various printed editions of Alberti’s De re aedificatoria, see Alberti
(1988, pp. xxi-xxiii).
26 
See Serlio (1537; 1544; 1551; 1566; 1996) and Hart (1998, pp. 92-93).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body xlv

IV, ‘On the Five Styles of Building’; V, ‘On Temples’) were finally published
together in 1551.27 Serlio’s treatise bears little resemblance to the treatises
by Vitruvius and Alberti, primarily because he designed it as a combination
of words and woodcut illustrations, appropriate images being placed in close
proximity to a descriptive text. Also, while Alberti’s Latin treatise provided
the scholarly foundations for subsequent architectural treatises, Serlio aimed
at a very broad readership, describing general classical rules that were appli-
cable to a range of building types, even simple rural houses suitable for any
location, accompanied by graphic models as starting points for invention
within an established architectural language.28 Barbaro refers to both Al-
berti and Serlio in his commentary on Vitruvius.29

Daniele Barbaro
Like Alberti, Daniele Barbaro was a man of exceptional learning and
intellectual depth. Even more, he was a man of considerable standing and
enjoyed power and authority as a Venetian diplomat and patriarch-elect of
Aquileia, a position conferred by the Venetian Senate. A Greek and Latin
scholar, Barbaro had honed his knowledge of classical writings at the Uni-
versity of Padua, and upon graduating in 1540, he worked on two books,
both published in Venice in 1544: his own commentary on Aristotle’s Rhet-
oric and his edited text of a translation of Aristotle’s Nichomachean Ethics
made by his great-uncle Hermolao Barbaro (1390–1454) during the latter
part of the fifteenth century.30
Through his studies at Padua Daniele Barbaro had also gained a pro-
found knowledge of mathematics and geometry and an apparent enthusiasm
for astronomy, gnomonics, and mechanics—subjects that would feed into

27 
Serlio (1551; 1996).
28 
See Serlio (1996) and Hart (1998, pp. 92-3).
29 
Barbaro cites Alberti throughout the treatise. For example, in Book I Barbaro refers to
him in glowing terms as ‘the learned Leon Battista Alberti (1567, p. 41), and praises the
material gathered in De re aedificatoria as ‘copious, ornate and learned (1567, p. 42). Serlio
is referenced in particular with regard to the entasis of the columns (1567, p. 133) and
the height of the columns (1567, p. 193). These and all page references that follow in bold
red characters are cross-referenced to the page numbers indicated in bold red characters
in this present edition of Barbaro’s translation and commentary of Vitruvius. All English
translations included here are by Kim Williams unless otherwise noted.
30 
These were both published in December 1544, and are, respectively, Rhetoricorum
Aristotelis libri tres (Barbaro 1544) and Compendium ethicorum librorum Hermolai Barbari (H.
Barbaro 1544).
xlvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

his commentary on Vitruvius—and which both Barbaro and Vitruvius con-

sidered integral to the ‘three principal parts of architecture’.31
Barbaro was also recognised by his peers as a supporter of leading artists
and an architect in his own right. He and his younger brother Marcantonio
Barbaro had been patrons of Andrea Palladio since the latter part of the
1550s when he undertook the transformation of their existing castle at Ma-
ser. He turned it into the refined and exquisitely decorated Villa Barbaro,
with internal frescoes by Veronese, and sculptures around an external nym-
phaeum that were possibly designed and carved by Marcantonio himself. It
is probable that with Daniele’s influential support in Venice, Palladio was
commissioned to design the façade of S. Francesco della Vigna, a design
which foreshadowed those of Palladio’s most famous Venetian churches, San
Giorgio Maggiore and the Redentore. The latter commission and that for
the Convent of the Carità were won with the help of Marcantonio, in his
capacity as Venetian senator.32
As a man of letters Barbaro had an excellent command of ancient liter-
ature, but he had also gained practical knowledge about ancient architecture
by observing Roman ruins alongside the highly experienced Palladio, who
measured and drew them. In 1545, with the architect Andrea Moroni, Dan-
iele Barbaro laid out the botanical gardens (among the first in Europe to be
funded publicly) at Padua.33 In Venetia città nobilissima et singolare, Frances-
co Sansovino named Daniele as one of the three best architects in Venice,
alongside Sansovino’s father Jacopo, and Palladio.34
Daniele Barbaro, with his wide-ranging scholarship and active, prac-
tical participation in the classical arts, mirrors Leon Battista Alberti’s ac-
complishments as a uomo universale—a man who can do all things. Daniele
knew well and often refers in his commentary to Alberti’s treatise on archi-
tecture, the first comprehensive account of architectural theory and prac-
tice since Vitruvius. But unlike Alberti, Daniele Barbaro found Vitruvius
to be eloquent. Responding to Vitruvius’s own concern for the manner in
which architecture books should be written, Daniele stated in the preamble
to Book V of his 1556 edition that:
31 
Vitruvius I.III.1: ‘Architecture has three divisions: the construction of buildings, of
sundials and of machines’; Schofield (2009, p. 19).
32 
See Howard (2003).
33 
See Azzi Visentini (1984); Mitrović (1996, p. 19).
34 
See Sansovino (1562, fol. 28v): ‘Se volete Architetti ci è il Sansovino capo di tutti gli altri,
Andrea Palladio, ecellente in questa professione, Mons[ignor] Daniel Barbaro intend.issimo e che
ha tradotto il Vitruvio nella nostra lingua volgare’. See Cellauro (2000, p. 101, n. 83; 2004, p.
294, n. 7).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body xlvii

We will see clearly that Vitruvius … set his mind to explicate and
expound its doctrine in a fine, rational manner that is appropriate
to the treatment of an art. Who has not seen the marvellous or-
der of his precepts? Who has not admired his choice of beautiful
things? What division or part that we need is not excellently col-
located in its place? Who would take away, or add anything that
could fit as well in his document?35
Barbaro translated Vitruvius into the vernacular and flanked it with an ex-
tensive commentary that is roughly two-thirds longer than Vitruvius’s own
text. Two preparatory manuscripts survive in the Biblioteca Nazionale Mar-
ciana, Venice,36 and there are three printed versions of Barbaro’s commen-
tary: two in Italian—a large folio edition of 1556 (at 42.5 x 29 cm it was the
largest publication of its time) and a more practical quarto edition of 1567,
which has a revised text and smaller illustrations—and one in Latin, a folio
edition of 1567 which was originally intended as a companion edition to
the 1556 Italian folio.37 They were aimed at different readerships: the small-
er Italian edition of 1567 was less expensive than the earlier folio edition
and targeted practising and would-be architects, while the Latin edition was
published for a more scholarly and international readership of potential pa-
trons of buildings.
The layout of the revised 1567 edition was achieved with the complicity
of the publisher, ‘the ingenious [Francesco] Marcolini’, whom Barbaro cred-
its for having proposed a plausible solution to the problem of how Vitruvius’s
revolving theatre in Book V might have worked as well as for deciphering
the working of the water organ in Book X.38 Francesco de’Franceschi was
undoubtedly a trusted ally of Barbaro’s, and they expressed mutual respect.
Francesco produced the first quarto edition of Serlio’s Books I–V and his
Extraordinario Libro di Architettura, also containing woodcuts by Giovanni
Chrieger, which he dedicated to Daniele in 1566, one year before Barbaro’s

35 
Barbaro (1567, p. 203): Noi vedemo chiaramente che Vitr. … ha proposto nell’animo di esplicare,
& porgere la dottrina sua con bella maniera, & via ragionevole, & con modo al trattamento
d’un’arte conveniente. chi non ha veduto l’ordine meraviglioso de i suoi precetti? chi non ammira
la scielta delle belle cose? quale divisione, o parte ci manca, che al luogo suo non sia ottimamente
collocata? chi leverà, o aggiungerà, che bene stia alcun suo documento? Cfr. Barbaro (1556, p. 127).
36 
Chronologically, Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV, 37, 5133) and Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV, 152,
5106).
37 
Poleni (1825, I, pt I, pp. 79-81).
38 
See, respectively, Barbaro (1567, p. 225 and p. 466); see also Barbaro (1556, pp. 162, 289);
D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 300, 326, n. 31).
xlviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

second edition of Vitruvius.39 Domenico de’ Franceschi, the son of Francesco

de’ Franceschi, published Palladio’s Quattro libri in 1570.

From Barbaro to Palladio

On the solid foundations of this classical renaissance in Florence and
Rome, and fortuitous patronage, Andrea Palladio (1508–80) emerged in
the Veneto of the sixteenth century. One of Serlio’s Venetian acquaintances,
the wealthy nobleman Giangiorgio Trissino (1475–1554), whose passion for
antiquity was both scholarly and practical, was instrumental in developing
and promoting the early architectural career of Andrea Palladio. Indeed,
Trissino could probably claim to have discovered Andrea, who had worked
as an apprentice on Trissino’s villa at Cricoli, just outside Vicenza, around
1538. Its design was inspired by a woodcut in Serlio’s Book III,40 which
Trissino adapted for his own use as an academy for young noblemen, who
were taught the ‘classics’, and where, according to Palladio’s biographer Pao-
lo Gualdo (1553–1621), Trissino explained Vitruvius to Palladio ‘to cultivate
this mind’.41 Under his guidance, Andrea was transformed from apprentice
stonemason to architect and, within a decade, Palladio was practising as an
independent architect.
By the time of Trissino’s death Palladio had formed a creative alliance
with Daniele Barbaro, who undoubtedly provided the intellectual stimulus
for Palladio’s Quattro libri. Palladio supported Daniele Barbaro’s enterprise
by providing the key illustrations based on his own insights drawn from re-
constructions of ancient ruins, as Barbaro freely acknowledges: ‘In the draw-
ings of the important figures I have used the works of Mr Andrea Palladio’.42
By the time the first edition of Barbaro’s translation of and commentary
on Vitruvius was published in 1556, Palladio had started work on three of
the books that he was to develop into I quattro libri dell’architettura, finally
published in 1570, the year of Daniele’s death. A fragmentary manuscript of

39 
Serlio (1566); see Hart (1998).
40 
Tavernor (1991, pp. 16-18); Boucher (1994, pp. 22-24).
41 
Zorzi (1959, p. 93): ‘per cultivar questo ingegno s’indusse egli stesso ad esplicare Vitruvio’.
42 
Barbaro (1567, p. 64): ‘ne i disegni delle figure importanti io ho usato le opere di M. Andrea
Palladio’. Some of the illustrations Barbaro uses are by unknown artists, as for instance
the sequence of six engravings of pumps and mills, in Barbaro (1567, pp. 463-464). See
Scalia (1992, p. 117). See Morresi (1987, pp. xli-lviii); and D’Evelyn (1994, p. 248ff.) for
tables comparing the illustrations in each edition, where those attributed to Palladio are
highlighted.
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body xlix

this earlier version survives.43 Vasari describes ‘two volumes’ as forthcoming

in 1568,44 and Daniele Barbaro mentions Palladio’s ‘book of private houses’
at the end of his Book VI:
I know that a book about private houses composed and drawn by
Palladio will soon come to light; having seen that his book leaves
nothing to be desired, I won’t take the efforts of others for my
own. It is true that, once his book is printed, and having to reprint
my Vitruvius again, I will exert myself to summarise briefly the
precepts of his book so that, more usefully placed in my book, one
needn’t seek them elsewhere and will know from whom I have
taken them.45
In preparation for his treatise, Palladio studied Vitruvius’s text, the Roman
ruins of antiquity, and the classical building designs of some of the best mod-
ern architects then working in northern Italy—including Sebastiano Serlio,
Michele Sanmicheli (1484–1559), Jacopo Sansovino (1486–1570), and one of
Raphael’s most successful pupils, Giulio Romano (ca. 1499–1546). For Pal-
ladio, Donato Bramante, architect to Pope Julius II, was the principal point
of reference. Bramante’s Tempietto di San Pietro in Montorio, Rome—a
sanctuary in the form of a small temple built over the assumed crucifixion
site of St Peter—represented the epitome of Italian High Renaissance archi-
tecture, and provided one of the exemplars in Palladio’s Book IV on Roman
antiquities in his Quattro libri.46 Serlio illustrates it in his Book III on an-
tiquities, as well as Bramante’s designs for the Basilica of St Peter in Rome,
of which Serlio’s master, Peruzzi, had built a model.47 While all these recent
architects were undoubtedly important for Palladio, he referred to Vitruvius
as his principal ‘master and guide’ in matters architectural.48

43 
Puppi (1988, pp. 71-105).
44 
Vasari, in the ‘Vita di Iacopo Sansovino’ (1568, p. 839).
45 
See Barbaro (1556, p. 179); Barbaro (1567, p. 303): …sapendo che presto venire in luce un
libro delle case private, composto, & disegnato dal Palladio, & havendo veduto, che in quello non si
puo desiderare alcuna cosa, non ho volute pigliare la fatica d’altri per mia. Vero è, che stampato il suo
libro, & dovendo io ristampare di nuovo il Vitruvio, mi sforzerò raccogliere brevemente i precetti di
quello, accioche piu tuilimente posti nel mio Libro, l’huomo non habbia fatica di cercarli altrove, &
sappia da cui io gli havero pigliati. See also Puppi (1988, p. 62, and n. 18).
46 
See Palladio (1570, IV.17, pp. 64-66); (1997, pp. 276-278).
47 
See Serlio (1996, pp. 127-135).
48 
Palladio (1997, p. 5); (1980, p. 9): mi proposi per maestro e guida Vitruvio.
l Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

In surviving fragments of his early drafts, Palladio refers his reader to

useful passages in Barbaro’s Vitruvius.49 Moreover, in the published edition
of the Quattro libri Palladio writes that in Barbaro’s Vitruvius one ‘can eas-
ily learn about how the ornaments of the main doors of buildings should
be made’, also considering what Barbaro and he have ‘said and shown in
disegno’.50 When referring to ancient basilicas and Vitruvius’s own design
for a basilica at Fano, Palladio says, ‘I would have included the design of it
here had not the Most Reverend Barbaro already done so with the greatest
precision for his edition of Vitruvius’.51 Finally, when introducing Vitruvius’s
temple types in Book IV, Palladio says that he will not provide any illustra-
tions of them, ‘since the plan and elevation of each of these appearances is
illustrated in the edition of Vitruvius commented upon by Monsignor the
Most Reverend Barbaro’.52
Palladio had knowledge of other treatises being produced at the time as
well. Palladio’s contemporary, the Sienese architect Pietro Cataneo (1510?–
74?), had similar ambitions for an encyclopaedic architectural treatise and,
as the title of his I quattro primi libri di architettura published in Venice in
1554 suggests, this was conceived as a phased publication. These first four
books were concerned with cities and fortifications, building materials, tem-
ple types, palaces, and private houses. In 1567 he published L’architettura
di Pietro Cataneo Senese, which added four new books—on ornament, wa-
ter resources, geometry and perspective—to those already in circulation.53
Palladio knew him personally and claims that Cataneo appropriated his
rule-of-thumb method for proportioning column shafts.54 Another model
comparable with Palladio’s endeavour is La regola delli cinque ordini dell’ar-
chitettura by the architect Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola (1507–1573).55 Vi-
gnola’s book is composed of a short introduction followed by thirty-four

49 
Puppi (1988, p. 73), referring to Vitruvius’s and Barbaro’s account of the nature of stone
in Book II, Chapters 7 and 8.
50 
Palladio (1997, p. 61); (1980, p. 76): Come si debbano fare gli ornamenti delle porte principali
delle fabriche, si può facilmente conoscere da quello che c’insegna Vitruvio al capitolo VI del IV libro,
aggiungendovi quel tanto che in quel luogo ne dice e mostra in disegno il reverendissimo Barbaro, e
da quello ch’io ho detto e disegnato di sopra in tutti i cinque ordini.
51 
Palladio (1997, p. 200); (1890, p. 235): …io ne porrei qui i disegni, se dal Reverendissimo
Barbaro nel suo Vitruvio non fossero stati fatti con somma diligenza.
52 
Palladio (1997, p. 217); (1980, p. 255):… esendo di ciascuno di questi aspetti figurata la pianta
e’l suo diritto nel Vitruvio commentato da monsignor reverendissimo Barbaro.
53 
Cataneo (1567).
54 
Palladio (1997, p. 18).
55 
Vignola (1562; 1999).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body li

Fig. 1. Vignola’s drawing Fig. 2. Palladio’s drawing

of the Corinthian capital of the Corinthian capital
and cornice (1562, p. xxvi) and cornice (1570, p. 43; 1997, p. 47)

engravings describing the five orders, each with only a brief explanatory
caption, as well as some ornaments of his own design. La regola influenced
Book I of the Quattro libri in particular, and Palladio’s design for the Co-
rinthian capital and cornice is very similar in its details and as a composition
on the page to Vignola’s earlier design (Figs. 1 and 2).
However, as suggested earlier, it was Serlio’s Architettura, with its illus-
trated account of ancient and modern architecture, including Serlio’s own,
which provided Palladio with his most obvious general model, though there
are also marked differences between their treatises, which may reflect their
different backgrounds.
A major factor in the popular success of Palladio’s Quattro libri is that it
appeals to the reader visually as well as intellectually through its balanced use
of carefully composed woodcuts, accompanied by a direct, succinct and lucid
text, a winning combination that represented a new synthesis of antiquarian
lii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

research. This was Palladio’s own—partial—renewal of Vitruvius’s ten books,

which includes drawn restorations of ancient ruins and many building pro-
jects he had designed—all presented succinctly and clearly and beautifully
illustrated.
Palladio’s earlier publications on the antiquities and churches of Rome
were not illustrated, but principally because they were intended to be small
enough for travellers to carry. Palladio had made his first trip to Rome in
1541, with and presumably sponsored by Giangiorgio Trissino, when his
focus appears to have been the study and drawing of ancient buildings, both
in the field and in the accurate representations and imagined reconstructions
of other artist-architects, which provided a springboard for his own designs.
He wished not only to create the impression that the ruins could be made
whole again, but to relay facts about their history. His conclusions were pub-
lished in two guidebooks to the key monuments of Rome printed (in both
Rome and Venice) during his visit there with Daniele Barbaro in 1554. The
L’antichita di Roma is a pocket-sized book (15 x 10 cm) that contains highly
readable sections briefly describing the appearance and history of the classi-
cal ruins;56 the other, a Descritione de le chiese di Roma, is similarly compact.57
In particular, L’antichita di Roma proved to be a successful and durable ven-
ture, proving Palladio’s ability to write without the aid of illustrations.
Palladio’s treatise on architecture may have been intended, like Vitruvi-
us’s, to total ten books. Although it bears the unequivocal title ‘four books’,
three different versions were published in 1570—I due libri and I due primi
libri, as well as I quattro libri—and related books were to have followed.
Palladio refers specifically to books ‘on antiquities’, ‘temples’, ‘baths’ and
‘amphitheatres’.58 Thus, Palladio probably intended to describe every an-
cient building type. According to his seventeenth-century biographer Paolo
Gualdo, Canon of Padua Cathedral, only death prevented Palladio from
publishing drawings he had already prepared of ‘Ancient Temples, Arch-
es, Tombs, Baths, Bridges, Towers, and other public buildings of Roman

56 
Palladio (1554a); see Puppi (1988, pp. 11-36); and see Hart and Hicks (2006).
57 
Palladio (1554b); Puppi (1988, pp. 37-56).
58 
Palladio makes five references to his ‘book on antiquities’, three to that on ‘temples’, one
to ‘baths’, and two to ‘amphitheatres’. In his dedication of Books III and IV to Emanuele
Filiberto, Duke of Savoy (Books I and II having been dedicated to Count Giacomo
Angarano), Palladio asks the Duke ‘to receive this part of my work on architecture with
your usual generosity so that … I can more readily prepare myself to publish the work that
I have begun, in which theatres, amphitheatres, and other magnificent ancient piles will be
dealt with’; Palladio (1997, p. 161). For other citations see Palladio (1997, p. 348, n. 25); see
also Puppi (1988, pp. 57-69), and Puppi (1990, pp. 11-27, esp. p. 13).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body liii

antiquity’.59 In 1581, a year after his death, Palladio’s sons were preparing
an expanded edition of the Quattro libri with a fifth book he had complet-
ed, but it was left unpublished. This information reinforces the notion that
Palladio’s completed treatise was intended to be longer still, and that an
additional six books would have covered theatres, amphitheatres, triumphal
arches, baths, tombs, and bridges in some detail.60
The format of Palladio’s Quattro libri proved to be as successful as Ser-
lio’s Architettura and—in the age of the printed book—Palladio’s interpre-
tation of the Vitruvian message was extended across Europe and, by means
of English translations and facsimiles of Palladio’s engravings, to Britain’s
colonies in America. The architectural movement that grew from its popu-
larity became known as ‘Palladianism’; it is the only architectural movement
to have been named after an architect.61

The virtues of brevity and clarity as a style of writing

An important aspect of the success of Palladio’s architectural treatise
was his regard for brevity and clarity. Palladio’s concern was for a speedy
means of communication through a ‘brief text’,62 accompanied by the ap-
propriate architectural (non-scenographic) representation. He sets out his
reasoning in the foreword to Book III of the Quattro libri:
[O]ne learns much more rapidly from well-chosen examples, when
measuring and observing whole buildings and all their details on
one sheet of paper, than one does from written descriptions, when
reliable and precise information can only be extracted slowly and
with a considerable mental effort by the reader from what he is
reading and can only be put into practice with great difficulty.63
The brief text and clear, well-composed images of Palladio’s Quattro libri
achieve a compelling synthesis. 64
59 
See Zorzi (1959); Lewis (1981, p. 3); Puppi (1988, p. 61).
60 
Lewis (1981, p. 10, n. 16).
61 
Tavernor (1991).
62 
Literally, ‘the little that will be said’: Palladio (1980, p. 188); (1997, p. 163): ‘quel poco che
si dirà’.
63 
Palladio (1997, p. 163); (1980, p. 189): … essendo che molto più s’impari dai buoni esempi in
poco tempo, col misurarli e col veder sopra una picciola carta gli edifici intieri e tutte le parti loro, che
in lungo tempo dalle parole, per le quali solo con la mente e con qualche difficoltà può il lettore venir
in ferma e certa notizia di quel ch’egli legge e con molta fatica poi praticarlo.
64 
See D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 545, and 547-5, n.28), and Cellauro (1998, pp. 114-15, and 2015,
pp. 135-139).
liv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Palladio’s approach is a direct response to Vitruvius’s foreword to Book

V, where he states that he had written his treatise with brevity as a primary
concern:
I have noticed that our citizens are particularly engrossed in public
affairs and private business, and so I decided to write briefly so that
my readers will be able to absorb my suggestions rapidly in their
brief moments of leisure… [V]ery much aware that I have to write
on matters that are unusual and obscure to many people, I decided
to write them up in short books so that they may penetrate the
reader’s consciousness more readily.65
Barbaro had also considered brevity and clarity a virtue when writing his
Vitruvius, and the illustrations that accompany the text of his 1556 folio
edition are extracted from their immediate reference points in the text and
given a full folio page, or an extended page. Barbaro’s approach differs from
Fra Giocondo’s first illustrated edition of Vitruvius, in which illustrations are
inserted into pages of text close to the relevant descriptions and are framed
with heavy borders, like pictures (Figs. 3 and 4). Also, whereas Fra Gio-
condo often presents buildings and sections through buildings and interi-
or spaces perspectivally, as painters would depict form and space (Figure 3
below being an exception), Barbaro decidedly distanced himself from this
‘painterly’ approach for a treatise on architecture, stating unequivocally that:
We will leave out the shadows and avoid filling the page with fig-
ures and simple little things, not making a false display of quantity
and refinement of the figures that are obscured by foreshortening
and perspective, for our intention is to illustrate these things, not
to teach painting.66
In fact, this turns out not to be such a hard and fast rule for Barbaro. He does
allow perspective to appear in his treatise, presumably where he thinks it
may benefit the reader’s comprehension of the text. Thus, Barbaro shows the
physical forms of spiral and straight flight staircases in perspective, where-
as Fra Giocondo had earlier illustrated a straight flight two-dimensionally
(Figs. 3 and 4).

Vitruvius V.Pref.3-5; Schofield (2009, p. 119).

65 

Barbaro (1567, Book III, p. 119): Lasciaremo le ombre, & lo empir i fogli di figure, & di cose
66 

minute, & facili, non affettando la quantità, & la sottilità delle figure adombrate in iscorzo, &
prospettive, perche la nostra intentione è di mostrare le cose, & non insegnare a dipingere.
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lv

Fig. 3. Illustration of the instrument for lifting weights integrated into the
page as framed ‘pictures’ in Fra Giocondo (1511, pp. 84r–85v)

Fig. 4. Facing pages from Barbaro (1567, pp. 350–351) showing images
separated from the text and composed as a whole page
lvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

While Barbaro’s 1556 folio edition had large and very legible wood-
cuts, inevitably it was not only more expensive but also in fact less practical
than the smaller, more compact Italian quarto edition of 1567. The latter
is characterised by a larger typeface and shorter line lengths, and a forma
commoda, as the new publisher, Francesco de’ Franceschi, states in his note
‘To the Readers’ in this edition.67 Barbaro’s commentary was also sometimes
simplified and abridged, or otherwise amplified (notably in discussions of
the construction of sundials and the water organ in Book IX), and Pallad-
io’s ‘important’ illustrations were considerably reduced in size. These were
recut by Giovanni Chrieger Alemano (Johannes Krueger of Germany) for
inclusion in the two 1567 editions, though in the process some images were
reversed, their proportions and details changed, and the fine lines of the
engravings were lost in Chrieger’s coarser woodcuts.
Palladio undoubtedly influenced the visual content and appearance of
the Barbaro Vitruvius, as it contains many reconstructions by him of Greek
and Roman buildings no longer in existence.68 Barbaro praises Palladio for
his ‘readiness of mind’ in understanding the ‘beautiful and subtle principles’
of ancient architecture and selecting ‘the most beautiful maniere of the an-
cients in all Italy’, and his ‘readiness of hand’ in explaining their form and
detail.69 From the authoritative platform that Barbaro provided with his
Vitruvius, Palladio was to take the page layout and the architectural char-
acter of his illustrations to another level of clarity and economy of style in
his Quattro libri.

67 
Barbaro (1567, ‘To the Readers’, p. v).
68 
D’Evelyn (1994, p. 248ff.), where the illustrations provided by Palladio are highlighted.
69 
Barbaro (1567, p. 64): ne i disegni importanti ho usato l’opere di M. Andrea Palladio, Vicentino
Architetto, il quale ha con incredibile profitto tra quanti io ho conosciuto di vista, & per fama,
per giudicio d’huomini eccellenti, acquistato gran nome sì ne i sottilissimi, e vaghi disegni delle
piante, de gli alzati, & de i profili, come nello eseguire, & far molti & superbi edifici, sì nella patria
sua, come altrove & publici, & privati, che contendono con gli antichi, danno lume a moderni, &
daranno meraviglia a quelli che verranno. Et quanto appartiene a Vitr. l’artificio de i Theatri, de i
Tempi delle Basiliche, & di quelle cose, che hanno piu belle, & piu secrete ragioni di compartimenti,
tutte sono state da quello [Palladio] con prontezza d’animo, & di mano esplicate, e seco consigliate
come da quello che di tutta Italia con giudici ha scielto le piu belle maniere de gli antichi…. Cfr.
Barbaro (1556, p. 40); D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 299 and 325, n. 28-29).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lvii

Vitruvius and Figure

Creating a new type of architectural drawing: Vitruvius’s three ideae
Serlio came to architecture through painting, and he represents buildings and
their fragments in a painterly way, in perspective. He was concerned with the
effects of volume and depth, and his illustrations have a scenographic quality
about them, as shown in his partial elevation and ornamental details of the
Colosseum in Rome, illustrated in his Book III on antiquities (Fig. 5).

Fig. 5. An example of a figure from Serlio’s Book III (1540, p. LXIX (81r))

The established technical term for a theatrical presentation of a view

or scene is scaenographia in Latin, or scenografia in Italian.70 It is the third of
three kinds of ideae—that is, architectural representations—that Vitruvius
describes in De architectura I.II: ichnographia—ichnography or ground plan;
orthographia—orthography or elevation; and scaenographia—scenography or
70 
In the Italian version Barbaro uses scenografia (pp. 14, 30, 257) (or scenographia (p. 399);
in the Latin version he replaces Vitruvius’s scaenographia with sciographia, explaining it as a
substitute for scenographia (1567 Lat., p. 19, lines 10-11: Sunt qui legunt scenographiam, idest
universi tecti deformationem: sed si quis recte consideret & diffinitionem Vitruvianam, & rem ipsam
certe non scenographiam, sed sciographiam legi debere (ut etiam legitur) videbit). In Fra Giocondo,
which is the version of Vitruvius most used by Barbaro, it is written scenographia (1511, p. 4r).
lviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

perspectival drawing. Vitruvius had described scaenographia as tantamount

to one-point perspective: ‘a sketch of a façade and its receding sides with all
lines converging at the centre of a circle’.71 Its significance for architecture
was disputed during the Renaissance. The first editions of Fra Giocondo
rendered it as scenographia, but the 1522 revised edition subsequently ren-
dered it as sciographia, meaning profile or cross-section.72 Cesariano under-
stood the Greek terms skene and skia as, respectively, ‘a small tent for making
shade’ and the ‘use of shadow or imitation of an object illuminated’, and as
versions of perspective.73 Serlio also adopted both terms; in his second book
on linear perspective, published in 1545, he stated without equivocation that
by scenografia Vitruvius meant perspective.74
In his earliest preparatory manuscript for the 1556 edition (ms. Marc. It.
IV, 37, 5133), Barbaro translated this third type of representation as scenogra-
fia or scorzo in the sense of perspective.75 However, by the time he composed
the later manuscript (ms. Marc. It. IV, 152, 5106), he had begun to use other
terms for the perspectival drawings, and in the 1567 Latin edition Barbaro
actually goes so far as to replace Vitruvius’s scenographia with sciographia.76
Through this intervention and the ensuing commentary Barbaro makes it ab-
solutely clear that scenographia, or perspective, is not an appropriate form of
representation for architects.77 He does not actually argue against its use by
architects, but he does promote the superior accuracy of orthogonal projec-
tions—that is, of elevations and related sections. In the 1567 Italian edition he
is adamant that scenografia should be restricted only to Vitruvius’s account of
painted scenes and perspective, and other theatrical devices used in theatres in
Book V.78 He reinforces this interpretation by following his account of these

71 
Vitruvius I.II.2; Schofield (1999, p. 14). See the Latin in Granger (1931, p. 26): Item
scaenographia est frontis et laterum abscedentium adumbratio ad circinique centrum omnium
linearum responsus. It was interpreted variously during the sixteenth century (and
subsequently) as is outlined below. In modern English editions this has been translated in
any number of ways. See also Morgan (1914, p. 14); Granger (1931, p. 27); and Rowland and
Howe (1999, p. 25), who are less literal: ‘the shaded rendering of the front and the receding
sides as the latter converge on a point’.
72 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 4r) and (1522, p. 11r).
73 
Cesariano (1521, p. fol. xiiiiv).
74 
Hart (1998, pp. 171-173).
75 
See Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV, 37, 5133: IV, 37); D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 298).
76 
Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 18).
77 
Barbaro (1567, Book III, p. 119) as already cited above at note 68; see also Morresi (1987,
pp. xlii-xliii); D’Evelyn (1994, p. 298); Mitrović (1996, pp. 60-61).
78 
Barbaro (1567, pp. 29-30): …perche se bene la scenografia che è descrittione delle scene, &
prospettiva, è necessaria nelle cose de i Theatri….
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lix

terms with two drawings that represent the three ideae. The first is a plan of
a temple, which he calls a pianta ichnographia (Fig. 1.2.1 in this present vol-
ume); the second is composed of two halves: on the left, an elevation (in pie
della pianta precedente), and on the right, a section (il profilo) through the corre-
sponding half of the body of the building (Fig. 1.2.2 in this present volume).79
It is uncertain what prompted Barbaro to revert, between the 1556 and
1567 editions, to Fra Giocondo’s definition of this term. However, there
were strong reasons why he should do so. Writing to Pope Leo X sometime
around 1519 Baldassare Castiglione and Raphael had considered perspective
to be less important than plan, elevation, and section when recording ancient
ruins.80 One assumes that this would have been an influential standpoint
among the dominant artist-architects in the Roman circle by the second
quarter of the sixteenth century—although, of course, Serlio did not sub-
scribe to this opinion. It was an approach to architectural representation
that had been firmly established by Alberti in the previous century. In Book
II.1, when relating the need to fully represent an architectural proposal us-
ing drawings and wooden models, Alberti warns the architect against the
temptation to adopt painterly techniques:
[T]he allurement of painting is the mark of no architect intent on
conveying the facts; rather it is that of a conceited one, striving to
attract and seduce the eye of the beholder… The difference be-
tween the drawings of the painter and those of the architect is this:
the former takes pains to emphasize the relief of objects in paint-
ings with shading and diminishing lines and angles; the architect
rejects shading, but takes his projections from the ground plan and,
without altering the lines and by maintaining the true angles, re-
veals the extent and shape of elevation and side – he is one who
desires his work to be judged not by deceptive appearances but
according to certain calculated standards.81

79 
Barbaro (1567, pp. 31-2).
80 
Bruschi et al. (1978, pp. 473ff.); see also Hart (1998, pp. 177-192).
81 
Alberti (1988, p. 34); Alberti (1966, p. 99): … picturae lenociniis falleratos producere non eius
est architecti, qui rem docere studeat, sed eius est ambitiosi, qui spectantis oculos illicere et occupare
animumque ab recta disquisitione partium pensandarum amovere ad se admirandum conetur. …
Inter pictoris atque architecti perscriptionem hoc interest, quod ille prominentias ex tabula monstrare
umbris et lineis et angulis comminutis elaborat, architectus spretis umbris prominentias istic ex
fundamenti descriptione ponit, spatia vero et figuras frontis cuiusque et laterum alibi constantibus
lineis atque veris angulis docet, uti qui sua velit non apparentibus putari visis, sed certis ratisque
dimensionibus annotari.
lx Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Alberti presents this argument without direct reference to the terminol-

ogy of Vitruvius, and he may have derived his viewpoint from other ancient
authors. In his late-fifteenth-century critique of Pliny’s Natural History,
Daniele’s great-uncle Hermolao Barbaro refers to sciographia in his glossary
as a painter’s representation of the whole building.82 Daniele Barbaro ap-
pears to paraphrase Alberti (though without mentioning him by name), con-
cluding his reasoning by stating that with such a complete and measurable
representation of the project the architect can demonstrate accurately the full
extent of his design and his good judgement; furthermore, the cost of the
project can be readily calculated.83
Daniele Barbaro maintains and further clarifies his stance on per-
spective in his La pratica della perspettiva … opera molto profittevole a pittori,
scultori, et architetti.84 This book—aimed (as the title indicates) at ‘painters,
sculptors, and architects’—is arranged in nine parts. Only Part One de-
scribes perspective method, while the others contribute to an overall un-
derstanding of the subject. Barbaro describes different kinds of projection
from geometrical figures and plans; stage design; the casting of shadows; the
measurements of the human body; and the tools to be employed, referring to
diagrams already published by Albrecht Dürer and Serlio.85 In his preface to
this work he equates Vitruvius’s scaenographia with perspective, a technique
that he claims was still poorly understood by painters in his own day. Here
too he relates perspective to architecture only when considering the scenes
and architectural ornaments used in stage design.
Palladio showed no signs of equivocation, and there is evidence that he
had made up his mind about such issues early in his career. As early as 1540,
he was redrawing perspective sketches of ancient monuments—as he had
made them in the field or copied them from other draftsmen—as orthogo-
nal elevations.86 Accordingly, in his Quattro libri Palladio mostly makes use
of orthogonal plans, elevations, and sections, and only employs perspective
when describing the structure of walls (Book I, chapter 9) and the complex
assembly of timber joints for the historic ‘Bridge on the Cismone’ (Book III,
chapter 7) (Fig. 6).

82 
H. Barbaro (1492, glossary, s.v. sciographia, n.p.).
83 
Barbaro (1567, p. 30).
84 
Barbaro (1568).
85 
Mitrović (1996, pp. 63-71).
86 
See Puppi (1990, pp. 21-22), and, for example, RIBA: Palladio XII/14, reproduced in
Lewis (1981, p. 33).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lxi

Fig. 6. Bridge on the Cismone from Palladio’s Quattro libri, Book III,
chapter 7 (1570, III, p. 15; 1997, p. 177)

Serlio synthesised the architect’s and painter’s approach to representa-

tion in his Architettura. He included in it four different kinds of perspective
in addition to the conventions of the orthogonal plan, section, and eleva-
tion.87 Barbaro’s approach to illustration was also more varied than Pallad-
io’s, though it likewise differed from Serlio’s. Barbaro employs three kinds
of illustrations in his Vitruvius: the architectural plans, sections, and eleva-
tions designed by Palladio that reconstruct whole buildings;88 partial recon-
structions or fragments of buildings that are presented as partly ruined; and
drawings appropriated from other sources. Thus, in the 1567 Italian edition
Barbaro presents the principal ancient building types in their totality: in
plan, section, and elevation, as Vitruvius recommends, and as if he was an

87 
Hart (1998, p. 179).
88 
D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 248-66).
lxii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

architect presenting a building to his patron. However, when describing a

part of a building in elevation—such as the side of a temple portico in Book
III (Fig. 3.3.4 in this present edition), a few bays of the exterior of a theatre
in Book IV (Fig. 5.6.2 in this present edition), and a partial view of the
front of the House of the Ancients in Book VI (Fig. 6.4.3 in this present
edition)—the buildings are presented as ruined fragments, and the visible
edge or edges of the fragment have a rough finish, from which vegetation
has grown,89 which he probably took from Serlio. By contrast, Palladio, in
his Quattro libri, will occasionally reveal the interior of a building by break-
ing through an exterior wall and leaving the exposed edge of the stonework
ragged, but he does not embellish the imagery with incidental foliage.
Barbaro’s Vitruvius, unlike the Quattro libri, also contains illustrations
derived from other sources—constructional elements, fragments of orna-
ment, tools, machines, and devices—that are usually shown scenographical-
ly—that is, in perspective. For example, a Tuscan roof taken from Philander
is shown in perspective in Book IV (Figs. 7 and 8). Two ancient fireplaces
are taken from Francesco di Giorgio Martini’s unpublished treatise (Figs. 9
and 10), the first illustrated architectural treatise and undoubtedly another
important reference for Palladio.90 In both cases these were re-drawn by
Palladio, as simplified versions of the originals.

Fig. 7. The tertiarii deformatio from Fig. 8. The image as re-drawn by

the 1552 revised edition of Philander Palladio for Barbaro (1567, p. 193)
(1552, p. 163);

These are illustrated in Barbaro (1567, pp. 139, 250 and 281), respectively.
89 

This was noted by the editor of the nineteenth-century edition of Francesco di Giorgio
90 

Martini, Cesare Saluzzo (Martini 1841, vol. I, p. 161, n. 3). See also D’Evelyn (1994, pp.
257 and 265), and Cellauro (2011a; 2015).
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lxiii

Fig. 9. Fireplaces as drawn in the unpublished manuscript of Francesco di

Giorgio Martini’s Trattato di architettura. Biblioteca Centrale Nazionale
di Firenze ms. Fondo Nazionale II.I.141 (già Magl. XVII, 31), fol. 12v.
Reproduced by kind permission of the Ministero per i beni e le attività
culturali / Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Firenze

Fig. 10. The fireplaces as drawn by Palladio for Barbaro (1567, p. 302)
lxiv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 11. Geometric construction for the construction of a spiral stair,

from Dürer (1525, p. 7v)

Similarly, Barbaro provided a simplified version of a spiral stair (see

Fig. 4 above) drawing a circle and without the central volute in plan that had
been illustrated by Albrecht Dürer in his Underweysung der Messung mit dem
Zirckel und Richtscheyt (‘Four Books on Measurement’ of 1525) (Fig. 11).91
As Barbaro explains:
The plan of the spiral stair is like a volute. The elevation is made
from certain points of the volute, as Albrecht Dürer shows in the
first book of his Geometry. We have shown the figure and the per-
spective together with the demonstration mentioned previously. 92

See Barbaro (1567, pp. 350-351) and Dürer (1525, p. 7v).

91 

Barbaro (1567, p. 352): La pianta delle lumache è come una voluta, la elevatione si fa da certi
92 

punti della voluta. però Alberto Durero ce la insegna nel primo libro della sua Geometria. Noi
havemo messo la figura, & la prospettiva, insieme con le sopradette dimostrationi.
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lxv

Barbaro’s approach to illustrating his Vitruvius is therefore somewhere

between Serlio’s and Palladio’s, adapting the illustrations of Serlio and oth-
ers where he believed they aided a technical explanation, but otherwise
heeding the advice of Alberti—and perhaps of Palladio too—to ‘leave out
the shadows’, particularly when describing buildings as whole bodies rather
than only their parts.93
It would appear that as Barbaro developed his commentary on Vitruvi-
us, he realised that it would be pertinent not only to go beyond contempo-
rary architectural books but to include archaeological evidence from build-
ings constructed after Vitruvius’s time. Such evidence would provide visual
proof that Vitruvius’s contemporaries had indeed built along the lines of the
theory described in De architectura.94 Thus Barbaro presented two distinct
kinds of representation: ‘signs’ (segni, the plural of segno, which is at the root
of the word disegno) and ‘figures’ (figure). The ‘signs’ record the physical facts
about existing ruins, while the ‘figures’ were derived from Vitruvius’s text
and provide idealised reconstructions of lost buildings.95
Palladio, in the foreword to Book IV of his Quattro libri, very clearly
distinguishes between what he had to reconstruct of the ancient temples us-
ing the barest physical remains and Vitruvius’s text, and the ornament that
he has been able to measure completely:
Vitruvius had helped me immensely in this because, by comparing
what I have observed with what he teaches us, it has not proved too
difficult for me to arrive at an understanding of their appearance
and forms. But, as for ornaments, that is, bases, columns, capitals,
cornices, and such like, I have included nothing of my own but
have measured all of them myself with scrupulous care using vari-
ous fragments found on the sites where the temples were.96
Earlier, Barbaro had described an approach he and Palladio would take in
the commentary for the 1556 edition in an autograph addition to MS Italian
5106:

93 
As quoted in full above at note 66, and in Barbaro (1567, Book III, p. 119).
94 
D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 267-74).
95 
D’Evelyn (1994, p. 270).
96 
Palladio (1997, p. 213); (1980, p. 250): Et in questo mi è stato di grandissimo aiuto Vitruvio,
percioché, incontrando quello ch’io vedeva con quello ch’egli ci insegna, non mi è stato molto difficile
venire in cognizione e degli aspetti e delle forme loro. Ma, quanto agli ornamenti, cioè base, colonne,
captelli, cornici e cose simili, non vi ho posto alcuna cosa del mio, ma sono stati misurati da me con
somma considerazione da diversi fragmenti ritrovati ne’ luoghi ove erano essi tempii.
lxvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

And in our times, we do not have the remains of temples similar

[to those described by Vitruvius], but with the reasons imparted
by Vitruvius, we will show the forms mentioned, using the figures
of the plan [pianta] and elevation [inpie], sometimes also provid-
ing the profiles [profili] and the sides [lati] so that the whole may
be understood; we will abandon shading, and, working only with
lines, we will give examples, embellishing some parts with the dif-
ferent kinds of sections [tagli], so that one will know which orna-
ment fits which part and member.97
One can therefore deduce that these images were to be devoid of shading
and perspective. The details were described in the same autograph addi-
tion as resembling large measurable templates (sagome) like those used in the
construction of buildings and prepared by the master mason or architect.98
Palladio was an obvious source for this way of thinking, as he refers in his
professional account books to the sagome of details that he provided on site
for the builders.99 By way of contrast, in the 1567 Latin edition of Barba-
ro’s Vitruvius, which was probably directed more generally to the gentleman
scholar, two of the reduced versions of these details—the Attic base and
Ionic volute—were replaced by more highly detailed and shaded illustrations
that would have been of more interest to that readership.100 Palladio also
distinguishes between the likely recipients of his carefully selected images in
the foreword to Book III of the Quattro libri.101 Those of his readers ‘interest-
ed in antiquities’ would ‘delight’ in some of his drawings, while ‘the devotees
of architecture’ would find other designs ‘extremely useful’.102

97 
Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV, 152, 5106: III.1, fol. 95v): D’Evelyn 1994. Et [à] nostri giorni non
hauemo reliquial di simil tempo per[ò] con le dritte ragioni imparate da Vit[ruvio] con le figure della
pianta, et dello inpie dimostreremo le forme predette. [P]onendoui alcuna uolte anche i profili, et I
lati accioche il tutto se intenda, lasciaremo le ombre, solamente con le linie operando preponeremo gli
esempi adornando ne qualche parte con diuerse manière di tagli, accioche si sappia qual’ornamento
à qual parte è membro conuenga. However, whereas D’Evelyn translates ‘adornando ne qualche
parte con diuerse manière di tagli’ as ‘adorning’ some parts with the different ‘styles of cuts’,
we suggest this should read: ‘embellishing some parts with the different kinds of sections’.
98 
D’Evelyn (1994, p. 324, n. 24 and pp. 360-63).
99 
See Burns (1991, p. 207).
100 
D’Evelyn (1994, p. 363).
101 
Palladio (1997, pp. 163-4).
102 
Palladio (1997, p. 163); Palladio (1980, p. 189): …io ho redutto quei fragmenti che ne sono
rimasi degli antichi edifici a forma tale che gli osservatori dell’antichità ne siano (come spero) per
pigliar diletto e gli studiosi dell’architettura possano riceverne utilità grandissima…
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lxvii

Vitruvius and Body

Representing buildings as layered and symmetrical bodies
In the opening chapter of Book III, before classifying the temple types,
Vitruvius relates the perfect dimensions of the ideal male form to the pro-
portions and symmetry of temples. Consequently, in his commentary, Bar-
baro, like Vitruvius, refers metaphorically to temples as ‘bodies’, and their
constituent elements as ‘members’, and—describing these temples within an
Aristotelian framework—he invoked the ‘order of human cognition’. Barba-
ro explains the concept in these words:
Upon seeing a thing from far away, first we form a confused cogni-
tion of being, but then upon seeing that with movement it carries
itself somewhere, we judge it to be an animal. Upon drawing near
to it, we recognize it as a man, and when even closer, we recognize
in the man a friend, and finally we see every part of him.103
Barbaro wrote his commentary on Vitruvius guided by a similar princi-
ple. He enabled his reader to construct a complete impression of an ancient
building, little by little, through words and images that lead from the build-
ing’s structure to its expressive ornamental details, as if—to maintain the
body analogy prompted by Vitruvius—each elevation is a well-structured
and complete, upright man.104
The bodily symmetry of a building all’antica obviates the need to draw
both halves of an elevation, section, or plan, the missing half usually being
the mirror reflection of that which is illustrated. An example of a plan suita-
ble for mirroring is found in the half-temple plan that Barbaro uses in Book
I to illustrate the pianta ichnografia (Fig. 1.2.1 in this present edition).105
Indeed, one may assume that in some cases a mirror may have been used to
reveal a façade or interior in its entirety by placing one of its edges at right
angles to the axis of symmetry.
103 
Barbaro (1567, p. 124): …vedendo noi di lontano alcuna cosa, ci formiamo prima una
cognitione confusa dello essere, ma vedendo poi, che quella col movimento si porta in alcuna parte,
giudicamo, che è un’amico;& finalmente vedemo ogni parte di quello. … similmente adiviene nella
cognitione dello intelletto. Cfr. Barbaro (1556, III.2, p. 74); D’Evelyn (1994, p. 321, n. 13).
104 
Barbaro also refers to structural elements as bones (1567, p. 85, discussing stone in Book
II; p. 316, discussing vaults, during which he refers to Alberti, who also uses the term
‘bones’; p. 169, in Book IV, explaining that corners of buildings must be solid, because they
are like bones). See Alberti (1988, glossary, p. 421), also D’Evelyn, (1994, pp. 291-3; 300-1).
105 
Barbaro (1567, p. 31), and Fig. 1.2.1 in this present edition. It bears a remarkable similarity
to that published by Palladio for his Quattro libri: see Palladio (1997, p. 283), and Schofield
(2009, p. 15 and caption to Plate 3).
lxviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The treatment of a building as if it were a rational body that could be

subjected to analysis in order to determine facts and quantities, as well as
qualities, had its parallel in the appraisal of the human body by physicians
and through anatomical studies. The sections through the body of a build-
ing that Palladio presents with such precision, clarity, and detachment in
the Quattro libri resemble the extraordinary anatomical drawings designed
for the De humani corporis fabrica by Andreas Vesalius (1514–64), published
in Basel in 1543.106 Vesalius had been appointed professor of anatomy at
the University of Padua in 1537, aged only twenty-three, and he was a great
success there, his lectures attracting large audiences. His approach, as he
wrote in the preface to the De humani corporis, emphasises ‘the rehabilita-
tion of anatomy as a practical discipline and the introduction of visual ma-
terial as a necessary instrument in its teaching’.107 It is reasonable to assume
that Daniele Barbaro, who graduated from the Medical or Arts Faculty of
the University of Padua in 1540, was familiar with Vesalius’s approach.108
Indeed, Barbaro compares the architect to a physician in Book I (‘the ar-
chitect, like the physician, shows all the interior and exterior parts of the
works’109), Book II (‘We will set forth the use of these parts [of walls], like
physicians who, in the constitution of their art, explain the use of the parts
of the human body’110) and in Book V (‘It is therefore the work of those
who speculate about nature and her practices to investigate the causes of the
silting up of these lagoons, as physicians do, who first consider the causes of
the infirmity and then supply suitable remedies’111). However, it is another

106 
The names of the artists who made these designs in the De humani corporis are not
recorded. Traditionally they have been attributed to Titian, though more probably his
pupils, including Jan Steven van Calcar, drew them. See Saunders and O’Malley (1950); for a
comparison with Palladio’s representation of buildings, see Tavernor (1998b). Paradoxically,
while Palladio’s buildings may read as bodies laid bare, Palladio’s ability to represent the
human form—as sculptures on his buildings—was limited. It has been suggested that
for his most important drawings he employed the drafting skills of artists who worked
on decorating his buildings, such as Federico Zuccari, Bernardino India, and Domenico
Bruscari. See Puppi (1990, p. 23).
107 
Carlino (1988, p. 39).
108 
Cellauro (2000, pp. 92-99 on ‘Barbaro’s education in the Faculty of Arts at the University
of Padua and mathematical learning’); also cited in Cellauro (2004, p. 293).
109 
Barbaro (1567, p. 30): In questo l’Architetto come medico dimostra tutte le parti interiori e
esteriori delle opere.
110 
Barbaro (1567, p. 83): Noi esponeremo l’uso di queste parti a guisa dei i medici, i quali nella
constitutione della loro arte trattano dell’uso delle parti del corpo humano.
111 
Barbaro (1567, p. 271): dove sarà opera di speculatori della natura, & dei pratichi, investigare
le cause della atterratione di queste lagune, come sogliono fare i medici, che prima considerano le
cause delle infermità, & poi danno i rimedij opportuni.
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lxix

contemporary physician that Barbaro chooses to quote at length in his Vit-

ruvius: the famous Milanese polymath Girolamo Cardano (1501–1576), who
acquired an international reputation for his books on natural philosophy as
well as his practice of medicine and astrology.112 When considering Vit-
ruvius’s account of the compositions and compartitions of temples and the
measure of the human body in Book III, Chapter 1, Barbaro quotes Cardano
at length on his proportional ‘formula for the human body’, which Cardano
had recently set out in his De Subtilitate (‘On Subtlety’, 1550).
Much as Vesalius presented the human form as whole bodies that
were exposed by sectional drawings, and Cardano analysed them in detail
using numerical proportions, Barbaro in his presentation of Vitruvius is
concerned with the essential rather than the superficial when presenting
architecture through its structure and detail, and as a complete body.113
Barbaro’s twin concerns of practicality and the provision of clear drawings
similarly influenced the composition and design of Palladio’s Quattro libri.
That Palladio carefully designed his treatise to succeed in this way is under-
lined by Barbaro when he describes Palladio’s forthcoming book on private
houses as having been ‘composed and drawn by Palladio’.114 Barbaro had
himself been made keenly aware of the benefit of composing his Vitruvius
in such a way that information is conveyed as economically as possible, as
Vitruvius recommends. Consequently, the reader is referred back several
times in the text to a complete image of a building, as different aspects of
its form, construction or detail are described.115
It is likely that Barbaro saw his Vitruvius as a ‘construction’ of his own,
a design of which he was the ‘architect’. After the commentary to Book III,
Chapter 1, in which Vitruvius is concerned with relating the composition
and compartition of temples with the proportions of the human body (in-
cluding the quote from Cardano mentioned above), Barbaro directly com-
pares the art of building with oratory, and talks specifically about ‘architects

112 
On Cardano see Siraisi (1997). Barbaro quotes directly from Cardano’s De Subtilitate
(1550, pp. 217r-218v).
113 
See, for example, his commentary to Book I: Barbaro (1567, p. 11).
114 
Barbaro (1556, p. 179); (1567, p. 303): composto, & disegnato dal Palladio; D’Evelyn (1994,
p. 237, n. 13).
115 
Cesariano had also combined words and images in this way: and see the discussion in
D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 277-8).
lxx Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of oratory’.116 Perhaps this is how he regarded himself. He had acquired an

education in many of the disciplines that Vitruvius had outlined in Book I,
chapter 1 of De architectura as essential for the architect, and although he
did not design memorable buildings as Palladio—or even Alberti—did, he
perhaps regarded his Vitruvius as a virtuous architectural expression of his
own very considerable intellect.117

The triumph of architecture all’antica over barbarism

A major concern of Barbaro in his commentary is to explore the appropri-
ate relationship between the artes of the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry,
music, and astronomy) and architecture, a question he addresses in terms of
his Aristotelian world-view. In the foreword to Book I, Barbaro argues that
the arts must be founded on a proper understanding of nature, which can be
revealed only by direct experience.118 The individual artist imitates natural
order through the mastery of number, geometry, and mathematics, but it is
virtù that shapes his creativity.
The idea of virtù pervades Barbaro’s commentary (as it does Palladio’s
Quattro libri). It was an attribute stressed by many Renaissance intellectu-
als. Alberti declared in his architectural treatise, for example, that ‘there is
nothing, aside from virtue, to which a man should devote more care, more
effort and attention’.119 It entailed that the privileged education of the few
should be ultimately for the benefit of the whole of society, and that this was
possible only by turning words into deeds. For Barbaro this meant turning

116 
Barbaro (1567, p. 115): Architetti dell’oratione. The passage it relates to runs as follows:
si come la oratione ha forme, & idee diverse per satisfare alle orecchie, cosi habbia l’Architettura
gli aspetti, & forme sue per satisfar a gli occhi… Altra ragione di sentenze, di artificij, di parole,
di figure, di parti, di numeri, di compositione, & di termini su sua volendo esser chiaro, puro,
& elegante nel dire. Altra volendo esser grande, vehemente, aspro, & severo: & altro richiede la
piacevolezza, altro la bellezza, & ornamento del parlare. Similmente nelle Idee delle fabriche
altre proportioni, altre dispositioni, altri ordini, & compartimenti ci vuole, quando nella fabrica
si richiede grandezza, & veneratione, che quando si vuole bellezza, o dilicatezza, o simplicita.
& perche la natura delle cose, che vanno a formare un’idea dell’oratione fa, che quelle possono
esser degnamente insieme con quelle, che vanno a formarne un’altra. la onde nella purità si puo
haver del grande, nella grandezza, del bello, nella bellezza del semplice, & nella simplicità dello
splendido; anzi questo è somma lode dell’oratore, et si fa mescolando, le conditione d’una forma, con
le conditioni d’unaltra. come è manifesto a i veri Architetti dell’oratione.’
117 
Indeed, D’Evelyn (1994, pp. 290, 495) defines Barbaro as ‘a humanist amateur architect’
who ‘could apply architectural principles to the construction of meaningful relationships
between the words and images in the book’.
118 
Barbaro (1567, pp. 1-5).
119 
Alberti (1988, p. 18). Alberti (1966, p. 51): …ut tota in vita nihil apud genus hominum
inveniri opiner praeter virtutem….
Robert Tavernor, Barbaro’s Vitruvius in Context: Text, Figure, and Body lxxi

the recorded theory of Vitruvius into something that architects and patrons
of his own time would find meaningful and useful. It is not surprising there-
fore that he was irritated by the unidentified critics of his 1556 commentary,
who, he laments, found his language too philosophical and lofty, and ‘more
theoretical than practical’.120 Consequently, Francesco de’ Franceschi was at
pains to state in his note to the reader that prefaces the 1567 Italian edition
that Barbaro’s book would benefit readers both letterate, & pratiche.121
The scene for the relationship between the artes of the quadrivium is set
in the frontispiece of each edition of Barbaro’s Vitruvius, which depicts an
elevation of the Arch of Trajan at Ancona framing an allegorical figure of
‘Architecture’ (reproduced on p. 2 in this present edition). Allegorical figures
of Arithmetic, Geometry, Music, and Astronomy make explicit the context
in which Barbaro wished architecture to be interpreted. The arch itself is an
example of a fine Roman structure that was built a century after the age of
Augustus in which Vitruvius was writing. However, Barbaro’s selection of
that particular building type had a broader significance for his time. When
applied to church façades by architects from Alberti onwards, the triumphal
arch stood for the ‘triumph’ of eternal life over death and damnation.122
Palladio also used the triumphal arch on the frontispiece to the Quattro
libri, but his is a freer adaptation. It resembles some aspects of this type,
with its paired columns and trumpet-blowing figures, but the segmental-
ly arched half-pediments under these figures are more like the triangular
half-pediments flanking the central façades of his Venetian churches, which
are themselves undoubtedly inspired by the triumphal arch.123 Instead of
personifying Architecture at the centre of the arch, as Barbaro had done,
Palladio sets the Regina Virtus (Queen of Virtue) above figures represent-
ing the principal disciplines of architecture, ‘geometry’, and ‘measure’. The
Queen of Virtue presides as mother of the arts, and as a clear visual reminder
that virtue is the essential force that should shape architecture.124

120 
Barbaro (1567, p. 141): …& satisfaremo anche a quelli, che non si curano di tanta Filosofia, &
che ci sanno oppositione di troppo alti concetti, & discorsi, con i quali io non voglio scusarmi, perche
dubiterei di non gli credere, et non di dare ad intendere a me fusse vero, che o fusse piu Theorico, che
pratico.
121 
Barbaro (1567, ‘To the Readers’, p. v).
122 
Tavernor (1998a, pp. 178-87).
123 
See Tavernor (1991, pp. 57-75); see also Tavernor (1998a, pp. 178-187).
124 
Palladio (1980, pp. 7-8): della virtù e della grandezza romana; negli ottimi studi di questa
qualità di virtù; and per splendore e fama di nobilissime virtù.
lxxii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Barbaro, by focussing his allegorical triumphal arch on the quadrivi-

um, and setting out his Aristotelian world-view in the foreword to Book I,
appears to be directing us to read the enduring qualities of the Aristotelian
definition of the quadrivium and of architecture all’antica, which had sur-
vived the barbarism of the post-Roman ‘Gothic’ era. Raphael had spoken of
this barbaric interlude in the letter to Pope Leo X mentioned earlier. Serlio
wrote about the damage inflicted on ancient statues by ‘the passing of time
and the wickedness of men’ and of the need to return to ‘the grandeur of the
Romans and their fine judgment in building’ in his opening to Book III.125
Certainly, Renaissance humanists were eager to erase the influence of
barbarian or foreign culture and artefacts from Italy, and to reinstate Ro-
man classicism. The Barbaro family name directly reflects this tradition,
having been inspired by a naval victory against the ‘barbarians’ during a
twelfth-century crusade in which one of Daniele’s ancestors took a leading
role.126 Andrea had probably also acquired the name Palladio (he had been
baptised Andrea della Gondola) to signify the architectural lead he was tak-
ing to reinstate and renew classical architecture in northern Italy. His re-
naming was most likely stimulated by his first mentor, Giangiorgio Trissino.
Trissino had written an epic poem, L’Italia liberata dai Gotthi (‘Italy freed
from the Goths’, published in 1547, well after it was written), in which there
appears a fictional archangel named Palladio, characterised as an expert on
architecture and one who is also instrumental in expelling the Goths from
Italy.127 Through their exceptional—if very different—intellects and talents,
Barbaro and Palladio produced complementary publications that served to
fulfil the destinies inferred by their names.

125 
Serlio (1996, pp. 97-8).
126 
See Gothein (1932, pp. 11 and 346), cited in Mitrović (1996, p. 10).
127 
Tavernor (1991, pp. 16-24); Boucher (1994, p. 21).
 Translator’s Note

Approach to the Translation

and Remarks on this Edition
Kim Williams

The Barbaro Vitruvius

In 1556 Daniele Barbaro published the folio edition of I dieci libri dell’ar-
chitettura di M. Vitruvio. Eleven years later, in 1567, he published his own
Latin translation of the 1556 work, and a revised, somewhat abridged ver-
sion of the original Italian text. Barbaro’s work remained untranslated into
any other language until the 1930s, when a team of scholars1 translated it
into Russian. The present English translation, based on the 1567 revised
Italian text, 2 is the only translation undertaken since that time.
In what follows, I will present issues that I addressed as I framed my
approach to the translation and prepared the work for print.

First considerations
Even before grappling with translation, there is a question that takes prece-
dence over all others regarding the Vitruvian text: shall we take it or leave it?
Alberti’s frustration with the text is palpable: ‘[Vitruvius] might not
have written at all, rather than write something that we cannot understand’.3
Rather than struggle to render Vitruvius understandable, Alberti elected to
write the entirely new treatise on architecture that he felt his times required.
Alberti’s De re aedificatoria, which is said to be one of the principal vehicles
for making Vitruvius’s De architecture widely known, was inspired by the aim

1 
Barbaro (1938). The Russian translation was the work of F. A. Petrovsky (responsible for
translating Vitruvius), A. G. Venediktov (translator of Books I-VI of Barbaro’s commentary)
and V. P. Zubov (translator of Books VII-X and sections of Books III and V concerning
proportions and music); about this edition, see Mitrović (2009).
2 
Published twice in facsimile: Barbaro (1967; 1999).
3 
Alberti (1988, p. 154).

lxxiii
lxxiv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of Vitruvius rather than by his results.4 In essence, Alberti had studied the
Vitruvian text, found it seriously wanting, and decided to leave it behind,
without however neglecting to credit Vitruvius where he felt credit was due.
This decision avoided any need to translate.
For others, however, the value of Vitruvius’s treatise outweighed its de-
fects and efforts were made to translate it. Barbaro’s first edition in Italian
of 1556 was preceded by that of Cesare di Lorenzo Cesariano (1475-1543),
published in Como in 1521, whose work was a translation of Fra Giocondo’s
Latin edition of 1511 supplemented by a commentary; the German trans-
lation by Walter Hermann Ryff (Latinized as Rivius, ca. 1500-1548) was
published in Nuremberg in 1548; the French translation by Jean Martin
(?-ca.1553) was published in Paris in 1547. Barbaro’s Italian translation was
soon followed by translations in Spanish,5 while English translations came
only much later.6
The drive to expose the text in native tongues (‘the vulgar’) was some-
times motivated by a desire to appropriate it. Ryff’s explanation for why he
carried out the translation is marked by a kind of bullish national pride:
[E]xcept for the German lovers of art who are readers of the most
part of foreign languages, these magnificent books and precious
treasure still remained somewhat unknown, hidden and not un-
derstood by German artists solely because of the lack of translation
or clarification. However, in this present age all arts and astute
inventions will be brought higher day by day by the subtle, mar-
vellous, splendid minds of the German nation, so that all other
foreign nations will confer with us alone, and also, especially, so
that we may far surpass them in high understanding.7

4 
Tavernor (1998, pp. 15-16).
5 
Barbaro’s translation was followed by the manuscript translation of Lázaro de Velasco (ca.
1564). Velasco’s manuscript was followed in its turn followed by the first Spanish translation
in print: Urrea (1582).
6 
The first partial English translation, containing the first five books, is quite late: Newton
(1771). It was followed by the publication of the complete treatise 20 years later: Newton
(1791). See (Harris 1990, pp. 464-466).
7 
Ryff (1548, Dedication, n.p.): / welcher aber doch (wie gesagt) dem Teutschen kunstbegirigen
Leser den mehrer theil frembd / also das allein durch mangel der tranβlation / oder verteuschung
/ dise herliche Bücher und kostbarlicher Schatz / den Teuschen Künstneren noch biβher unbekant
/ verborgen und unverstendig bliben. Dieweil aber auch diser zeit /in welcher alle künst / und
scharpffsinnige erfindung / von tag zu tag / ye höher gebracht werden / von sovil herlichen /
trefflichen Ingenien / Teuscher Nation / dadurch di selbig allen anderen auβlendischen Nationen
/ mit allein Conferirt /sonder auch die selbigen / in hohen verstand / (my English translation).
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxv

Jean Martin expresses a gentler sense of contributing to the public good, but
still with political overtones: ‘I then, whose good wish is to be useful to the
community of this Kingdom, and not for vainglory…’.8
Barbaro credits no national pride for his decision to translate Vitruvius.
His aim was instead that of furthering scholarship:
My intention with this honest endeavour was to be of use to the
scholars of artful inventions, and to provide an opportunity for
others to write more clearly about those things (since many of these
humanly occur) which have escaped my hand.9
The result of his ‘honest endeavour’ is essentially two books in one: his trans-
lation into Italian of Vitruvius’s original Latin text, which comprises about
a third of the work, and his commentary on that text, which comprises the
remaining two-thirds.

Why the 1567 edition was chosen for translation

The 1567 edition of Barbaro’s Vitruvius was chosen for translation instead of
the 1556 folio edition for two reasons. First, it is Barbaro’s own updated ver-
sion of his treatise, so the differences between the two editions (what to keep,
what to revise, what to abbreviate or eliminate altogether) are the results of
the author’s own considerations. The quarto format of the second edition
indicates that it was intended for a wider readership and use as a practical,
easy to consult handbook. The later edition incorporates some information
that he did not have for the earlier edition, and eliminates other information
that he must have felt over-taxed the reader by being too philosophical or
theoretical. He must have felt the sting of some criticism regarding the 1556
edition, as the following remark, which we find written in the 1567 edition,
does not appear in the 1556 edition:
We will also satisfy those who care little for philosophy, and who
are opposed to an excess of lofty concepts and discourses. I have
no wish to make excuses for myself, because I doubt if the reader

8 
Martin (1547, Advertissement aux Lecteurs, n.p): moy donc qui par une bonne affection de
profiter a la chose publique de ce Royaume, & non pour vaine gloire…
9 
Barbaro (1567, p. 1). This and all the references that follow in bold red characters are cross-
referenced to the page numbers indicated in bold red characters in this present edition of
Barbaro’s translation and commentary of Vitruvius.
lxxvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

would believe me, but even I do not consider myself to be more

theoretical than practical.10
Further, Barbaro chose to issue two new editions: in Latin for scholars and
patrons; and in Italian for consultation by practicing architects. He alludes
to the different objectives of the two editions, remarking:
It doesn’t behove a wise man to argue about names when the thing
is understood. We in our Latin commentaries place greater em-
phasis on the names pertinent to the Latins, so now it is sufficient
for us to have mentioned them in the course of the interpretation.11
In short, Barbaro, and his publisher Francesco de Franceschi, wanted to see
the Italian edition widely distributed. This present English translation is in-
tended to fulfil that wish.
The second reason I was led to choose the 1567 edition over the 1556
edition is the issue, in 1967 and 1999, of facsimile editions. Because these
are readily available today, this is the version that is most likely to be con-
sulted by interested readers, and thus the English translation can be readily
compared to it.
In drafting the translation, I consulted both of Barbaro’s manuscripts
conserved in the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana in Venice (the lengthy Cod.
Marc. It. IV, 152, 5106 and the shorter Cod. Marc. It. IV, 37, 5133), the 1556
folio edition, especially concerning passages that I found odd or difficult (to
make sure that there had been no corruption of the text at some point along
the way that altered its meaning), and the 1567 Latin edition. On occasion
where I felt it was necessary for the sake of clarity I have remarked in notes
on specific passages what I have found in the different versions, but this
has not been done with any aim at exhaustiveness. The Russian translation
annotated such differences at length, and Margaret Muther D’Evelyn has
also remarked many of these differences in the notes to her 2012 Venice and
Vitruvius. It was in fact after sifting through her notes that I decided against
undertaking a similar effort, as not only time-consuming but not strictly
necessary and even off-putting for the purposes of this present translation.

10 
Barbaro (1567, p. 141): satisfaremo anche a quelli, che non si curano di tanta Filosofia, & che
ci fanno oppositione di troppo alti concetti, & discorsi, con il quali io non voglio scusarmi, perche
dubiterei di non gli credere, et non di dare ad intendere a me stesso che fesse vero, che io fusse piu
Theorico, che practico.
11 
Barbaro (1567, p. 301): Noi nei nostri commentari Latini piu ampiamente ragioniamo di questi
nomi, conveniente a Latini: perche hora ci puo bastare haverli in trascorso della interpretatione
accennati.
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxvii

This is in no way to be taken as a criticism of her fine work, but my decision

was taken to avoid interjecting too many remarks regarding consistency and
other differences between editions in order not to interrupt the flow of the
text, considering the aim of this present work to be that of allowing the
reader to hear Barbaro’s voice in both his translation of Vitruvius and his
commentary.

Translating Barbaro the translator

I believe no translator willingly undertakes a translation of a translation
when an original text exists, especially one as often published and well-stud-
ied as Vitruvius. As is well known, copies of copies are liable to transmit er-
rors that can fatally prejudice the final result. In a first moment, I wondered
if it were not possible to eliminate Barbaro’s translation of Vitruvius (with
the added benefit, I thought, of reducing the overall mass of the work), and
simply refer the reader to the relevant sections in other editions of Vitruvius
while allowing Barbaro’s commentary to stand as a treatise in itself. It soon
became clear, however, that Barbaro’s commentary was incomprehensible
without his—not just any, but his—translation of Vitruvius incorporated.
This is due to his own unusual approach to translating the text.
Barbaro declares more than once his dual intention ‘to interpret’ and ‘to
expose’ Vitruvius’s ten books.12 There is ample reason to believe that Barbaro
considered interpretation as synonymous to translation. In fact, in spite of
the work’s being described in the title as tradotti e commentati, the words
tradurre and traduzione never appear in the treatise, and tralatione appears a
single time (p. 9). However, interpretatione appears numerous times.
However, a clue to what Barbaro meant by ‘interpretation’ is found in
one very telling passage in which Barbaro cites an earlier statement by Vit-
ruvius in order to comment on it but in citing it, rearranges it. The original
statement, as translated by Barbaro in the context of a larger Vitruvian pas-
sage, is:

12 
For instance, Barbaro (1567, p. 1): mi sono posto ad esponere, & interpretare i dieci Libri’;
Barbaro (1567, p. 64): questo consiglio mi sono sforzata di prendere nello interpretare, & espondere
i present volumi. Such passages might seem to echo Vitruvius’s words in I.I.1—Ratiocinatio
autem est. quae res fabricatas sollertiae ac rationis proportione demonstrare atque explicare
potest—but the comparison fails, because Barbaro does not translate it that way. Rather, he
translates it as ‘Discorso è quello, che le cose fabricate prontamente, & con ragionevole proportione
puo dimostrando manifestare’ ‘Discourse is that which the things built with diligence and
the rationale of proportion can, demonstrating, make manifest’ (Barbaro 1567, p. 8, my
emphasis).
lxxviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Having thus, both by the care of my parents and by the doctrine of

my preceptors, grown in me those abundances of disciplines, and
delighting in things appertaining to the variety of cognitions and
artifices and the writings of the commentaries, I have acquired
with the mind those possessions from which comes this highest of
all fruits, which is that I have no more needs…13
The rewording of it, as cited in the context of the commentary, is:
Thus it was that, both by the care of my parents and by the doc-
trines of my preceptors, I accumulated a great abundance of disci-
plines with the things pertinent to the study of letters and to the
desire of the arts.14
The reworded statement is immediately followed by a justification:
Here I have interpreted these words in a way more fitting to our
purpose than I interpreted them above, but the sense is the same
to anyone who considers it carefully (my emphasis).
Having thus ‘interpreted’ the Vitruvian text, he then goes on to the exposi-
tion—that is, the explanation and expansion of that text in the commentary.
In one passage, he quotes an earlier passage from the Vitruvian text, remark-
ing ‘my intent being to expound Vitruvius with Vitruvius himself ’.15
Translation studies discuss the relative advantages and disadvantages of
so-called ‘source-oriented’ and ‘target-oriented’ translations.16 These terms
are pretty self-explanatory. The translator of a historic text must decide what
the aim of the translation is. If it is desired to remain faithful to the original
text, in order, for example, to shed light on ways of thinking characteristic
of a given age, or linguistic traits exhibited by the author, the translator will
choose a source-oriented translation—that is, one aimed at immersing the
reader in a given period; if instead the aim is to render the text comprehen-
sible to modern ears, a target-oriented translation will be preferred—that is,
13 
Barbaro (1567, p. 272): Havendo adunque, & per la cura de i miei progenitori, & per la dottina
de i miei precettori accresciute in me quelle copie di discipline, & dilettandomi di cose pertinenti alla
varietà delle cognitioni, & artificej, & delle scritture de commentari, io ho acquistato con l’animo
quelle possessioni, delle quali ne vien questa somma di tutti i fruitti, che io non ho piu necessità
alcuna…
14 
(1567, p. 274): Conciosia cosa adunque che io sì per la cura de i genitori, sì per le dottrine de i mei
precettori habbia accumulato gran copia di discipline con le cose pertinenti allo studio delle lettere,
& al desiderio dell’arti.
15 
Barbaro (1567, p. 29): per essere lo intento mio di esponere Vitr. con Vitr. istesso.
16 
See Eco (2003, p. 170ff).
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxix

one aimed at framing the work within a new context. The aim determines
the strategy that will guide the work of the translator: how literal, how in-
terpretative, how expansive the new text will be.
Jean Martin was very much concerned with rendering the text under-
standable in French, in his day, and explains himself in this way:
I then, whose good wish is to be useful to the community of this
kingdom, and not for vainglory, tried to put it into French, with-
out wanting to follow his way of speaking, and did everything I
could to avoid its obscureness, knowing that it would be better
not to write or to play [with it], and thus not be understood. This
(doubtlessly) forced me to paraphrase the text sometimes, with
longer sequences of words, something that I want to point out, so
if someone should try to confer the French into Latin, he should
find that I explained the concepts, and did not follow his diction
word for word.17
As mentioned, Barbaro set himself the dual aim of stating what Vitruvi-
us said, and then exposing its meaning by means of the commentary. He
achieves his end by taking a source-oriented approach to his translation of
Vitruvius, and a target-oriented approach to his commentary. This strategy
proves to be remarkably clever.
Barbaro’s source-oriented approach means that he is unperturbed by
the problem of how to style his translation so that Vitruvius’s meaning shines
forth. He skirts this difficulty by producing a translation that is mostly lit-
eral, even at the expense of clarity. He simply presents the text as it is. A
typical example of how Barbaro renders Vitruvius sounds like this:
Que vasi anche di rame che ne i Theatri sotto i gradi nelle celle con ra-
gione mathematica, & le differenze de i tuoni, che da Greci, Echea, dette
sono, si compongono a i dolci, & soavi risvegliamenti Musicali, a cella
per cella in que giri con quelle consonanze, che da musici Diatessaron,
Diapente, & Diapason nominate sono: accioche la voce de i suoni scenici

Martin (1547, Advertissement aux Lecteurs, n.p.): …moy donc qui par une bonne affection de
17 

profiter a la chose publique de ce Royaume, & non pour vaine gloire, me suis efforcé de le mettre
en Francoys nay voulu suyure sa facon de parler, ains faict tout mon possible deviter ses tenebres,
sachant quil vauldrout mieulx ne point escrire que sy amuser, & nestre entendu. Cela (sans point
de doubte) ma contrainct a paraphraser aucunes fois le texte, par plus longue deduction de parolles,
dont aussi ie vous ueuil bien adviser, afin si quelquun desiroit conferer le Francoys au Latin, quil
me treuve avoir expose le sentences, & non suyvie sa diction de mot a mot. My English translation,
with help from Sylvie Duvernoy gratefully acknowledged.
lxxx Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

nelle dispositioni conveniente, quando toccherà l’udito, piu chiara, & piu
soave pervenga all’orecchie de i spettatori.18
One might think that in Barbaro’s translation the liquid rush of words and
vocabulary (which in this case, regarding music, may or may not be familiar)
is difficult only for readers of modern Italian, and that the difficulties are
due to linguistic evolution over the centuries (in the way that Shakespearian
English can be difficult for modern readers). However, the fact is that such
a passage was equally difficult for native Italian speakers of Barbaro’s day,
so much so that Barbaro himself follows it with a comment that reveals his
strategy for the combined translation and commentary:
Vitruvius is obscure because of his brevity, because he wants to
express the force of the things in few words, but we in the fifth
book will make every word of Vitruvius as clear as we are able to.19
In contrast, a translator wishing to produce a target-oriented translation
would grapple with the meaning of the passage. Here, for example, is Jean
Martin’s 1547 translation of this same passage, where we can see how he has
laboured over the text in order to render an interpretation of it:
Likewise the vessels of bronze which go in the vaulted alcoves un-
der the steps of the theatres must be arranged by reason of math-
ematics, so that the differences of tones (which the Greeks call
echeia) will be in tune with the harmonies and sweet accents of the
singers, and in order for the diatessaron, diapente, and diapason to
be divided exactly with the compass so that the voice expanding
through the scene can echo in suitable arrangements; and meeting

18 
Barbaro (1567, p. 19). It must be admitted that as murky as this long sentence is, it is
nevertheless an improvement on the rendition of the same passage in Cesariano (1521, p.
VIIIr): Anchora in li Theatri li ænei vasi quali i le celle sotto ali gradi con mathematica ratione se
collocano. & li discrimini de li soni quale li græci chiamano Ηχεια ale symphonice musice. o vero
concerti se componeno divisi in circinatione: diatessareon & diapente: & diapason. acioche la voce
del scænico sonito sia conveiente in le dispositione. quando col tacto havera offesa augumentata con
lo incremento piu clara & piu suave pervenga ale orechie de li spectatori.
19 
Barbaro (1567, p. 19): Oscuro è Vitr. per la brevità sua, perche in poche parole vuole esprimere
la forza delle cose. ma noi nel Quinto libro faremo, quanto per noi si potrà, chiara ogni parola di
Vitruvio.
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxxi

these objects it will grow and amplify, nonetheless sounding more

clear and sweeter to the ears of the listeners.20
Two things may be noted. First, if we only possessed Barbaro’s Italian trans-
lation of Vitruvius without his commentary, we would be as hard-pressed
to make sense of the translation as we are of the original. I will in fact go
further: if the reader is not already familiar with Vitruvius, Barbaro’s trans-
lation of him (and hence the present English translation) is not the place to
begin, because it is so difficult to understand. Second, leaving Vitruvius in
a literal form allows Barbaro’s commentary to appear in all its lucidity, so in
fact Vitruvius’s obscurity becomes almost an asset for Barbaro. Barbaro uses
the translation as a springboard for his commentary, in which he elucidates
the obscure terminology that he leaves as is in the translation, and explains,
amends and expands on ideas that he feels are incompletely or incorrectly
sketched in the original. It is precisely because of the intimate relationship
of the literal translation and the explanatory commentary that I found it
was essential to include an English translation of Barbaro’s translation of
Vitruvius. When Barbaro leaves Vitruvius’s Latin terms in his translation,
or includes Italianised versions of them as he sometimes does (as on p. 459,
where we find transtra for Vitruvius’s transtrorum and compactione for com-
pactionem), we find those terms explained in his commentary. In fact, he
often introduces his commentary with a discussion of terminology. Thus,
having his translation of Vitruvius in front of us is essential for following the
commentary.
The method that I have adopted to translate Barbaro’s translations of
Vitruvius is to treat them as literally as he does (mirroring his pledge to ‘set
forth’). To give one example of how this looks, I will return to the passage
of Vitruvius just cited (which I repeat here for convenience of comparison):
Que vasi anche di rame che ne i Theatri sotto i gradi nelle celle con ra-
gione mathematica, & le differenze de i tuoni, che da Greci, Echea, dette
sono, si compongono a i dolci, & soavi risvegliamenti Musicali, a cella
per cella in que giri con quelle consonanze, che da musici Diatesseron,
20 
Martin (1547, p. 4r): Pareillement faute que les vaisseaux d’arain qui se mettent aux chambrettes
voultees soubz des degrez des Theatres, y soient assiz par raison de Mathematique, a ce que les
differences des tons (que les Grecz nomment Echeia) soient accordantes aux harmonies & dulx
accens de Chantres, & que le Diatesseron, Diapente, & Diapason, soyent Divisez iustement au
compas, si que la voix s’espandant par la Scene, puisse resonner en dispositions convenables, de sorte
dq’en rencontrant ses obiectz, elle s’accroisse & amplisie, se rendant neantmoins plus claire & plus
doulce en entrant dedás les oreilles des assistans. My English translation, again with the help of
Sylvie Duvernoy.
lxxxii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Diapente, & Diapason nominate sono: accioche la voce de i suoni scenici

nelle dispositioni conveniente, quando toccherà l’udito, piu chiara, & piu
soave pervenga all’orecchie de i spettatori.
Those vases too of copper which in the theatre beneath the steps
in the cells with mathematical rationale and the differences of the
tones, which are called by the Greeks echea, are compounded to
the sweet and gentle musical awakenings, from cell to cell in those
turns with those consonances which by musicians are named di-
atessaron, diapente and diapason: so that the voice of the sounds
from the scaena in the appropriate dispositions, when the hearing
is touched, will arrive more clearly and more sweetly to the ears of
the spectators.
The editor in me longs to clean this up. It could, for instance, be rendered as:
Further, those copper vases in the theatre—called echea by the
Greeks, and placed in the cells beneath the steps according to math-
ematical rationales and the intervals of tones—are compounded in
sweet and gentle musical awakenings, going from cell to cell along
the curves of the theatre according to those consonances that mu-
sicians call diatessaron, diapente and diapason. Thus the voices and
sounds from the scaena, appropriately disposed, arrive more clearly
and more sweetly to the ears of the spectators.
This, however, strays from Barbaro’s translation, and comes closer to what
we today think of as ‘interpretation’ than to what Barbaro intended by that
term.
I have nevertheless intervened in terms of syntax; for instance, where
the Latin removes the verb to the end of the sentence I have placed it ac-
cording to English usage close to the subject (in the above translation I have
preferred ‘which are called by the Greeks echea’ rather than ‘which by the
Greeks echea are called’). I have also adjusted punctuation in order to ease
comprehension, inserted sentence breaks where helpful, and adopted the
modern usage for capitalisation of words.
There are instances where Barbaro’s literalness brings a smile. For in-
stance, in Book VI, where Vitruvius advises the architect:
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxxiii

Haec autem recte constituuntur, cum is et a fabris et ab idiotis patiatur

accipere se consilia.
These things turn out well if the architect allows himself to accept
advice from both workmen and laymen.21
Barbaro’s literal translation becomes:
Queste cose torneran bene quando l’Architetto & da gli artefici, & da gli
idioti sopporterà di essere consigliato.22
These things turn out well when the architect allows himself to be
advised by both artisans and idiots.

Translating Barbaro the commentator

Half a millennium ago, in a society that felt itself to be shaking off a
long slumber and rediscovering the depth of knowledge and vivacity of an
earlier age, it was felt that the knowledge and experience of Vitruvius could
be recuperated and applied to advantage. In his commentary, Barbaro places
himself on the shoulders of Vitruvius, making evident the knowledge that
the earlier architect possessed, and adding to it the knowledge of later times
in order to create a modern compendium. His target-oriented commentary
would seem to call for a target-oriented translation, in order to maintain
the accessibility that he strove for. However, no one today would think that
Barbaro’s treatise could be dusted off and applied to the architecture of our
own age; it is unquestionably historical, and would thus seem to call for a
source-oriented translation. The approach I adopted is a compromise: I have
striven to translate for modern readers, maintaining Barbaro’s frank, con-
versational, non-stuffy tone, translating his antiquated turns of phrase into
modern usage (that is, not replicating them with similar antiquated usages in
English), but at the same time I have grounded the translation in terminol-
ogy that will remind the reader that this is a work of the sixteenth century.
In terms of language usage, Barbaro’s Italian is remarkably modern,
aside from minor issues of spelling (see the final long quotation at the end
of this introduction to see what this looks like). To my mind the greatest
differences involve the use of conjunctions (‘and’, ‘yet’, ‘but’, ‘for’, ‘nor’, ‘or’,
‘so’, etc.). Barbaro’s frequent, interchangeable, use of imperoche and percio for
‘because’, ‘since’ and ‘as’, along with lack of punctuation, can be confusing

21 
Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 68r); Schofield (2009, p. 190).
22 
Barbaro (1567, p. 306).
lxxxiv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

because doubts arise as to whether the explanatory clause is related to the

preceding or succeeding sentence. Even more confusing can be the use of o
and overo, which indicate ‘or’ in modern usage but in Barbaro’s usage more
often indicate ‘and’. Frequently Barbaro’s però (and the variations et però and
& però) is not ‘but’ as it is in modern usage (where he wishes to say ‘but’ he
will often use ma instead of però), but is sometimes ‘then’ (or ‘therefore’ or
‘hence’) and sometimes ‘so’ or ‘thus’. For this insight I must thank Seamus
Heaney’s discussion of the use of the particle ‘so’ in the introduction to his
own verse translation of Beowulf: ‘so’ functions as an indication that a pre-
vious discussion or comment has been understood and absorbed, and signals
the beginning of the successive information that will build on it.23 An exam-
ple of how this works is:
Perche (come ho detto) la moltitudine delle taglie, & de i raggi in piu
parti divide il peso. però la dove si ha a levar peso maggiore, è necessario
l’opera di piu taglie, & di piu raggi, & dal numero dei raggi saranno
le machine nominate. Però se per tre raggi sarà ordita la fune, quella
machina sarà detta tripaston…
Since (as I have said) the multiplicity of blocks and sheaves divides
the weight into several parts, then where a greater weight is to be
lifted, the work of more blocks and more sheaves is needed. The
machines are named according to the number of sheaves. So, if
the ropes are reeved around three sheaves, the machine is named
a tripaston…24
Barbaro himself had to deal with the question of when and how to modern-
ise terms. Sometimes he does so in a way that interrupts his text to the point
of making it hard to follow:
…o si raccommanda ad un molinello, il quale tra i piedi della gaverna,
nelle orecchie, che Vitru. Chelonia, noi castignole, o gattelli chiamamo si
volge, con alcune stanghe, o manovelle, o pironi, che si dichino, che vectes
da Vitru. dette sono, che entrano nelle teste del molinello.

23 
Heaney (2000, p. xxvii).
24 
Barbaro (1567, p. 447), my emphasis.
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxxv

…or use is made of a windlass positioned between the feet of the

trestle, in sockets that Vitruvius calls chelonia and that we call cas-
tignole or gattelli, which is turned by cranks, or pegs as we say,
called vectes by Vitruvius, that go into the ends of the windlass.25
I tried to avoid instances where explanations of terminology cloud the main
argument, but this example shows how difficult this is. This particular pas-
sage raises the question of why I translated manovelle and pironi as ‘cranks’
and ‘pegs’ respectively, but did not translate castignole or gattelli. The answer
is because the former terms are common words in Italian, thus known to all,
while castignole and gattelli are dialect and thus known to few; they would
have been as new to the ears of a Neapolitan reading Barbaro as they are to
English speakers, and so here they have been treated as foreign terms.
There are other instances where the terminology of the sixteenth cen-
tury has remained practically unchanged in our day. An instance of this is
found in the books that form the usual subjects of studies of Vitruvius: III
and IV for the orders (‘manners’ in Barbaro’s terminology). Although today
we don’t use the orders in a rigorous way, classical terminology has remained
in a kind of time capsule. We still discuss the orders using the same names
for various parts: gola diritta, gola reversa, gocciolatoio, ovolo, fascia, vo-
lute, astragal, cimbia, and so forth. Indeed, among some modern architects
knowing and correctly using these terms is a point of pride; thus translating
them presents no particular problem.
Barbaro’s attempt to ‘save the appearance’ of Vitruvius as an author
worthy of study by taking the Roman architect’s statements and casting
them in modern light is in some way reminiscent of the efforts of early as-
tronomers to develop theories of celestial mechanics with the complicated
use of epicycles and deferents in order to ‘save the appearances’ of the mo-
tion of the planets. There are places, however, where he is unable to explain
what the Roman architect says, due to the loss knowledge in the intervening
centuries. A good example is found in chapter fifteen of Book X regarding
machines for war, where Barbaro finally throws up his hands and exclaims,
Qui bisogno è bene che Iddio ci aiuti, percioche nè la scrittura di Vitr. nè
disegno d’alcuno, nè forma antica si trova di queste machine.

25 
Barbaro (1567, p. 445).
lxxxvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Here it is very necessary that God help us, because neither the
writing of Vitruvius nor anyone else’s drawings nor ancient forms
of these machines are found.26
Fortunately, loss of knowledge can sometimes be corrected. Knowledge of
the war engines described by Vitruvius—the ballista and scorpion, for ex-
ample—that was lost in Barbaro’s day, has in our own day been recovered,
so that we have much more information about them available now than 450
years ago. Such recovered knowledge was of great help to me, ironically
perhaps, in that by understanding what Barbaro did not, I was better able to
translate the remarks about what he did know.

Translating Barbaro the poet

Barbaro’s commentary contains various passages in verse, most significantly
in Books II (p. 73) and VIII (pp. 332-335), containing 351 lines from his
own poem Meteore, which as far as we know represent the only surviving
traces of it.27 Other instances of verse are found in Book III (p. 96, three
lines from Dante); Book V (p. 224, 13 lines of Barbaro’s versification of a
passage from Ovid’s Ars Amatoria ); Book V (p. 260, 16 lines by Barbaro);
Book VIII (p. 339, Barbaro’s rendition in verse of Vitruvius’s epigrams); and
Book IX (p. 348, 18 lines of Barbaro’s versification of a passage from Ovid’s
Fasti; p. 392, 14 lines of unattributed verse (perhaps by Barbaro?28); p. 394,
Barbaro’s translation of Germanicus’s Latin versification of Aratus’s Phae-
nomena). These passages were without a doubt the hardest of the entire work
to translate.
Barbaro’s preferred metre is hendecasyllablic—that is, having lines of
eleven syllables. This is the metre used by great Italian poets: Dante in the
thirteenth century; Petrarch in the fourteenth; Ariosto in the sixteenth. His
preferred rhyme scheme is the terza rima devised by Dante, which consists
in three-line stanzas with a concatenated rhyme pattern ABA BCB CDC
DED etc. My aim was to maintain in my translations both of these char-
acteristics, as well as, of course, the meaning. This turned out to require
immense effort, but the reader will judge the results.
The verse that was the most fun, once the game was understood, was the
one in Book V (p. 260), on echoes, in which Barbaro poses questions to ‘Echo,
26 
Barbaro (1567, p. 473).
27 
See Soldati (1829, p. XI).
28 
The lines are catalogued as unattributed and untitled in a manuscript belonging to the
Magliabecchiana codices of the Florence Biblioteca Nazionale; see Bartoli (1883, p. 320).
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxxvii

daughter of the woods’, asking for simple, one-word answers.29 The answers
Echo gives are the final syllables of the questions themselves, in this form:
What is the end of love? Love.
I was unable to translate all lines of Barbaro’s verse because they rely on word
play that cannot be translated, but once I understood the game, it was my
pleasure to think of lines in English that would serve the same purposes. I
think Barbaro would approve of my rising to this challenge.

Explanations of special terms

The following frequently occurring terms have been given especially careful
consideration.

Terms relating to reason, intellect, and mind

1) Animo (and its relation animosamente). Not to be confused with anima, or
soul, Barbaro’s animo is mostly used in the sense ‘mind’ or ‘intellect’. The ad-
verbial form of that is therefore ‘mindfully’, not in the sense used popularly
today, but rather in the sense of ‘with the use of the mind’. Animo, however,
can also mean ‘courage’ or ‘boldness’, so each instance has been carefully
considered.
2) Ingegno (and its relations ingegniero, ingenioso). The human capacity to
think is very important to Barbaro, and he uses various terms to refer to it,
including animo, mente, intelligenza, intelletto, and ingegno. (The term cervel-
lo, ‘brain’, is used only twice, in reference to the organ.) The related terms of
ingegno are particularly interesting: Francesco Marcolini is described as in-
genioso investigatore, ‘an ingenious investigator’; an ingegniero is an ingenious
person, not necessarily an engineer.30
3) Ragione (and its relations ragioni, ragionare, ragionamento, ragionevole) and
principio (and its relations principij, principiare, principale). It is clear from the
innumerable instances of these terms that Barbaro has sought to arrive at a
reasoned, or rational, interpretation of the writings of Vitruvius. Both ragione
and principio can be translated in multiple ways to express the same concept.
The former might be ‘reason’, ‘reasoning’, ‘principle’, ‘theory’; the latter might
29 
These lines are quoted in Cartari (1571, p. 137). Interestingly, they are not mentioned
in the first edition of Cartari’s collection, published in 1556, the same year as Barbaro’s
folio edition of Vitruvius. Cartari’s 1571 edition was the first illustrated edition, and it does
include Barbaro. These lines are also referenced Spada (1648, p. 238).
30 
The two terms are found, respectively, in Barbaro (1567, p. 225 and p. 482)
lxxxviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

be ‘principle’, ‘rule’, ‘theory’. Although I used ‘theory’ in earlier drafts, I was

led to reject it completely. Barbaro uses a form of the word ‘theory’ on only
two occasions: he replies to a criticism that he is ‘more theoretical than prac-
tical’, and he refers to ‘theorems of Euclid’.31 A ‘theory’ is a guess based on
principles to predict a result; it implies the necessity of a proof. Instead, the
reasonings that Barbaro sets out, based on principles, require no proof; they
simply are. In the end, I adopted ‘rationale’ for ragione, and ‘principle’ for
principio, and have been as consistent with these usages as context allows me
to be (more about this in a moment). In Barbaro’s usage, principio is a funda-
mental notion that must be understood before one can proceed to the next
step, which is reasoning based on that principle. The ‘process of reasoning’ is
ragionamento; the result of that process is ragione, ‘rationale’—that is, a set of
reasons or a logical basis for a procedure or course of action. Both the process
and the conclusions can be ‘reasonable’, or ‘rational’.
I say that I have been as consistent as context allows me to be because
both ragione and principio have multiple meanings in addition to that just
discussed. Ragione can also indicate ‘ratio’, ‘reckoning’, and simple ‘reason’
(as in ‘the reason why’). Similarly, principio can also mean ‘starting point’
(as in ‘the point is the principle of the line’) and ‘element’ (as in the four
elements). Thus all instances of these terms have been carefully considered.
4) Solertia. This term was deemed important enough to merit inclusion in
the indexes of all three of Barbaro’s editions. We can observe in it another
highlighting of the importance of intellect or mind. As he rightly notes,
the Italian solerzia (solertia for Barbaro) derives from the Latin sollertia, for
which there is no direct English translation. The meaning is that of mental
acuteness or acumen, dexterity or quickness of mind (hence Barbaro’s trans-
lation of the adverbial form as prontamente, or ‘quickly’ (p. 10). I consistently
translated it as ‘acuteness’.

Particular or ambiguous terms

1) Artefice (and its relations artificio, artificij, artificiale, artificioso, artifice).
This term indicates a ‘maker’, one who uses an art to make something, but
not necessarily an artist as we usually think of that term. Thus the related
terms are ‘artifice’ in the sense of a device (not a ruse or stratagem intendedto
deceive as in our modern meaning), and ‘things made artfully’ or ‘made with
art’, not ‘artificial’ in the sense of ‘not genuine’, ‘false’, or ‘affected’.

31 
The two references are found, respectively, in Barbaro (1567, p. 141 and p. 357).
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation lxxxix

2) Compartimento (and its relations compartire, compartito). Barbaro’s com-

partimento does not correspond to a precise term in the Vitruvian text. For
instance, the passage in Vitruvius I.II.2—Ordinatio est modica membrorum
operis commoditas separatim universeque proportionis ad symmetriam compar-
atio—is translated by Barbaro as: Ordine è moderata attitudine de i membri
dell’opera, partiamente, & rispetto a tutta la proportione al compartimento, il
quale si compone di quantità (p. 27, my emphasis).32 In this sense it is truly an
‘interpretation’.
Before Barbaro, Alberti’s Latin term partitio in the 1485 published edi-
tion was translated as divisione in the 1546 Italian translation by Pietro Lau-
ro.33 The first uses of the related term compartitione that I have found—and
I do not pretend to have made an exhaustive search—is in Cesariano’s 1521
Italian translation of Vitruvius, in the commentary on p. IIIr:
Et cosi se sareti diligenti problematori consequireti la vera ratiocination:
cioe parlamenti disputativi con rationevel con bona calculatione numer-
abile & compartitione.
The concept is more clearly explained on p. XIVv:
Orthographia se e la erecta imagine de la fronte &c. Vitruvio breve-
mente expone questa essere la elevate fronte rectamente designate: cioe
quella anteriore parte del aedificio quale noi dicemo vulglarmente la fa-
ciata seu fronte spicio. Ma questa moderatamente: idest commodulata-
mente compartita con ratione…
The term ‘compartition’ chosen as the translation for Barbaro’s compartimento
will be familiar to readers who have read the recent English translations of
Alberti and Palladio. Both volumes contain a glossary entry explaining the
term.34 Here I will only add that the term ‘compartition’ as opposed to ‘divi-
sion’ or simply ‘partition’ is particularly good because the prefix com- implies
that the division is being done with reference or respect to something else,
which in fact it is—that is, compartition implies division of a whole into
parts that relate both among themselves and to the whole. Naturally, the
affinity of the original word and the translation makes the choice of compar-
tition an apt one, but a term with a similar meaning might be ‘apportion’—
that is, divide or share out according to proportion.
32 
Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 13); Granger (1931, p. 25); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 24);
Schofield (2009, p. 13).
33 
See Alberti (1546, p. 6).
34 
See Alberti (1988, p. 389); Palladio (1997, p. 421).
xc Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

A related concept is la rata parte. This term, for which we have no direct
English translation, is related to the notion of proportion and modularity,
and has been translated as ‘module’ or ‘proportionate part’. Another possible
translation is ‘prorated part’, as in ‘distribution pro rata’, but I found this less
pleasing.
4) Convenienza. Our English ‘convenience’ is a false friend for the Italian
convenienza which, rather than ‘ease of use’ or ‘being at hand’, carries over-
tones of ‘agreement’ and ‘appropriateness’. This is particularly important
when the discussion touches on convenienza di moduli or convenienza di misu-
ra. Each case has been carefully considered, but the translation I most often
use is ‘appropriateness’. The verb form convenire appears in descriptions of
something that befits a certain object; quello che conviene al decoro is translated
‘that which befits decorum’.
5) Edificatione (and its relation, edificare), and similarly machinatione. It
might seem tempting to render Barbaro’s three parts of architecture, Edifi-
catione, Gnomonica, & Machinatione as ‘edification, gnomonics and machina-
tion’ but this would be seriously misleading. Both ‘edification’ and ‘machina-
tion’ are again false friends of the Italian terms. Today’s ‘edification’ means
‘education’, but Barbaro’s term refers to ‘the fabrication of edifices’. Likewise,
the modern term ‘machination’ refers to plotting and scheming, not to the
making of machines as Barbaro intended. Therefore the three parts of ar-
chitecture are translated as ‘the fabrication of edifices, gnomonics, and the
making of machines’.
6) Grandezza. One of the most ambiguous terms in the treatise, and some-
times where you would hope for the greatest clarity, is that of grandezza,
‘size’ or ‘magnitude’. This can refer to ‘height’ or ‘thickness’ or simply ‘size’.
Most of the time it can be determined from the context, but sometimes ex-
actly what is being referred to is unclear.
On a related note, Barbaro mostly refers to the column ‘thickness’ as
a module, but his occasional use of the term ‘diameter’ makes clear what
thickness refers to. Another term used similarly is testa. The literal transla-
tion of this term is ‘head’, and that is not far off in the sense that Barbaro of-
ten uses it, in referring to ends of beams or poles. But it needs to be specified
that in Books III and IV, when he speaks of an intercolumniation being, for
example, ‘tre teste’, or the column height being ‘sette teste’, he is speaking of
the bottom end of the column, not its head or top end; more specifically, he
is speaking of the diameter of the column at its bottom.
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation xci

7) Spirito and aere. Barbaro makes a distinction between still air (aere) and
air that is sent out or expressed with force, which he calls spirito.35 This is
particularly related to the discussion of the air-powered or ‘spiritual’ ma-
chines such as those described by Hero of Alexandria in Pneumatica, and
the force pump and hydraulis of Ctesibius. I have translated spirito as ‘spirit’
but the reader should be clear that this is not spirit in the modern sense of
‘soul’ or ‘inner being’.
Similarly old-fashioned terms referring to water or moisture are hu-
more, ‘humour’, or even liquore, literally ‘liquor’, but better ‘moisture’. As far
as comprehension allows it, I have maintained the original terminology, but
where that compromises the understanding of the text, I have permitted
myself the use of modern terms.
8) Sul vivo. When something rests sul vivo, the significance is that it rests
solidly and squarely on whatever is beneath it. In the case of columns that are
stacked in several levels, the term sul vivo indicates that their centres are to
be aligned. In the case of a building’s foundation, the soil is excavated until
solid ground is reached, so that the foundation can rest sul vivo. We have no
corresponding English term, so I have translated it so that the meaning is
comprehensible as per the explanations just given.

Matters of content
Content in Vitruvius
Although I am sure there are many who will be eager to do so, I myself do
not enter into questions of semantics regarding often-discussed terms that
appear in Vitruvius such as ordinatio, eurythmia and symmetria. I simply re-
placed these terms in Barbaro’s text with English terms that are as close as
possible: order, eurhythmy, symmetry. Reflections on these terms and their
bearing on the text can be the subject of future studies.
In the many cases where meanings were ambiguous, I consulted the
four most recent English translations of Vitruvius: Morgan (1914), Granger
(1931, 1934), Rowland and Howe (1999), and Schofield (2009). These are
the texts referenced for comparison in the footnotes.
Content in Barbaro
Although in general I have not inserted notes regarding the work’s content,
preferring to leave this to my own future efforts as well as those of other

35 
Barbaro (1567, p. 443): lo spirito, cioè l’aere scacciato con l’espressioni.
xcii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

scholars, there are exceptions. I have remarked some errors on Barbaro’s part
and offered amendments in notes. One such example occurs in Vitruvius
I.VI.26. Vitruvius’s Latin text is:
Ventus autem est aeris fluens unda cum incerta motus redundantia.
This has been translated as follows:
Wind is a flowing wave of air, moving hither and thither indefi-
nitely;
Now the wind is a wave of air flowing with uncertain currents of
motion;
Wind is a flowing wave of air with an excess of irregular move-
ments;
For the wind is a wave of air flowing in unpredictable directions.
It is therefore quite surprising to read in Barbaro:
Il vento è onda del mare, che scorre con incerta abbondanza di movi-
mento.
The wind is a wave of the sea that flows with irregular abundance
of movement.36
He reiterates in the commentary:
Dice adunque il vento esser onda del mare: siccome l’onda non è altro,
che una parte d’acqua unita, & raccolta, che verso alcuna parte cacciata
insieme si muove…
He thus says that wind is a wave of the sea, since a wave is nothing
other than a part of water that is united and collected, and moves
together in some direction.
Then, however, he contradicts himself, saying:
…cosi vuole Vitruvio che il vento sia parte della aere in se ristretta, che
in alcuna parte pieghi, & però ha detto, che’l vento è onda del aere…
…so Vitruvius would have it that wind is a part of air that is com-
pressed in itself and curves in some direction, and so he said that
wind is a wave of air.

36 
These translations are found, respectively in: Morgan (1914, p. 25); Granger (1931, p.
55); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 29); Schofield (2009, p. 17); Barbaro (1567, p. 55, my
emphasis).
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation xciii

Barbaro here is striving to bring Vitruvius into agreement with Aristotel-

ean theory regarding wind, which holds that air is not the matter for wind
(because it is the matter for rain). The point here is not to argue Aristotelean
theory; it is rather to point out that Barbaro is doing what translators are
generally forbidden to do—that is, manipulating the text in order to support
his own beliefs.
Another example where Barbaro differs markedly from modern trans-
lations occurs in Book X, in the explanation of the well-known device for
measuring distance travelled by carriage, once called a hodometer.37 Stated
briefly, a wheel 4 ft in diameter has a circumference of 12 ½ ft, meaning that
when it has turned 400 times it will have travelled 5,000 ft, equal to 1,000
paces or 1 mile. In his translation Barbaro follows the texts of Fra Giocondo
and Cesariano, in which the diameter of the wheel must be quattro piedi, &
due dita (p. 468)—that is, four feet and two fingers—but all modern transla-
tors agree that the wheels of the carriage are to measure precisely four feet in
diameter.38 Even Perrault, over a century after the Barbaro Vitruvius of 1567,
puzzled over this, accusing Barbaro of having passed over this too lightly.39
Instead, the erasures and additions in ms. 5106 appear to show that Barbaro
considered this very carefully indeed. The conflict involves which value of
p is used: today’s irrational value of 3.1415… , approximated rationally by
Archimedes as 22/7; or the value of 3, indicated in two separate verses of the
Bible (I Kings 7:23 and Chronicles 4:2). If the reduced value of p is used,
then naturally one of the other two values must be increased; the easiest in
this case is the diameter of the wheel, leaving the circumference unaltered.

Editorial considerations
Barbaro’s interpolations
In the 1556 folio edition, Barbaro’s commentary and the text were much
more closely intertwined than they are in the 1567 edition. That is, in the
first edition he tended to insert comments after every few sentences, or even
after single sentences, whereas in the second the passages of Vitruvius are
much more concentrated, and are followed by longer passages of commen-

37 
Alberti deals with the hodometer in his Ludi matematici; see (Williams et al. 2010, pp.
62-63; 133).
38 
See Morgan (1914, p. 301); Granger (1934, p. 319); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 127);
Schofield (2009, p. 300).
39 
Perrault in fact takes Barbaro to task on this matter, without apparently understanding
why Barbaro treated the text as he did; see (Perrault 1673, p. 301, n. 1).
xciv Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

tary. In some cases Barbaro inserts brief explanatory comments, especially

definitions, into the Vitruvian text. Sometimes these interpolations are sig-
nalled by the use of curly brackets or changes in font, but often they are not.
In the translation such interpolations have been identified and extracted.

My interpolations
Words in the text which are enclosed in square brackets are supplementary
for purposes of clarifying syntax or explanatory; explanatory words are pref-
aced by “i.e.”.

The treatment of numbers

Barbaro uses both numerals—2, 5, 7—and numbers written out—two, five,
seven—often mixing the two in the same sentence. This was particularly
interesting to me because of my earlier work on Alberti, who was so diffi-
dent about the use of images that he specifically cautioned against the use of
numerals.40 To modern readers, however, the use of numbers in written form
will make the mathematical operations difficult to follow. Where I believed
this to be the case, I have used ciphers.

Footnotes
As a rule, unless necessary to clarify the commentary or remark singular
instances of translation, I have not inserted footnotes into the Vitruvian text.
Footnotes in the Barbaro text have been inserted with the following three
aims in mind.
1) Navigation. Where Barbaro makes a remark such as ‘as discussed in the
sixth book’, I have inserted a footnote with the reference to the precise page
or pages in the 1567 text and/or the relevant passages in Vitruvius. These
appear in the form ‘See Barbaro, p. 68; Vitruvius II.I.1’. This is aimed at
helping the reader navigate the treatise more quickly.
2) Identification and acknowledgment of sources. All translators grappling
with the obscurity of the Vitruvian text relied on works by other authors to
overcome difficulties. Ryff writes:

See Alberti (1485, 7.6); (1988: 200-201): ‘Here I ask those to copy out this work
40 

of ours not to use numerals to record numbers but to write their names in full; for
example, twelve, twenty, forty, and so on, rather than XII, XX, XL’.
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation xcv

I have therefore in leisure times looked further to professions close

to mine, the highly laudable art of Medicine, to certain practices
and works from the marvellous examples of other excellent artists
such as Luca Pacioli, Cesare Cesariani, Benedicti Iourj, Boni Mau-
ri, Leon Battista [Alberti], Guillaume Philandrier, already named,
Sebastiano Serlio, Pedro Nunes, Oronce Finé, Niccolò Tartaglia,
and many others whose literature about architecture and closely re-
lated arts proved crucial in providing true precepts for my under-
taking.41
Jean Martin, the French translator, took a similar course, mentioning those
to whom he had turned for enlightenment:
…[if] I myself had not experienced reading the work of Fra Gio-
vanni Giocondo Architect, the aforementioned Mr Leon Battista
Alberti, Mr Budé, Mr Philander, Mr Sebastian Serlio, Master Jean
Goujon who made anew the figures for building work that this
Author promised us, and other great personages worthy of immor-
tality, I would never have arrived at the aim of my undertaking.42
In his Proemio Lázaro de Velasco, who followed Barbaro, also cites a number
of editions of Vitruvius: ‘Jocundus Veronese’ (Fra Giocondo); an edition ‘by
Aldo Manucio’ (Aldo Manuzio), and one ‘by Aloisio Pirovano’—that is, the
1521 edition by Cesariano (fol. 1v).43 He doesn’t mention Barbaro in this
context, but he does refer to ‘Daniele Barbáro’ three times in his notes to
Book III (fols. 51r, 51v, 52v).44

41 
Ryff (1548, Dedication, n.p.): Bin ich derhalben / noch weiter verurfacht worden / zu müssigen
zeiten / ben neben meiner furhabenden profession / der hochlöblichen kunst der Medicin / zu
sonderlicher ergekung und recreation nach dem herlichen Exempel / anderer trefflicher Künstner
als Lucae Paccioli, Caearis Caesarini, Benedicti Iouri, oni Mauri, Leonis Baptistae, Guilielmi
Philandri, Sebastiani Serlij, Petri Nonij, Orontij Finei, Nicolai Tartaleae &c. und andremehr
/ der Architectur und derselbigen angehören kunst hochverstendige / deren schrifften ich mich
furnemlichen in disem furhaben als getrewer Perceptozen gebraucht. My English translation.
42 
Martin (1547, Advertissement aux lecteurs, n.p.): …mesmes si te ne me feusse preva lu du
labeur de Frere Ichà Ioconde l’Architecte, du susaict Messire Leon Baptiste Albert de monsieur Budé,
de monsieur Philander ia nommé, de messire Sebastien Serlio, de maistre Ichan Govion qu à faict
nouvellement les figures concernantes la massonnerie que cest autheur nous promettoit, & dautres
excellens personnages dignes de l’immortalité, iamais ie ne feusse venu au bout de mon entreprise.
My translation
43 
See Velasco (ca. 1564, fol. 1v; facs. ed. 1999, p. 80). I am grateful to José Calvo López for
help with the Spanish manuscript
44 
Velasco (ca. 1564, fols. 51r, 51v, 52v; facs. ed. 1999, pp. 131, 132, 134).
xcvi Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Barbaro doesn’t make any similar statement in which he acknowledges

a string of authors whose works he has consulted. In fact, he disdains this
practice, saying ‘I have avoided the ostentation of citing the names of authors
of whom I have availed myself in this arduous undertaking’.45 But sprinkled
through his commentary are references to both ancient authors and his con-
temporaries. I have completed these references in footnotes with as much dili-
gence as possible. In some cases, Barbaro is explicit: ‘Pliny, in the seventeenth
chapter of the thirty-sixth book of his Natural History…’. In other cases, he is
less precise: ‘Ovid says…’ (without saying exactly where Ovid makes his state-
ment). Sometimes he mentions a source without a proper name: ‘the architect
who built the Palace of Urbino’ or even more vaguely, ‘our modern astrono-
mer’. In still other cases, he is the least precise of all: ‘It is said…’. In all cases
every effort has been made to track down and properly annotate the references.
3) Explanations regarding linguistics. I have footnoted instances of the use
of dialect, Latin, or Greek where I thought they were of particular interest. I
have footnoted instances where I believe there are anomalies in the text that
are due to printing errors.

Cross-references
Barbaro used the convention of his day for the division of Vitruvius’s books
into chapters, and this does not agree with the conventional chapter divisions
used today. Thus, even had I wished to, there would have been no easy way
to insert modern translations of Vitruvius in place of Barbaro’s own. For in-
stance, in Barbaro Book VI has eleven chapters (for Fra Giocondo it had ten;
for Cesariano and Jean Martin it had eleven, identical to those of Barbaro),
while in modern editions, based upon the divisions set out by Johann Gottlob
Schneider in 1807, it has only eight. Although Barbaro retains the division
as it came down to him, he nevertheless remarks on it more than once. For
example, he notes that Book IV is effectively a continuation of Book III, and
citing this as the reason why Book IV lacks a proper preface.46 He also ques-
tions the logic of the chapter division in Book VI, beginning his comment of
chapter 4 with the remark, ‘I would not divide with a new chapter this part of
the atria from the preceding chapter, because it goes with the cavaedium…’.47

45 
Barbaro (1567, p. 64): ho fuggito la pompa di citare a nome gli autori, de i quali mi sono servito
in questa faticosa impresa.
46 
See Barbaro (1567, p. 161).
47 
Barbaro (1567, p. 288): Io non dividerei con nuovo capo questa parte de gli Atrij dal capitolo
precedente, perche l’Atrio va col Cavedio.
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation xcvii

Therefore, given the fact that Barbaro’s division does not match ours, in
order to provide a guide for the reader the present translation is cross-refer-
enced to both Barbaro’s 1567 text and the standard book-chapter-paragraph
division of Vitruvius used today. References to page breaks in the 1567 text
appear in square brackets in red bold type like this in the form [p. 367]
where they occur in the text and at the beginning of each chapter.48 Refer-
ences to chapter-paragraphs appear in square brackets in red italic type like
this: [III.5.6]. Page range in Barbaro appear in bold red characters in the
headers of odd-numbered pages. As mentioned above, internal references
provided in the footnotes refer to the pages in Barbaro’s text, not to the page
numbers in this present volume, and there too Barbaro’s page numbers ap-
pear in bold red, and Vitruvian references in red italics.

Conventions used in the preparing the work

I have adopted several conventions in preparing this translation. The first
concerns the use of italics. Barbaro employs Roman type for Vitruvius, and
italics for his own comments. I have reversed this, for the fact that Roman is
generally easier to read, and Barbaro’s commentary occupies the lion’s share
of the work. In addition to this distinction between types, for added clarity
I have also indicated the speaker (Barbaro) or (Vitruvius) at the beginning of
each paragraph. Barbaro routinely abbreviates Vitruvius as ‘Vitru.’ or ‘Vit.’,
but I do not follow him in that.
When Barbaro cites terms or phrases in Latin or Greek he often slightly
transforms the words into an Italian transliteration. For example, in Book V,
in terms used for the parts of the theatre, the Greek logeion has been altered
to logion and logeo, and the Latin praecinctiones to precinctioni. I have some-
times remarked this in a note, but have mostly reverted to the conventional
spellings without comment. Transliterations of Greek terms in Greek have
been verified and left in Greek.
With regard to language usage, I have adopted modern English prac-
tices throughout (such as capitalisation mentioned above). The text has been
prepared according to British English standards for punctuation and spell-
ing. My valiant proofreaders questioned my use of contractions (mustn’t,
haven’t, etc.), and in fact we are taught that contractions are to be avoided in
formal scholarly writing. But I have used them in the awareness that Barbaro

It should be noted that Barbaro’s page numbers have been verified with an original of the
48 

publication. In the 1999 facsimile edition of Barbaro, the order of pages was manipulated
without notice to the readers, and it thus unreliable in this regard.
xcviii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

felt himself to be speaking in an accessible way to a readership of peers, and

in this context contractions, closer to our form of normal speech, seemed
more appropriate.
When Barbaro revised his 1556 folio edition to produce the 1567 quar-
to edition, one space-saving device was the elimination of paragraph breaks.
(The printing convention used in the 1556 edition was to distinguish para-
graph by a hanging rather than indented first line.) However, as the para-
graphs are overly long in many cases, I have inserted paragraph breaks where
I felt they belonged in the discourse, without referring to the 1556 edition to
verify their original placement.

Literal numbers
Literal numbers appear in italics where Barbaro refers to algebraic proce-
dures (such as the lengthy excursus in Book III regarding proportion theory,
where we see numerous examples of ‘the ratio of a to b’). In contrast, where
Barbaro uses letters to refer to points, lines, and elements in figures, these
appear in bold characters. This is partly to distinguish them from literal
numbers in algebraic applications, and partly to facilitate reading. Further
regarding the use of letters in Barbaro’s geometrical procedures and proofs,
the original text may identify the endpoints of a line segment as a and b, but
then refer to that line both as ab and ba. I have tended to adjust such refer-
ences so that a line is always referred to in a uniform fashion, and I have done
this mainly reading the letters from left to right and top to bottom. Letters
identifying points in figure captions also appear in bold.

Figures
The figures that accompany the translation are those of the 1567 edition, drawn
by Andrea Palladio, Francesco Marcolini, and others.49 There is no need for
me to go into the history of the collaboration between Palladio and Barba-
ro, which is well documented.50 Here I must note that I am grateful to the
Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin, Einsiedeln, Switzerland, for permission
to reproduce the digitalized images from their copy of the 1567 edition.
While Barbaro often grouped a number of figures in a single page, and
placed them at the end of chapters, in this present volume the images have
been placed individually within the text close to the discussion they are
49 
Barbaro acknowledges both contributions; see Barbaro (1567, p. 64) for Palladio and
(1567, p. 225 and p. 432) for Marcolini.
50 
See Oechslin (2012) and Cellauro (1998).
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation xcix

meant to illustrate. In rare instances I have drawn corrected figures. These

are of course remarked as such.
Figures are numbered using all Arabic numerals to avoid any confusion
with the cross-references to the Vitruvian text. The identifier ‘Fig. 4.3.1’ in-
dicates (deciphering backwards) that the figure is the first figure in chapter
III of Book IV.
Where Barbaro has provided a caption or a legend, these are translated.
Where the figure appears with no caption, one has been provided in square
brackets.

The indexes
I have compiled two separate indexes: the first a detailed subject index; the
second an index of proper names. These are intended, as are all indexes, to
help the reader navigate the work. In this particular case, in order to help
those navigating both the 1567 original and this present English translation,
page numbers for both have been included, distinguishing them by the use
of page numbers in red bold characters for the 1567 edition, and normal
characters for this present edition.
I wondered if perhaps the subject index might be too detailed, but de-
cided it was better to err in excess than in defect. Some entries, such as that
for Machines, read almost as chapter-by-chapter summaries of the con-
tents of the book. The index of proper names makes it possible to see at a
glance the authorities both ancient and contemporary consulted by Barba-
ro. It should be noted that the indexes were compiled with regard only to
Barbaro’s commentary, not to the Vitruvian text. Therefore, if Vitruvius
mentions a name and Barbaro makes no comment on it, it will not appear
in the index. For example, of the string of authorities cited by Vitruvius
in VIII.III.27 (Theophrastus, Timaeus, Posidonius, Hegesias, Herodotus,
Aristides, Metrodorus), only Theophrastus and Posidonius appears in the
index of proper names. Some of the subjects in the subject index will like-
wise appear rather thin, but this occurs where Barbaro allows the Vitruvian
text to suffice. For an index of Vitruvius the reader is referred to Schofield
(2009, pp. 427-440).

What has not been included

This present volume does not reproduce the star charts found on pp. 483-
495, or the chart of the inclinations of the sun on p. 496. These may be con-
sulted easily enough in the facsimile editions.
c Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Concluding remarks
That Barbaro felt his work on Vitruvius to be a Pro-
methean effort is shown even by the initial at the
beginning of his dedication of the work to Ippolito
II d’Este, which depicts Prometheus and the eagle.
In my mind there is one very good reason to
translate Barbaro and make him accessible to a
new age of readers: unlike Vitruvius, who Schofield
called ‘unlovely to read’,51 Barbaro is very lovely to
read. His prose is relaxed and pleasant, his tone informal and companiona-
ble. His explanations are clear, he can be amusing even when erudite.
In his commentary to chapter six in Book I, Barbaro provides a lengthy
defence of his work. I include it here, not least in order to give a sample of
Barbaro’s own voice:
Ma in somma io dirò a tutti i riprenditori delle cose, queste poche parole,
le quali siano detto per una fiata; che il giudicare è operatione di una ec-
cellentissima virtù, & come che difficil cosa, & pericolosa sia ad ognuno,
a coloro massimamente è dura, & pericolosa, i quali o non intendeno, o
vengono con proponimento di biasimare piu presto, che di giudicare: &
guardando con gli occhi aperti al poco di male, sono ciechi al molto di
bene che nelle opere di altri si truova. Questa sorte di gente (perche pare
tra la moltitudine esser qualche cosa) perche il riprendere ha in se una
mostra dd’eccellenza, & d’avantaggio: nientedimeno la verità col tempo
scuopre il difetto dello animo, & le opere loro il mancamento della scien-
za, & della buona volontà. Alla perversità di questi è sottoposto ognu-
no, che suol fare, o dare alcuna cosa in publico, quantunque l’habbiano
data, o fatta con buona intentione. però io stimo che molti prenderanno
maggiore occasione di biasimare quello, che io con’ottimo pensamento ho
proposto di publicare: imperoche il trattamento d’un Arte sola è sottopo-
sta al perverso giudicio di quelli, che in quell’arte vogliono esser tenuti,
o si stimano, overo sono periti, & intendenti: ma il trattare di quella
cognitione, che abbraccia molte, & diverse scienze, & Arti, non puo fug-
gire il biasimo di molti, & diversi periti, & artefici invidiosi. de i quali
se in alcun tempo se n’è trovato abondanza a i dì nostri certamente ne
sono infiniti, & forse questo adiviene, perche quanto manca loro la ispe-
rienza, la industria, la dottrina, & lo essempio de i buoni, tanto sopra-

51 
See Schofield (2009, p. xl).
Kim Williams, Approach to the Translation ci

bonda, l’arroganza, l’avaritia, & la ignoranza loro. Io di questi poco mi

curerei, quando io conscessi, che non gli fusse prestato orecchia: percioche
né di danno, né di vergogna sarebbono a chi s’affatica. Ma perche la cosa
procede altrimenti, & volentieri si ascolta, chi dice male, & i gusti de
gli huomini per lo piu sono guasti, io esorto ognuno, che si piglia qualche
bella impresa per giovar altrui, che non perdonino a fatica, per fare tali
opere, che da se si difendino: & che prendendo seco la difesa dalla verità
con l’aiuto del tempo possino convincere di malvagità, & perfidia chi si
opponesse al vero. Questo consiglio mi sono sforzato di prendere nello
interpretare, & esponere i presenti volumi dell’Architettura. & se bene le
mie debili forze non hanno potuto tanto, che l’opera sia riuscita a quella
perfettione, che ella possi mantenersi da se: nientedimeno io posso affer-
mare con verità, che nè maggior diligenza, nè piu industria, nè miglior
volontà ho potuto porvi di quello, che ho posto.52
These words of Barbaro’s heartened me as I compiled my translation of his
work. If Barbaro himself felt the need to defend his efforts, I need not blush
in taking his advice and echoing his words in defence of my own efforts:
Even if my feeble powers were unable to allow the work to attain
that degree of perfection that would allow it to stand on its own, I
can nevertheless truthfully state that neither greater diligence, nor
greater industry, nor better will could I have put into it than I did.
Barbaro stated in the 1556 edition that it had taken him nine years to com-
plete the work; it took him a further eleven years to bring out the ensuing
two editions. I have almost equalled that, having begun this work in 2000.
I could have easily continued to refine, and revise and re-check for another
two years, but this present volume, with all its defects, must suffice.
Still today, Barbaro is an excellent teacher. We should all be as lucky as
Palladio to have such a mentor!

Torino, January 2019

52 
Barbaro (1567, pp. 63-64).
cii Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Acknowledgements

The work of translating and annotating Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of

1567 began many years ago, and over the course of it I have had the pleasure
of consulting not only the works of Barbaro’s contemporaries but those of
fine scholars of our own day. Along the way, help and advice was received
from many people: scholars in diverse fields, librarians, proofreaders, pub-
lishing professionals, and friends. Where I received specific help in reference
to a particular subject, this has been acknowledged in a footnote, but here I
would like to say some special words.
I wish to thank first of all the authors of the two forewords that accom-
pany this present work, Branko Mitrović and Robert Tavernor. The trans-
lation project was initially conceived in 2000-2001 as a collaborative work
with Robert Tavernor. The first drafts of Book III and the annotations to it
were initially done by the pair of us those many years ago. I am grateful for
that early collaboration, and for his having accepted my invitation to provide
a foreword here. Tavernor’s earlier translations of Palladio’s The Four Books on
Architecture (with Richard Schofield) and Alberti’s The Art of Building in Ten
Books (with Joseph Rkywert and Neil Leach) greatly inspired me to add an-
other ‘ten books’ to that corpus. Branko Mitrović, a colleague and friend of
many years whose works on Palladio and Barbaro have become touchstones
by now, followed the project from inception to maturity, and he and I have
enjoyed many a discussion about Barbaro, Palladio, proportions, and much
else. Inviting him to contribute a foreword was a natural decision for me, and
I am very happy that he accepted.
The images that appear here were kindly provided by the Stiftung
Bibliothek Werner Oechslin, which granted permission to use them and
furnished high-resolution digital files for their elaboration. The Stiftung
Bibliothek Werner Oechslin also provided the digital images for the com-
parative illustrations of facing pages in the 1511 edition of Fra Giocondo
and the 1567 edition of Barbaro’s Vitruvius that appear in the Foreword by
Robert Tavernor. I am particularly grateful to Anja Buschow Oechslin for
her patience and courtesy. Tavernor’s Foreword also includes a reproduction
of the figures from Francesco di Giorgio Martini’s manuscript Trattato di
Acknowledgements ciii

Architettura (Fondo Nazionale II.I.141), for which I thank the Biblioteca

Centrale Nazionale di Firenze. David Speranzi provided especially efficient
help with that at rather the last minute. For the portrait of Daniele Barbaro
reproduced from the etching by Wenceslaus Hollar that appears on the cover
I thank the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library of the University of Toronto.
For my translator’s note, Sylvie Duvernoy reviewed and corrected my
translations from Jean Martin’s French translation of Vitruvius. José Cal-
vo-Lopez helped me access the Spanish manuscript of Velasco, and also
came to my aid with discussions of terminology.
In Book III, I received help for sections of the preface involving ratios
and proportions—and with other parts throughout the book regarding ge-
ometry—from Stephen R. (Steve) Wassell, my co-author on the translation
of Silvio Belli’s On Ratios and Proportion, and more recently, with Lionel
March, on that of The Mathematical Works of Leon Battista Alberti. For help
with the description of the method for constructing the Ionic volute de-
scribed in chapter III, I thank Francisco Gonzalez Quintial and Dimitrije
Nikolić, who volunteered to try out the method to determine both the trans-
lation and the viability of the method.
In Book V, Carl Huffman kindly answered my questions regarding the
Pythagorean acusmata mentioned in the preface. I thank Andrew Barker for
assistance with transcriptions of Greek note names. I thank Arielle Saiber
for discussions of Pythagorean numerical prescriptions for lengths, also
mentioned in the preface.
In Book VII, Ntovros Vasileios was very helpful with the Greek term
kαυσις (causis).
In Book IX, the longest and, for me, the most difficult of the entire
treatise, I called on many for help. For discussions about the extract in verse
from the Phaenomena of Aratus, I am grateful to Stanley Lombardo. For
discussions of instruments mentioned in chapter II, and especially the mar-
iner’s astrolabe, I thank Robert Egler. For the long excursus on mean pro-
portions in chapter III, I am grateful for the critical readings by Samuel
Gessner and Maria Zack, whose comments allowed me to be sure that the
text was correctly translated. I thank Michael Shank for discussions about
the identity of the unnamed ‘modern author’ mention in chapter IV. I am
infinitely grateful to James Lattis, who generously and delightfully replied
to questions over the course of many weeks, and read almost all of Book IX,
making especially valuable comments on chapter IV. Bill Thayer of Lacus-
civ Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Curtius was very helpful in tracking down the term ὥραι καιρίκαι—horae
temporales (inaequales)—and possible meanings of Barbaro’s term chicrichè.
My sincere thanks go to Ari Belenkiy and Eduardo Vila-Echague for their
critical reading of a first draft of chapter VIII, and to Fred Sawyer for his
critical readings of a later draft of chapter VIII and of chapter IX.
In Book X, concerning the construction of the organ, I am indebted to
organ builders Marco Renolfi and Massimo Elice and organist Paolo Tariz-
zo for the English names of the various parts.
More generally, it is a pleasure to acknowledge Pier Daniele Napoli-
tani for discussions about Maurolico and help with a few difficult phrases.
Colleague and friend of many years Livia Giacardi patiently answered ques-
tions about the science of historiography. Richard Schofield, who recently
translated Vitruvius for Penguin Classics, provided valuable help in several
difficult passages (especially engibbata in Book X, chapter XII) and very en-
joyable and enlightening discussions about translating in general. Roberta
Spallone helped in locating citations of Serlio, and with obtaining the image
from Serlio’s Book III reproduced in Robert Tavernor’s Foreword. The li-
brarians of the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana in Venice and the Biblioteca
Apostolica Vaticana in the Vatican City were extremely helpful; I regret that
I cannot thank them by name.
Regarding help with finding precise citations, I must thank the entities
on the Internet for providing searchable digitalized files of countless pub-
lications from the 1400s forward. Hours and hours of research time were
saved because I was able to consult books online and/or download them
into my personal computer for future reference. The sites most helpful to
me in particular were Internet Archive (https://archive.org/), Google Books
(https://books.google.com/), and HathiTrust Digital Library (https://www.
hathitrust.org/). Another valuable source for historic publications is the
Max Planck Institute’s ECHO Cultural Heritage Online (http://echo.mpi-
wg-berlin.mpg.de/home). To these websites, and to the libraries that allowed
their collections to be digitalized, I owe a debt of gratitude.
It became quite clear to me that I was never going to be able to find all
the errors and inconsistencies in such a large work unless I relied on others. I
therefore issued a call for help, and thankfully this was answered. I am very
grateful to my team of proofreaders: Alyssa Abraham (Book I, Book VIII,
my Translator’s Note, Branko Mitrović’s and Robert Tavernor’s Forewords,
and all footnotes; the index of subjects); Carla Taban (Book III, chapters
Acknowledgements cv

I-III; Book IV; Book V, chapters I-III and VI-XII; the index of subjects);
Amyrose McCue Gill and Lisa Regan of TextFormations (Book II; Book
III, preface; Book V, chapters IV-V; Book IX, chapters I-III and V-VII); and
Adrian Susan Hoch (Book VI, Book VII, Barbaro’s dedication, and the note
to the reader by Francesco de Franceschi). I myself did the proofreading of
Book X. I should make it clear, however, that I take full responsibility for
any remaining errors or omissions.
For the making of the book itself, I don’t think I can ever adequately
thank book designer Felicita Bertiero of Zazì in Torino for her willingness
to undertake the project; for her sense of design and understanding how
important it was for me that the book be beautiful as well as correct; for
her patience as I read and reread each chapter, leading to innumerable revi-
sions during the proof process; and for her encouragement when my energy
flagged.
For the publication by Springer, it is my great pleasure to thank Thomas
Hempfling, a collaborator for many years who has supported book after book
by me, and Sarah Goob, who supported all of my decisions about the organi-
sation of this present book. Thomas and Sarah gave me the possibility to pro-
duce this book in exactly the form I wished it to have, with, for example, the
cross-references in red to facilitate readers. All authors know how important
such support from the publisher is.
I wish to thank the entire community of readers of the Nexus Network
Journal and those who over more than two decades have contributed to the
NNJ and have taken part in the conference series ‘Nexus: Relationships Be-
tween Architecture and Mathematics’. It is thanks to the many years of lead-
ing this community and participating actively in the growth of the discipline
that investigates the intersections between architecture and mathematics
that I was able to carry this project out. I have come to know many of those
whose names appear in these acknowledgements thanks to the NNJ and the
Nexus conferences.
Finally—and most importantly—I wish to thank Daniele Barbaro, my
intellectual companion of many years. It is to Barbaro that I dedicate this
volume.
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated
by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 1

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_1
 TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS
AND REVEREND
CARDINAL OF FERRARA
D. IPPOLITO DA ESTE1

DANIEL BARBARO PATRIARCH

ELECT OF AQUILEIA

[p. i]

he entirety of fine works, most illustrious and rever-

end Sir, the more they are looked at and contemplat-
ed by men, the more they reveal their beauty and the
skilfulness of the master, though often at first glance
one feels none of the appreciation that comes later when they have been
carefully examined and considered. I need not exert myself to prove that this
is so because the paintings, sculpture, and buildings of great men and other
things that we see every day clearly demonstrate it, since the more they are
observed, the more the observer is enamoured of them. This is a clear sign
that greater beauty can always be discovered in such things. This effect, or
one similar to it, is made by the true and precious stones of nature in con-
trast to the false and vile ones made by men. The false ones at first glance
make a most blithe and splendid show of themselves and, like flatterers,
delight the eye with a false splendour, but then go on to fade; but the true
and fine natural stones, because they are made of nature’s truth, not to de-
ceive anyone but to elevate minds to a higher journey, sooner live up to what
they promise. Whereupon their possessors, discovering [p. ii] daily greater
charm and more truth, appreciate and admire them all the more. A similar
1
Ippolito II d’Este (Ferrara, 25 August 1509 - Rome, 2 December 1572).
3
4 Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

thing happens to the readers of the things of excellent men, who, drinking
thirstily of the precepts of the arts and continuing with study and practice to
know them better, discover in the progress that they make that the author’s
virtue is ever more manifest and admirable. Thus it happened to me in the
effort put into the Vitruvius that I dedicated earlier to your most illustrious
and reverend self, when, by dint of that love that everyone has of making his
works better every day, reviewing and rereading that author and savouring
every more his excellence, and also seeing that, under the protection of your
lordship, it had been embraced by the world, prompted by the solicitude of
the booksellers, I wished to bring it to light again—taking care, however,
to keep my studious efforts and observances associated to the dignity and
luminosity of your person—with that desire that I have always had to benefit
all as far as my forces allow me to, and to provide an illustrious testimony to
the magnificent, excellent buildings that you have made and make still in
various parts of the world, to the marvel of men. I saw some of these works
before I dedicated Vitruvius to you. Some I have seen since; these are the
ones that you made in Rome and Tivoli, 2 where nature would do well to
confess that she has been surpassed by the art and splendour of your mind, as
when in an instant gardens were born and woods were grown, and trees full
of the sweetest fruit were found in a single night. Indeed, mountains rose
out of valleys; riverbeds were made in the mountains of the hardest rock;
the stones opened to allow water to flow; dry land was flooded and irrigated
with springs, [p. iii] flowing brooks, and fishponds of the rarest quality.
Men more intelligent than I have offered an honourable judgement of these
things. So I will go no further, leaving everyone with a most ardent desire
to see them and contenting myself with your good grace, to which I humbly
recommend myself.

In Venice in 1567

2
The Villa d’Este in Tivoli, begun 1565.
 FRANCESCO DE FRANCESCO SANESE
TO THE READERS

[p. v]

esiring to reprint the Vitruvius with the commentary

of the most reverend Monsignor Daniel Barbaro Pa-
triarch Elect of Aquileia, I have often been careful
not to disturb his thinking, knowing that his most
reverend lordship was occupied with other studies
in keeping with the rank that he holds. Thus I have
waited for quite a long time to begin doing what I greatly desired. Now
trusting in his humanity and imagining that studious men always review
their things and seek to extend and adorn them, I took it upon myself to
reveal my desire. I did not deceive myself regarding his goodness, because
having courteously consented to my reprinting it, he told me that he had
also prepared the Latin that he had compiled together with the vulgar; that
he had added many things and many figures that are not in the first edition;
and that he would give me the Latin as well. Whereas I, having received
more that I had asked for, have wished, good readers, for the common good,
to bring to light both versions of Vitruvius, and to use all diligence to pro-
duce them in a form that is convenient, with figures that are accurately and
diligently engraved by my honoured collaborator and companion in this
enterprise, Mr Giovanni Chrieger, and accommodated to this new form so
that everyone can enjoy the fruit of the erudite efforts of my aforenamed
lordship, whose thoughts are aimed at all the fine arts, and who is always

5
6 Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

finding ways to benefit the world, and exerts himself to understand all the
fine things that there are in the most noble arts, making honest profession
of being obliged to anyone who reveals some fine discovery to him. Having
thus seen in Vitruvius’s analemma that the excellent Mr Federico Comman-
dino has behaved superbly in interpreting Ptolemy’s analemma—which is
the same as that of Vitruvius—and that the point lies [p. vi] in that; and that
the others who have written about clocks have not given their foundations;
and judging that to be the true, only, and expeditious way to teach, demon-
strate, and practice one of the principal parts of architecture, he wanted to
remove from the ninth book the discourses that had appeared earlier about
clocks and insert in their place these of Ptolemy and Commandino, adding
to them the facility that is properly his. So the readers of the revised Vitru-
vius will be obliged to him for this, as they will be for the many added fig-
ures, and especially those of the cavaedia, which are difficult, and the very
beautiful ones of the baths and the palaestrae, which shed much light on the
things of Vitruvius. He has likewise added many discourses and fine prac-
tices, exhorting those seekers of truth to do something fine, and to put their
shoulders to this honoured undertaking, in which many have futilely exert-
ed themselves, to be instructed by those who are well-read and practiced,
which two conditions are rarely found in a single person and are more than
necessary if a man wishes to be an architect in both name and deed. I have
seen the writings of many who make a profession of architecture, and they
make no distinction between theory and practice; teaching simply to draw
lines without the mathematical proofs, they think that that is theory. In this
way they have neither theory nor practice, because theory refers to prac-
tice, and practice depends on theory. In short, those who don’t have math-
ematics, don’t have theory. So I desire for the good of such as these, who
glory in possessing architecture, that they would restrain themselves and
interrogate themselves according to Vitruvius, and say, ‘Vitruvius says that
the architect must be adorned with the knowledge of many arts and many
sciences; well, do I have such ornaments? Vitruvius says that the architect
must have, according to need and with a certain sobriety, letters, drawing,
arithmetic, geometry, laws both natural and civil, astrology, music, perspec-
tive, and other arts. Fine. Do I know all of these, or many of them, or none
of them? Vitruvius says that the architect is an architect thanks to order,
disposition, symmetry, decorum, [p. vii] distribution, and graceful manner.
Fine. Do I have the habit of these things in my mind?’ Thus asking himself
p. vii 7

these questions, if they do wish to not deceive themselves, they will know
how to judge themselves, and finding that they have these ornaments that
Vitruvius cites, they will thank God that He has given them to him, along
with mind and other assets. Nor for this will they go about, glorying in
being architects, but will exert themselves every day to advance themselves
with their works. If they do not find within themselves the things that are
required of the architect, they must either exert themselves to have them or
remain silent and not attribute to themselves what they don’t actually have.
So, good readers, and you seekers of name and glory, exert yourself to lay a
solid foundation for this by acquiring the virtues and arts, and using such
modesty as is appropriate. Neither attribute to yourselves things of others
nor boast of what you do not possess; be obliged to those who teach you;
use diligence in learning; observe those who are good; and make good use
of that which, with my little knowledge but much good will, it occurs to me
to remind you, being as I am always prepared to be at your service without
sparing expense or effort.
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book I
[p. 1]

n the name of God Glorious, I, Daniele Barbaro, a Venetian

nobleman, committed myself to expose and interpret the ten
books of architecture by M. Vitruvius. My intention with
this honest endeavour was to be of use to the scholars of artful inventions,
and to provide an opportunity for others to write more clearly about those
things (since many of these humanly occur) which have escaped my hand.
Here then, good reader, I—who neither desire a prize that I have not worked
for nor, resting, seek to enrich myself with the goods of others—justly re-
quest your gratitude. We are born men, and what proceeds from humanity
is carried out by ourselves and natural, and directed towards others, so that
we live by others, and each helps the other. Only the Lord in the totality of
his essence has no need of anything that is not within him; but everyone else
is needy of his grace. Let us then enjoy that, and without envy try our hands
in like manner at attempting to arrive at that beautiful truth which is found
in worthy arts, so that with the splendour of virtue and glory, we drive away
the dark shadows of error and of death.

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 9

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_2
10 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Life of M. Vitruvius
(Barbaro) Marcus Vitruvius lived at the time of Julius Caesar, and also lived
under good Augustus in the Roman years seven hundred and twenty-sev-
en.1 He was of average stature, and not very well accommodated in terms
of worldly goods. He had happy fortune in his mother and father because,
brought up diligently and well instructed by them, he devoted himself to the
knowledge of many arts, by which he arrived at the acquisition of architec-
ture. He lived many years, worked and wrote, and led his life virtuously to
its end. We have no other recollections of him, other than his own composi-
tions: those ten books that we have already mentioned.

First, in the dedication of the work he says:

Though the council of the gods consecrated him to the thrones of immortality,
and transferred the empire of the father into your power, in memory of him,
my study went on just the same, [p. 2] remaining unchanged in you all the
favour I had garnered. Thus with M. Aurelius, P. Minidius and Gn. Cor-
nelius I oversaw the machines of the ballistae and the scorpions, and of the
provisions of other torments, for which you immediately compensated me very
well, and on the recommendation of your sister, maintained that recognition.
Thus being bound and obliged by that benefit, inasmuch as in the last years of
my life I need fear no poverty, I began to write these things.2

In the preface to the sixth book he says this:

So I render the highest and infinite thanks to my parents who, agreeing with
the law of the Athenians, instructed me in the arts, and in those especially
which, without letters, and without those commonalities in all doctrines that
revolve around it, cannot in any way be commended.3

1 
Years in the Roman calendar were reckoned according to many dates. If the year fixed
by Varro for the founding of Rome (753 A.U.C., Ab Urbe condita) is taken as the year of
reference, then Barbaro’s 727 converts to 27 B.C.
2 
Quoted from Barbaro, p. 6; Vitruvius I.Pref.2. It is interesting to note that below, where
this passage appears in its proper context, Barbaro translates it slightly differently.
3 
Quoted from Barbaro, p. 272; Vitruvius VI.Pref.4.
p. 2 11

In the preface to the second book he again says:

But to me, O Emperor, nature has not given greatness of body; age has de-
formed my face, and infirmity has taken away my strength. Being thus by
such aids abandoned, I hope by means of science and writing to arrive at some
degree of commendation and glory.4

Elsewhere he shows that he was neither ambitious nor avaricious, and

speaking modestly of himself, he defends lettered men, reproves the imperti-
nent, instructs the inexpert, criticises with love and faith those who want to
build: sure signs of the goodness of his mind and the blamelessness of his life.
He wrote ten books on architecture (as he states at the end of the work) and
reduced it under an aspect and collecting into a body the parts of it that are of
benefit to all people, as he says in the preface to the fourth book. The method
that Vitruvius uses in writing is (as is fitting) first of all orderly, and then based
on simplicity of vocabulary and properties of word, the rationale of which he
gives in the preface to the fifth book, which I desire to be read before coming to
anything else. But we have other difficulties which either frighten Vitruvius’s
reader or hinder the study of architecture; these are large and mighty. The first
is the scant knowledge of many who want to devote themselves to Vitruvius
without knowledge of letters. There are some who do not know the necessity of
knowing and are like sophists and braggarts, the defects of whom are revealed
by the author in more than one place. The other difficulty resides in the lack of
examples, both of the ancient books cited by Vitruvius and of the figures that
he promises us at the end of each of his ten books. Those would have taught us
much, and would not have left us with the burden of trying to guess at rather
than checking the truth of the things. But I would not want these reasons
to cause someone who is bewildered to withdraw from such a beautiful and
praiseworthy undertaking in which many people of generous mind have striv-
en, and strive still, hoping that a man’s effort and diligence serves to overcome
all human difficulties. Therefore, aided by the delight and studiousness that
motivate many, I set myself to this undertaking, into which it is by now time
to enter. So, to dispose the intellects so that they can better be shown the path
and the end which they must attain, I will say what art is, whence it is born,
how it grows, to what it attains. I will identify the arts; I will establish archi-
tecture and its parts, declaring the office and aim of the architect.
4 
Quoted from Barbaro, p. 66; Vitruvius II.Pref.4.
12 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Preface
(Barbaro) There exist various qualities of things, among which one is the
assignment of habit, from which comes turns of speech such as ‘to have good
habits’, ‘to be well habituated’, and similar forms that denote adopting or
possessing a quality which, once established, is difficult to remove. Under
this name ‘habit’ fall all sciences, all arts, all virtues, and all vices. From this
knowledge, the intellect draws two things. One is that it recognises the im-
portance of learning one habit [p. 3] more than another. The other is that it
is not so easy to acquire good habits, nor is it any small merit to be called by
the eminent names of such habits. This being so, the perceptive man exerts
himself and practices with excellent people, and does not fool himself into
believing that he truly knows that which he truly does not. Habits are divid-
ed such that some are of the intellect and others of the will. There are three
manners of habits of the intellect. Some do not allow the intellect to tend
more towards the truth than to the lie, such as opinion, suspicion, credulous-
ness. Others turn the human mind away from the truth, and turn it fixedly
to the lie, as though one were governed by false principles so that he could in
no way consent to the truth; this bad habit is called ‘depraved ignorance’. The
third manner of habit is that which accustoms the intellect to truth, so that
it cannot turn to falsity and error by any path. A truly worthy and precious
quality and condition of habit is that which removes the instability of opin-
ion, clarifies suspicion, and leads to the certainty and firmness of the truth.
But the truth in things is found in different ways, so that regarding the truth
of things there are many habits of the intellect. I say therefore that there is in
the human mind one habit of the truth which occurs of necessity, and anoth-
er habit of truth which is not necessary: that truth is called ‘contingent’ by
philosophers. Necessary truth is that which is concluded through true and
certain rationale. Necessary truth is also that which is derived from the proof
of something. Finally, necessary truth is that which is composed of the proof
and of the thing proven. Hence from the aforementioned division, the three
manners of habit regarding the necessary truth are manifest. The first is
called ‘science’, which habit is acquired by conclusion of true and necessary
proof. The second is called ‘intellect’, which is the habit of principles and
proofs, and takes its name from the power of the mind in which it is found;
it is thus called ‘intellect’. To the acquisition of intellect no other, preceding
habit is required. Once the terms are known—that is, when the significance
p. 3 13

of the names is known—the intellect immediately, without other proof, illu-

minated only with the natural light of divine rays, knows and consents to the
truth of what is proposed to it. Thus Dante calls knowledge of that truth
‘first cognitions’ (prima notizia5), and that truth ‘primal truth’ (primo vero6).
The philosophers usually call those prime concepts ‘dignities’ or ‘maxims’.
From this habit called intellect the mathematical sciences in particular have
drawn vigour and strength, because in those sciences that kind of notion is
most greatly manifest, and even when the quantities are small, they are yet
of inestimable value. In order to know, therefore, how to conclude many
things from the principles proper to them (which is nothing other than hav-
ing science), it is first necessary to acquire intellect—that is, the habit that
knows the principles, which I here would call ‘understanding’ so as to not
mix the terminology of things. So, intellect is the name given to the power
and virtue of the mind that understands, while understanding is an opera-
tion—that is, a habit—of that power. The third manner of habit is called
‘wisdom’, which is the ready and fluent cognition of the proofs applied to the
conclusions. Just as the acumen of divine intelligence penetrates by entering
into the midst of all things, so too truth is found through an awakening of
the habituated intellect in many sciences and in the cognition of many prin-
ciples. These are the habits of the intellect regarding necessary truth—that
is, regarding the truth in which that habit which we call art cannot be, does
not exist, is not found. I say this is proper, because now we are reasoning
with the proper and true names of the things. Now let us see if art is found
among the habits that regard contingent truth. I say that the necessity that
we mentioned above is not found in the things made by men, because they
depend on men’s will, which is not determined more by one thing than by
another. Some of the things made by men appertain to union and concourse;
others are aimed at utility and universal expedience. The rule of the first of
these is named ‘prudence’, which is the habit that moderates human and
civil actions. The rule of the second is named ‘art’, which is the habit that
regulates works that call for any kind of external material. Thus, after the
5 
Dante, Purgatory, Canto XVIII, 55-56: Però, là onde vegna lo ’ntelletto / de la prime notizia
omo non sappe. Eng. trans. (1891-1892, vol. 2, p. 114): ‘Yet whence the intelligence of the first
cognitions comes man doth not know’ (my emphasis).
6 
Dante, Paradise, Canto IV, 94-96: Io t’ ho per certo ne la mente messo / ch’alma beata non poria
mentire, / però ch’è sempre al primo vero appresso. Eng. trans. (1891-1892, vol. 3, p. 24): ‘I have
put i tinto they mind for certain, that a soul in bliss cannot lie, since it it always near to the
Primal Truth (my emphasis).
14 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

habit of the first rule, men are called sages, judges, legislators, rectors; after
the second, they are called architects, soldiers, agriculturists, makers. From
the [p. 4] aforementioned things we have found that art is a habit of the
mind which reposes in a real subject that disposes it to make and operate
according to rules and reasons outside itself the things that are useful for
living. Likewise, prudence is a habit that disposes the intellect to regulate
the will in those things which are proper to the union and good of the re-
public, to the family and to itself. Thus we become just, modest, strong,
liberal, amiable, truthful, in short, good and virtuous; further, we are judged
to be almost demi-gods due to our heroic virtue. But let us leave aside the
things that are not to our point, and go back to the birth of the arts, in keep-
ing with what we promised earlier. All art is born of experience. How this is,
I will say briefly, showing what experience is, what it is born of, and how it
is the source of the arts. Experience is none other than knowledge born of
many recollections of similar things subjected to the human senses, by which
recollections man judges all in the same way. Here is an example for you. In
knowing a thing, what first applies is sensation, and then memory; after this
comes the comparison of the things recalled. Man having understood via the
senses that wormwood, for example, has benefitted this and that person in a
weakness of the stomach, recalling that effect, he derives a universal sum
and says, ‘Hence where there is weakness of the stomach, wormwood is
helpful and good’. A similar thing can be done with other plants, and from
many particular and distinct experiences; by means of memory, he can draw
the universal propositions, which are the principles of the arts. Experience is
therefore similar to the tracks left by animals: just as the track is the principle
for finding the deer, yet is not a part of the deer (because the deer is not
composed of tracks), so experience is the principle for discovering the arts,
yet it is not part of any art. Thus the things subjected to the senses are not
the principles of the arts, but are an occasion, as can be clearly seen. Even
though the principle of art is universal and not subject to human senses, it is
found by means of the senses. The difference between experience and art can
be seen in this way. It is certain that, with regard to art, working is no dif-
ferent from experience, since in working as in experience, the arriving at the
effect depends on the individual. So actions are the search for particular
things. With regard to the strength and effectiveness of working, experts are
more greatly effective than those who only possess the universal rationale of
things. So it often happens that the inexpert maker—God help him—has in
pp. 4-5 15

his mind the rationale of the devices but errs and often sins deeply, not be-
cause he doesn’t know or because the rationale is not true but because he is
not practiced nor does he know the defects of the materials, which many
times do not correspond to the intention of the art. For all of this, art is
greater and worth more than experience, because it is closer to knowledge,
understanding the causes and rationales of things, where experience works
without rationale. It follows that the intelligent maker is more ready to re-
solve and give account of the things than the simple, even expert one. Thus
art is closer to wisdom, which is the most noble habit. A manifest sign of
wisdom is the power to teach and instruct others, so that perfection consists
in one’s ability to make others resemble himself, as far as his art is concerned.
But the expert is not so, and even if the expert shows another how he works,
he is still not capable of giving them an account of it, not possessing the art;
his demonstration does not extend beyond the senses and is only a way of
seeing conjoined to some opinion or belief of the one who watches. The
watcher, in his turn performing a similar office, is but an imperfect servant,
and far from the office of the art. So Vitruvius would have it that experience
be accompanied by cognition. Thus, how experience is born, what it is, and
how art proceeds from it, has been clearly demonstrated.
From this it can be understood that there are two sorts of experience.
One precedes art—that is, it comes before the art is acquired—as when it
is said, ‘I am having an experience and want to try to see if I am able to do
certain things’. This is like the source of a river, with regards to art. The
other sort is that which is excited by and aroused by the art that is found in
us, and we practice this according to the rationales of the art. It can also be
seen from the previous things that experience acquired by invention is of
much greater service to the arts [p. 5] than the kind learned by instruction.
Newly born, arts at the beginning are weak, but with time acquire strength
and vigour. Thus the first inventors had little light on things and could not
easily gather many universal propositions with which art could invigorate
itself because, due to the brevity of life, there was no time to gain experience.
But by leaving to posterity the things they found, they lessened the strain
of those who followed, and provided them with the opportunity to augment
the arts by the many virtues that are found in the few principles. Because in
the mind, just as a multitude of subjects are ruled by one prince, so too many
concepts of art refer to a single principle. Because of this the inventors of
things deserve much praise for having spared no efforts to find the principles
16 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

from which derive the fulfilment and the perfection of the arts. From this it
can be said that half of doing is beginning well. And with this we have said
enough regarding the origins, definition, growth, and perfection of art.
It remains for me to identify the arts as I promised to do earlier. Cer-
tainly I do not wish in this place to make a selection of all the arts in detail,
because I would hinder the understanding of the reader too much, and be
of little use to him. I will leave aside the universal significance of this word,
which embraces the liberal arts, of which three regard speaking, and four
regard quantity [i.e., the trivium and quadrivium]. Those regarding speaking
are grammar, rhetoric, and logic. Those regarding quantity are geometry,
astrology, arithmetic, and music. I will leave aside the base and lowly arts,
which are deserving of neither the present consideration nor the name of art.
I will not concern myself with those arts and doctrines that are inspired by
God, such as our Christian theology, because here they do not tend towards
the end of finding all that is comprised under the name of art, and so are not
to our purpose. Therefore I will leave aside divination, which is a mixture
of divine inspiration and human invention. So, for our present purpose are
necessary those arts which serve with dignity and greatness the expedience
and use of mortals, such as the art of going to sea, called ‘navigation’, mil-
itary art, the art of building, medicine, agriculture, hunting, painting and
sculpture, wool milling, and the like. These can be considered in two ways:
first by discoursing and finding with reasonable ways the rationales and rules
for working, and then by quickness of hand, making an effort to fashion in
external material that which reposes in the mind. Thus it comes about that
some arts have more of science, and others less. This is the way to know
which of the arts are most worthy: those in which there is a need for the art
of numbering, geometry, and other mathematical sciences all have some-
thing of greatness; what remains without said arts (as Plato says7) is lowly
and abject, like something born of simple imagination, fallacious conjecture
and true, untutored experience. From this appears the dignity of architec-
ture, which approves and judges the works made with the other arts. Since
nothing must be praised before knowing what that thing is, it is just and
reasonable to demonstrate the origin and the strength and the parts of ar-
chitecture, and show what the office and aim of the architect are. Since that

See Plato, The Republic X.602d-603a, where ‘measuring and numbering and weighing
7 

prove to be the most gracious aids’ while ‘mimetic art … is an inferior thing’. Trans. Paul
Shorey, in Plato (1961, pp. 827-828).
pp. 5-6 17

very thing is what is done by the author, who is erudite and learned in the
precepts of the art, I will begin to declare his sayings, first dispatching the
dedication of the work. So, dedicating the work in this way to Octavianus
Augustus, he says:
(Vitruvius) [I.Pref.1] While your divine mind and divinity, O Emperor
Caesar, acquired dominion over the world, and the citizens gloried in your triumph
and victory, all enemies having been beaten to the ground by your indomitable
virtue, and while all the dominated, yoked nations awaited your nod, and the
Roman people together with the senate, without fear, were governed by your most
high provisions and counsel, I was not eager to bring to light the many things of
architecture written by me, amidst the many occupations and with great thoughts
explained, unsure that, intruding in an untimely fashion [p. 6], I might incur the
offense of your mind. [I.Pref.2] But then, becoming aware that you took equal care
for the wellbeing of all with public works, and for the suitableness of public build-
ings, so that not only would the city be increased by your favour, but also the majesty
of empire would gain greatness and a reputation for public buildings, I thought that
it was no longer time to delay. I did not wish to prevent these aforementioned things
from immediately coming to light in your name. So for this reason I was known to
your father, and by his virtue very studious. Though the council of the celestial gods
consecrated him among the seats of immortality, and transferred the empire of the
father into your power, in his memory, my study went on the same, and I remained
in your favour. Thus with M. Aurelius, Publ. Minidius and Gn. Cornelius I was
placed in charge of the machines of the ballistae and the scorpions, and of the re-
building of other torments; and together with them I brought them back to use, for
which you immediately compensated me generously, and on the recommendation of
your sister, that recognition was maintained. [I.Pref.3] And so, being bound and
obliged by that benefit, because at the end of my life I need not fear any discomfort,
I began to write these things. Because I had noticed that you had built many things
and are still building,8 and also that you care for the future and give consideration
to public and private works, in keeping with the greatness of the things made, so
that they can be commended to the memory of posterity, I have diligently written
determined things so that, in considering them for yourself, you can know what
things have already been built and how those yet to be built should be made. There-
fore in these volumes, I have made accessible all the rationales of this teaching.

Note the similarity of this phrase in Vitruvius’s dedication to the one in Barbaro’s dedication
8 

of his commentary to Ippolito II d’Este (Barbaro, p. ii).

18 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) The wise and prudent reader will be able, from Vitruvius’s
words, to discern his prudence and goodness, as a person who, being obliged
and bound, shows gratitude and, in that gratitude, judgement, offering those
things that might be pleasing to the one who receives them. In truth, the
whole world being under the rule of one prince, the armies had been dis-
missed and the gates of Janus closed again. The prince, meditative in the
glory of the fine undertakings that he had carried out, enjoyed his splendour
and above all else delighted in building, glorying in leaving the city (which
was built at first in baked bricks) covered in marble. He was the adopted son
of Julius Caesar. He was born to Atia and Octavius. That was at the same
time that our Lord was born. He was truly good and a great upholder of the
virtuous so that he was named Augustus not so much for having expanded
the empire as for having favoured good men and added to all virtues and
doctrines with praise and prizes. To him therefore Vitruvius justly conse-
crates his efforts, and exalts him both with his ingeniousness about things
and with words that are truly fitting, without adulation. That is enough said
about the dedication of the work. In some texts we read not Minidius, but
Numidius, and in other Numidicus.9 I do not find one to be more faithful
than another as to how it should be read, and although on some medals we
read that one L. Musidio10 was in charge of the mint, this is of slight impor-
tance. Nor am I interested here in saying what the ballista and the scorpion
are, because we will speak of these in the tenth book in their proper place;
nor (in my opinion) should the order of things be mixed up. I will thus come
to Vitruvius, who, in accordance with the precept of the art, defines and
determines what architecture is, saying:

9 
The various forms of this name have been linked to the inscription ‘P. Numisius P. F. Men.
architectus’ on the theatre in Herculaneum; see Cristiano (1749, pp. 47-48).
10 
Barbaro’s rendering of ‘Mussidius’. A series of coins bearing the mark of ‘L. Mussidius
Longus’ were struck in the Roman mint around 42 B.C.
pp. 6-7 19

[Chapter I
On the training of architects]

(Vitruvius) [I.I.1] Architecture is the science ornamented by many disciplines and

many teachings, by whose judgement are approved all works which are made com-
plete by the other arts.
(Barbaro) Before setting out and showing what architecture is, I will
discuss the power of this name, because it is very useful in understanding
the things said in what follows. Architecture is a name that derives from
Greek and is composed of two voices. The first signifies principal and head;
the second, fabro or maker. If we want to express the power of that name in
common terms, we would say ‘master builder’. Plato says that the architect
does not practice any profession, but is above [p. 7] those who do.11 Thus we
could say that the architect is neither an ironworker, nor a master carpenter,
nor a mason, nor certainly any other specific kind of maker, but is the head,
overseer, and regulator of all makers. He cannot rise to such a high level
unless he has first practiced in many and diverse doctrines and works. Thus
presiding, he demonstrates, draws, distributes, orders, and commands. In
these offices the dignity of architecture appears to be close to wisdom, and
to reside as a heroic virtue in the midst of all the arts, because it alone un-
derstands the causes; it alone embraces the things that are fine and high; it
alone, I say, of all the arts participates in the most certain sciences, such as
arithmetic and geometry and the others, without which (as said) any art is
vile and lowly. Vitruvius therefore seeing architecture in this way, says first
that it is a ‘science’. By ‘science’ he means the cognition and accumulation of
many precepts and teachings, which together appertain to the knowledge of
a proposed end. In this quality architecture is like many other sciences, each
of which taken individually can be said to be cognition. But Vitruvius attrib-
utes to them some differences that narrow down the universal and common
understanding of that name. This is the office of true definition—that is,
to declare the nature and power of the thing defined so that it is known as
distinct and separate from all other things. Thus Vitruvius adds ‘ornamented
by many disciplines and various teachings’, and with these words distinguishes
architecture from many particular pieces of information that arrive from the

Plato, Statesman 259e: ‘No master builder is a manual worker—he directs the work of
11 

others’. Trans. J. B. Skemp, in Plato (1961, p. 1023).

20 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

senses, reside in experience, and are exercised in practice. Yet even with this
architecture is still not well defined, since if this definition were to remain
thus, it would be more common and broader than it should be, inasmuch
as the art of speaking, medicine, and many other arts and sciences are or-
namented by many doctrines and various teachings, as is clearly shown by
the works of Cicero, Galen, and other authors. Vitruvius thus narrowing his
definition with greater properties, says, ‘by whose judgement are approved all
works which are made complete by the other arts’. Here is the final difference
that establishes the true and correct terms that enclose—we might say de-
limit—architecture, since judging the works made by the arts is proper to
architecture and not to the others. The orator is ornamented by many arts
and disciplines, indeed those that are the greatest and most beautiful. A
similar thing can be said about the physician, though both of these have
different areas of expertise. The orator ornaments himself with the ability
to persuade—that is, induce opinion in any matter proposed; the physician
is ornamented with the ability to induce or conserve health. But the ar-
chitect alone is ornamented with the ability to judge or approve the works
perfected by the other arts; ‘perfected’, I say, or ‘complete’ as Vitruvius says,
because only complete things can be judged, so that the maker cannot use
incompleteness as an excuse. It is also true that the architect, overseeing
while the works are made, judges if they are made well or badly, approving
the good and criticising the bad according to the judgement and cognitions
that he has; this is perhaps a better explanation than the one above. From
the definition of architecture it is understood and known what the architect
is: the architect is the one who, by dint of certain and wonderful rationale
and method, both with the faculties and with the mind, knows how to de-
termine—with teaching and with working—and lead to conclusion those
things which, through the movement of weights, the compartition of bodies,
and the composition of the works, commend themselves to the benefit of
men. ‘Architecture is a science ornamented by many disciplines and various teach-
ings’. By disciplines he means that which disciples learn; by teachings, that
which teachers teach. Speech is the instrument of teaching, and hearing that
of learning. The doctrine begins in the concept of the one who teaches, and
extends out to the word; the discipline begins in the hearing of the one who
is learning, and ends in the concept. Supposing through reason and demon-
strating through practice are fine things; in the former is doctrine, in the
latter is erudition—that is, the rough-hewing of it. ‘By whose judgement are
pp. 7-8 21

approved ’: judging is a most excellent thing, and it is conceded to none but

wise and prudent men, because judgement is made on things known, and by
this they ‘are approved’—that is, judgement is passed and the rationale that
was used is demonstrated. Thus architecture approves the works made by the
other arts. The ‘work’ is the artefact or object [p. 8] that remains when the
operation of the maker has ceased, be it finished or unfinished; the operation
is the movement that he makes while he is working. ‘Action’ is understood
as negotiating, or civil and virtuous dealing, which, when it ceases, leaves no
trace. ‘Arts’: here this is understood as arts in which work is made according
to the rationales that pertain to it. And here is the aim of the definition of
architecture and its precepts, a thing well deserving of consideration, so that
this admirable secret can be understood.
I say that in each science the definition of the subject which is being
treated, which is that to which is referred all of what is treated in that sci-
ence, contains virtually the answers to the doubts, the inventions of the se-
crets, and the truth of things contained in that science. By ‘containing virtu-
ally’ I mean capable of producing a thing, as the seed contains virtually the
fruit. Therefore the definition of the subject, when it is made according to the
rationales declared above—that is, when it demonstrates the nature of the
thing defined, the common aspects that it shares with many other things,
and the properties found in it that are different—has the virtue of making
manifest the obscure questions that are posed in that science. The reason
this is so is that the definition of the subject is the beginning of the demon-
stration. This, as a precept of the art, must be true, useful, and conform (as
Galen says12). True, because nothing can be understood unless it is true; if
one were to say that the skin of the chimera is useful for the ill, it would defy
understanding, because the chimera is not among things that exist. Useful,
because it is necessary that it be directed towards some aim. Utility is simply
referring things to an aim, and indeed, that cognition whose operation is
not useful to human life is not worthy of the name of art. Conformity re-
sides in the aforementioned virtue of producing, because many things that
have in them the power of the truth do not have the power of conformity.
The virtue consists in the application, and those things that do not have the
power of conformity do not have the merit of shedding light on things; it

In his ‘Introductory Treatise’, De optima secta. For a summary, see Coxe (1846, pp. 482-
12 

483).
22 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

is known that, we being desirous of applying the principles to things, no

rationale at all is grasped from such things, because they are neither con-
form nor conclusive. Therefore, when the subject and the properties are born
of the principles and causes, then there is consistency. Everyone judges it
to be true (once the terms are known, as I said) that when equal amounts
are taken away from equal things the remainders are equal, and when even
numbers are taken from even numbers, the result is an even number. Not
only is this principle true, but it is of the highest value. Thus it is applied by
the natural philosopher to movements, to time, to space; by the geometer to
measures and magnitudes; by the arithmetician to numbers; by the musician
to sounds; by the physician to virtues and qualities of things.
That being settled, now what Vitruvius will say about architecture fol-
lows. First, regarding its birth, and then its conditions, he says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.1 cont.] It is born of fabrication and of discourse.
(Barbaro) This statement cannot be understood without first showing
what fabrication and discourse13 are, so Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.1 cont.] Fabrication is continuous and exercised thought
about the use and whatever kind of material is required to give form to the work
proposed, and is done with the hands. Discourse is that which things built in an
astute way and with reasoned proportions can, demonstrating, make manifest.
Truly divine is the desire of those who, lifting their mind from the
consideration of fine things, seek the causes of them; regarding them as
from on high, they bend to the efforts so shunned by many, who with the
highest praises commend to the heavens the learned and lettered men and
who, though regarding the sciences as wonderful, do anything else more
readily than weary themselves to acquire them. There are also many who
happen to know that in order to acquire a science it is necessary to partici-
pate in many others, yet little do they care; indeed, they go around criticising
anyone else who undertakes the study of those sciences. Such people we shall
leave aside, as misled and foolish. It is a fine thing, the power to judge and
to approve the work of mortals, as an act of superior virtue towards inferior.
Nonetheless, few devote themselves to the effort; few wish to apply them-
selves and shed the skin of idleness. Thus they do not pass judgement and
in consequence they do not arrive at the aims of architecture, but only go

One of the most discussed terms in Vitruvius’s definition of architecture is ratiocinatio.

13 

Barbaro’s translation of this is discorso, discourse.

pp. 8-9 23

around glorying in being called architects by some prince or another. They

assert not the rationales but their works, saying ‘I made this so, I ordered in
such a fashion this or that palace,’ [p. 9]. They do not want to consider that
they have no geometry and no arithmetic, nor do they understand the power
of proportions and the nature of things. It is thus necessary to have practice
and fabrication, as well as discourse. Discourse is like the father, fabrication
like the mother of architecture. ‘Fabrication is continuous thought about the
use’. Every artful component that is made takes its being from information
about the aim, as Galen says.14 Hence, wanting to fabricate, part of the trade
is having knowledge of the aim. By ‘aim’ I mean the end to which the op-
eration is addressed. Here the intellect must consider what principle is and
what the medium is; it finds that the principle is considered precedentially.
In determining principles, the aim precedes the agent, because the aim is
that which moves the work. The agent precedes the form, because the agent
induces the form; form precedes material, because material is not moved
unless the form is first in the mind of the one working. The medium is really
the subject through which the aim sends its likeness to the principle and the
principle refers back to the aim, although there is no greater agreement than
that between principle and aim. Further, it must be understood that whoev-
er impedes the medium moves the principle farther away from the aim, and
that the medium labours by reason of the principle but reposes with respect
to the aim. Wanting therefore to fabricate, it is necessary to know the aim,
as that which imposes power and necessity on the medium. For knowledge
of the aim it is necessary to study and think. Just as the archer cannot shoot
the arrow at the ewer unless the aim is kept firmly in mind, so too the maker
cannot arrive at the aim if his mind is turned elsewhere. Hence, use (as said)
directs things to the specific aim, and misuse turns them away from it. But
to be able to direct things towards the aim, it is necessary to have another
use: habituation, which is simply the recurrent and frequent operation of
a virtue or power of the soul or body. Whence it is said ‘to be used to the
effort’, ‘to be used’, ‘put into use’, ‘usage’ and ‘custom’. It is thus necessary to
be used to continually thinking about the aim. Thus Vitruvius says, ‘Fabri-
cation is continuous and exercised thought’—that is, thought that is frequented,
like a path that is trodden and beaten by walkers, about directing things to

14 
Galen, On the Constitution of the Art of Medicine 1.1.
24 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

suitable aims.15 With these words he demonstrates the usefulness that was
a condition of the art. But why weary oneself with such attentiveness to
thought, thinking of something without intermission? Certainly for no oth-
er reason than to manifest in some external material the form which existed
first in thought and in mind. And so Vitruvius says, bringing the definition
of fabrication to a conclusion, that it is an operation of manifesting in some
material outside ourselves, according to the thought that was inside us. It is
true that fabrication is a name common to all the parts of architecture, and
embraces much more than it is commonly believed to, as will be said later.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.1 cont.] Discourse is that which the things built with astute-
ness and with the rationale of proportion can, demonstrating, make manifest.
(Barbaro) Discourse is proper to man, and the virtue of discoursing is
that which considers how much can be done with all the rationales pertinent
to the work. However, discourse errs when the intellect does not bring into
agreement the properties of the things aimed at doing with the those aimed
at receiving. Therefore, man discourses—that is, he applies the principle to
the end by means of the medium; this, as said, is proper to the human spe-
cies. It happens that the ancients had conceded a portion of reason to other
animals and called them teachers of men, saying that the art of weaving
was taken from the spider, the disposition of the house from the ant, civil
government from the bee. But we find that those are instincts of nature, and
not discourses on art; if their natural and canny prudence must be called
art, then why not, in like fashion, give the name of art to the virtues found
in plants and stones? Shouldn’t the art of hellebore be violent purging, or
the art of stone of eagle’s nests, called ‘aetite’, be inducing labour and births?
Why not also say that it is a divine art that sustains and conserves the world?
A celestial art that regulates the movements of the heavens? A terrestrial
art that converts the elements? But let us leave off the translation of names
based on likeness, and take the truth and properties of things. Thus, accord-
ing to what we have said above, discourse is like the father of architecture,
for which is necessary [p. 10] astuteness. Astuteness is nothing other than
immediate and ready finding of the medium. And it is the medium that,
being appropriate for the aims, ties those to an effect. Thus it can be said that

15 
This is surely one of the most difficult passages in this chapter. I believe its difficulty is
compounded by errors that arose in the transition between editions. Cfr. Barbaro (1556,
p. 8, lines 66-67), where the paragraph breaks and italics indicate a different distinction
between the words of Vitruvius and those of Barbaro.
p. 10 25

in astuteness is found the virtue of a seed, whereupon Vitruvius uses that

word sollertia in Latin, meaning ‘astuteness’. But being astute is not enough
to find the truth, because it could be that very little aimed at concluding
what that truth may be. For this reason he adds, ‘with the rationale of propor-
tion’. What proportion is he will say in the following chapter. Vitruvius has
spoken in this way so that the words ‘with astuteness and with the rationale
of proportion’ can be referred to the word ‘fabrication’. The sentiment would
be that discourse could demonstrate—that is, provide the rationale of—the
things fabricated with astuteness and proportion, the office of the architect
being that of approving reasonable things. But whatever the sense, all is
conform with the truth. Less obvious intelligence is further drawn from the
things declared: first, that the maker with respect to the work holds a dual
consideration; then he holds a dual affection to the corresponding consid-
erations. The first consideration is a simple universal notion, by which it is
said that man does as much as he is required to do so that the work will turn
out well, and does not add more to it. The other is a particular notion, and
closely related to working, which considers the time, the method, the place,
and the material. From this particular notion is born an affection that moves
man to command and to work, as he was pleased to do according to the first
consideration; it universally embraces not the work but the cognition. How-
ever, this consideration solely of discourse, solely of the universal in itself, is
not enough; also needed is that second notion and that second affectation,
which resides in fabrication.
Having stated the definition of architecture, and explained whence it
is born, Vitruvius now comes to the training of the architect, a subject that
is very reasonable and proper, as will be seen in what follows. So, he says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.2] From said things it follows that those architects who have
attempted without letters to strive to work with and practice with their hands
have not succeeded in acquiring a reputation with their efforts, and those who
have trusted solely to discourses and knowledge of letters appear to have executed
the shadow, not the thing. But those who have well learned both of these things,
like men entirely covered with arms and ornamented with credit and reputation,
have easily achieved their intentions.
(Barbaro) As for natural generation both sexes are required, and without
one nothing is conceived, so too for the architect, artful generation requires
both discourse and fabrication. Anyone who has persuaded himself that
he is an architect through fabrication or discourse alone is fooling himself;
26 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

this would be deemed an imperfect thing. If by grace one were to have only
knowledge and wanted to usurp the name of architect, would he not be
subject to the indignation of the experts? Could not every manual labourer
(I would call them thus) reprove him and ask, ‘What are you doing?’ On the
other hand, if one who has slight experience and just as slight practice were
to create such a great name, could not one who is intelligent and lettered
make him shut his mouth by asking him for an account of the rationale be-
hind the things made? And so it is necessary to be ornamented and armed
with all the weapons for acquiring the victory and merit of the name ‘archi-
tect’. It is necessary to be covered for defence; armed for attack; ornamented
for glory; and able to manage experience with artfulness. Why then have
those who are purely practitioners not acquired credit? Because architecture
is born of discourse. Why have those who are only lettered not acquired
credit? Because architecture is born of fabrication. So when Vitruvius says
‘ from said things’ he means from the birth of architecture, which comes from
fabrication and from discourse—that is, from practice and rationale—follow
the things that he goes on to say.
But here some may doubt and say that if art is actually in the intellect
and in the mind, what reason does Vitruvius have for saying that those who
have trusted to knowledge appear to have created the shadow and not the
thing? I reply that the things of the intellect appear as shadows to most, and
the layman judges things to the extent that they are subject to the senses and
to the eyes, and not to the extent to which they do not appear. This happens
because people are not customarily used to discourse. So Vitruvius, percep-
tive, [p. 11] does not say that lettered men have created shadows; rather he
says they ‘appear to’, denoting that the judgement of the inexperienced is
passed on apparent things. It seems to me that many talk wildly in deciding
whether sculpture or painting is nobler, because they look at the material and
the time and many other incidentals which do not appertain to art, because
art is in the intellect. Thus the divine Michelangelo is as much a painter and
sculptor when sleeping and eating as when working with the brush or chisel.
Rather, it rightful to consider whether painting or sculpture is the worthiest
habit in the intellect, and thus leave aside the marbles, the azures, the reliefs
and perspectives, and the facility or difficulty of those arts. Then something
of value might be said. But this is not the moment to decide this question.
Vitruvius thus says that art must not be an idle thing, but must necessarily
be accompanied by hands. This he demonstrates with other words, saying:
p. 11 27

(Vitruvius) [I.I.3] So if in any other thing, then especially in architecture,

where these two parts are found, that is, the thing signified and that which signi-
fies, then the proposed work can be spoken of. That which signifies is the proof and
the explanation of that which is masterfully expressed and declared according to
the rationale of doctrine.
(Barbaro) Among the arts there are some whose aim does not go be-
yond the consideration of the thing subject to it, such as mathematics. There
are some that, beyond the consideration, arrive at operation but, the oper-
ation ceasing, nothing of substance remains. Such are the arts of playing,
jumping, and others similar to those. There are others which leave some
opus or work behind, such as the art of weaving and the art of fabricating.
Close to those are others which concern catching and acquiring, such as the
hunt for wild animals, or birding, or fishing. Finally there are others which
will not be considered, as they are not to our purpose. But they correct and
emend errors and damages to things made, and repair them; such perhaps
is medicine, according to Galen. But to all the aforementioned arts, ar-
chitecture is superior, being a judge of each of them. Hence it is necessary
to consider, in judging anything at all, the thing that is made, or is to be
made, and the rationale. However, there are two things: one is the opus
signified and proposed, and the other is the signifier—that is, the demon-
strating rationale. Thus all the effects, all the opuses or works of the arts, all
the conclusions of all the sciences, are things signified, and the rationales,
the proofs, the causes of those are the signifying things. This is because the
sign refers to the thing signified; the effect to the cause; the conclusion to
the proof. But by way of declaration I say that signifying is to demonstrate
by signs, and signing is imprinting the sign. Hence, every work erected ac-
cording to rationale and finished by design is imprinted with the sign of
the maker—that is, the quality and the form that was in his mind. Thus
the maker operates first in his intellect and conceives in his mind, and then
makes a sign of the interior habit in the external material. Vitruvius says,
‘Especially in architecture’ because it is above every other art; it signifies—that
is, it represents the things to the virtue that knows. Its principal competence
is forming the concept according to its intention; this is signifying proper.
Being signified is precisely being represented in the aforementioned way.
Regarding the signs, these are so embedded that they are truly like causes
of the things. Some make a superficial and weak estimation of these. The
architect leaves it to the orator and poet to embrace these last signs, together
28 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

with dialectic, which is the way of diligent discourse, because they are nec-
essary, intimate and conclusive.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.3 cont.] Thus it happens that he who practices the profession
of architect must appear to be experienced in both parts.
(Barbaro) Each agent, at the level that he attains, must be perfect, so
that the finished work is perfect. There are three agents: divine, natural,
and artful—that is, God, nature, and man. We will speak of man. If then
architecture is such a high thing that it judges the works of the arts, it is
necessary that the architect be trained in such a way that he can perform the
office of judge. I would therefore say that the following things are necessary.
First, that he be docile by nature and perspicacious—that is, when a thing
is demonstrated to him he must learn easily and quickly. And although he
who finds and learns things for himself is of divine nature, it is in any case
of [p. 12] no little merit to be easily instructed; conversely, he who can learn
neither from working nor from instruction is of a base nature. These favour-
able conditions are comprised in the words written by Vitruvius:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.3 cont.] Thus it happens that he who practices the profession
of architect must appear to be experienced in both parts, that is, in the thing signi-
fied and in the signifier.
(Barbaro) He then goes on:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.3 cont.] Whereby it is necessary that he be ingenious and
docile because neither ingeniousness without instruction, nor instruction without
ingeniousness can make a man excellent.
(Barbaro) Ingeniousness serves both invention, which man creates by
himself, and doctrine, which he learns from others. It happens only rarely
that one is both an inventor and an accomplished maker of an art—that
is, that one both discovers and brings to perfection the entire corpus of an
art. Thus Vitruvius rightly says that instruction without ingeniousness, and
ingeniousness without instruction do not make a man excellent. The second
condition of the architect is the education and exercise received during the
early years in the primary sciences. I call ‘primary’ arithmetic, geometry, and
other disciplines. Vitruvius had these thanks to his progenitors, as he con-
fesses in the preface to the sixth book. The third condition is having heard
and read the most excellent and rarest men and writers, as Vitruvius did, as
he attests in the preface to the second book, saying:
p. 12 29

I will expound on the origins of prime nature, following those who dedicated
themselves with the writings and rules, to the principles of human comfort,
and the beautiful and well-grounded inventions, and I will demonstrate
them according to how I was instructed in them.16

This is what appertains to the writers and the lessons of good teachers,
but with regard to the preference and listening, he says in the preface of the
sixth book that he had excellent instructors. The fourth condition is toler-
ance for exertion and continuous thought and reasoning about the things
that pertain to the art. It is difficult to find ingeniousness that is elevated and
docile; Vitruvius himself had an ingeniousness that was acute and capable of
bearing strain. Thus he says:

And delighting in things appertaining to speech and to the arts and to the
writings of the commentaries, I have acquired with the mind those possessions
from which comes this highest of all fruits, which is that I need nothing more,
and I estimate it to be the property of wealth to desire nothing more.17

The fifth condition is that of not desiring more than the truth, nor hav-
ing anything else in front of one’s eyes. In order to better accomplish this,
here is the sixth condition, which consists in having a rational way of finding
the truth. That way would be of little use without the seventh condition,
which resides in the use of said way and in its application. That Vitruvius was
a scholar of the truth, that he had the rules for finding it and, finally, that
he knew how to use that rule appears clearly in his proceeding in an orderly
manner, in signifying things, in giving form and perfection to the entire
corpus of architecture. The said conditions are deduced from the principles
stated above—that is, from the definition of architecture and its birth—as
consideration will show. But let us attend to Vitruvius, who tells how many
things are needed by the architect, what they are, for what reason, and in
what way.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.3 cont.] Thus it follows that he needs to have letters, be expert
in drawing, be learned in geometry, not ignorant of perspective, knowledgeable
16 
See Barbaro, p. 67; Vitruvius II.Pref.5. Here Barbaro changes the word order just slightly
(Io esponerò seguitando instead of & seguitando esponerò and della prima natura instead of
dell’antica natura).
17 
Quoted from Barbaro, p. 172; Vitruvius VI.Pref.5.
30 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

in arithmetic, know many histories, have listened diligently to the philosophers of

music, medicine, and law, know the replies of the jurisconsults, and finally not be
inept in knowing the rationale of the heavens and the stars.
(Barbaro) Since Vitruvius has said how many and what things are nec-
essary to train an excellent architect, he says by what reason there is such
need, and gives account of each separately, saying:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.4] But why this need be so, this is the reason. It is necessary
that the architect have letters, so that reading the books written, called commentar-
ies, the memory becomes stronger.
(Barbaro) Judging is a thing for prudent men; prudence compares the
things made with the instances and makes an estimate of the things that will
follow. Things made are had by memory, so it is necessary for that office of
judging [p. 13] that the architect have a firm memory of things; firm memo-
ry is made by reading because things stay fixed in writings. So it is necessary
that the architect have the first art, called cognition of letters—that is, of
speaking and writing clearly. He will thus fix his memory with the reading
of the commentaries. The name itself shows why it is called ‘commentary’,18
being that which commits things to the mind and is a brief and succinct
narration of things; in its brevity it aids the memory. However, it is neces-
sary to read and then turn the things read over in the mind; otherwise bad
things would come from the invention of letters (as Plato says19) since men,
relying on the writings, would become lazy and negligent. Vitruvius had
knowledge of Greek and Latin letters; he used Greek words and confesses to
having transported many fine things from the Greeks in his commentaries.
This is why I say that he had true knowledge of letters. Below it appears that
Vitruvius would have it thus, explaining that knowledge of letters is gram-
mar. Others understand it to mean the written arts, but I see that there are
no written arts without grammar and literature. It may be that the difficulty
of understanding Vitruvius and the incorrect rendering of the texts is born
from not understanding letters.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.4 cont.] Next he would have drawing, so that with painted
examples he can form and paint all manners of work that he makes.

18 
The root ‘comment’ comes from the Latin comminisci, to think or devise, and meminisse,
to remember.
19 
Plato, Phaedrus 275c: ‘it will implant forgetfulness in their souls; they will cease to exercise
memory because they rely on that which is written’. Trans. R. Hackforth, in Plato (1961, p.
520).
p. 13 31

(Barbaro) All the mathematical sciences have some arts that are subject
to them; these, born of those mathematical sciences, are aimed at practice
and operation. Under astronomy is navigation. Under music is the practice of
singing and playing different instruments. Under arithmetic are the abacus
and algebra. Under geometry is measuring in rods and the art of measuring
land. There are also other arts born of more than one mathematical science,
such as the practice of perspective. Vitruvius would have it that not only do
we have the prime and common [i.e., shared by all] sciences that give the
rationales of things, but also the practices and exercises born of those. Thus
with regard to drawing he wants us to have facility, practice, and a hand
skilful in drawing straight lines. He would also have us possess the rationale
of those things, which is nothing other than a certain and fixed determina-
tion conceived in the mind expressed with lines and angles, checked against
what is true. The office of this is to prescribe for buildings a suitable site, a
certain number, a worthy style, and a pleasing order. This rationale does not
depend on material but is the same in all materials: the rationale of the circle
is the same in iron, lead, heaven, earth, and hell. Thus it is necessary to have
expertise in drawing, which Vitruvius calls ‘peritiam graphidos’, which is ex-
pertise in the drawings that serve painters, sculptors, engravers, and the like.
This serves the aforementioned arts in the same way that mathematics serve
philosophy. This expertise comprises the magnitude and the terminations of
things—that is, the areas and the outlines. The magnitude is measured by the
square and rulers that are marked in feet and inches. The boundaries are tak-
en with an instrument composed of the protractor and the diffinitore, which
was discussed by Leon Battista Alberti;20 from this is taken the comparisons
of all the members to the size of the whole body, and the differences and the
just agreement of all the parts among themselves, to which painting adds the
colours and the shadows. It is thus necessary that the architect have drawing.
This can be seen by the things said in the fifth book, in the sixth chapter,
regarding the configuration of the theatre; likewise in the eighth chapter of
that book, which concerns the description of the scaenae; in the fourth chap-
ter of the sixth book; and in many other places where it is possible to see how
necessary the practice of drawing is. This practice is taken from geometry, as
when it is necessary to make a line that is parallel to another one, form right

The instrument that Alberti invented to measure outlines and edges was the orizzonte,
20 

described in his Descriptio urbis Romae. The diffinitore was described in De statua; see the
image that accompanied the translation by Cosimo Bartoli in Alberti (1782, pl. 69).
32 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

angles, divide them, measure them, make figures with several sides, find the
centre of three points, subdivide regular bodies, and other similar things that
are useful in making plans and surveys and measuring regular and irregu-
lar bodies, all of which things, by a certain opening of the compass, can be
demonstrated and done with rationale and practice. Vitruvius says as much,
saying:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.4 cont.] Geometry is very useful to the architect because it
teaches the use of straight and circular lines, from which are then easily made the
drawings of the edifices in plan, and the alignments of right angles, of horizontals
and of the alignments.
(Barbaro) The art of measuring is called geometry, and the subject of
the mathematical sciences is the [p. 14] intelligible quantity; if it were not
like this, it would be necessary to make a new science for every natural
quantity. Geometry is useful to drawing and to practice for its virtue and
power. This can be seen in the volute of the Ionic capital, in the compar-
tition of the metopes and triglyphs in Doric work, and in many proportional
measures. In addition to this, because it can happen that it is necessary to
level surfaces and to square and straighten out plots of land, it is necessary
to have geometry. This can be seen in the levelling of water in the eighth
book, in the division of the works in the first book, in the measuring of
plots of land in the ninth book, and finally in all parts. Thus it can be said
that geometry is the mother of drawing, and the rationale of that which
resides in knowing the causes of the effects made with the ruler and com-
pass, which are straight lines and curved lines, or arches, vaults, chords, and
verticals, to use the names used in practice. So, geometry proceeds from the
point to extended lines, to curved lines, to sloped lines, diagonals, parallels,
right angles, obtuse and acute angles, points, whole circles, partial circles
and combined circles, figures of several sides, surfaces, regular and irreg-
ular bodies, pyramids, spheres, pinnacles, intersections, and other things
that appertain to columns, architraves, cubae, tribunes, lanterns, and many
other parts. In this way geometry is necessary for the architect. Vitruvius
had knowledge of geometry, as can be seen in many places, especially in the
sixth and seventh books.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.4 cont.] By perspective also, the windows in buildings are
taken from certain and determined parts of the sky.
p. 14 33

(Barbaro) Perspective is the name of a whole science and the name of a

part of it.21 Perspective in general is that which demonstrates three rationales
of seeing: the direct, the reflected, the refracted. In the direct is understood
the causes of the effects that visible things make by means of lights placed
directly. The reflected is the rationale of the rising and reverberating of the
rays, which are made as by mirrors that are flat, concave, twisted, reverse or
other shapes. The refracted is the rationale of things that appear by means
of some lucid or transparent thing, such as under water, through glass, or
behind a cloud. This perspective, called the ‘perspective of natural lights’, is
speculative and is highly regarded among the parts of philosophy because
its subject is the extremely joyful light of mortal eyes and souls. Thus, if we
are in rooms that are shut up to protect us from the cold and the heat, it is
necessary to have the most delightful presence of light and illumination, be
it direct or reflected, and so it is necessary that the architect have perspective.
But when this name refers to the part, it regards practice and is used to make
marvellous things, showing on finished surfaces the reliefs, the distances, the
diminishing and foreshortening of corporeal things. So in the third book, in
the second chapter, Vitruvius would have the columns of the porticoes that
are at the corners be larger than those which are placed in the middle because
the surrounding air diminishes and removes from vision—I would say eats—
the size of the corner columns.22 At the end of said book he orders that all the
members above the capitals, such as the architraves, friezes, dripstones, and
pediments, each be inclined by the twelfth part of its front. This is due solely
to vision, as will be said. Elsewhere he would have fluted columns appear
larger than smooth ones. Most of all, the painting of scaenae resides in this
part of perspective, hence its name, scenographia, as will be said in the fifth
book. From these things it can be understood that perspective is necessary to
the architect, and that Vitruvius himself was not inexpert in it.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.4 cont.] By means of arithmetic the sums of the expenses are
made, the rationale of measures are demonstrated, and by the rational methods and
ways the difficult questions of proportioned measures are answered.
(Barbaro) The layman deems those practices born from the mathemat-
ical sciences which we mentioned above to be true arts and most excellent

21 
Though Barbaro uses the term prospettiva here, and I have maintained it as ‘perspective’, in
speaking of the ‘whole science’ he is speaking of optics, of which he says perspective is a part.
22 
See Barbaro, p. 132; Vitruvius III.III.11.
34 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

virtues but this is not so, because they do not render the rationales of the
things, but rather demonstrate fine and pleasing effects. Vitruvius (as I have
said) embraces both the more important and the less important, as can be
seen in arithmetic and in the explanation given above of geometry and draw-
ing. The abacus was the first instrument to come from the true arithmetic;
it is necessary to keep account of the expenses because vain would be the
drawing, vain the efforts of beginning [p. 15], if the work were hindered
in any way from going forward, and among the hindrances expense is the
greatest. Hence, in the preface to the tenth book Vitruvius extols the law of
the Ephesians, 23 who penalised the architects who made the commission-
ers spend much more than estimated and promised. However, though the
account itself is easily made, it is not so easy to know what should be taken
into that account, and so Vitruvius in the aforementioned preface says that if
the Romans were to adopt a similar law only those who were made prudent
through subtlety of doctrine would profess themselves architects. Pursuing
the matter further, in addition to the practice of numbering, arithmetic con-
sists in the representation of numbers, in adding them, subtracting them,
multiplying, dividing, doubling, halving, deriving the roots of the whole
numbers and of the fractions, and also in a sure and ordered additive ascent,
which is called a ‘progression’. Arithmetic is useful in demonstrating the
rationales of measuring, and resolves the doubts that cannot be solved by
geometry, as we are shown in the ninth book, Plato, Pythagoras, and Ar-
chimedes having found many admirable things. It is true what Plato says, 24
that men of an arithmetic nature are suitable for any discipline, due to their
quickness and loftiness of mind. But why does Vitruvius touch on these cog-
nitions both speculative and practical? To be sure, for no reason other than
to demonstrate the truth of what he said above—that is, that both discourse
and fabrication are sought, and that in every art there is the thing signified
and the signifier.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.5] Cognition of history makes known the rationale behind
many ornaments that architects usually make in their works.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius makes himself clear in the examples that he gives,
saying:

See Barbaro, p. 438; Vitruvius X.Pref.1.

23 

Plato, Republic VII.526b: ‘natural reckoners are by nature quick in virtually all their
24 

studies’. Trans. Paul Shorey in Plato (1961, p. 758).

p. 15 35

(Vitruvius) [I.I.5 cont.] As if some place would have in place of columns the
statues of female figures, which are called Caryatids, clothed in long, matronly
dresses, above which are placed the modillions and dripstones, of this kind of work,
if someone were to ask, this reason would be given. Caria, a city of the Morea,
teamed up with the Persians against the Greeks. The Greeks, gloriously liberated
by the victory of the war, decided by common council to move against the Carians.
They took their fortress and slew their men, levelled the earth, and took their wom-
en as slaves, not allowing them to take off their matronly dresses and ornaments,
so that not only were they a sign of a single triumph, but the eternal example of
their enslavement caused them to be oppressed by great scorn, and they bore the
punishment for the entire city. The architect of those times placed the images of those
matrons in public edifices to bear the loads, so that the punishment for the errors of
the Carians would be known by posterity.
(Barbaro) We then, from Vitruvius’s words, will take the argument of
ornamenting edifices with the memory of those deeds that will be pleasing to
those princes or to those republics that we wish to honour, and in honouring
them, make them grateful and favourable towards us. How those matrons
were posed under the weights Vitruvius does not say. According to learned
Athenaeus, a delightful writer, they stood with their head bowed and with
their left hand raised in support of the loads, 25 but we must not oblige our-
selves to believe that Caryatids were only posed in that manner (Fig. 1.1.1).
Well worthy of praise is the mind of Vitruvius who, demonstrating that his-
tory is necessary to the architect, wanted to narrate with form and historical
idea this deed of the Greeks and the following story of the Persian prisoners.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.6] Similarly the Lacedaemonians under Pausanias, son of
Agesipolis, after the armed conflict at Plataea, having with a small number of men
overcome the large army of the Persians, triumphed with great glory. With the mon-
ey earned from the spoils and the booty, they built, as a trophy of victory, the Persian
Portico, to represent the praise and virtue of the citizens. In that portico they placed
effigies of the prisoners with their barbarous clothes supporting the roof, having
punished their arrogance with the scorn it deserved. Thus their enemies had reason
to remain frightened within their fortresses, while the citizens saw in them exam-
ples of virtue, by their glory solicited to be ready and prepared to defend freedom.

25 
Athenaeus, The Deipnosophistae (Scholars at the Dinner Table) VI.241: ‘Eucrates, the Lark,
while drinking with a certain person whose house was in a tumble-down state, remarked,
In this place one has to dine with left hand supporting the roof, like the Caryatides’. Trans.
Charles Burton Gulick, in Athenaeus (1929, p. 87).
36 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 1.1.1. Image and caption [p. 16]: Example of caryatids

This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

Hence in the years that followed, many began to place [p. 16] statues of Persians
that supported the architraves and their ornaments. From this was drawn the
argument for an increase in marvellous varieties of styles in these works. There are
other, similar things of which it is necessary that the architect be well informed.
(Barbaro) That is, other similar things such as what is said about the
invention of the Corinthian capital in the fourth book and of other effects
that will be seen in reading. The first book of Thucydides speaks of Pausa-
nias of Sparta, son of Cleombrotus, commander of the Greeks. 26 Plutarch,

26 
Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War 1.94.
pp. 16-18 37

citing Chrysermus, in the comparison of Romans and Greeks, tells how,

the Persians overrunning the Greeks and taking much booty, Pausanias,
commander of Lacedaemonia, received forty gold talents from Xerxes so
that he would betray Greece.27 This having become known, and his father
Agesipolis having chased the son all the way to the Temple of Pallas and
walled up the temple entrance with bricks, Pausanias then died of hunger
within it; his [p. 17] mother left him buried there. Plutarch’s telling of the
story differs from that of Thucydides. In the place where they forced their
enemies to flee and overcame them, the Greeks used to cut the branches
of the trees and ornament the trunks with the spoils of the enemy, as a
sign and commemoration of the victory. The trunk thus adorned was called
‘trophy’, as Thucydides mentions in several places. The Lacedaemonians,
having vanquished the Persians, in place of a trophy made something that
was more illustrious and memorable. With the money earned from the sale
of the spoils, which they called manubiae, and of the booty, which is all the
loot put together, they made the so-called Persian Portico, which Pausanias
mentions in his Laconia.28 He also tells, in the Attica, of the ancestry of
Pausanias, 29 and in Arcadia says that Pausanias, son of Cleombrotus, com-
mander of the Plataeans, was prevented from being praised by the Greeks
because of the ribaldry that he became known for.30 Thus from histories the
architect learns of ways of adorning his own works, in the same way that
Vitruvius too in many places ornaments his volumes with historical refer-
ences; in the sixth chapter of the first book, the ninth chapter of the second
book, the first chapter of the sixth book, and in the prefaces to his books,
and elsewhere, it is full of wonderfully beautiful teachings drawn from the
histories (Fig. 1.1.2).
(Vitruvius) [I.I.7] Philosophy makes the architect large of soul, without ar-
rogance, pleasant, just and faithful, not avaricious, which is a very great thing
because without faith and chastity nothing [p. 18] can truly be done. Further, phi-
losophy does not allow access to cupidity, nor does it permit the mind to be occupied
with receiving gifts, but makes it so that the soul with seriousness defends its own
dignity, and maintains a good name.

27 
Plutarch, Parallels, or a Comparison between the Greek and Roman Histories X; see Plutarch
(1870, p. 457).
28 
Pausanias, Description of Greece 3.11.3.
29 
Pausanias, Description of Greece 1.13.4.
30 
Pausanias, Description of Greece 8.52.2.
38 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 1.1.2. Image and caption [p. 17]: Examples of Persians [i.e., telemons]

(Barbaro) Philosophy shows the architect how to live in an accustomed

way because philosophy is the love and study of wisdom—that is, of the good
and the true—and speculation on things, as well as the rule of actions.31 Both
are necessary to the architect. With regard to the rule of actions, Vitruvius
says that philosophy is necessary to the architect because philosophy makes
the architect great of mind, so that he can both embrace great undertakings
and have no fear of serious blunders. Although it appears that greatness of
mind might bring with it a scorn for others and a certain severity and arro-
gance, the architect, however, should be great of mind without arrogance,

31 
Here ‘accustomed’, in the sense of ‘according to custom’ refers to custom in the sense of
ethos, as Aristotle used it. See also the note to p. 65.
p. 18 39

which is the vice that is the opposite of truth, not to mention the debt that it
acquires for itself. He should be pleasant, both in listening to and answering
the questions of the inexpert, and in bearing with their defects. But since an
easy-going nature and pleasantness can tend towards injustice, as a master of
proportion let him be just and equal to everyone, and in equality be faithful
in advising, not be avaricious in taking gifts, nor greedy in desiring them.
With these conditions the architect will maintain the status to which he has
attained, will remain honoured and, thanks to his efforts, will live comfort-
ably and will leave behind an immortal fame. Vitruvius, having experienced
for himself what ornament comes of these virtues, and how ugly the stain of
the errors that are their opposites, he shows in many places in his work how
much more he esteems truth than riches, how much more glory than profit.
He criticises the architects who are adulators, arrogant, and avaricious, as
can be read in the prefaces to his books; in fact, these prefaces should be
read and considered together as though they were all a single preface for the
whole work. Philosophy, therefore, benefits the virtues of the customs, and
likewise benefits the part aimed at cognition of the truth, as Vitruvius says.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.7 cont.] In philosophy is explained the science of natural
things, which is called physiology by the Greeks. It is necessary that the architect
has learned this by assiduous study because it contains many and diverse natural
questions, as can be seen in how to channel water. Thus, in conduits of water, at the
intakes, the bends, and outflows in levelled planes, the natural spirits behave in
many ways, and no one can repair the damages and defects of those things if he has
not learned from philosophy the principles of the nature of things. Further, anyone
who reads the volumes of Ctesibius and Archimedes and the others who have left
precepts about these things in their writings, will not understand their opinions
unless he has been first instructed by philosophers.
(Barbaro) One part of natural philosophy is called ‘natural history’, and
the other part ‘natural science’. History is simple narration of the effects of
nature. The example is easily taken from the writings of Pliny because he
simply narrates all that which is found about the things done by nature,
beginning with the world and its principal parts, such as the heavens and
the elements. He then goes into detail about the parts of the earth, stones,
metals, plants, animals and man, which is the culmination of all things.
Natural science is cognition of the causes and principles of all these things,
which good Aristotle treats with order and admirable doctrine. Both natu-
ral history and natural science are useful for the architect. Vitruvius resorts
40 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

to both of them when they are to his purpose, as can be seen in the fourth
chapter of the first book, where he treats the principles of things [i.e., the
elements], and in the eighth book, and in the second chapter of the first
book, and ultimately throughout the work, where he speaks of trees, stones,
minerals, animals, the voice, hearing, seeing, and many works of nature, as
can be seen in the eighth book.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.8] The architect must have knowledge of music, so that he
knows regulated and mathematical ratio, so that he can himself load and temper
the weapons of stones or arrows called ballistae, catapults, and scorpions.
[p. 19] Vitruvius shows how music is useful to the architect in both
practice and rationale, by those words ‘regulated’, which is canonice in Latin,
and ‘mathematical’. Canon appertains to the ears, as perspective appertains
to the eyes. It is taken by practicing musicians as the foundation of the art
they practice, and is that which measures the heights and durations of the
voices. The height of the voice was called melos by the Greeks—that is, song;
the measure of the duration, or holding, of the voice is called rithmus—that
is, number—which is the measure of time. Regulation is comprised in an-
other part as well: meter, which is the art of measured composition and is
tied to the quantity of the syllables. Thus, in contrast to unrestrained speech,
it is called the art of versifying. Canonice means ‘regulated’ or ‘regulating’,
as Boethius says.32 Thus judgement should not be based on the human sens-
es, which are fallacious and mutable at the slightest offense, although they
are principles—that is, occasions of the arts—which make us notice many
things.33 Perfection and the power of knowing reside in the rationale, which
registers34 —I would say it like that—musical instruments according to cer-
tain rules. Mathematics actually leaves the senses aside, and is erected upon
speculations on sonorous numbers, modes, ideas, and manners of songs, and
on the possible combinations of the tempos of the syllables, and perhaps
rising still further, goes on to consider the human and terrestrial accord with
the heavens and the harmony of souls and celestial bodies. In the fifth book
we will explain quite a lot about this, saying what there is to say about the
vases used in the theatre called echei, when he says just a bit below, ‘Those cop-
per vases which in the theatre are located in cells under the steps are made according
32 
Boethius, De institutione musica 5.3 (armonica regula).
33 
This is a veiled criticism of Aristoxenus, which will be reprised in greater depth in Book
V; see Barbaro, pp. 227 and 231-232.
34 
Barbaro’s registrare is probably best understood as accordare, ‘tune’.
p. 19 41

to mathematical rationale’ and so forth, and about the machines that he calls
‘hydraulic’. But first he shows what he means by the tempering and loading
of the weapons mentioned above, and says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.8 cont.] Because in the little capitals to the left and the right
are the holes of the homotones, through which the twisted cables of nerve are drawn
by reels or windlasses; these cables are not fixed or tied until they emit certain and
equal sounds to the ears of the makers because when the arms, which are pulled
back, and where that which is loaded is set, are then released and extend, they must
send forth the projectiles equally and identically. Thus, if they are not made of equal
tones, they will not fire straight.
(Barbaro) To be sure, in music, the equality of sound shows equality
of space, and the proportion that there is between space and space is also
found between sound and sound. Thus it follows that the sound being equal
in one arm and the other, the nerves inside the arms, the pulling of which
renders the sound, are equal. From this are born the validity of the weapon,
the correctness of its load, and its straight and certain firing, as archers and
crossbow shooters show all the time, and as we will see in the tenth book, at
the eighteenth chapter.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.9] Those copper vases which in the theatre are located in cells
under the steps are made according to mathematical rationale, and the differences
in tones, which are called echea by the Greeks, are compounded of sweet and subtle
musical reawakenings as from cell to cell along that curve move the consonances
that the musicians call diatesseron, diapente, and diapason. Thus, when these are
suitably situated, the voice from the scaena arrives more clearly and sweetly to the
ears of the spectators.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius is obscure because of his brevity, because he wants
to express the power of things in just a few words. But in the fifth book we
will do what we can to clarify every word of Vitruvius.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.9 cont.] The hydraulic machines and other things that are
made similar to these organs, could never be made without the rationale of music.
(Barbaro) The hydraulis is a machine that uses water to move spirits35
to make an organ play. Vitruvius treats these in an ingenious fashion in the
tenth book.36

35 
Spiriti, or spirits, are defined by Barbaro on p. 443 as ‘air sent forth with expression’.
36 
See Barbaro, pp. 465-468; Vitruvius X.XIII.
42 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [I.I.10] The architect must also have information about the dis-
cipline of medicine in order to know the inclinations of the heavens, called climata
by the Greeks, and the airs of healthy and unhealthy places, and the use of water,
because without these rationales it is not possible to make healthy habitats.
(Barbaro) The inclinations and climes of the heavens are spaces situated
between two equally distant circles, called ‘parallels’, as will be said in talk-
ing about sun clocks in the ninth book. Vitruvius really did have [p. 20] some
knowledge of medicine, as can be seen in the first book, where he shows
which maladies are generated from which winds,37 and in other places in that
same book as well as in others, where he states the qualities of countries with
regard to waters, grasses, and animals of the air, land, and water, things that
are all subject to the cognition of the medical man.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.10 cont.] Then it is necessary for him to have information
about civil rationale, inasmuch as it is necessary for common walls of edifices, the
space of the gutters, the roofs, the drains, and the windows. In the same way, it is
necessary for the architect to have knowledge of the conduits for water and other
similar things, so that before they begin to build they can be cautious, and so that
once the work is finished there are no fights and disagreements between heads of
families, and so that in making the written contracts and agreements, they can
provide with prudence for both the one who commissions the work and the one who
performs it because if the contract is well and carefully written, it will happen that
both the commissioner and the executor will be exempt from fraud and trickery.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius states that which he earlier said to be part of
the architect’s faithfulness and justice. I say then that that part of philosophy
which provides us with the rule of living well, drawn from diverse kinds
of goods, among which is the virtue of customs located in the reasonable
part—that is, in the part that obeys reason. This part of philosophy deals
with human affections, the powers of the soul, in which the affections are
found, the habits of those powers, whether they be in excess, or deficient, or
in-between. It also deals with judgement, choice, counsel, and appetite, in
which are also found cupidity, ire, and desire, treating these things which
want to resemble virtues—that is, those which are the principles of these
things. Thanks to these things man is sufficient unto himself, after which he
looks to his next of kin or to part of his family, or to universal government.
In the family he performs the offices of master and servant, of wife and

37 
See Barbaro, p. 56; Vitruvius I.VI.3.
pp. 20-21 43

husband, of father and son, acquiring, distributing, using, governing, and

adorning all. But in civil and public administration, consisting of a single
person, or of great men, or of many men with legitimate power to govern,
are seen wise men representing reason, soldiers representing irascibility, and
makers representing the concupiscence that is found in us individuals. The
wise men are the leaders, magistrates, priests, senators, judges; men knowl-
edgeable in the civil rationale [i.e., civil law] upon which each city is made
according to the ends of its own government. The whole body of this ration-
ale is collected in the books of the Pandects, so called because they bring
together all parts of civil rationale. Gathered there under the first title are
the princes; under the second, the judges; under the third, things; under the
fourth, hypothecations; under the fifth, wills and things pertaining to them;
under the sixth various deeds of possession, of known goods, of damages,
ruined buildings, the hazards of those, the laws of the gutters and rainwater,
parts that are necessary for the architects; and finally, more under other titles
which are too long to list. In the last title are found the stipulations, con-
tracts, sureties, public works, markets, the census, and other things which
are comprised in the large volumes of legal matters. The architect needs to
be informed of all these things as need arises, as these are required for living
peacefully and free of disagreements. But it is necessary to rise higher than
this for the benefit of men, and Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.10 cont.] From astronomy is truly known east, west, south
and north, and the rationale of the heavens: the equinox, the solstice, the paths of
the stars; no one who does not possess information about these things can under-
stand the rationale of clocks.
(Barbaro) One of the principal parts of architecture (as will be seen in
the third chapter of the first book) is seeking the shadows caused by the sun
and the styluses necessary to make sun clocks; this part is called ‘gnomonics’.
It requires greater and broader knowledge than is required to understand the
description of sun clocks that can be had from Euclid. Vitruvius’s ninth book
is filled with marvellous doctrines of this knowledge. Here too is found the
other part of astrology, which considers the elevations and distances of the
planets and the stars, to which appertains the invention of the astrolabe. In
truth, regarding that part of astrology whereby from the ascendants present
at our birth [p. 21] can be understood what will happen in the future, no use
for it is found in architecture, unless we want to look for some secret quality
of the sites, knowledge of which cannot be referred to anything other than
44 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the influence of the planets; for this reason many set themselves to making
the births and revolutions the principles for the building of the city. But for
the love we have for architecture, it is not legitimate to be curious about the
many areas of knowledge that are as dubious as they are useless, except to
keep the peace with those who believe otherwise—that is, believe them-
selves to be clairvoyant. Here is the end of Vitruvius’s introduction aimed
at showing how many different kinds of knowledge are necessary for the
architect. He concludes in this way, saying:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.11] Therefore, this worthy discipline being copiously orna-
mented with so many diverse doctrines, I don’t think that anyone can immediately
practice the profession and call himself an architect unless, brought up gradually
with these degrees of science from a tender age, and nourished on knowledge of the
various sorts of letters, he arrives to the acme of architecture.
(Barbaro) How true it is that nothing should be praised until it is has
first been demonstrated can be seen clearly from the things said up to now.
Thus no one can have worthily praised architecture without knowing its
power and nature, and the properties that are suitable to it. If anyone were
so foolhardy as to set himself to praise it, first he wouldn’t know how to do
it, then he would not be believed, and finally, forced to given an account of
its rationale, he would flee, or else contradict himself. But let us see if we
are able to reasonably praise architecture. Yes, we truly can: first with regard
to cognition and then with regard to operation, because in knowing and
judgement it is comparable to wisdom and prudence, and by operations it
shines out clearly among the arts as heroic virtue and queen. A wondrous
thing is the power to act for the common good, to gather uncivilised men
and lead them into religion and sure discipline, and make them peaceful
in cities and fortresses, and then, with more violent force against nature,
cut through boulders, tunnel through mountains, fill the valleys, drain the
marshes, build the ships, straighten rivers, fortify the ports, construct bridg-
es, and surpass nature in those things in which we are by nature surpassed:
raising immense weights; satisfying in part the desire for eternity; delighting
those who do not build, and so much more those who do; ornamenting the
empires, the provinces, the world. But some may not know how to conduct
themselves in the face of the infinite and the impossible, and argue that it is
not within the power of the human mind to possess so much knowledge and
such a great variety of sciences. Thus Vitruvius shows us how and up to what
point there is need of the aforementioned sciences, and says:
pp. 21-22 45

(Vitruvius) [I.I.12] But perhaps to the inexpert it will appear impossible that
nature can learn and hold in memory such a great number of doctrines.
(Barbaro) This is the doubt regarding the power of human nature,
whether it is incapable of receiving and retaining such a great variety of doc-
trines. Vitruvius dissolves that doubt in this way:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.12 cont.] But when they are made aware that all the dis-
ciplines among themselves maintain a certain commonality and conjunction,
they will believe me when I say that this can easily happen, because that which is
learned is like a body composed of many members that turns around on itself. Thus
he who from his early years is practised in various sorts of instruction recognises in
all manners of letters the same signs, and sees the commonality of the disciplines,
and by that easily has knowledge of all things.
(Barbaro) The doubt can arise in this way. It is impossible to have an
effect where the cause of it does not exist, so man cannot learn many arts
and disciplines unless there is cause to learn them. But the cause is the in-
sufficient and incapable virtue of the soul, which, when impeded, cannot
cause the learning of so many arts. Vitruvius replies, arguing that the effect
is possible if there is a way for it to be possible, and since a man can be orna-
mented with many and diverse disciplines, then there is a possible way. The
way truly is that the sciences have a certain commonality among themselves,
and it is almost as though one turns into another as it moves. Due to [p. 22]
some similarities of things, it is not impossible for one who begins in time
and makes the effort to recognise said commonalities and make the same
judgement about similar things. However, there can be a termination and a
sobriety (I would call it that) of knowledge, so that, having so much, we can
comfortably make use of it. We will see below an example of what we have
just said. Finally, Vitruvius brings up the architect Pythius, who was of the
opinion that the architect could accomplish more in many disciplines and
could reason better about each discipline than could the professors of their
individual disciplines. He says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.12 cont.] Thus Pythius, one of the ancient architects, the one
who made the temple of Minerva in Priene in such a noble fashion, says in his
commentaries that the architect has to work harder in all the arts and doctrines
than those who have, with their industry and practice, brought each thing to its
utmost precision. But this is not seen clearly to effect, [I.I.13] so that although the
architect must not and cannot be a grammarian like Aristarchus, he cannot be
unlettered; nor a musician like Aristoxenus, but not be removed from music; nor
46 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

a painter like Apelles, yet he should have drawing; nor like Myron the sculptor or
Polyclitus who sculpts in gesso, but not ignorant of that art; nor again a physician
like Hippocrates, but not without knowledge of medicine; nor singularly excellent
in the other doctrines, but not new to and inexpert in them. This is because no one
can achieve singular fluency in such a variety of things, because it barely falls into
our power to know and perfectly understand their rationales. [I.I.14] But although
architects cannot achieve the highest effects in all things, not even those who devote
themselves to a single science, and personally possess the properties of the arts, can
make it so that all attain the highest realm of praise. If then not all in their own
doctrines but only few in many years barely achieve nobility, how can the architect,
who must be expert in many arts, do great and marvellous things without having
need of some of the aforementioned things? And even more, if he is to surpass all
of the makers who with the greatest industry have devoted great attention to each
doctrine.
(Barbaro) The words following the interpretation are clear. He proves
with arguments that the saying of Pythius is not true. It appears much more
reasonable that a man will achieve perfection in a single science than in
many. Yet this is rarely found to occur—that is, that one is perfect in a single
science. Therefore, if that which appears more reasonable is but rarely found,
then that which appears less reasonable will occur even less frequently—that
is, that a single man can attain the highest degree in many and diverse cog-
nitions. Therefore it can be concluded by Vitruvius, ‘Thus it appears that in
this Pythius erred ’—that is, ‘even though Pythius was an excellent architect
and even though he said many fine things, in this he nevertheless erred; in
this I cannot believe him because sense and reason are contrary’. To better
establish what he says, Vitruvius does not forget what he said earlier, when
he said that in architecture, as in all other fields of expertise, there were two
things to consider: that which signifies, and that which is signified. So he
says the same thing with different words:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.15] It appears then that in this Pythius erred, not having
noticed that each individual art is composed of two things, that is, of the work
and of its rationale. And of these two, one is proper to him who is exercised in each
particular thing, and this is the effect of the work. The other, that is, the rationale,
is common to all learned men.
(Barbaro) There is no one who, recalling the things said above, does not
understand what Vitruvius says here, and if there is anyone who has not yet
well understood what is meant by fabrication and discourse, that which sig-
pp. 22-23 47

nifies and that which is signified, work and the rationale of the work, let him
read and consider the example given below by the author, which explains all,
and clarifies the circulation and the commonality of the sciences. He says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.15 cont.] As it happens to physicians and musicians, regard-
ing the numerous beats of the pulse and movements of the feet. But when it is nec-
essary to medicate a wound or to draw a sick person out of danger, a musician will
not come, but rather it will be the proper work of a physician; so too in the organ, it
will not be the physician but rather the musician who sings, so that from the sound
the ears [p. 23] will take their sweetness and delight.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius gives us many examples from which are understood
the commonalities of the sciences. First he shows the commonalities be-
tween two sciences, and then among many. Music and medicine are scienc-
es, or arts if we will. The office of the physician as physician is to induce and
conserve health; the work of the musician as musician is to delight the ears
of the listeners with playing and singing. In these offices and effects they are
different, but in the rationales they can be conform. The conformity is born
of a common rule that can easily serve both, because the physician, in con-
sidering the elevation and depression of the pulses, the speed and slowness,
the equality or inequality, comes together with the musician, who in voices
considers the same things regarding the metrical feet of the words that are
in the verses, or the movement of the bodily feet that is made to the playing
of some instrument, so that slow or fast—which corresponds to the tempo—
high or low—which corresponds to the pitch—and the equal or unequal
degrees of the voice—which corresponds to both—are common terms that
can be applied to many things of diverse nature. Thus it is not at all con-
tradictory that many makers convene in rationale though they be different
in their works. This is born of the validity of the principles, which, being
universal and indifferent, embrace more than one thing and do not depend
on any particular subject. The same can be said of times, spaces, movements,
bodies, numbers, virtues, and many other things that appertain to different
makers with rationales that are differently conform. I say ‘differently con-
form’ because the principle is one alone. It is as if I were to say that the equal
added to the equal makes all equal, but the application is made in different
ways in diverse materials and subjects, because the physician applies said
principle to the quality and virtue of herbs, the musician to the tempos of the
syllables, the natural philosopher to motions, the geometer to magnitudes,
and others to other things. And again, the physician, taking from geometry
48 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the notion that angles are easily united while circumferences are not, says for
this reason that circular wounds are difficult to close and mend, and the best
cuts are those with straight lines; in this the physician is accompanied by
geometry, but the geometer does not work by putting his hands on a wound,
nor does the physician as a physician, aspire to compete with the geometer.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.16] Similarly, between musicians and astrologers there is a
common discussion about the harmony of the stars, of the harmony and the con-
sonances named diatessaron and diapente, which are in the square or triangular
aspects.
(Barbaro) I wish to make myself clear because Philander, although
faithfully setting out the words as Ptolemy interprets them, leaves us de-
sirous of greater knowledge.38 I therefore say that the astrologers, wanting
to demonstrate how heavenly bodies concur in sending down their divine
influences here in the centre,39 have taken some figures of geometry that are
proportional and corresponding among themselves. The first is that which
has three equal angles and three equal sides; the second which has four;
the third which has six. They then measured the angles of those figures,
found among them marvellous proportions and correspondences, and by
those judged the conformity and consonance that the stars have in sending
down here their divine virtues. For greater clarity I say that the angles are
measured according to the circular segments comprised by the lines that
form the angles. I then say that the ancients gave the name as to any whole
thing suitable for being measured, or divided, and they divided it into twelve
parts. The one part was called uncia. Two was called sextans because two
parts went six times into the whole, which was twelve. Three, quadrans,
because they went four times into the as. Four, triens, because they went into
it three times. They gave no name to the five other than quincunx because
it did not go an equal number of times into the whole as did the two, the
three and the four. Six was called semis, as in half of the as. Seven, septunx,
for the same reason as the five. Eight, bes, because to six are added two. Nine
dodrans, ten dextrans, and eleven deunx, because in those neither multiplica-
tion nor addition went equally to make up the twelve. Things being in this
way, I say that the right angle in the square, regular and whole, will occupy

Philander (1544, p. 8).

38 

This phrase ‘in the centre’ indicates clearly that Barbaro is considering a geocentric
39 

universe.
pp. 23-24 49

twelve parts, the angle of the triangle, which is larger and wider, will em-
brace sixteen, the angle in the six-sided figure, as the narrowest, will hold
eight. The angle [p. 24] of the square, because it is just40 and whole, will be
called as (Fig. 1.1.3).41

Fig. 1.1.3. [Relationships of polygons to circles] Image [p. 24]

That of the triangle, by being larger by a third, will contain the whole
as plus a quadrans, or third, more, and here is the ratio called ‘sesquitertian’
[i.e., 16:12, or 4:3]. The angle of the hexangular figure is less one half of the
angle of the triangular, and occupies eight parts of the circumference, which
is the measure bes—that is, of eight parts. Thus between these angles is the
ratio called ‘dupla’ [i.e., 16:8, or 2:1]. Similarly, the angle of the square and
the angle of the hexagon are in the sesquialteran ratio [i.e., 12:8, or 3:2]—
that is, in the container is one time and a half the contained—as eight—that
is, bes—is contained in twelve—that is, in the as—one time and one triens,
which is half of eight. Let that suffice for what appertains to astrology.
What truly appertains to music is that the musician similarly considers
consonance, not in the appearances, but in the voices and in the sounds.

40 
The term angolo giusto, ‘just angle’ (meaning ‘right angle’) may be one that Barbaro had
seen in the work of Martiano Cappella (1532, Book VI (Geometria), p. 153), where he defines
the three types of angles, the ‘just’ angle, fixed and always the same, and the two ‘moveable’
angles, larger and smaller. According to Kolàrovà (1975), Capella is the only authority to
have used this term. Barbaro uses it a second time on p. 45.
41 
The figures are circumscribed by circles, the perimeters of which are marked off in units;
counting the units between points where the angles of the figures touch the perimeters of
the circles determines their measure.
50 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

They did not want to use the names used by the arithmeticians, so instead
of ‘sesquitertian’ they said ‘fourth’; instead of ‘sesquialteran’ they said ‘fifth’;
and for ‘dupla’ they said ‘octave’. Using the Greek names, these are diates-
saron, diapente, and diapason, as will be made clear in the fifth book. It
is necessary, therefore, if the voices are to be consonant—that is, to arrive
at the ear in a pleasingly united and mixed way—it is necessary, I say, that
there be a proportional distance between the low and high voices. The same
is necessary in the harmony of the stars (which Vitruvius calls sympathia) so
that they send their influences down here, together with their power and
virtues. The rules of arithmetic are thus those that unite music with astrolo-
gy, because proportion is common and universal in all things aimed at being
measured, weighed, and numbered.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.16 cont.] And with the geometry of perspective, and of sight,
and so too in all the other doctrines, many, or even all things, are common from the
sole point of view of argument. But the commencements of the works, which with
the hands and with treatment and practice lead to dexterity and beauty, appertain
only to those who are properly ordained to work in an art.
(Barbaro) In addition to the commerce (I would use that term) between
astrology and music due to the aforementioned rationales, we also see the
commonality with geometry due to perspective, which the Greeks called
opticos logos—that is, the rationale of seeing. Here Vitruvius shows the com-
monality between more than two sciences, and wants to say that beyond
what astrology has to do with music, it also keeps company with geometry,
because from geometry it takes the rationales of perspective with respect to
the aspects and the distances, from which are born the regress, the standing
still and the progress of the planets in their movements. Perspective takes
its subject from two sciences—from [p. 25] geometry, the line, and from
natural science, vision—and makes them into one, which I would call ‘ray’;
but these things will be made clear elsewhere.42 Things being as we have
said with regard to the commonality of the sciences, Vitruvius, concluding,
prescribes for us the way and end of knowing, and says:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.16 cont.] Thus he will appear to have done much indeed, the
one who has, of each doctrine, at least average knowledge of their various parts
and rationales that are necessary for architecture so that he is not left behind, lost or
lacking when it is necessary of such and such an art to judge and approve.

42 
In Barbaro’s own Della perspettiva (1568).
p. 25 51

(Barbaro) The architect neither must nor can be an expert in grammar

like Aristarchus and the others that Vitruvius recalls, as he said above where
he said ‘must not’. While the architect might be perfect in many arts, it is
not because of that perfection that he should properly be called architect,
because that would go outside of the terms of architecture. For this reason
Vitruvius’s argument against Pythius becomes that much stronger, because
first he proved by experience that his opinion is not true, then by reason that
it is not possible, and finally even if it were possible, it is not fitting. Similar
arguments are used by Plato, Aristotle, and Galen, the first two reasoning
about the orator, and the third about the physician, as suited their aim. Thus
here I will say something that seems to me to merit consideration, in order
to advise those who are devoted to one of the sciences: if one were to know
well what the terms of each science are and know when other sciences went
beyond them, then without a doubt he would know and find so many very
fine things in each that he would make us marvel. Thus he who knows well
the properties and definitions of things would also be able to know the com-
monalities and similarities.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.17] But those to whom benevolent nature has conceded so
much astuteness, liveliness of intellect, and memory that they can know together
geometry, astrology, music, and other disciplines perfectly, certainly go beyond the
terms and offices of architect and become mathematicians, where they can easily
debate those disciplines because they are armed with many arms of sciences.
(Barbaro) It is usual to argue the principles of a science and also usual to
argue things contained under those principles against whoever would deny
them. If the principles are disputed, it is necessary to go beyond the terms
of that science and use a science that is common and universal, since if the
proofs are born from the principles, how it is possible while remaining inside
the boundaries of that science to debate against one who denies them, there
being nothing that comes before the principles? Thus Vitruvius says that the
one who is armed with many arms of science can debate against the scienc-
es—that is, debate against anyone who would make a profession of them.
For this reason Aristotle debated against Parmenides and Melissus, who
denied the principles of natural philosophy, not as a natural philosopher, but
as a dialectician, and above the natural. But if what is debated are the things
comprised within the principles of a given science, then it is quite possible
for anyone, without going beyond the terms of that science, to debate against
another who reasons poorly about those things that pertain to it, because he
52 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

would make use of the principles of that science. And so those who are ex-
pert in many sciences are always armed for attack as well as defence, so that
whether going beyond or remaining within the proposed question, they can
survive to advantage.
(Vitruvius) [I.I.17 cont.] But on rare occasions such men are found, as Aris-
tarchus of Samos, Philolaus, Archytus of Tarentum, Apollonius of Perge, Eratos-
thenes of Cyrene, Archimedes, and Scopinas of Syracuse, who by means of numbers
and natural rationales discovered many things regarding the instruments, rules,
and styles and worthily left them to posterity. [I.I.18] Thus it happens that both
natural astuteness, conceded not to all men but to a few, and such good minds
and, in the office of the architect, being practiced in both all its teachings and in
the rationale of the thing permit one to have, according to need, not the highest
but average knowledge of the disciplines. I, O Caesar, of you and of all men who
read my volumes, beg pardon if anything explained by me falls short in the way of
the rules of grammar. Because it is not as an excellent [p. 26] philosopher, nor an
eloquent orator, nor as a grammarian expert in the most excellent rationales of the
art, but as an architect taught in this manner of letters that I have striven to write
these things.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius concludes, admirably circumscribing and embrac-
ing all that he has said, having long held back the prime intention so that it
could come at the end. This is the idea and form of the greatness of speaking:
that the sentence supports itself with some particles, such as ‘rather’, ‘not
only’, ‘although’, ‘God willing’ and others similar, which require other cor-
respondences. See how full this speech is of sentiments and arguments. First
of all of the nature of things, when he says ‘conceded not to all men but to a
few’. Then of art, when he says, ‘in the office of the architect’. Then of the things
themselves when he says, ‘the rationale of the thing’. And finally he closes with
the sentiment, ‘I, O Caesar’. He then proposes what he is to treat, saying:
(Vitruvius) [I.I.18 cont.] What the power of this art truly seeks and what
rationales are situated in it, I promise (as I hope) to be able in these books, not only
to builders but to all wise men without doubt, and with the greatest authority, to
present.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius’s promise appeared grandiose and overblown, so
that he prudently added the words ‘as I hope’ to show modesty. He thus says
that he not only promises to present to builders what the faculty of archi-
tecture involves—recalling what he had said, that architecture is born of
fabrication—but he also promises to all experts the rationales, which reside
p. 26 53

in discourse, in the thing that signifies, and in the proof of the building.
Without a doubt and with the greatest authority he keeps these promises,
so that, like a wise architect, he founds architecture on its true, efficacious,
useful, and conform precepts. This shall suffice for the first chapter.

Chapter II
The things of which architecture is composed

[p. 26] (Vitruvius) [I.II.1] Architecture consists in order, disposition, fine number,
compartition, decorum, and distribution.
(Barbaro) He who well understands the present chapter can truly say
that he knows and understands that in which the strength of architecture
consists. So, the six things43 in which Vitruvius claims that architecture con-
sists are those that appertain to its strength and nature, those of which the
habit is in the architect’s mind, and finally, those without which no work
can have form or perfection. It is a difficult thing to show the differences
between these things, and it is a fine thing to allow oneself to be understood
and not shirk the task. To many it might appear that Vitruvius, in defining
the said six things, says the same thing in more than one way. This is not
so, as I will strive to show clearly. I say, then, to aid understanding of what
must be explained: some things, as regards their essence, do not refer to
others, but are free and absolute; others have a relation to others, are in re-
spect to them, and without them would not exist. The man, the stone, the
plant, and ultimately all matter have no regard and comparison with other
things because they exist in themselves, but a father, master, teacher, friend
and brother cannot exist in themselves and necessarily refer to others: the
father has a relation to the son; the master to the servant; the teacher to
the disciple; the friend to the friend. Similarly, the double, the greater, the
lesser, and the equal are things that can neither exist nor be understood in
themselves. With further regard to the aforesaid definition, it is worthy of
note that of things which by nature refer to others, some are terms: these
are the fundament and principle from which the relation commences and
43 
Barbaro is rather vague about defining what ‘things’ these six are, but on p. 40 he refers to
them as ‘forms’, and on p. 72, he says that these six things must be in the mind of the maker.
I believe they should be thought of as ‘underlying forms’.
54 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the end at which it terminates, as the rationale of being a father commences

with the one who generates and terminates with the one who is generated.
Being a teacher is founded in the one who teaches and has its termination
in the one who learns. Being larger begins in that thing which exceeds and
finishes in the thing exceeded. In [p. 27] these comparisons of things often
occur equality and parity—that is, that both in the foundation and in the
termination are found equal relations, as in saying ‘friend’ or ‘brother’, since
the friend is equal to the friend, the brother to the brother, and no greater
relation found in either term. Non-equivalence and inequality are also often
seen in the things referred, as in saying master and servant, father and son,
teacher and disciple, because it matters whether the relation begins with one
instead of the other; there is one relation in one term and another in the
other. These definitions have great power in making the six aforesaid things
well understood because all are comparisons and relations, as will be seen
here below. Vitruvius thus having formed the architect—that is, made him a
worthy agent of many artifices—he now treats form because, material being
imperfect, nothing could be drawn from it without perfection and form,
which consist in the aforesaid six things. Two ends are found in works: one
is the carrying out and finishing of the work, as when we say, ‘the work is
finished and complete’; the other is the completion of the intention, which
is when, the work being done, it is said, ‘I have achieved my intention’, as in
‘the house being furnished, I am defended from the winds and the sun, and
safe from my enemies’. To arrive then at the end of the work, it is necessary
(if we want to govern with art) to proceed in an orderly fashion. This is done
in two ways: first regarding the quantities and size of the parts, then regard-
ing the substance with the quality of those parts. In the first is order; in the
second, disposition. Quality can be considered in itself, and in comparison to
both the form and the appearance. It is referred to the eyes, so it is necessary
that in the work there be a certain quality that can content and delight the
eyes of those who look at it; Vitruvius calls this ‘eurythmy’, which will be
discussed later. And since the work is not proposed incomplete but finished
in size, both as a whole and in its parts, it is necessary that in addition to
order there be a correspondence of the measures among themselves, and in
comparison to the whole, so that if a measure of a single part be presented,
then we know the measures of the others, and if we are presented with the
size of the whole, we know the size of each part. This correspondence is
called ‘symmetry’, as in comparison and correspondence of measures. We
pp. 27-28 55

call it ‘compartition’; the Latins used the Greek name. But because the works
that are made must have authority and reputation, and also be useful to
the mortals who inhabit them and arranged with wisdom, we, desirous of
obtaining these things, need to make use of that which is suitable to them,
which is called ‘decorum’, and to dispense everything, which resides in ‘dis-
tribution’; we will discuss these things separately, after first showing visually
what pertains to each of the six things described above.
According to the first quantity,
and then to the measures.
Such is order.
Either according
to quantity. According to the correspondence
Either of the measures.
in itself Or according the quality. Such is compartition.
Such is the disposition
of the parts.
The entire
form of the
work is
considered
Either to appearance. Such is eurythmy.
Or in
Or to appropriateness. Such is decorum.
relation
Or to use. Such is distribution.

We will discuss each of these parts separately, and first order.

(Vitruvius) [I.II.2] Order is moderated attitude of the members of the work,
separately, and with respect to all the proportion to the compartition, which is
composed of quantity.
(Barbaro) Because in many things we find order, disposition, decorum,
distribution, and the other parts given above, we hold that these terms are
general and common. As general and common, they have their definitions
in the science that is general and common, which is the first one, called
metaphysics. But when a maker wants to apply any of those parts to his own
knowledge, he restricts that universality to what is particular and proper to
his own art, as can be seen in the [p. 28] present exposition of the said defini-
tions, and first in the definition of order. It is certain that order in itself, and
according to its nature in general, is when a thing, according to its own ra-
tionale, places one essence after another, and thus it follows that where there
is order there is ‘before’ and ‘after’; these are common terms that encompass
56 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

much. But the architect restricts the definition of order in relation to himself,
although with greater breadth than any other maker since the science and
cognition of the architect is broader than that of any other. He thus says that
order is when in a work, according to its rationale, the essence of one quantity
is placed before and another one is placed after. In this way the definition of
order is made proper for the application of the common and universal terms,
in which can be said to reside the commonality of the sciences. Therefore,
so that this falls within our first foundations, I say that order is among those
things that refer to others and that are situated in comparison and relation.
Further, I say that comparison is of those things that are in inequality. It
is clear that in order there is relation because in order it is understood that
something comes before, and something after. So too there is inequality be-
cause if all things were equal, already there would not be all things, as Saint
Augustine says,44 because there would not be those that have to come first.
So order is the dispensation of things that are equivalent and not equivalent,
equal and unequal. The order of the architect concerns quantity, and in quan-
tity is found the order that regards the whole, and the order that regards the
parts. It isn’t that one kind of order is in effect found without the other, but
that the intellect can make the distinction and understand each separately.
Thus Vitruvius says with regard to order: that it is among the parts; that order
is moderated attitude of the members of the work separately; and that this
attitude, which he calls ‘commodity’, consists in regulating and tempering
one part as regards its size so that it is measured by others, and agrees with
and corresponds to those. In this regulation the part which is taken as a
measure must come before the others. Therefore, in order applied to archi-
tecture is found what comes before and what comes after. These are opposite
and unequal differences, and so they must be reduced under a common term,
and this is the rule. But it will be more clearly explained with the example,
and when I have stated the order of the parts compared to the whole. With
regard to order, Vitruvius says, ‘And with respect to all the proportion to the com-
partition’. Proportion is the comparison of things among themselves when
these are of the same nature. This is done in architecture by taking a certain,
determined quantity, which will be the regulator of all the other magnitudes
and a measure of the parts and members of the works. Here is the example.
Vitruvius, in the third book at the second chapter, wanting to give an account
44 
Saint Augustine, Confessions 7.12. This is related to the tranquillitas ordinis, ‘well-ordered
concord’ described by Augustine in City of God 19.13.
pp. 28-29 57

of the fine manners of temples in which there is a fitting and beautiful space
between one column and the next, says that it is necessary that the space, or
opening, shall be of the size of two columns and a quarter more.45 With this
he says that if the front of the place where the building is to be built is of
four columns, it will be necessary to divide it into eleven parts and a half,46
excluding the projections; of those eleven, one is to be the module, which is
how he calls that measure that regulates all magnitudes of the works. He
gives to the width of the columns one module; to the spaces between them
two modules and a quarter; to the space in the middle three modules. In this
way he orders the entire front, as it can be clearly seen that four modules are
given to four columns, three to the space in the middle, which makes seven;
four and a half to the spaces and openings on either side, which makes eleven
and a half. The rationale itself is praiseworthy. If the front is of six columns,
that will be divided into eighteen parts, one of which will be the module;
the width of the columns will be one module. There being then six columns,
they will take up six modules in their width; in the space in the middle, three
modules, which with the six from before make nine, and into the spaces
on either side, of which there are four in all, there go two modules and a
quarter per space, which will take up another nine modules, which added
to the nine of before will make the sum of eighteen. So too, in the front of
eight columns, divided into twenty-four parts and a half, one of which makes
the module which is used to measure as above. In machines as well, and in
the other works we see that what has been said is observed. Order is thus
comparison of inequalities which commences in a previously [p. 29] taken
quantity that serves as a regulator for all the parts and refers to those and to
the whole, making an agreement of measure called symmetry.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.2 cont.] This is composed of quantity, which is appropriate
effect of the modules from the taking of the work and of all the parts of the members.
(Barbaro) Symmetry and compartition are comprised of many quanti-
ties to the same effect. This quantity is defined by Vitruvius and by us with
the examples given. In the first example the entire plane of the front is taken,
that is divided into parts, and one of those parts is made the ruler and mod-
ule, which tempers and modulates the members and the parts of the work,
making in the whole an appropriate effect.

45 
See Barbaro, p. 130; Vitruvius III.III.6.
46 
See Barbaro, p. 130; Vitruvius III.III.7.
58 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [I.II.2 cont.] Disposition is apt collocation of the things and in the
composition is chosen effect with quality.
(Barbaro) Disposition compares the parts of the work, not as sizes and
quantities but as parts to be collocated in the proper location. Thus it is not
sufficient to find a common measure that will be the regulator of the sizes
of the parts, but it is also necessary to find an order of that thing which has
parts, not comparing the parts as sizes and quantities but comparing them
as things to be situated in their place. Disposition is made in two ways: one
proceeds from the instance or from necessity; and the other from making or
knowing. Vitruvius reasons here about the second way, but in the sixth book
he reasons about the first, and gives us a quite clear understanding, in the
second chapter of that book, regarding the things said above, saying there:

No greater care must the architect have than making it so that the edifices
have according to the proportions of the module the compositions of their ra-
tios. When thus the rationale of the measures is furnished and the proportions
explicated with discourse…

(as order and symmetry seek to do)

…then it is also proper to the acuteness of mind to see to the nature of the place,
to the use, to the beauty, both by adding and by taking away appropriate
temperaments, so that when anything is either subtracted from or added to the
measure, that will appear to have been formed in such a way…

(as Vitruvius does in the disposition of basilicas, in the fifth book)

…that nothing more is desired in the visual appearance.

(here is eurythmy)

Because one form appears close and low, another far away and high, nor does
that appear in a closed place as it appears in an open place. In these things it is
a work of great ingenuity to know how to grasp the situation.47

47 
Quoted from Barbaro, p. 277; Vitruvius VI.II.1-2.
pp. 29-30 59

At the end of said chapter he expresses himself more clearly regarding

the disposition that proceeds from the instance or necessity:

I do not think that there is any need to doubt that according to the na-
ture and necessity of places must be made additions and diminutions so
that in such work nothing is to be desired. This can be done not only by
doctrine, but also by acuteness of mind. So first it is necessary to order the
rationale of the measures from which the mutation of things can be taken
without uncertainty. Then shall be explicated the space of the lower part
of the work to be built, in width and in length of that work. Once the
size is determined, it is followed by the preparation of the proportion to
the beauty, so that there will be no doubt about the appearance of conso-
nance to anyone wanting to consider it.48

From the clear statements quoted above are known the number, the or-
der and the nature of the six aforesaid things. I wanted to insert the quota-
tions of Vitruvius, my intention being to expound Vitruvius with Vitruvius
himself. He thus says, following his definition, that ‘disposition is apt colloca-
tion of things’. By ‘things’ he means rooms and the parts of them in the build-
ing—that is, the parts of the works made by the architect, whatever they may
be. This well-disposed collocation of parts leads to seeing in the entire com-
position a fine quality—that is, that each thing is in the proper place—and,
as he says, ‘the chosen effect’—that is, quickly arrived at, clean, distinct. The op-
posite of disposition is the superfluous, as the opposite of order is confusion.
And it can be said that order is the disposition of the measures in relation to
symmetry, and disposition is the order of the parts in relation to the place, as
will be seen in the sixth chapter of the first book, and in many other places.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.2 cont.] The ideas of disposition are these: the plan, the ele-
vation, the profile. [p. 30] The plan is a moderated use of the compass and straight-
edge, from which derives the drawing of the forms in the plane. The elevation is the
vertical image of the front and figure in a painted way, according to the rationales
of the work that is to be made. The profile is the outline of the front and the sides
as they move away, and a convergence of all the lines at the centre of the compass.

Quoted from Barbaro p. 279; Vitruvius VI.II.4-5. Note the use here of ‘consonance’ in
48 

place of ‘eurythmy’; ‘eurythmy’ is maintained in the translation on Barbaro, p. 279. Barbaro

explains what is meant by eurythmy below, but the clue to his definition of it lies in his use
of ‘consonance’ here.
60 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) In disposing and situating the parts, the architect forms in

his thoughts and then draws three manners or ideas of the works. One is
called ichnographia by the Greeks—that is, description and drawing of the
plan—to give an understanding of the collocation of the parts and the width
and length of the work (Fig. 1.2.1).
To do this there must be a moderated use of the compass and straight-
edge. The other is called orthographia—that is, the description and drawing
of the elevation, or vertical—both to show the height of the works as well
as the manner. The elevation must be conform with the plan, otherwise that
which is born and that which grows would not be one and the same thing.
This is a serious error and contrary to the nature of things, because in plants
and in animals it can be seen that what is born and what grows are one and
the same, and no other parts are added later. The third idea is the profile,

Fig. 1.2.1. Image and caption [p. 31]: Plan (ichnographia) of a temple with
pronaos
p. 30 61

called sciographia, of which great use comes because through the description
of the profile comes the understanding of the size of the walls and the pro-
jections and retractions of each member (Fig. 1.2.2).
In this the architect, like the physician, shows all the interior and exteri-
or parts of the works. Thus in this office there is need of the greatest thought,
judgement, and practice, as is evident to one who considers the effects of the
profile. The elevation of the front, or face, does not show the projections,
the retractions, the sizes of the cornices, capitals, basements, stairways and
other things, so the profile is necessary. With these three manners of dispo-
sition the architect is assured of the success of the work and makes more cer-
tain his intention and the desire of others to make a work that is praised and
exalted. Along with that, he can take account of the cost and many things
pertinent to the works. From said ideas, which are forms conceived in the
mind and expressed on panels or on paper, comes that chosen and elegant
effect that he spoke of. It must also be noticed that Vitruvius, explaining the
nature of the six aforesaid things, comes to confirm those sciences which are
necessary for the architect: disposition and its three species show how useful

Fig. 1.2.2. Image and caption [p. 32]: The part where the letter I is, is
the elevation of the preceding plan; the part where the letter O is, is the
profile
62 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

drawing and geometry are; order shows how expedient arithmetic is; the
other parts show how much to the purpose are perspective, music, and such
things, as well as how useful history and the other qualities of the architect
are. The elevation is the image of the front, hence it represents on the surface
of a sheet of paper, canvas, or panel that which is born of the plan, referring
the whole to the rationale of the work that is to be made, be it Doric, Ionic
or another. Vitruvius calls ‘front’ all things that are seen vertical. There are
many from whom a plan can be had, and who, not exceeding the terms of it,
will make an elevation according to the rationale of the future work but still
do not know how to show, in each storey of the building, the size of the walls
that rest squarely on what is beneath them, the one that projects, and the
one that recedes, so they are lacking this third species or idea of disposition
due to its difficulty.
The usefulness of the profile moves me to interpret Vitruvius’s text as
sciographia and not scenographia because even though scenographia is the de-
scription of scaenae and perspective and is necessary in things of the theatre,
as will be seen in the fifth book, it does not appear that it is related to the
ideas of disposition of which we are speaking here. Others would have it
that what is meant is the model but this is not pertinent to our aim, even if
it makes more clear and certain the intention of the architect; furthermore,
it does not agree with the definition of model given by Vitruvius. Some
might say that said definition does not agree with the profile; I reply that the
profile being so very necessary, and much more so than the perspective, it
is necessary to carefully consider said definition. As far as I am concerned,
if it were necessary to understand perspective in this present discussion, I
would have there be four ideas of disposition, in order to propose the profile
to you, so necessary does it seem to me to be. But it also appears again that
the definition of disposition is proper to two of his ideas—that is, to the plan
and the elevation—because each can be said to show the apt collocation of
things and the chosen effect with quality in the composition; but, it appears
to me, I say, again, that it is not proper to sciographia, if sciographia is [p. 31]
understood to mean perspective, because perspective shows neither the apt
collocation of things nor the chosen effect with quality in the composition.
The reason is that it is necessary that the genre befits its species, and that the
definition of the genre is appropriate to the species comprised within that
genre. So, profile is very well suited to the definition of disposition because
in the profile is seen the chosen and quickly-arrived-at effect in the com-
pp. 31-33 63

position, as well as an apt collocation of the things. To one who carefully

considers it this is evident because all the lines come to the eye unimpeded
and the projections and retractions and the sizes are known as they are and
not as they appear with proportionate lines and angles, as is done in perspec-
tive, even though it appears that the definition [p. 32] of sciographia adopted
by Vitruvius mentions the definition of perspective. And even should those
who carefully consider it and wish to understand that what is being reasoned
about is perspective, and I were to be in agreement with them, I would still
say that it is necessary to concede some place to profile in disposition for the
reasons that I have stated, always relying on better judgement. But it would
be a fine turn of events49 if Vitruvius, dealing here with universal things of
the art as a whole, wanted to interpret the particulars and let the important
things go missing from his order.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.2 cont.] These are born of thought and invention. Thought
is thinking that is full of studies, and effected with industriousness and vigilance
about the proposed work with delight.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius shows here whence are born the manners and ideas
of disposition, as well as how a man who has thoroughly experienced and
felt for himself what he says uses various efficacious terms to express his
intention. Had nature brought us the aforesaid forms and ideas, without a
doubt very little artfulness would need to be used. But since nature has not
shown us the things said, it is necessary to turn to art, and since we seek to
represent with art the effects similar to those of nature, we need thought.
Because it is difficult to realize our intention with art, great study and in-
dustriousness are required. But since from diligence and industriousness are
born beautiful and graceful things, they are immediately accompanied by
delight and pleasure, which is nothing other than receiving an impression
of quality that is conform to appetite and desire. Since the intellect takes
pleasure in grasping the truth, because nothing is more fitting for the in-
tellect than the truth, it is said ‘I find no other pleasure than learning’. The
delight of the senses is receiving the quality of some object that is fitting
for and corresponds to a sense, as is felt in delicacies of food, in softness of
aromas, in the sweetness of sounds, in the charms [p. 33] of paintings, and
in the cheerful objects of our sentiments. So Vitruvius says, and rightly,

Gran cosa, ‘a great thing’: ironic, as in ‘it would be a fine how-do-you-do if…’ or ‘it would
49 

take the cake if…’.

64 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

that thought is thinking that is full of study, because it is the search for
things that are difficult and not shown by nature. In order to better express
his concept, he says, ‘effected with industriousness and vigilance about the pro-
posed work with delight’. Thus he who is not industrious and vigilant does not
think well in the way that Archimedes did. Archimedes, comparing natural
effects and seeking their causes, was able to find the truth of the question
posed, as Vitruvius relates in the ninth book at the third chapter,50 and hav-
ing found it, he was overwhelmed by wonderful joy, dashed out of the bath
naked, running and yelling, ‘I’ve found it, I’ve found it!’. In this appeared
his quick and noble ingeniousness, having in a short time applied the means
to the due end, and remaining exceedingly satisfied with the invention, ac-
cording to Vitruvius.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.2 cont.] And demonstrations of the obscure questions, and
reasons of the thing rediscovered with quick and mobile vivaciousness.
(Barbaro) These are the terms of disposition. Question is dubious pro-
posal; doubt is placed halfway between affirmation and negation. When
thus the intellect is between the yes and the no, it forms a dubious proposal,
which is called question, or inquiry. It uses some particles that demonstrate
the method of interrogation, and requires a response. Examples are ‘Are you
good or not?’, ‘What is goodness?’, ‘Where does it come from?’, ‘To whom
it is given?’, and other similar things and ways. These, not lending them-
selves more to affirmation than to negation, require a certain and indubitable
answer, which cannot be well made except by those who have invention
through thought, industriousness, and lively ingeniousness. These are the
terms of disposition—that is, disposition is encompassed in the three afore-
said manners, which are the plan, the elevation and the profile.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.3] The fine number called eurythmy is the graceful visual
appearance and appropriate form in the composition of the members. This is
made when the members of the work are appropriate, as the height to the width,
the width to the length, and finally everything corresponds to the compartition
proper to it.
(Barbaro) I say ‘proper to it’ because if it were to respond to the com-
partitions and symmetries that are appropriate to parts not its own, then the
gracious manner would not be recognized. Here eurythmy must be referred
to the visual appearance, as Vitruvius states in many places, as in the third

50 
See Barbaro, p. 352; Vitruvius IX.Pref.9.
pp. 33-34 65

book in the second chapter,51 and in the sixth book in the second chapter.52
Since all proportion is born of numbers, he has used the aforesaid name
in everything where there is proportion. The width to the height and the
length of the works must agree with the visual appearance and this is not
done without proportion; where there is proportion it is necessary that there
be number, hence the name eurythmy. Each artful work must therefore be
like a most beautiful verse, which runs along according to excellent conso-
nance, the parts in succession one after the other until it arrives to an orderly
end. And even though some things may be not excellent, nevertheless they
can be orderly in an optimum way, as is evident in the parts and members
of the human body and in artful things where there is consonance and har-
mony. Thus although the eye is a nobler thing than a foot, if we look at the
offices of each, the eye and the foot are just as optimally situated in the body
so that the eye is not better than the foot nor the foot better than the eye. It
is likewise in the guitar where all the strings are proportionate, so that if any
individual one of them is tightened so that it gives a better sound, the conso-
nance between all of them is destroyed. A similar thing is required in works
in which it is necessary that there be this respect for forming all of the parts,
though these by nature are distinct, according to perfect rationale, such that
all contribute to the beauty and delight the sight of those who regard them.
As in singing, which requires the concert of voices, in which, in addition to
all the voices being just [i.e., in tune], in addition to their all being appropri-
ate in consonance, there needs to be a certain temperament which makes all
the harmony sweet and soft, as happens with those musicians who always
sing with the same company so that they have fit themselves to each other
with discretion. This fine manner in both music and in architecture is called
‘eurythmy’, mother of grace and delight [p. 34] in things both immobile
and mobile.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.4] The compartition and correspondence of measures is called
‘symmetry’, and is fitting with sentiment of the members of a work and of the
separate parts to the form of the entire figure according to the module, as is seen in
the human body, which with the cubit, the foot, the palm, the finger and the other
parts are commensurate. So it happens in the perfections of the works, first of all in

51 
See Barbaro, p. 132; Vitruvius III.III.10. Barbaro refers to eurythmy in his commentary
there on intercolumniations, characterising Vitruvius’s description of them as eurythmy, but
Vitruvius himself does not use the term.
52 
See the quoted passages above on Barbaro, p. 29 and the relative footnote.
66 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

sacred temples, from the sizes of the columns or of the triglyphs, and then that thing
that enters in the holes of the ballista, called the peritriton.53 Similarly in ships of
the space that there is between one rowlock and the next, which, because it meas-
ures two cubits, is called dipichaichi54 , and so too in the other works, from whose
members is found the rationale of the symmetries and compartitions.
(Barbaro) Symmetry is the beauty of order, as eurythmy is the beauty of
disposition. It is not sufficient to order the measures one after the next; it is
also necessary that those measures be fitting among themselves—that is, that
they be in some proportion; where there is proportion, there can be nothing
superfluous. As the teacher of natural proportion is the instinct of nature,
the teacher of the artful is the habit of art. Thus it comes about that propor-
tion is proper to form and not to material; where there are no parts, there
cannot be proportion, because it is born of parts composed and of the rela-
tions between them. In every relation it is necessary that there be at least two
terms, as we have said. Nor can the effect of proportion be praised enough,
as here resides the glory of the architect, the beauty of the work, the marvel
of the artfulness. This will be clearly seen when we reason about proportions
and reveal the secrets of this art, showing what respect there is in proportion,
what terms, what use, how many effects, and how powerful it makes things
appear. But I must come to this in its place. Vitruvius here gives examples of
what he meant when he said, ‘according to the module’, saying, ‘as is seen in the
human body’. Hercules measured the racetrack and distance of the stadium
of Pisa and found it to be of six hundred of his feet, and then in Greece all
other of those spaces where races were run were made six hundred feet long.
But these turning out to be shorter than the one in Pisa, good Pythagoras,
comparing those racetracks one against the other, found that Hercules’ feet
were longer than the feet with which the Greeks had measured their dis-
tances. Knowing what the proportions of the foot to the correct height of
man must be, he understood that Hercules’ stature had to be greater than
the stature of other men by as much as the racetrack measured by Hercules
exceeded the racetracks of the Greeks. So, when the measures are adjusted
to the manners, there is no doubt that when the size of one part is known
the size of the other is known, and consequently the size of the whole. ‘First

53 
Left in Greek in Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 50) and in Cesariano (1521, p. XVI) and
transcribed by Barbaro in this way.
54 
Left in Greek in Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 5) and in Cesariano (1521, p. XVI) and transcribed
by Barbaro in this way.
pp. 34-35 67

of all in sacred temples’: this I said above, that from the size of the columns,
which gave us the module, are taken the spaces between the columns and
their heights. ‘Or of the triglyphs’: this is a little member that has three chan-
nel-like flutes, whence comes its name; it is placed above the architrave in
Doric works, and by it Doric work is measured, as will be explained in the
third chapter of the fourth book.55 ‘Then in the perforations of the ballista’: In
the ballista, which is an instrument drawn to launch missiles, holes are made
in the heads through which the end of the string goes. The holes derive from
the weight of the stone, and from the holes are derived the measure of what
Vitruvius calls scutula in the tenth book in chapter seventeen,56 and peritriton
here, in the same way that the measure of the piece of artillery is taken from
the balls that it shoots. ‘Similarly in ships of the space that there is between one
rowlock and the next, that is, from the space that is between the place where one oar
is tied and the next, is taken the measure that governs the whole body of the galley’:
I find it observed thus in the building of galleys, and for this I have expanded
on Vitruvius in this way.57 But let us go forward.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.5] Decorum is the faultless visual appearance of the work
experienced through things composed with authority.
(Barbaro) I will explain decorum in the things that follow, but in truth
when he says ‘ faultless visual appearance’, Vitruvius includes it under the
name of ornament, although in the second part, when he says ‘experienced
through things composed with authority’, he remains within decorum. Vitruvi-
us’s example [p. 35] shows this to us quite well.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.5 cont.] This is accomplished either according to instance,
or convention, or nature: according to instance, when to Jupiter the lightning bolt
thrower, to heaven, the sun and the moon are built edifices that are uncovered and
open-air, for there we see the forms and the effects present in the open and shining
world. To Minerva and Mars and to Hercules are made temples in the Doric man-
ner because to these gods, due to their virtues, it is fitting to make buildings that are
without delicacy and tenderness. To Venus, Flora, and the nymphs of the fountains
are made Corinthian works, which appear to have a fitting propriety because those

55 
See Barbaro, p. 173ff; Vitruvius IV.III.5.
56 
See Barbaro, p. 475; Vitruvius X.XI.4.
57 
Vitruvius says only ‘Similarly in ships of the space that there is between one rowlock and
the next’ (see Barbaro, p. 34; Vitruvius I.II.4), and Barbaro of his own initiative adds ‘that
is, from the space that is between the place where one oar is tied and the next, is taken the
measure that governs the whole body of the galley’.
68 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

gods, because of their tenderness, appear to augment the due ornament of works
that are subtle and florid, ornamented with leaves and volutes. To Juno, Diana,
Father Bacchus, and the other gods who are similar to them, in making Ionic works
there is regard for a middle road because both the severity of the Doric and the del-
icacy of the Ionic58 will make up their moderated property.
(Barbaro) From the words of Vitruvius the prudent architect can draw
much beautiful testimony regarding the decorum and ornament that are
suitable for buildings of our own times. Even though we do not have false
and untruthful gods, there is no lack of occasions to observe decorum in the
churches consecrated to the true friends of the true God, as well as to His
majesty. Because these true friends are many and differ in the splendour of
diverse virtues as the stars of heaven differ in clarity, it is good to use the
manner that is fitting and proper to the effects of each: the austerity of the
saints, who in solitary living were steeped in fasts, vigils, and orations, call
for solid and coarse works; those who lived lives of simplicity and virgin-
al purity call for works that are gentler and more delicate; the moderate
life seeks the temperament of both of these. But it must not be believed
that there are only three manners of works because Vitruvius has only listed
three, because he himself in the fourth book in the seventh chapter59 adds
the Tuscan and says that there are other manners. The moderns make, and
rationale requires, others in order to distinguish our saints from the false
gods of the ancients. It is in the power of a circumspect and prudent archi-
tect to compose, according to rationale of measure, many other manners,
observing decorum and not following his whims. But the three manners
mentioned above are the ones most often nominated.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.6] But according to convention decorum is expressed in this
way when to the parts of the inside of the magnificent buildings are given fitting
and beautiful entrances and vestibules, because there would be no decorum and
ornament if the interior parts were elegantly made but the entrances were low and
shameful. Similarly, if in Doric architraves dentils were carved in the cornices, or
if in pulvinated capitals or in Ionic architraves were carved triglyphs, transporting
from one rationale the properties of another work, it would offend the sight, the
established convention being otherwise.

58 
See Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 5r). Cfr. ‘Corinthian’ in Morgan (1914, p. 15); Granger (1931,
p. 29); and Schofield (2009, p. 17).
59 
See Barbaro, p. 192ff; Vitruvius IV.VII.
pp. 35-36 69

(Barbaro) It is proper in the Ionic corona to carve dentils; these, if trans-

ported into a Doric work, as done by the builder of the theatre that Augustus
had made in the name of his nephew Marcellus, would offend the eyes ac-
customed to seeing it otherwise.60 A similar error would be made by one who
in Ionic architraves made the fluted elements called triglyphs because these
are proper to the Doric manner, as Vitruvius shows us in the fourth book. I
will leave to its rightful place the explanation of many terms, in order not to
hinder the intention of those who wish to learn in an orderly fashion.
(Vitruvius) [I.II.7] There will be natural decorum when, before building all
temples, selection is made of the places that are exceedingly healthy, and suitable
sources of water are selected in those parts where the sacred houses are to be built,
especially after Asclepius, to Health, and to those gods by whose medicine many in-
firm people appear to be brought back to health. This is because when ailing bodies
are transported from pestilent to healthy places, and are brought good waters from
healthy sources, they recover health much faster. Thus it happens that from the na-
ture of the place, the opinion held of the divinity will be made greater in size and
credit. By these things said, there will be natural decorum if for rooms where one
sleeps and for [p. 36] libraries the lights are taken from the east; for the baths and
for the winter places from the parts where the sun sets in the winter; for the chan-
cellery or writing desk and for those rooms that require a certain equality of lights
from the north, because that part of the sky is made neither lighter nor darker by
the course of the sun but is steady and does not mutate during the course of the day.
(Barbaro) Because Vitruvius reasons about orientations and the taking
of light in the fifth book at the tenth chapter and in the sixth book in the
seventh chapter, and likewise in the fifth book at the twelfth chapter,61 and
in other places explains about decorum and beauty, I do not want to pervert
the order of knowledge reserved for its proper place. It is enough for me to
say that beauty and decorum are the relation of work as a whole to the visual
appearance, and to that which is fitting to the one for whom the work is in-
tended, observing the conventions and the suitability of nature.

60 
The Theatre of Marcellus was constructed in the final decades BC. Barbaro obviously does
not agree with Vignola, who in his introduction ‘To the Readers’ (1999, pl. 2) writes, ‘when
I wanted to include the Doric order in the canon, I started from the fact that its version in
the theater of Marcellus is for everyone the most prized example of Doric architecture’. He
does indeed show the Doric order with a denticulated cornice; see (1999, pls. 3, 9, 10, 11).
61 
See, respectively, Barbaro, p. 262ff, Vitruvius V.X; Barbaro, p. 295, Vitruvius VI.IV;
Barbaro, p. 268ff, Vitruvius V.XII.
70 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [I.II.8] Distribution is convenient and useful dispensation of the

things that are necessary, and of the place and moderated temperament of expense
made according to rationale. This is observed when first the architect will not seek
those things that cannot be found or prepared without enormous expense. Thus it is
not possible to find sand in all places nor are all copious in stones, fir trees, soapberry
trees, marbles. But one thing in one place and another in another are found, and
the transportation of such things is difficult and costly. So, if coarse sand cannot be
obtained from ditches, use that from rivers or the well-washed sand from the sea.
To avoid the need for firs or soapberries, use cypresses, poplars, elms, or pines. And
in this manner other things are also expedited. [I.II.9] There is another degree of
distribution when building for the use of the fathers of families, either according to
the availability of money or according to the dignity of beauty, because it appears
that in other ways are to be made the houses in the city than those in which are to be
stored the fruits of the countryside; and it is not the same to build for tax-collecting
merchants and for the delicate and quiet. And the residences of the greats, who with
their serious thoughts govern the republic, must be built for their use. In sum, the
distributions of the buildings should be made according to the people.
(Barbaro) As the manners of speech called ideas are qualities of oration
that are appropriate to things and persons, so too the manners of buildings
are qualities of the art that are appropriate to things and persons. For forming
an idea of oration eight [recte six] things are necessary: the sentence, which is
man’s understanding; artfulness, with which, as with a certain instrument,
the concept is raised; the words, which express the concepts; the composi-
tion of those, with the colours and the figures; the movement of the parts,
which is called number; and the conclusion and end of the composition. So
too for expediting a manner of the arts six things are necessary, and we have
already expedited almost all of these. There remains only distribution, which
in both the art of speaking and in public and private administration is highly
necessary and much appreciated. This appears, along with decorum, to refer
to things and persons but it is different, because decorum refers to things
and persons as far as regards what is fitting in terms of ornament and hon-
esty, but distribution regards what is useful and convenient, as will be seen
in the sixth book in the eighth chapter,62 in which Vitruvius appears to have
wanted to explain the present part. Now, it should be noticed that even if
Vitruvius has applied the aforesaid six things to the building of temples and

62 
See Barbaro, p. 296; Vitruvius VI.V.
pp. 36-37 71

houses, these being the principal things, they must be applied to all the other
things and works that are made, such as machines, instruments, clocks, and
the other things subject to architecture. This is what can be said regarding
the habit and the form that must be in the mind and thought of the architect
in order for him to merit such a worthy and celebrated name.

Chapter III
On the parts of architecture

[p. 37] (Vitruvius) (I.III.1) The parts of architecture are three: the fabrication of
edifices, gnomonics, the making of machines.
(Barbaro) It is by now time for me to satisfy the promise of explaining
the parts of architecture. In the brevity conceded to me, I mean all of the
whole form and unity of architecture and the demonstration of its parts in
an orderly fashion, so that the whole corpus of it is enclosed within its terms.
Knowledge is nothing other than knowing the effects of the causes proper to
them. Every effect is made by something, of something, to some aim, with
some way and form. That which does is called the agent; the thing in which it
is done is called material; that to which it is addressed is called the aim; that
which carries it out and renders it perfect is called form. The principal causes
are thus four. We have already spoken about the artful agent, who he is and
of what conditions he must have, in telling of the office and the virtues of the
architect. Likewise, form has been expounded in universal terms. It remains
to speak of the material and the aim. For a clearer overall understanding
we say that, in imitation of natural things, in artful things we consider two
things. One is being; the other being good. In regard to being, we consider
the material, the form and the combination of the two. In regard to being
good, we consider the adornment and the arrangement of the things. Since
many instruments are needed to combine material with form, it is necessary
to treat instruments and machines. The rationale of the things said above is
as follows. Art, as far as it can, imitates nature. This happens because the
principle of art, which is the human intellect, has a great resemblance to the
principle that moves nature, which is an intelligence. From the resemblance
to the virtues and the principles is born the resemblance in operating, which
for now we will call imitation. This imitation is seen in all the arts, but much
72 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

more so in that which is the judge of all. We thus imitate nature in the
treatment of that art. Hence architecture—that is, the science—declares the
material, the form, and the composition of the works. Imitating nature by
dint of the hidden virtue of its principle, it proceeds from the things that are
less perfect to those that are more perfect. First it puts the things into being,
then it adorns them, because what does not exist cannot be adorned. Because
the principle that governs nature is of infinite, optimum and all-powerful
wisdom, it makes its things beautiful, useful, and durable. Appropriately,
the architect, imitating the Maker of nature, must regard the beauty, utility,
and firmness of the works. So, in treating form it is necessary that he know
how to order, dispose, measure, distribute, ornament, and satisfy the delight
of the eyes with fine and gracious manner. To do this he must be instructed
in those conditions that are contained in the first chapter, and with those
which are read in the second. Under the name of ‘form’ are comprised the
alignments and placements of the things, hence the rationale is considered
with all of its qualities, hidden and manifest, good and bad, the plan, the
compartition of it, the elevation of the front and the sides, the apertures, the
roofs, all with conditions, teachings, and rules that will be discussed later.
This is followed by that consideration that appertains to material. Before the
material is arranged and prepared, it is necessary to consider that human
ingeniousness is imperfect and greatly inferior to divine intellect, and that
material is deaf (as we say) and does not answer to the intention of the art. So
before the architect commences the works he must imitate the natural agent,
which does not work except according to its power. Thus the architect will
begin by considering the work and the expense. Just as nature invests more
time and more diligence in the most perfect things, so too the architect must
think well. To ensure the good outcome of the work, he will proceed with
drawing and with the model, first hearing out even those who are less ex-
pert, and allowing his feelings to cool, in order to give way to judgement. He
will imitate nature, which does not do anything contrary to its maker, and so
he will not seek impossible things, with regard to either the material [p. 38]
or the form, that neither he nor others can finish, considering that the Maker
of the world, wanting to make, made the material of things from nothing.
Nature, the first of His creations, lacking in such power and yet wishing to
resemble its maker, in the generation of things takes the material that has
one being, without form, but with the power and ability to receive all form,
and of that makes that which is available to the senses and corporeal. Then,
p. 38 73

art, the observer of nature, as the grandson (I would put it like that) of the
first Maker, also wishing to make something, takes the material as nature
has given it in esse—a form that is available to the senses and natural, such as
wood, iron, and stone—and forms that material according to that idea and
sign that reposes in the mind of the maker. Having prepared the money so
that nothing can hinder him, he will see to the material, which is treated in
the second book. The principal materials that the architect uses are stone,
wood, and those things that combine and join wood and stone. So in that
second book are considered stones and trees, sand and lime, and the nature,
quality, use, and method of all things separately, reasoning about what na-
ture and use bring to those materials. Of those materials which necessity
forces us to use, such as bitumen, baked clay, and other things that are used
in place of stone or sand, there is no discussion, since they are different in
different places. In some places houses are roofed with shell-shaped tiles; in
others with canes and palms; still others use skins. There is no discussion of
iron and the other metals because their nature and qualities are more con-
form and have fewer differences than the things mentioned above.
Now, having prepared the materials and considered the form in a uni-
versal sense, it remains to us to speak about composition. First it must be no-
ticed that the Agent that sustains nature is full of infinite ideas and proceeds
in an orderly fashion, moving the causes one by one, instilling the virtues
according to the liberty of His will. Those causes so moved channel that
divine influence down here with marvellous order. Thus all beings, all lives,
all intellects depend on the prime being, the prime life, the prime intellect.
Things being in this way, it is necessary that the architect be wise and good:
wise in knowing, according to the rules of reliable astrology, the fitting times
to give the start to the works, eliminating those when the sun is most ardent
and ice the sharpest; good, both in being neither avaricious nor given to
vices, and in words, begging the giver of all form to strip him of ignorance
and awaken in him the power of giving birth to the fine inventions with
prosperous and happy success by means of his art for the benefit of all people.
Now, to return to our subject, I say that not only must things imitate
nature in the most universal and shared way, but must always at least and in
more restricted form descend from it. Hence architects must strive to make
their works similar to some effect of nature. There being nothing down here
that equals the perfection of man, considering the proportion of the human
body will give us the most beautiful example in any created artefact. It is
74 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

certain that nature, in the generation of man, shows truly that to which all
things must refer, thus rendering him perfect. Thus he is seen to be equipped
with many parts, as if of many instruments, for the service of the soul and
of life. Of these parts some are similar in name and nature, such as blood,
bone, and nerves: each part of blood is blood; each part of bone is bone; and
each part of nerve is nerve, and so they are called thus. Others are of differ-
ent natures and names, such as the hand, the foot, the head, since not every
part of the hand is a hand or is called a hand and the same can be said of the
foot and the head. Of the first, similar parts are made the second parts, and
these, in the human body, have different offices and ends. Therefore, wish-
ing to make his work such that it is entire and unified, it is necessary for the
architect to consider the principal parts so that they are given the material
that is suitable for them, and it is good for the works that he imitate nature,
which assigns places that are appropriate and well prepared and takes the
time needed to completely form the human members, casting first, as the
foundation of life, sense and movement, the signs of the heart, the liver, and
the brain. The architect shall have consideration for the place, the method,
the parts, and their function. Thus it follows that the material is taken care
of according to the function of the parts. As regards the [p. 39] site, the
qualities of terrain are known by certain signs and clues, for which some
rules are observed and some instructions given. Next, after the statement
of the other things, stones are discussed according to their quantities and
shapes, so that we use them according their function. In a similar way lime
is discussed, with those observations that suit necessity. Further on will be
given the way to set stones together with lime. With fine advice taken from
the nature of things, consideration will first be given to the foundation and
then to the parts of the building that are above the foundation, which are
the pavements, the inside walls, the outside walls, and the roofs, with all the
manners of masonry; all are comprised by Vitruvius in the second book. And
thus the bones, the supports, the openings, the connections, the courses, the
fillings will be clearly explained. This is a particular and distinct rationale of
architecture, but as yet not taken care of.
Up to now no consideration has been given to the aim, which is what
gives strength and necessity to the means and constitutes every art (as Galen
says63). The architect therefore works so that men, in the union to which

63 
Galen, On the Constitution of the Art of Medicine 1.1.
p. 39 75

nature inclines them, can live comfortably and securely and be of service
to each other. It is necessary to consider the diverse types of men, so that
their needs can be tended to. Thus seeing a great number of men united to
a aim, we can consider all that number as a whole, but we can also speak to
those among the throng and find there some differences between people. If
we consider the union as a whole, we say that it is necessary that the city be
made with all those parts that will be useful and secure for the entire group.
First, attention will be given to the breadth and circumference in which
that multitude is to be enclosed, hence we treat its capaciousness and size.
Then the walls are considered in terms of defence; this orders the building
of towers and those parts called bulwarks, platforms for the knights, gates,
ravelins, and portcullises. Next, the flat area enclosed within the walls is
compartitioned for the commodious use of all, so it must be neither com-
pletely built upon nor completely empty. Thus will be treated squares and
public ways, streets, entrances, alleyways, always taking care that they are
not battered by the winds, as will be discussed later. Furthermore, there are
usually places of the city where there are rivers or other channels of water
along which goods and provisions are transported, so it is necessary to build
bridges and piers for the convenience of all. But when we wish to distinguish
between ranks of people, we will find some who are more worthy and others
who are less. Among the worthy, there will either be a single leader or many
who rule, either by permission of the law or by violence and force. In the first
case there will be the prince; in the second the tyrant. From the aim of each
the architect will derive the disposition of the buildings and the residences,
making the palace for the prince and the stronghold for the tyrant. Among
the many worthies it will be found that some are devoted to religion and
others are outside the observance of religion. Of these, some will be suited
for going outside in service of the republic, others for serving the republic
from within the city. Of those who serve outside, some will go by sea, others
by land. Those who take to the sea will need shipbuilding yards—that is, the
arsenals for ships, ammunition, and ports—so the architect must also see to
those buildings that serve the needs of the sea. Those who serve on the land,
such as the captain and commanders of troops, need barracks, stockades,
fortresses, artillery, war machines, and various instruments for defence and
offense. The architect must give order to all these things. Those who are
inside the government or preside over civil and criminal controversies or
are consultants for things of the state need the forum for their judgements;
76 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the senators need the senate and the curia. Also, the worthy people who are
not devoted to the divine cult of religion need suitable residences. For the
observers of religion are made monasteries, cloisters, residences for men and
for women, as fits the function and decorum of each person. It is especially
necessary that all industry be used in the fabrication of churches and sacred
temples. There are some works that are neither wholly public nor wholly pri-
vate; of [p. 40] those too care must be taken. Some of them are to conserve
the things necessary for survival and trade, some for assistance and aid; such
are warehouses, customs, storerooms, the mint, the armouries, the places
were ammunition is stored. Others are used as baths, aqueducts, and the
like. Others serve for delight and celebrations, such as theatres, amphithea-
tres, loggias, the places set aside for races and various games. Still others are
dedicated to honour and memory, such as arches, monuments, sepulchres,
metae, obelisks, and pyramids. Finally, some are made for wicked men; such
is the prison, which is the keeper of justice. All of these buildings pertain
to both the public and the private in a certain way, as careful consideration
shows. The people with no rank are the ordinary citizens, the artisans and
the farmers. Thus the architect, considering the convenience and condition
of each, will not neglect any manner of private buildings either in the city or
in the countryside. This concludes the part that treats of the being of things.
Turning now to the being good, what will be treated is the ornaments
adorning the city, the fortresses, the temples, the palaces, the houses, the
streets, the bridges, the arches, the sepulchres, in short, all public and private
works. This is treated in the seventh book. Finally, many instruments are
necessary to make great and beautiful works; here, in addition to the nature
of things, art demonstrates its strength as well as the material and subject of
each work, and the power of the agent to make material into that which it
was not. This is done with different instruments, the instrument being the
medium between the operator and the thing operated. The wise architect
concerns himself with instruments and machines for raising, pulling, and
moving weights, and all the other sorts of artillery. Time is the measure
of operations of men and of nature. The movement of the heavenly bodies
especially goes together with time, bringing us the sun and the moon to
distinguish the days and the nights. In order that men can divide the hours
and times of their operations, the architect will turn his eyes to the sky and,
making use of those fine lights, with artful alignments will describe sun
clocks, almost as though putting the sky into our hands. This is the sum
pp. 40-41 77

total of architecture, which (if one carefully considers it) comprises all con-
venience and delight of human generation. With the foregoing discourse we
can proceed securely to the declaration of this present chapter. Vitruvius thus
says, dividing architecture:
(Vitruvius) [I.III.1 cont.] The parts of architecture are three: the fabrication
of edifices, gnomonics, the making of machines. The fabrication of edifices is divided
into two parts. One is the collocation of the walls and the shared works in public
places; the other is the explication of private residences.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, having shown us what there must be in the mind of
the architect before he arrives to the work, now shows us in what things the
aforementioned six forms are to be situated. He says that order, symmetry,
disposition, distribution, decorum and eurythmy are to be exercised princi-
pally in three things, which he calls ‘parts of architecture’. These are material
parts: the first is the fabrication of edifices; the second, gnomonics; the third,
the making of machines. ‘Fabrication’ is a name both general and particular.
In the general, fabrication is the art and making of anything, as in Latin fabro
is the name given to any maker and, similarly, the making of machines is the
same thing as fabrication in the general. But when either part is taken in the
particular, ‘fabrication’ is understood to be the building of edifices, and ‘mak-
ing’ understood to be the building of machines, which is treated in the tenth
book. The fabrication of edifices has two parts. One is the collocation of the
walls and shared works in public places; this is treated in the first five books.
The other is the explication of private edifices, which is treated in the sixth.
(Vitruvius) [I.III.1 cont.] The distributions of public works are three, of
which one is given to defence, the other to the religion, and the other to expedience.
To defence appertains the rationale of making the walls of the city and the towers
and gates, which things were invented to repel the violence of enemies continuously.
(Barbaro) This is given in the following chapters of the present book.
(Vitruvius) [I.III.1 cont.] Of religion is the collocation of the temples and
sacred houses of the immortal gods.
(Barbaro) [p. 41] As treated in the third and fourth books.
(Vitruvius) [I.III.1 cont.] Of expedience is the disposition of the shared places
for public use, as are the ports, forums, porticoes, baths, theatres, places to stroll,
and the other things which according to the same rationales are designated among
public places.
(Barbaro) These things are treated individually in the fifth book.
78 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [I.III.2] These things of such manner must be disposed so that

regard is given to the firmness, utility and venustas. Firmness will be regarded
when the buildings are well founded down to solid terrain, and when without
avariciousness is made the selection and choice of the material of all kinds. Utility
is seen to when, without impeding the comfort and use of the places and without
defect, the things disposed are made, well accompanied, and divided up according
to each manner. Beauty will be satisfied when, with fine and delightful manner
of the visual appearance, the compartition of the members will be just, equal, and
proportionate.

Chapter IV
On the selection of healthy places and the things that are
noxious to health

[p. 41] (Vitruvius) [I.IV.1] In fabricating the walls of the city these are the princi-
ples. Firstly is the selection of the healthiest place. That shall be one that is elevated,
not covered in fog nor laden with cold vapours, but looks towards those regions of
the heavens that are neither too hot nor too cold but temperate. Then one should
avoid being near marshes, since the morning breezes, coming to the city with the
rising of the sun and joined the dawning fogs and breaths of the beasts in the marsh,
will spread to the bodies of the inhabitants the poisonous vapours mixed with the
fogs and will make the place unhealthy. Again, when the walls are close to the sea
and face either south or west, those will not be salubrious places.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius having founded the treatment of architecture on
the principles stated, he begins now to build on them. In keeping with his di-
vision he begins with public works. Of the six things that appertain to form,
he first touches on distribution and natural decorum; of the three qualities
that every edifice must have, he first reasons about utility, and then speaks
about the firmness and venustas of the works. Regarding public works we
first come to the city, which is made for the protection of life, religion, and
public commodity. There are six things (as the learned Leon Battista Alberti
says64) that must be considered by those who wish to build a city. The first is
the region—that is, the extent of all the land that lies around and the surface

64 
See Alberti (1485, 4.2); (1988, pp. 95-100).
pp. 41-42 79

that there is to build on. The second is the area and open space—that is, the
determined space of the region to be walled. The third is the compartition
of said space. The fourth is all that is erected above the ground, called walls
or fortifications. The fifth is that which goes on top, or covers in some way.
The sixth is the opening, where people and things come in and go out. Vit-
ruvius begins by speaking about the region—that is, the selection of healthy
places—because great strength and virtue lie in the nature of the places and
in the air, as that which cannot be separated from ourselves. The place is like
the father of a generation in that it is affected by celestial qualities, and natu-
rally things are better conserved where they are born than elsewhere. Thus he
reasons about the selection of healthy places for building the city; this is the
first consideration that must be made. So, the region contains some qualities
of which some are obvious and others concealed. Of each of these, some are
bad and some are good. The bad ones can be distinguished from the good
ones by opposites. Of the good ones, some serve expedience, such as lands
that abound in water, fruits, pastures, those that have good neighbours, ports
and entrances for the ease of contracting for and transporting goods. Others
are good for health, thus they have running waters that are clear, not viscous
or metallic, [p. 42] without noxious qualities of odour, colour or taste; they
are also those where the winds do not blow too cold, too hot, or from infected
places. Similarly, the temperature should be somewhat humid and gentle—
that is, temperate—after which the healthiest is the cold. The air should be
pure, purged, clear to the sight, moving, and uniform; the sun should not
bake too much or be not too far away but be able with its heat to consume the
cold morning breezes. The hidden qualities that are bad are, as I have said,
known from the good ones. The goods ones are attended by animals that are
large, strong, and whose meat is tasty, and by populations that abound in
both sexes, are handsome, healthy, and long-lived, and are colourful, strong,
and of a well-tempered constitution. Plants too are indicative of good places,
when they are beautiful, well nourished, not harmed by the winds, and not of
those species that grow in marshy or strange lands. Again, good qualities are
shown by divine things, such as the feeling and good fortune of the place; by
natural qualities, such as when things like goods and fruits are conserved; by
things that are built, such as when buildings are not corroded by the winds
or by saltiness. Vitruvius discourses on this so that men may be cautious and
forewarned, and he confirms what he says with examples and natural ration-
ales. He shows that he is not inexpert in philosophy. Read Alberti in the
80 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

third, fourth, fifth and sixth chapters of the first book, and you will find this
material presented in a way that is copious, ornate, and learned.
(Vitruvius) [I.IV.1 cont.] Because in the summer the air that is towards the
south, when the sun rises, becomes warm and burns in the afternoon. That which
is towards the west, when the sun rises, begins to warm, rising at noon becomes
hot and, setting burns. [I.IV.2] Thus by the mutations of hot and cold the bodies
that are in those places sicken. This can be known from inanimate things, since in
roofed cellars none take light from either the south or the west, but from the north,
since in that direction no change in climate is seen, and it is always the same and
immutable. So granaries that face the course of the sun soon alter their goodness.
Fruits that are not on the opposite side of the course of the sun are not conserved
for long [I.IV.3] since the sun, ever cooking, takes away the firmness of things and,
with its hot vapours, the natural virtues escaping, dissolves them, and these, sof-
tened by the heat, cause weakness and infirmity. This can be seen in iron, which
although it is hard by nature, nevertheless, heated by fire in the furnaces, softens
so that it can be easily bent and built with. Being soft and red-hot, placed in cold
water it becomes hard again, and returns to the properties it had before. [I.IV.4] It
can also be considered what happens when in the summertime all bodies weaken
because of the heat, as much in pestilent places as in the healthy and, contrarily, in
the winter even a region that is unhealthy becomes healthy because the cold is great-
ly fortifying. Similarly it can be seen that the bodies transported from cold places
to hot places last but a little while and dissolve, but those that are in hot places are
taken to the cold regions of the north, not only by changing places are they no longer
subject to illnesses but are made firm. [I.IV.5] So in making the walls of the city it
is necessary to guard against those regions which, with their heat, can spread hot
vapours into human bodies. Because all bodies are composed of those principles that
are called elements, that is, of heat, humour, earth and air, from the mixture of
these with natural mixing are finally formed the qualities of all the animals of the
world. [I.IV.6] Thus in those bodies in which of those principles heat abounds, it
can be seen that the heat kills them and dissolves all the other things. These defects
are made by the heat of the heavens which comes from some regions when, enter-
ing, more of it sits in the open veins than that which the body has by the mixtures
of its natural temperature. Likewise if moisture occupies the veins of the body and
those are made unequal [p. 43] and swollen, all the other principles, tainted and
corrupted by the liquid, will liquefy and the virtues of the composition will dis-
solve. Similarly, defects are instilled in bodies from the cooling of the moisture of the
winds and the breezes. No less does the natural composition of the air and the ter-
p. 43 81

rain, increasing or decreasing, make the other principles weak, the terrestrial with
the fullness of food, the airs with the heaviness of the airs. [I.IV.7] But if one wishes
with diligence to see this perceptibly, let him observe and attend to the nature of
the birds, the fish, and the animals of the land. In this way he can consider the dif-
ferences of the tempers of bodies, because birds have one mixture, fish another, and
much more diverse again is the nature of the animals of the land. Birds have little
of earth and less of humour. They are of moderate heat and abound in air, whence
it comes that, being composed of the lightest elements, they easily rise against the
impetus of the airs. But the aquatic nature of the fish, because they are of temperate
heat, have more of air and earth, and maintain little of moisture, the less they
have of those principles of humour, the more easily they are conserved in moisture.
Hence, pulled to earth they at the same time expel life and water. Animals of the
land, because among their principles are tempered air and heat, and they maintain
less of earth and more of humour, the humid parts abounding in them, they cannot
conserve life for very long in water. [I.IV.8] If then it appears to be as we have
proposed, if with perception we see that the bodies of the animals are composed of
such principles, and having demonstrated that all cease or suffer due to the lack and
excess of such things, we do not doubt that it is necessary with all diligence to make
an effort to select the most temperate parts of the heavens when healthiness is sought
in making the walls. [I.IV.9] So I firmly deem it rightful in this regard to re-evoke
the rationale of the ancients, since the elders diligently observed the livers of sacri-
ficed sheep that pastured in the places where castles and garrisons were built, and if
the livers were livid and vitiated, they sacrificed others, unsure whether they were
vitiated by disease or by the pastures. Then having made the experiment of many of
them, and proved the integral and solid nature of the livers, waters, and pastures,
they camped in that place. But if they found defects in those, arguing by a sure in-
dication and carrying that over into human bodies, that in those places there must
be pestilence in the supply of waters and food, they thus departed for other regions
and changed lands, always seeking health in them. [I.IV.10] That the salubrious
properties of the land are made apparent by pastures and foods is made manifest to
us by the fields of Candia, which are around the river Pothereus between Cnossus
and Gortyn, since the sheep pasture on the right and left of the river, but those
that pasture towards Cnossus have large spleens and in those near Gortyn they
are not apparent. The physicians thus asking what the reason was for this, found
in those places a grass that, taken by sheep, reduced their spleen. Thus gathering it,
they gave it to those who suffered from spleen; for this reason the Cretans call that
herb asplenon. From this it can be known that from the food and waters places are
82 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

either pestilent or salubrious. [I.IV.11] In addition to this, if in the marshes the city
is built, and the marshes near the sea face north or between north and east, as long
as they are higher than the seashore, they will appear to be reasonably built, because
when channels are dug, the waters will flow to the sea, and the sea, swollen by
storms, will send them back into the marshes, moving them by various movements,
so that by the salty mixtures in marshy places no poisonous animals will be born,
and those that come from higher places, swimming towards the shore, will die from
by the unusual saltiness. The example of these things can be had in the marshes of
Gaul, which are around Altinum, Ravenna, Aquileia, and other places near the
marshes, which for these reasons have [p. 44] an incredible healthiness. [I.IV.12]
But those places that have low marshes and have no nearby running water either
in channels or in rivers, as are the Pontine marshes, remaining still they putrefy
and emit in those places heavy and pestilent humours. In Apulia the ancient Sal-
pia, which was built by Diomedes during his return from Troy or (as others say)
by Elpias of Rhodes, was situated in such a place where, the inhabitants falling
ill each year, they finally went to M. Hostilius, beseeching him in the name of the
people to find them a suitable and select place to build the city. M. Hostilius did not
delay and immediately investigated the causes in a most learned way, bought a pos-
session near the sea in a healthy place, and asked the Roman senate and people that
it be permitted to move the land. He surrounded it with walls and compartitioned
the squares and, having made the districts, sold to each inhabitant his part for two
and a half pounds of silver. These things being done, he opened the lake to the sea,
and of the lake he made the port with the gifts conceded so now the people of Salpia
live in a healthy place four miles away from their old city.
(Barbaro) A great part of the seventh book of Aristotle’s Republic treats
that which is contained in this chapter and in those which follow in the
present book.65 But we do not wish to make an ostentation of filling pages
nor to split hairs about the things that Vitruvius says, where he wants to
show himself to be a physician and philosopher. I would describe the herb
asplenon,66 the places in Candia67 where it is born, Rethymno and Gortyn,
and would demonstrate with a painting the site and region where the city
must be situated (if a painting could do this), but since I mean for others to

65 
See Aristotle, Politics 7, especially chaps. 11 and 12.
66 
Asplenon, or asplenum, is also known as miltwort or spleenwort; see Pliny the Elder,
Natural History 27.17.
67 
‘Candia’ was the name used for Crete from 1205-1669 (thus at the time when Barbaro was
writing), a period when it was a colony of the Republic of Venice.
p. 44 83

take these tasks upon themselves, I happily leave it to them. Regarding the
histories, I want to believe Vitruvius because it doesn’t appear of any benefit
to confirm Vitruvius by means of Pliny or anyone else, since they might have
taken what they have written from Vitruvius. It is much that Alberti with all
diligence has gathered a great many and diverse things that can satisfy those
who are curious to know more. Read the second chapter of the fourth book,
as said earlier. For the word that Vitruvius uses, municipium, the Spanish say
villa con jurisdicción; for castrum they say villa cercada.68

Chapter V
On the foundation of [city] walls and towers

[p. 44] (Vitruvius) [I.V.1] Once, according to the rationales set forth, the healthi-
ness of the places where the city walls are to be made is established, and for its care
and nutriment are chosen areas that will provide copious fruits, and the treatment
of the roads, the rivers, and the ports make it comfortable for things to be brought
there, then this is the way that the foundations are laid.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, having dealt with region and its qualities both
good and bad so that avoiding the bad ones we embrace the good ones, now
wishes to treat that part which earlier we said was certain and determined,
and not as extensive as region. He thus begins to enclose this with the walls,
and deals with the foundation of these and of the towers with regard to the
usefulness, firmness and beauty of the work, and in consideration of the aim,
as must be done in any operation. In the division of architecture, we have
spoken of the necessity of making the walls, and now we treat the way they
are founded, the parts of the form, the size, the towers, and their shapes.
But to apply the principles to the things that are to be made, I say that it is
necessary to have an idea of their disposition and terms so that everything
is anticipated and taken into consideration. Let us come then to the plan,
which is called ichnographia, the terminations and outlines of which are
made with lines and angles. An angle is that part of the underlying plane
which is contained between two lines that touch each other. Therefore four

These definitions are found in the dictionary of Antonio de Nebrija (1545, pages not
68 

numbered), s.v. municipium, n. por la ciudado villa con jurisdicion and Acada villa cercada
castellatim.
84 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

angles are made from two lines that [p. 45] intersect; if one of these four is
equal to each of the other three angles, then it is called just and right;69 those
that are less than right are called narrow and acute; those that are larger are
called obtuse and blunt. Some lines are straight; they are the ones whose
middles do not overshadow the ends and which are contained in the shortest
space between two points. Others are curved; they are those whose middle
bulge out beyond the ends. Some of the curved ones are parts of a circle. A
circle is a plane figure, a surface enclosed by a line from whose centre, or
fixed middle point, all the lines drawn to the circumference are equal. The
curved line is called an ‘arch’ by the architects, I mean the simple one.70 A
chord then is that line that passes from one end of the arch to another. The
sagitta is the line that goes from the middle of the chord and at right angles
to it to the circumference of the arch. A radius is that which from the fixed
point arrives to the circumference. A diameter is that which passes through
the centre and divides the circle into two equal parts. The complete arch is
the semicircle; diminished and not complete is that which is smaller—that
is, the arch whose chord is smaller than the diameter. The composite arch
is made of two diminished arches; thus it makes at the top an angle of two
arches. The examples of what has been said are here in Fig. 1.5.1.

Fig. 1.5.1. Image and legend [p. 45]: ab, straight line; cd, curved line;
e, just or right angles; o, narrow [i.e., acute] angles; f, large [i.e., obtuse]
angles; hik, circle; ghi, diameter; gk, radius; g, centre; lmn, complete
arch; lm, chord; np, sagitta; r, diminished arch; s, composite arch

See note above to Barbaro, p. 24.

69 

The ‘simple one’, i.e., arch made of a single radius, as opposed to the composite (or pointed)
70 

arch made of two circular segments, described just a few lines below.
pp. 45-46 85

Sometimes the nature of the places brings health and strength; some-
times art brings them; sometimes both bring them. In the first case one must
know that which is good by its nature, as shown in the previous chapter. In
the second case it is necessary to turn one’s hand to discourse, as we will say
in what follows. I do not wish to commend the customs of foreign peoples,
who sometimes reside in the most extensive solitudes and deserts, sometimes
in the steepest mountains and the darkest wilderness, and sometimes in the
most extensive marshlands, almost as though diving into them; living in the
most sterile places, they call themselves safe from any violence, as can be
read in the commentaries of the Germans, and elsewhere of the Irish and the
Scots. I do not praise these advantages, just as it does not seem to me that
one must praise poverty just because no one bears us any envy. Neither do I
dream of a poetic world or earthly paradise where rivers run with milk, the
oak trees drip with apples, and the heavens rain manna and nectar, because
all human necessities can be provided by modest and comfortable habita-
tions, and such abundances are more easily desired than obtained. Thus, with
regard to the requirements of human life, the city should be founded on a site
that can be nourished by its territory, that cannot be easily assailed, that is
freely accessed, and that has the conditions mentioned above. After this, it
is necessary to see to the foundations of the walls. The indications of good,
solid terrain are that, in the places in which the walls are to be made, there
must be no plants that usually grow in humid places, that the surrounding
land has rocks that are small and hard and trees that only grow in dry places
so that there are no mineral springs underneath. If heavy weights are thrown
onto the ground, it will not resonate, nor will the water placed in the vases be
moved by its falling. The digging of wells, in addition to the utility of water
and material, will give a sign of the solidity of the terrain. The foundation
is not part of the building; nature without the help of art usually gives us a
foundation, making the surface quite firm with tall, hard stones, where there
is no need of any human [p. 46] effort. But regarding the foundation that
is made by men, one must consider the form of the terrain, the quality, the
compartition, and the rules. The form of the terrain is made according to the
quantity of the places that are high, low or sloping. The quality is because the
earth has many surfaces, hence some are covered with coarse sand and others
with fine; some with clay; some with tuff; many with mixtures of kinds of
earth. Moreover, some are dry and sandy, others humid and soft. The com-
partition requires that the planes be drawn with lines and with the square
86 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

with respect to straightening the things and forming the angles. Make a
cross of ropes, following what Leon Battista Alberti says,71 and in the middle
let there be fixed a nail, which you will hold onto and thus make your outline,
drawing the line in all directions. In truth the rules for the foundations of all
buildings are the following. Find solid ground. In sloping places begin from
below. In the soft or sandy places, drive piles dense and solid; these are sooner
made more solid with steady hammering than with weight or heavy beating
with those instruments that we call pile drivers and the Latins call fistucae.
Consult with the local experts regarding the nature of the terrain. Don’t trust
building on ruins, but drill down evenly and make the bottom of the ditches
level so that the weight bears down uniformly. Let the bottom part be wider
and larger than the upper part in imitation of the nature of things, especially
trees, which are larger at their foot than at their top. Let pile foundations be
double the size of the walls; the piles should be extremely close together, as
thick as the twelfth part of their length and no less than the eighth. In places
where there are mineral springs, for added safety vaulted foundations are
placed over piles. In large edifices some small openings are left in the middle
of the foundation of the work all the way to the top, so that the winds can
escape with respect to earthquakes. The expanse and circumference of the
city should befit its dignity; it should be broad and large enough for the mul-
titude and gathering of the people. As for the fortress, a big one well-guarded
cannot be taken by just a few people; the small one can be defended by fewer
people; it is more easily taken by force but is more secure in times of war. The
city must be capable of hosting the multitude but not have many empty plac-
es. However, it is necessary to make cities strong in keeping with the times
because from the means of attacks used every day following the inventions
of men come the form of the defences. But it is time to return to Vitruvius.
(Vitruvius) [I.V.1 cont.] So in this way the foundations are to be made, that
is, that as much earth as necessary is excavated until the solid part is found, if it
can be found, and as much of the solid part as appears reasonable for the size of the
work, with this condition, however, that the part below ground will have a space
that is larger and thicker than the walls above ground and that the foundation be
filled with the hardest stones mixed with lime and sand.
(Barbaro) This filling of most solid masonry (struttura, as Vitruvius says)
is called by us ‘working in caissons’, and ‘making a lining’, as will be seen.

71 
See Alberti (1485, 1.8); (1988, p. 8).
pp. 46-47 87

(Vitruvius) [I.V.2] The towers must project beyond the order and straightness
of the walls on the exterior part, so that if the enemy wants to make an assault, they
will be injured by stones and other things thrown from every part of the open flanks
of the right and the left of the towers.
(Barbaro) From the means of attack derive the defences, and everything
derives from the aim. Some means of attack are manifest, others hidden,
some far away, and others close, thus Vitruvius tries to foresee, as far as
he possibly can (as everyone who fortifies must do), all sorts of means of
attack. Because the last, closest, and most vigorous assault and impetus is
the one that the enemy makes to enter into the city, the first defence that
Vitruvius provides is intended to keep the enemy far away. So, the towers
of the ancients (replaced in our own day by the bulwark, the platform, the
cavalieri,72 and the forbice 73), being built in order to defend the curtain, nec-
essarily projected outwards on the exterior side towards the enemy. Some
reduce the sum total of fortifying to this: that the defenders are safe and that
the enemy is kept out and even driven away. The enemy is kept out by means
of water, shooting, and walls. The ditch prevents the descent, and even more
the ascent, when it is deep and precipitous and there is more than one. In
some places water from mineral springs cannot be removed; if it is high,
they drown; if it is low they become mired. It impedes artillery and makes
its use difficult. The walls [p. 47] must be thick and made with the rationales
that are taught by Vitruvius, which serve our own day quite well. The enemy
is driven back much better by the towers, bulwarks, earthworks, and other
similar things in relief, and that project, especially those that have a broader
space, because the safety of the defenders lies in the space of the bulwarks.
Besides that, the walls want to be well made and laid out so that the shots
fired by the artillery are rendered as futile as possible. Even if the battery
is vigorous and the artillery violent, the industry of men can devise many
inventions to protect against the terrible force of those machines invented by
Lucifer. Fortifications thus consist, as Sir Count Gian Giacopo Leonardi74
72 
The cavaliere is a smaller version of a bulwark, placed along the curtain between the main
bulwarks.
73 
A forbice is a kind of advance work located in front of the curtain, with walls opened
outwards in scissor shape; also called a ‘dovetail’ or ‘swallow’s tail’.
74 
Giangiacomo Leonardi of Pesaro (ca. 1498–1572), Count of Monte l’Abate, military
engineer, wrote various unpublished manuscripts on fortification, including one entitled
Il libro sopra il pigliar una fortezza per furto, and Fortificazione, ossia Moda di fortificare. See
D’Ayala (1854, pp. 35, 103-104). Barbaro (1556, pp. 39-40) included the table of contents of
Leonardi’s two volumes on fortification, but this not included in either of the 1567 editions.
88 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

says, in the curtain, the flank, the ditch, the street, and the square, where the
defences and the machines can be operated. Vitruvius considers all of this
very well. Since gates are required for the use of the city, it is necessary to
secure them, but not in such a way that, taken by some inside, they provide
safety to the traitor and injury to the citizens. The gates must then be secured
against the enemy, and closed from the outside, and be concealed, and they
must not be placed at the ends of streets, so that the enemy, running, cannot
enter there at a stretch. Thus says Vitruvius:
(Vitruvius) [I.V.2 cont.] It seems also that it is largely necessary to see that
the enemy does not have easy entrance to assail the wall, and thus of steep ditches
surrounded and furnished so that the streets do not go straight to the gates, but go
along curved paths to the left, because when this is done, the right side of those who
go into the city, not covered by their shields, will be towards the walls.
(Barbaro) Regarding the portals (as in many other things) the modern
usages agree with those of the ancients; in the remainder it appears that
there are some differences. Vitruvius praises the round tower as being more
apt to resist machines of assault such as battering rams and tortoises. He
shuns corners because they are more liable to be broken and provide cover
for the enemy, who cannot be attacked on two sides as they can in the round.
If we look carefully, the same doctrine serves in our own day, so that we are
held to use raking angles, be they flat, of lines straight or curved, acute or
obtuse. We are obliged to draw the faces of the flanks of our bulwarks with
raking lines rather than corners, as far as possible, because those make a
better connection than that made with corners, which can be broken by
artillery, leaving the place defenceless. The corner does the very harm that
Vitruvius describes, because the enemy remains covered. He shows us the
flank which, with the rules of the ancients, we can adopt for our artillery.
Thus, where Vitruvius would have the towers be spaced according to a flight
of an arrow, so that the enemy can be attacked from the right and from the
left, we, applying this doctrine to our fortifications, make the distance such
that our artillery attacks from two sides, and can castigate anyone who dares
to build earthworks on either side. The towers that he shows us can be seen
to be reasonably secure, since he wants the defenders to be able to stay high
up in defence. Neither the soldiers nor the machines could safely stay there
if they did not have their backs strengthened by the attack of the machines
described in the tenth book. We (if we have this consideration), following
the mind of the author, will see that he shows us that the backs of our flanks
pp. 47-48 89

must be secure, the spaces of those flanks spacious. We will also see the way
to make the roads as well as the gates. Following this advice, we will always
make our entrances so as to avoid the risk of the enemy entering at the same
time as our side retreats, as has happened many times to those who did not
have this consideration. But let us continue.
(Vitruvius) [I.V.2 cont.] The castrum must be made not square nor of corners
that project out but must sooner be rounded so that the enemy is seen from several
sides, because where the angles project, that place is difficult to defend, the corners
being a greater defence for the enemy than for the citizen. [I.V.3] But the width
of the wall must be made in such a way that armed men, encountering each other,
can pass without impediment. Also, in the width of the whole, cut trunks of olive
trees charred and wedged together placed most densely so that both faces of the wall,
to each other like buckles, and dovetails, with those cut pieces tied [p. 48] together,
will last eternally, since to such materials, neither unrelenting rain nor termites
nor age can do any harm at all. Whether they are buried in the ground or placed
in water, they last undamaged forever and ever. Thus not only in the wall but in
the foundation and in those partitions that have the width of a wall, if they are,
according to this rationale, well tied together, they cannot be easily damaged or
breached. [I.V.4] The spaces from tower to tower must not be larger than the flight
of an arrow so that if the tower is struck on one side, the enemies can be driven
back with crossbows and other forms of shooting with arrows from the towers that
are either side of it. And again by the contrary, the wall towards the inner part
of the towers must be divided into spaces as large as the towers, and the walks on
the inside of the towers made with conjoined beams that are not tightly joined
with iron. Because if the enemy has perchance occupied some parts of the wall,
those who are on the defensive can cut said walkways, and if they do this quickly,
they will not allow the enemy to pass to the other parts of the towers or the wall,
unless he wants to take a fall. [I.V.5] It is thus necessary to make the towers either
in a round shape or with many corners, since square towers are easily razed to the
ground by war machines because the blows of battering rams break the corners,
but round towers, pushing them inwards towards the centre like wedges, cannot
be breached.
(Barbaro) This part has been sufficiently explained above. Much is
served by the example of the tower open from inside, although the beams
can be arranged in other ways so that they can be quickly thrown to the
ground (Fig. 1.5.2).
90 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 1.5.2. Image and caption [p. 49]: There are some corbels or brackets
(G) that project beyond the wall by two-thirds of a foot, spaced four
feet apart from each other, on which rest as many heads of beams that
all converge towards the centre of the tower. These, attached with a
strong chain to the highest platform of the tower, with a small windlass
or pulley, where A is, hold all the platforms with planks without nails,
so that when the planks are removed, and the chain wound up, all of
the beams remain hung from the chain, which can be removed with the
utmost speed. These can support any great load because each of them
faces the centre, nor can they drop, if the tower does not allow it. B is
the centre. Then the last platform should be most strong, not only for the
support of these, but also because, it being necessary to build up there to
raise it, it must be strong. C, plank; E, the walls; H, ladder for getting up
to the walls; F, the walkway of the walls; D, the inside part of the wall,
which closes the tower; K, height; I, thickness
pp. 49-50 91

(Vitruvius) [p. 49] [I.V.5 cont.] By this, the defences of the walls and of the
towers conjoined to the embankments and earthworks [p. 50] are more secure.
Thus neither the battering rams nor the mines nor any other machine can breach
them. [I.V.6] But not in all places is the earthwork desired, but only where it is
possible to come to assault the city from outside from a high place to a flat place.
In such places it is necessary to first excavate the ditch to a very great width and
depth. Then the foundation of the wall must be sunk down and driven down into
the middle of the bed of the ditch and made of such a width that it can support the
load of the work above ground. [I.V.7] Further, on the inside part of the building
towards the ground, it is necessary to make the foundation far enough away from
the outside part so that the companies can pass in formation, forming themselves
in the defences over the width of the earthworks. When therefore the foundations
are made so far apart from each other, it will then be necessary to make others
transversally that are conjoined with the outer and inner foundations arranged
like combs like the teeth of a saw, because when the walls are founded and built in
this manner, there will be this advantage: that the size of the weight is compar-
titioned into small parts and, not pressing down with its full weight, it cannot
in any way undo or push the foundation. [I.V.8] But the material of which it is
best to make the wall cannot be further determined in this place because not for
everything can the desired copiousness of things be had: where there are the stones
of equal sides and angles and flat surfaces, which are called squared, or silex, or
cement, or baked or unbaked bricks, these things must be used because not in all
parts of the world and in all the natures of places, so that the walls last eternally
without defect, can be used that which is found copiously in Babylon, where in
place of lime and sand is used liquid bitumen, and of that and of baked brick is
made the wall of the city.
(Barbaro) The city is either on land or in water. If on land, it is either
on the plain, in the mountains, or partly on the plain and partly in the
mountains. Vitruvius will speak about building in water in the fifth book,
where he discusses ports. In building cities in water care must be taken that
the rising of the waters does not cause damage; that beautiful palaces are
made above the waters; and that bridges have greatness about them. If they
are not defended by the site and by the difficulty of navigating the water-
courses, then it is necessary to build fortresses and walls, and to secure the
port with chains as well, as will be described in its place. If the city is built
on land, in high and steep places as Vitruvius appears to want, with the
first way of fortifying without earthworks it will be more secure because it
92 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 1.5.3. [Plan of the fortifications of the ancients] Image [p. 52]; legend
[p. 51]: X, Levant; P, Ponant; O, Auster; T, Tramontane; G, Greco; G,
Garbino; M, Maestro; S, Sirocco; T, ditch; V, tower; X, gates; Y, square
and forum; O, basilica; I, streets; Z, terre-plein

Fig. 1.5.4. [Section through the wall of the fortifications of the ancients]
Image [p. 52]; legend [p. 51]: A, teeth like a saw; B, counterforts like a
comb; C [not lettered, but at the bottom of the image], the wall facing the
city; D, the exterior wall; E, terre-plein
 93

Fig. 1.5.5. [Cutaway view of the fortifications of the ancients] [p. 53],
legend [p. 54]: af, beams running along the length of the counterforts,
or chain; b, large posts straight along the wall; c, outer crossings; e, keys
and quoins; H, exterior walls; I, The plane where the posts end

Fig. 1.5.6. Image [p. 53], caption and legend [p. 54] Order of the
dispositions of the walls in the fortifications of the ancients. A, The
place of the terre-plein; d, rib for the ties that cross; po, length from
one counterfort to another; or and pq, length of the counterforts, which
is twenty-two feet; b and f, crossings of the ribs; q, saw-like corners;
ebs, chains for the length of the counterforts, thirty-six feet long, and
measuring for width, one foot, and for height, three-quarters; GH, rib or
beam of wood that receives the heads of the chains; KL, interior part—
that is, pomerio; iu, thickness of the walls; ir, projecting part of the saw-
like corners, four feet; MN, exterior part of the wall
94 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

is improbable that the enemy can assault it; because of the difficulty of the
ascent, and of the enemy’s being easily discovered, those defending it will
have the advantage. Those cities that are partly in the plain and partly in
the mountains will have the advantages enjoyed by the cities of the moun-
tains, and must have the provisions made for cities on the plain. In such
cities there must be a stronghold in the highest part to house the cavalry
of the city. When there are citizens with bad intentions or enemies who
have occupied the land, these places often, while awaiting aid, safely engage
the enemy and bring about the recovery of the city. If the city is built on a
plain so that it is possible to gain access by foot, then, as Vitruvius says, it
is necessary to build earthworks, ditches, and counterscarps according to
the rules given above. With respect to those rationales that Vitruvius has
placed in founding the towers: make them high and projecting outwards;
open towards the inside; with sheer drops; able to hold the defenders, and
make it possible to separate the entrances and impede their being taken,
applying those rationales to our way of making the bulwarks, the cavalieri,
and the other defences that suit our needs. In giving the precepts of the
fortifications, Vitruvius begins with the towers, the principal means of our
defence. These are to us as shields, and to the enemy as offences and bas-
tions; by them the enemy is kept at a distance and the walls are guarded,
and the inside part as well is secured. However, doubts arise on this subject.
One is that if the towers are as wide and thick as the walls, which can hold
a corps of men in defence, even if those beams, as Vitruvius says, are quickly
thrown to [p. 51] the ground, they can still allow the enemies to go from
one wall to another around the perimeter of the towers. To this I respond
that the towers were high, and that the enemy could not climb up to those
heights, even if they have occupied the walls. They were, I say, high, both
for defence and for contrasting those great machines made of timbers that
the enemies used in the conquering of the cities.75 The other doubt is that
Vitruvius would have it that the towers be open towards the inside part, so
that when those beams and bridges were removed, the enemy, seeing the
sheer drop, would not get the idea of passing from one wall to the next. By
this it is seen that it would have been better for the enemy to ram a tower
than the walls because if the tower were cut or broken, they would have the
rest free and open for entering inside. To this the excellent Mr Alessandro

75 
See Barbaro, p. 480, Vitruvius X.XVI.3-4.
pp. 51-54 95

Piccheroni,76 a man with few peers in fortifications and in other fine arts,
responds that the towers either must have been enclosed at their feet by a
wall whose height was at least half of the height of the curtain, or they had
a wall that enclosed them and was sufficiently large at the feet to impede the
sap,77 but then narrowed as it went towards the top. The tower then had to be
very deep in the middle, and at least equal to the depth of the sheer drops. If
perchance the enemy, breaking the tower, was about to go inside it, he was
subject to an infinity of offensive measures from all sides, both from those
who were above in the towers, as well as those who were on top of the walls,
where there were those wooden platforms, or contignatione as Vitruvius says,
for the safety of those who defended the towers and which could be easily be
removed in one of the several ways that had been found. It is useless to argue
about what Vitruvius had in mind, everyone being free to think as he pleases.
However the aforementioned Piccheroni has rediscovered an ingenious way,
which we have used in the figures (Figs. 1.5.3-6).

Chapter VI
On the division of the works that are inside the walls,
and on the disposition of those to avoid
the noxious gusts of the winds

[p. 54] (Vitruvius) [I.VI.1] The city being surrounded by walls, there follows the
compartition within of the squares and spaces and the laying out of the districts
and the ends of the streets to the regions of the sky. Laying them out well, if they are
prudently made, they will exclude the winds from the ends of the streets, because
the winds, if they are cold, offend; if warm, taint; and if humid, are harmful.
From this it appears that this defect must be avoided, and care taken that what
occurs usually in many cities does not occur, such as on the island of Lesbos, where
the castle of Mytilene is made magnificently and with many ornaments, but placed
without consideration. In that city, when Auster blows, men become ill; when the
Caurus blows they cough; when the Tramontane blows, they grow healthy again.

76 
A ship designer also mentioned by Palladio in his Quattro libri: (1570, 3.8); (1997, p. 177
and n. 56). Another mention of ‘Alessandro Piccheroni (or Pizzeroni) of Mirandola’ is found
in in the Introduction in Saluzzo (1841, p. 6).
77 
A sap is a deep and narrow trench used to approach or undermine an enemy position.
96 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

But they cannot, because of the force of the cold, linger in the squares or at the end
of the streets.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, having treated the region and its qualities, which
was the first consideration to be had for situating the city, and then having
shown us how one part of the region must be taken and surrounded with
defences and fortified walls, now rightly wishes to teach us to compartition
the place enclosed by the surrounding walls. First he considers the compar-
tition that is aimed at avoiding noxious things, and this is what he does in
the present chapter. Then follows that which appertains to the distribution
and furnishing of the places, and this is in the seventh and final chapter of
this present book. As for the first part, Vitruvius first has us observe, by
means of examples, how to avoid harm from the noxious gusts of wind.
Then, discoursing on the nature, strength, names, number, and places of the
wind in order to form a clear figure of them, he shows us how we can use
this to govern the layout of the streets. Lesbos is an island near the Aege-
an Sea, called Archipelago, a hundred and sixty miles long, and has a city
named Mytilene, which today lends its name to the whole island, though it
is true that now it is without its ancient ornaments and has fallen into ruin.
Mytilene is exposed to the north, and San Teodoro to the west, the Gulf of
Kalloni to the south-west, the Gulf of Gera to between the south-east and
east. Mytilene is thus badly situated and compartitioned because it is subject
to the winds, most of which are unhealthy. So, in the compartition of the
squares and the openings of the streets, it is necessary to take into consider-
ation the [p. 55] quality of the winds. In this precept Vitruvius finds a fine
opportunity to philosophise about the nature and quality of the winds. He
first says what wind is, and he begins this way:
(Vitruvius) [I.VI.2] The wind is the wave of the sea that flows with change-
able abundance of movement. It is born when heat meets cold, and the impetus of
the heat expresses the force of the spirit that blows. This shows itself to be true from
the balls called aeolipiles; with the clever inventions of such things are drawn from
the secret rationales of the heavens what is true of the divinity. These aforemen-
tioned balls are made of copper with an extremely narrow point through which
water is put inside and they are placed in the fire. Until they are hot they do not
emit any air, but then when they begin to boil, they make from the fire a great force
of thrust and blowing.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius defines wind and shows whence it is born, demon-
strating the birth with things that can be sensed. So, he says that wind is a
p. 55 97

wave of the sea,78 since wave is simply a part of water that is amassed and
propelled together towards some place. Because Vitruvius would have it that
the wind is a part of air that is condensed and curved in some places, he says
that wind is a wave of air which is affected with changeable and powerful
motion. The wind is born (as Vitruvius says) when heat encounters moisture
and, by dint of the heat, the spirit is sent forth with force, blowing. Although
Vitruvius gives us an example to show that wind is born of heat operating
in humidity, he does not clearly explain the effect. We will therefore say
what we have learned from our preceptors. Wind is vapour from the earth
that rises to the height of the air and, driven by the cold that is found there,
strikes the air with violence. The heat of the sun and other celestial bodies
has the virtue of drawing from the earth some fumes or vapours and raising
them up high because the property of heat is that of attracting. This it does
by warming bodies and making them more rarefied. These vapours are some
subtle parts of the terrestrial humour, which has neither heat nor determined
form; some vapours have heat and humidity; others heat and dryness. Those
with heat and humidity generate all humid impressions, such as clouds, rain,
dew, snow, hail, frost, fountains, and the sea; those with heat and dryness,
all enflamed and ignited ardour, and all that is of a hot and dry nature, such
as fires, lightning, embers, comets, fireballs,79 falling stars, luminous coro-
nae, thunderbolts, chasms and pockets in the summer air, winds, eddies,
and other manifestations of imperfect mixtures that originate from these,
as though proportioned by their matter. We will speak about winds. So,
as we have said, the sun has the virtue of attracting the vapour that is hot
and dry, called ‘exhalation’, to distinguish it from the first, hot and humid,
called ‘vapour’. This having come out of the earth, by dint of its partaking of
the nature of fire it rises and goes straight up, until it comes to the middle
region of the air. This is cold, because it is distant from the warming rays of
the sun as well as from the earth and the heat of the element of fire. Finding

Vitruvius does not say that wind is a wave of the sea. Vitruvius’s Latin text is: Ventus autem
78 

est aeris fluens unda…; see Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 5r). Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 25, ‘Wind is a
flowing wave of air’); Granger (1931, p. 55 ‘Wind is a wave of air’); and Schofield (2009, p.
27, ‘Wind is a wave of air’). This is not an error of interpretation or translation on Barbaro’s
part; rather, he is defending a position set forth by Aristotle. See note 81 below.
Case ardenti were incendiary devices used to start fires during sieges, but Barbaro is talking
79 

about natural phenomena so he is referring to something like the Naga fireballs that burst
spontaneously from the Mekong River in Thailand; such fireballs are still today sometimes
reported in the popular press as having been sighted over Lake Garda in Italy.
98 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

therefore the cold, the exhalation flees from it as though from an enemy;
having the nature of fire it tries to rise, but being struck by the cold, which
is strong, it descends. By these oppositions it is driven laterally, and whirls
around because of the violence done to it by the cold, which drives it down.
By the natural inclination that carries it up, the fire in it predominates, so
wind is simply hot and dry exhalation that moves laterally around the earth,
due to its being struck by the cold found in the middle region of the air. Even
though we sometimes call wind moving air, as is seen by the blowing of the
leaves and by the spheres called aeolipiles,80 a kind of wind-powered ball,
wind isn’t motion of the air, although it can well be that air is moved with
the wind; wind is not a wave of the air.81 The reason the aeolipiles blow is
because the fire operates in the water with its heat, and tries to convert it into
air. Since the dimensions of the air are greater than the dimensions of the
water, because the air is more rarefied, so the [p. 56] water, converted into
air, tries to escape and find a capacious place. Passing through an extremely
narrow point, it makes the impetus that can be seen. If with greater force
the heat were to quickly convert the water into fire, as the powder of artillery
does, a most vigorous effect would be seen; the spheres would not remain
intact and in breaking up would do great harm, as has happened to some.
Why exhalation, which is hot and dry vapour, is the origin of the winds is
demonstrated by three signs. The first is that due to the effect of many winds,
regions are made hot and dry. The second is that the strong winds make the
rains stop. The third is that more winds come from the north, south, and
west than come from the east, since exhalations are more plentiful in those
regions. At first glance these signs appear to contradict experience: first be-
cause when there are strong winds, it appears that greater cold reigns; and
second, is it not so that men who are warmed up fan themselves in order to
cool down? I respond that the cold felt when the winds blow is born of the
mixture created when the exhalations meet the cold and humid vapours, as
well as by the coldness of the air that the vapours mix with, since it can also
be that the exhalation is altered by the cold that it finds in the middle air. But
when the wind stops the land remains hot and dry. To the second point I say

80 
Aeolipiles, also known as Hero’s engines, are an early form of steam turbine.
81
 Barbaro’s explanation for the winds draws on the theory set forth in Aristotle’s Meteorologica;
see esp. 2.4, where Aristotle claims that ‘It is absurd that this air that surrounds us should
become wind when in motion, whatever be the source of its motion’. Trans. E. W. Webster,
in Aristotle (1931, 360a.27).
p. 56 99

that when fanned, air is moved and condensed, and is thus cooler than the
warmed human body, and is thus desirable. Wind is thus exhalation raised
from the earth to the middle region of the air and propelled by the cold. Just
as smoke, of which at the beginning there is but little at the source, increases
as it moves away from its origin because of the entering of other moisture,
so too there is only a little wind close to the place where it is first raised but
there is a lot of it when it moves away, as it always finds other vapours that
accompany it. Nor does exhalation become wind unless it is propelled by the
cold of the air; it moves around on high for the reason given, and perhaps too
following the movement of the stars and planets that move it.
(Vitruvius) [I.VI.2 cont.] And in this way from a small and very brief view
it is possible to know and make a judgement of the great and immense rationales
of the heavens and of the nature of the winds. [I.VI.3] Because if the winds are
excluded, not only for healthy bodies is the place made salubrious, but also if from
other defects there come infirmities that in other places are cured with contrasting
medicines, here by temperate exclusion of the winds they are more easily cured.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius concludes here what he said above. He then begins
to discuss infirmities that are born from the winds, saying:
(Vitruvius) [I.VI.3 cont.] Illnesses that are cured with difficulty in those plac-
es are the head cold, arthritic pains, pleurisy, phthisis, the exiting of blood, and
other infirmities which are cured by adding and not by taking away. These are
removed with difficulty, first because they come from chills, and then because, the
forces weakened by infirmity, the air moved by wind becomes thinner and along
with that removes the juice from the affected bodies, rendering them emptier and
more extenuated. But by the opposite, air that is sweet, quiet, reposed, and not
agitated by winds is denser because it does not blow, nor does it have the frequent
commotions. Because of its stability, adding to the members of the body, it nourishes
and restores those who are oppressed by such infirmities.
(Barbaro) Every infirmity is born from either excess or lack and is cured
by the reverse, filling where there is a lack and removing where there is an
abundance. Vitruvius would have it that the infirmities that he has men-
tioned are caused by defect or lack, citing as the reason the facts that the
air, thinner because of the agitation of the winds, dries the humours82 of the
body and weakens them and that the cold injures them. Then, reasoning in

For Hippocratic medicine, the four bodily humours were blood, phlegm, yellow bile and
82 

black bile.
100 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the opposite way, he would have it that sweet, tranquil air fills and nourishes
them and is an excellent remedy for these illnesses. A head cold is a humour
that comes down from the head, closes the nostrils, thickens the voice, and
provokes a dry cough; Hippocrates calls all colds and distillations crizas.83
Arthritic pains are passions [i.e., inflammations] of those parts that are near
the joints and ligaments, as are nerves, bones, and veins. Galen expresses
doubts about what Hippocrates actually meant by the term ‘arthritis’ in the
sixteenth aphorism of the third book,84 saying:

[p. 57] It is therefore a worthy thing to seek what passions of the nerves
and ligatures that Hippocrates says are made in states of dryness; thus
if immoderate states of dryness have consumed the humidity of the lig-
aments, they will make a certain movement difficult because of dryness
and perhaps cause pain, but they will not cause that infirmity that is
called arthritis, unless for some reason he wants to refer to all pain of
the nerves by this name.85

Hippocrates himself, in the second book of Epidemics, says,

Those on the island of Aenus, in the Arabian Gulf, who out of hunger
ate legumes, had weakness of the legs, and those who used vetch for
food, suffered from pain in the knees.86

Hippocrates did not say these were arthritic, rather that they have pain in
the knees. Some may perhaps say that arthritis is the name given to the
pain not of a joint or of a single nerve but of many together; in Latin it is
called morbus articularis; the answer to the question is found in the second
part of this term. Pleurisy is an abscess inside the ribcage, called purulence.
83 
A transcription of the Greek κρύος, transcribed as cryzas in Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 40).
84 
Hippocrates, Aphorismi 3.16: ‘The diseases which occur most frequently in rainy seasons
are, protracted fevers, fluxes of the bowels, mortifications, epilepsies, apoplexies, and
quinsies; and in dry, consumptive diseases, ophthalmies, arthritic diseases, stranguries, and
dysenteries’. Trans. Charles Darwin Adams, in Hippocrates (1868, p. 307).
85 
Galen’s Commentaries on the Aphorisms of Hippocrates were translated into Latin by Niccolò
Leoniceno (1428-1524), and first published in Ferrara in 1509. For the quote given by
Barbaro, see Galen (1524, pp. 34v–35r); the translation from the Latin in Barbaro’s own.
86 
Hippocrates, Epidemics 2.4.3. The disease described is now known as lathyrism, and it can
indeed be caused by eating too much vetch, a member of the legume family. The translation
from the Latin in Barbaro’s own.
p. 57 101

Phthisis [i.e., tuberculosis] involves incurable lesions of the lung, from which
with slow fever come the extenuation of the entire body, and finally death,
when spitting has ceased. The exiting of blood—that is, spitting of blood—is
called ‘haemoptysis’ in Greek, and is caused by dryness. It is difficult to cure
these illnesses with respect to the winds, but Hippocrates, in the fifth aph-
orism of the third book, says,

Austral winds deafen, thicken vision, make the head heavy, render
men slow and lazy, and melt them, and when it is the time of these
winds, similar effects must be expected in illness. From winds from
the north-west and the north come coughs, hoarseness, hardness of
the abdomen, difficult and painful urination, and pains of the ribcage
and the abdomen.87

The reason for these things (as Galen says88) is because southerly winds fill
and stop up, because they bring with them great humidity that fills the sen-
sory instruments [i.e., organs] of humans, thus leaving them lazy, sleepy,
and weighted down. As for northerly winds, by dint of the lowering of the
temperature of the instruments that serve for respiration, and the harshness
of the tubes that comes from dryness and cold, come the illnesses mentioned
above. This is sufficient for now; the rest is copiously treated by physicians.
(Vitruvius) [I.VI.4] Some liked to think that there were four winds: Solanus
from the equinoctial east, Auster from the south, Favonius from equinoctial west,
Septentrio from the north. Those who have investigated with greater diligence,
proposed eight, especially Andronicus of Cyrrhus, who set the example by building
in Athens a marble tower made with eight faces, sculpting on each the image of
the wind that blew on it. On top of the tower he placed a little marble meta on
whose tip was a copper Triton holding a little staff in his right hand, and made so
that it turned easily when moved by the wind and coming to a stop when it faced
a wind directly, holding the demonstrating staff over the sculpted image of the
wind. [I.VI.5] So between Solanus and Auster towards south-east is placed Eu-
rus; between Auster and Favonius towards the west, Africus; between Favonius

87 
For the quote given by Barbaro, see Galen (1524, p. 30r); the translation from the Latin
in Barbaro’s own.
88 
Hippocrates makes this assertion in Aphorisms 3.17; Barbaro is referring to Galen’s
commentary on Hippocrates; see Galen (1524, p. 35v). The translation from the Latin in
Barbaro’s own.
102 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and Septentrio, Caurus, called Corus by many; between Septentrio and Solanus,
Aquilo. Thus appear to be declared and expressed the manner in which are taken
the number, names, regions of the wind and whence they blow. The thing being
investigated in this way, so that one can know how to determine their regions and
origins it is thus necessary to reason.
(Barbaro) The number of the winds will confound us, unless we observe
that the number of them varies according to various intentions and respects.
So we must know that they are distinguished in four ways. First, by all
the points that are in the circumference of the horizon. The horizon is the
circle that divides the world into halves—that is, what is seen from what is
not seen; it can be called the ‘terminator’ of the hemispheres. Looked at in
this way, there would be an infinite number of winds, because winds blow
from all points on the horizon, and since they do not fall under a rule, there
being no distinction, we shall leave them aside. The philosophers number
four winds with respect to the mixture of the four basic qualities, which are
hot, cold, humid, and dry. The astrologers do likewise, having regard for
the four principal parts of the world, called corners or regions. [p. 58] The
philosophers and the sacred writers agree and number the same four winds:
from Levant, Solanus; from the south, Auster; from Ponant, Favonius; from
the north, Tramontane. ‘Levant’ and ‘Ponant’ mean where the sun rises or
sets at the time of the equinox. The astrologers themselves for other reasons
count eight winds, placing a second four among the first four. These were
located, as Vitruvius said, by Andronicus of Cyrrhus on a tower in Athens.
More diligent investigators distinguish the winds according to the twelve
parts of the zodiac, which are twelve celestial signs under which the sun has
the virtue of raising the virtue of the winds. This consideration is proper to
the astrologers. The fourth way is that of the cosmographers and navigators.
Some of these have numbered twenty-four winds, others thirty-two. The
winds identified in navigational practices in our day are thirty-two, for the
convenience of sailors, who recognise a perceptible mutation of thirty-two
points on the horizon in navigating along a line. The cosmographers have
numbered twenty-four, perhaps unaware of the needs of the navigators.
As Vitruvius says—who, although knowing well that winds blow from all
points of the horizon, has identified those that reign for the most part, and
who has more respect for the qualities of the wind than for the winds them-
selves—the constitution of the winds varies in both the universal and the
particular. From this can be taken the way of breaking those winds that are
pp. 58-59 103

more greatly harmful for those who live in the city, no matter what names
you give them or what region they come from. In other respects the names
and number of the winds can be increased, but this mustn’t perturb us. Let
us see how Vitruvius compartitions the winds, because doctors treat their
temperaments at length.
(Vitruvius) [I.VI.6] Let there be placed in the middle of the city a level,
square surface, or let the place be levelled and made even so that this surface is not
wanted. Place then in the middle centre of it a copper stylus that points, which is
called shadow demonstrator. On said square or flat surface mark the end of the
shadow made by the stylus, such as the fifth hour before noon, and make the sign
with a point. Then open the compass to the point, which is the sign of the length
of the shadow, and holding it in the centre make a complete circle. Then let there
be observed how the shadow lengthens after noon, shown by the stylus. When
that touches the circle made before, at that place of touching needs to be made a
point. From these two points with the compass make the intersection, [I.VI.7] and
through that intersection and through the middle centre must be drawn a line that
touches the extremity of the circle, so that the southern and the northern regions are
had. This done, it is necessary to take the sixteenth part of the whole circle and place
the centre on the meridian line, where it touches the circumference, and there mark
on the right and on the left of said circumference, both on the southern part and
on the northern part. Then through these four signs and through the centre draw a
cross of lines whose ends touch the circumference, and in this way will be had the
drawing of the eighth part from Auster and from Septentrio. The other parts truly,
which are three on the right and three on the left, must be drawn equal to these,
so that the equal divisions of the eight winds are drawn in the description and
compartition. Then according to the angles between two regions it appears that the
lines of the squares and the ends of the streets must be laid, [I.VI.8] because with
such rationales and compartitions of habitations of the quarters and districts will
be excluded the bothersome and harmful force of the winds. Otherwise, when the
squares are made in line with the drawn winds, the impetus and blowing coming
from the wide and open space of the sky narrowed into the mouths and entrances
to the streets and roads, it will go roving with stronger movement. For this reason
the districts and quarters must be turned away from the regions of the wind, so that
these, arriving at the corners of the blocks and to the angles of the ends of the streets,
will be broken and driven back, and will be dissipated.
[p. 59] (Barbaro) The things that Vitruvius says are illustrated in several
figures. Fig. 1.6.1 shows the way to find the meridian. A is the centre where
104 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the stylus is placed; b and c, the points of the shadow marked on the circle
by the stylus; c, the shadow of the fifth hour before noon, and b of the fifth
hour after; d, the intersection of the arcs drawn by the compass set on points
b and c of the shadow; eF is the meridian line.

Fig. 1.6.1. [Finding the meridian] Image [p. 60]

Fig. 1.6.2. [Marking the sixteenths and eighths of the circle] Image [p. 60]
p. 59 105

The same thing is shown in Fig. 1.6.2, where k [recte kf] is the six-
teenth part of the whole circle, and ki is the eighth part, as are hg, gm, Li,
hn, no, and ok.
Within these divisions are the winds, as seen in Fig. 1.6.3, as well as in
the plan of the city (Fig. 1.5.3), where the cross [] marks Levant; P, Ponant;
O, Auster; T, Tramontane; S, Sirocco; M, Maestro; one G, Garbino; the
other G, Greco. It can be seen how the winds break against the corners of
the ends of the streets. Fig. 1.6.3 is also marked with the thirty-two winds
of the navigators.

Fig. 1.6.3. [The rose of the winds. Note that in the figure north is shown
pointing downwards] Image [p. 60], legend [p. 59]: X Levant, Solanus;
P, Ponant, Favonius, actually Zephyrus; T, Tramontane, Septentrio,
Aparctius; O, Auster; M, Maestro, Caurus; L, Libeccio or Garbino,
Caurus or Corus; S, Sirocco, Eurus; G, Greco, Aquilo; 1, east-south-east;
2, south-south-east; 3, south-south-west; 4, west-south-west; 5, west-
north-west; 6, north-north-west; 7, north-north-east; 8, east-north-east;
9, between Eurus and east-south-east; and so forth, as the figure shows
106 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[p. 61] (Vitruvius) [I.VI.9] But perhaps those who have known more names
for the winds will marvel that I have said that there are only eight winds. But if
they observe that the entire circumference of the earth was found by Eratosthenes
of Cyrene using mathematical rationales and ways from the course of the sun and
the shadows of the equinoctial stylus, from the inclination of the heavens, to be two
hundred and fifty-two thousand stades, which is in paces 31,500,000, thirty-one
times a thousand thousand and five hundred times a thousand, and that of this
the eighth part occupied by a wind is 3,937,500, they mustn’t wonder that in such
a large space a wind roving about, stopping and coming back will make various
mutations in blowing. [I.VI.10] So with regard to Auster, on the right and on the
left is the wind called Leuconotos and the wind called Altanus; around Africus
blow the Libonotus and the one that is called Subvesperus; around Favonius blows
Argestes and at certain times the Etesiae; on the sides of Caurus are Circius and
Corus; around Septentrio, Thrascias and Gallicus; on the right and left of Aquilo
blow Boreas and Supernas; around Solanus is Carbas and at certain times the
Ornithiae; and around Eurus, which is in the middle, are Caecias and Volturnus.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius answers those who might object regarding the
number of the winds. Some might say, ‘O Vitruvius, you have only numbered
eight winds, but you must know that many others are known, so you cannot
affirm what you have said’. Vitruvius replies, ‘It may well be as you have
said regarding the number of the winds, and other winds may be known;
the reason is this. There is no reason to marvel if one single wind roving
through an enormous space, with its stopping and going back makes many
varieties in blowing; from these are taken different names for the winds’. But
some would say, ‘What space is so large that the wind can rove so far?’ He
answers that it is the eighth part of the circumference of the earth, which
measures 3,937 thousand paces. Thus making some variations because of the
great space, or because of the hindrance of the mountains, the delicacy of
the earth or some other reason, we must not marvel if alongside the eight
winds others have been collocated, as Vitruvius tells it, up to the number of
twenty-four. This is shown in Fig. 1.6.4.
Vitruvius says that Eratosthenes of Cyrene, who was a very great math-
ematician, using rational ways and means, found the circumference of the
whole earth to be two hundred and fifty-two thousand stades, which are
thirty-one thousand and five hundred miles, because eight stades make a
mile and are 31,500,000 paces, and because a thousand paces make a mile,
p. 61 107

Fig. 1.6.4. [The locations of the winds. Note that in this figure north is
shown pointing downwards] Image [p. 60], legend [p. 59]: a, Solanus;
b, Septentrio; c, Favonius; d, Auster; e, Eurus; f, Africus; g, Caurus; h,
Aquilo; I, Carbas; K, Boreas; L, Supernas; M, Gallicus; N, Thrascias; O,
Corus; P, Circius; Q , Etesiae; R, Argestes; S, Subvesperus; T, Libonotus;
V, Altanus; X, Leuconotus; Y, Volturnus; Z, Caecias; *, Ornithiae

and a pace is five feet.89 The eighth part of the entire circuit is 3,937 miles,90
which are 3,937,500 paces. This is the large space within which Vitruvius
says that the winds can mutate for various causes. The way in which Era-
tosthenes found the circumference of the earth using the course of the sun
and the shadows cast by the stylus from the mathematical rationales of the
inclination of the heavens is described by Maurolico in his Cosmografia91 in
this way. Eratosthenes took two places in Egypt, Alexandria and Syene,
which lie almost exactly on the same meridian. From the distance between
89 
These calculations of magnitudes and units of measure are easier to follow in numerical
terms. 1 pace = 5 feet (Barbaro gives this but does not use it); 125 paces = 1 stade; 8 stades
= 1000 paces = 1 mile. Therefore 252,000 stades x 125 (paces per stade) = 31,500,000 paces;
31,500,000 paces ÷ 1000 (paces per mile) = 31,500 miles.
90 
To be precise, 31,500 ÷ 8 = 3937.5, but Barbaro picks up the half unit again when he
converts from miles to paces (3,937.5 x 1000 = 3,937,500).
91 
Maurolico (1543, pp. 41v-42r).
108 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the two he derived the entire circumference of the earth. To do so, he erected
the stylus, called a gnomon, in Alexandria, and at precisely noon on the day
when the sun entered into the sign of Cancer [i.e., the day of the summer
solstice], he considered two solar rays, one that fell straight down on Syene,
because Syene is located on the Tropic of Cancer, and the other that fell onto
the point of the stylus erected in Alexandria and cast its shadow to the north,
which is why Alexandria is said to be above the Tropic. By the ratio of the
stylus to the shadow that was cast he found, by geometrical methods, that
the angle comprised under the stylus and under the solar ray was [p. 62] the
fiftieth part of four right angles. So, this angle being equal to the one that is
made between the centre of the earth and Syene, together with the gnomon,
or stylus, of Alexandria imagined to continue down to the centre of the earth
so that, the rays being almost parallel and the angles corresponding and
similar, that portion of the circumference that was from Syene to Alexandria
had to be the fiftieth part of the entire circumference. So, measuring that
distance with great diligence and finding it to be five thousand stades, it fol-
lows that the entire circumference is 250,000 stades, which make thirty-one
thousand two hundred and fifty miles. Thus Vitruvius and Pliny could both
be adjusted. If there is a difference between authors, I think that this comes
from the diversity of the measures. Fig. 1.6.5 shows Eratosthenes’ proof.
(Vitruvius) [I.VI.10 cont.] There are still other names and breaths of winds
taken from the places where they blow, that is, from rivers or from the storms that
they make coming from the mountains. [I.VI.11] In addition to those there are the
morning breezes that blow when the sun rises above the earth, because the sun,
turning, strikes the humour of the air and in rising and driving up with impetus,
it draws the breaths of the air with the spirit that comes ahead of the light. These
breaths, when the sun is risen, remain; they join the parts of the Eurus wind, and
thus is called Eurus by the Greeks, from the breezes from which it is generated, and
likewise ‘tomorrow’ 92 is thus called aurion after the morning breezes.
(Barbaro) A breeze is more like spirit than wind.93 It is called ‘of the air’
because the movement of the air is light and sweet, thus the poets say that
the breezes run through the air with light feathers.
92 
The connection between ‘tomorrow’ (or ‘morrow’, whose origin is Middle English)—
domani in Italian (Barbaro’s dimani)—is as lost in Barbaro’s Italian translation as it is in the
English translation. Vitruvius claims that the Greek word for ‘tomorrow’, aurion, derives
from auras matutinas, morning breezes.
A very similar, indeed almost identical, statement is found in Isidore of Seville, Etymologies
93 

13.11.18.
 109

Fig. 1.6.5a. [The method of Eratosthenes for finding the circumference

of the earth] Image [p. 60], legend [p. 62]: a, Alexandria; b, Syene; ad,
the stylus; c, the centre; fbc and edg [recte eda], the rays of the sun; adg
and acb [recte adg and bcg], the similar angles.

e f

d
b
g a

Fig. 1.6.5b. A larger image redrawn more clearly, reversed as more

commonly shown (and as shown in the 1556 folio edition, p. 36).
Alexandria is at location a, Syene at b. The rays of the sun are eg and
fb. Ray eg touches the tip of the gnomon ad at d, and the shadow it
casts is ga; ray fb casts no shadow because it enters the well vertically
(where Eratosthenes is said to have been able to discern that it was
shining directly down), and goes to the centre of the earth, c. The similar
triangles are adg and acb (drawing by Kim Williams)
110 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [I.VI.11 cont.] There are some who deny that Eratosthenes could
have directly measured the space of the world, but whether his measure is true or
not true, our writing still cannot but have the true determination of the regions
from which are born the winds. [I.VI.12] If this is so, it will make no great differ-
ence if each wind doesn’t have the exact reckoning of its measure but a little more
or a little less impetus.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius does not wish to argue whether Eratosthenes has
done well in his measure of the earth because this is of little importance, nor
does he wish to go beyond the terms of the architect. Nor can doubts about
the measures of the world alter the rationale of finding the winds. This is
because although the measure may be uncertain, the winds themselves are
certain, and they come from certain and determined regions of the heavens.
Thus if others have either reduced or increased the number of Eratosthenes’
stades, this matters little for the present subject. Nor must Vitruvius care if
one wind has greater impetus than another. Our scholars,94 walking along a
meridian at the elevation of the pole, with a quadrant, have found that to one
degree of the 360 into which the meridian is divided corresponds on earth to
sixty Italian miles, from which can be taken account of how big around the
earth is. Vitruvius more clearly expounds the figure mentioned above, saying:
(Vitruvius) [I.VI.12 cont.] But because these things are briefly expounded by
us, it occurs to me at the end of the book to place two figures called schemata by the
Greeks, one that demonstrates where certain impetus of winds come from, the other
in what manner their forces with diverse layout of the quarters and squares can
be avoided the noxious breaths of the wind. So let there be in a flat plane a centre
where the letter A is, the end of the shadow made by the stylus before noon is the
letter b [refer to Fig. 1.6.1]. The compass opened from the centre A to the shadow
b, draw the circular line. Putting the stylus back where it was, wait until the shad-
ow shortens, then begins to lengthen again, until the shadow after noon is equal to
the shadow made before, and touches the circular line where it is marked with the
letter c. Then from mark b to mark c describe a cross with the compass, where the
letter d is. Then from that intersection where letter d is through the centre A let a

This may be an indirect reference to Jean François Fernel’s measurement of a degree of

94 

meridian between Paris and Amiens, calculated by counting the number of revolutions of
his carriage wheel; his results appear in Fernel (1528), Scholia to Chap. I. Such a method
for measuring distance is discussed in Book X; see Barbaro, pp. 468-470; Vitruvius X.IX.
Fernel may also be the source for the system of measures used above by Barbaro; see Fernel
(1528, I.I.9).
pp. 62-63 111

line be drawn to the other side of the circumference, the ends of which will make
the letters e and f. This line will be the demonstrator of the southern region and
the northern region. [I.VI.13] Then must be taken the sixteenth part of the circu-
lar line, and the centre of the compass placed on the [p. 63] meridian line, which
touches the circumference where the letter E is [refer to Fig. 1.6.2]. And mark on
the right and on the left where the letters g and h are, and then in the northern
part, the compass must be placed where the letter f is and mark on the right and the
left where the letters i and k are. From g to k, and from h to L [recte i] must be
drawn lines through the centre, and thus that space which is between g and k [recte
h] will be the space of the Auster wind and the southern region, and that space that
is between i and k will be the space of the region of the north. The other regions,
which are three on the right and three on the left, must be equally divided. Those
of the east will be where the letters L and m are, and those of the west where the
letters n and o are. Then from m to o and from L to n are drawn line that cross,
and in this way will be divided the spaces of the eight winds, drawn in the whole
circle. These things, when they are described in this manner in each of the angles
of the eight-sided figure, if we begin from south: between Eurus and Auster will
be the letter g; between Auster and Africus, h; between Africus and Favonius, n;
between Favonius and Caurus, o; between Caurus and Septentrio, k; between
Septentrio and Aquilo, i; between Aquilo and Solanus, L; between Solanus and
Eurus, m. The aforementioned things arranged in such a way, place the stylus, or
gnomon, between the angles of the eight-sided figure and in this this manner shall
be laid out the squares and the eight divisions of the ends of the streets.
(Barbaro) Figs. 1.6.1–2 show what Vitruvius has said here. The rest is
easy. It will perhaps appear to some that treatment of fortifications is some-
thing that must be kept secret and be made clear only to princes and re-
publics.95 Moreover I have heard that some are pained when, the methods
of fortification being explained, it comes to help many peoples outside of
Italy because it appears to them that such knowledge must be kept in hand.
I will not reply to these because they abase themselves, as do those who call
themselves human but willingly shirk the offices of humanity. They are also
ungrateful since, having learned many fine things from people from other
countries, they do not wish to use this gratitude to repay them in the neces-
sities of wellbeing. And further, they are only envious that the examples of

 Vitruvius himself in X.XVI.2 (Barbaro, p. 480) says that ‘of machines for defence we must
95

not speak so that the enemy cannot set up offences according to our writings’. See also the
note at Barbaro, p. 270.
112 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Italian fortresses can instruct every fine intellect without further writing. To
those who praise secretiveness, I would say that the things that appertain to
the wellbeing of men must not be kept secret. It may appear to many that the
invention of horrible machines that cause the massacre of the human race
is a fine thing, and that the discovery of new ones is marvellous; nor have
the effort and industry that it takes to make those things escaped notice.
How much more effort must we then make to preserve human life? And if
the means of attack are so public, how can we allow ourselves to be indolent
in making the means of defence clear and manifest? In sum I say to all the
critics these few words, which will be said once and for all: judging is an
operation of most excellent virtue, and though it is a difficult and dangerous
thing for everyone, it is most difficult and dangerous for those who not un-
derstand, or who are sooner led to lay blame than to judge fairly. Their eyes
are open to small defects but they are blind to the great good that lies in the
work of others. These sorts of people (although among the multitude they
appear to be something), who they make a show of excellence and advan-
tage in criticising, will nevertheless over time demonstrate their deficiency of
mind and their works will demonstrate their lack of science and good will.
All those who produce or provide anything in public, though they have pro-
duced or provided with good intentions, are subject to the perversity of these
critics. I therefore estimate that many will find greater occasion to criticise
that which I with excellent consideration have proposed to publish, since the
treatment of a single art is subject to the perverse judgement of those who
wish to be considered in that art, and believe themselves to be, or are, experts
and connoisseurs of it. The treatment of an area of knowledge that embraces
many and diverse sciences cannot escape the criticism of many and diverse
envious experts and makers; although in all periods an abundance of these
has been found [p. 64], in our own day there is certainly an infinite number
of them. This is perhaps because their lack of experience, industry, doctrine,
and worthy example is exceeded by their arrogance, avarice, and ignorance.
I would have but little care for these; were I to meet them I would not lend
them an ear, so that they could neither harm nor shame one who is striving.
But since things go otherwise and people willingly listen to those who speak
ill, and the just among men are mostly corrupt, I offer encouragement to all
who enter into some fine undertaking for the benefit of others, who spare no
effort to make works that speak for themselves, and who take it on them-
selves to defend the truth, so that, with the aid of time, those who oppose
p. 64 113

the truth will be found guilty of malice and perfidy. I have exerted myself
to follow this counsel in interpreting and exposing the present volumes on
architecture, and if my weak strengths have not been sufficient for the work
to attain that perfection so that it stands on its own, nevertheless I can truly
affirm that neither greater diligence, nor more industry, nor better will could
I have given than what I have done. I have tried to learn from all; to all
who have aided me I owe a debt of infinite gratitude, and I render myself a
dispenser of the goods received from others. I have deemed not wanting to
learn to be more shameful than not knowing is harmful. I have avoided the
ostentation of citing the names of authors of whom I have availed myself
in this arduous undertaking, and I have sought not breadth of language or
copiousness of words but selectivity and clarity of things. More than once I
have desired and sought to communicate my efforts to others so that before
they came to light we could together investigate the truth, but this, for some
reason that I don’t quite understand, has not happened. In the drawings of
the important figures I have used the works of Mr Andrea Palladio, archi-
tect of Vicenza, who has to his incredible advantage, from what I have seen
with my own eyes and that which I have heard in the judgement of excellent
men, acquired a great name owing to both the most subtle and graceful
drawings of plans, elevations, and sections, as in what will follow, and in the
execution and making of many superb edifices in both his own region and
in others, both public and private, that contend with the ancients, illuminate
the moderns, and will fill those who come after with marvel. As regards
Vitruvius, the making of the theatres, temples, basilicas, and those things
that have the most beautiful and most hidden rationales of compartitions, all
these have been explicated and recommended by Palladio with readiness of
mind and hand; so too he has chosen that which in all Italy constitutes the
most beautiful manners of the ancients and has measured all of the works
that are found. In what remains of my efforts, good will may cover or excuse
any defect and lovingly invite civil correction from those who are desirous
of being of use, as I am. This I await with that desire that I have always had
to do good.
But we have wandered far, so it is time to return to Vitruvius and believe
that teaching the way to fortify is a most difficult thing with respect to the
new inventions of means of attack, on which, as we have often said, means
of defence depend. Thus it is a worthy thing to draw universal precepts, in
virtue of which man can always discover new forms of defence.
114 Book I of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter VII
On the selection of places for common use in the city

[p. 64] (Vitruvius) [I.VII.1] Having divided the ends of the streets and described
the squares, it must be explained how to select the places for the suitable and com-
mon use of the city for the sacred temples, the forum, and the other common places.
If the walls are made near the sea, the site where the forum is to be made must be
selected near the port. If the city is in the countryside, in the middle. For the sacred
temples of those gods [p. 65] to whose special care is entrusted the place, to Jupiter
and to Juno and to Minerva, are given sites in the highest places, from which one
can see altogether the greatest part of the city; to Mercury in the forum; and to Isis
and Serapis in the warehouse region or market; to Apollo and Father Bacchus, near
the theatre; to Hercules, near the circus, in those places where there are no gymna-
sia or amphitheatres; to Mars, outside the city and in the field; to Venus, the port.
This has been ordered by the Etruscan haruspices, that is, that to Venus, Vulcan
and Mars temples be made outside the walls, so that the pleasures of Venus do not
set foot in the city near the young people and the mothers of children, and so that
the force of Vulcan is conducted outside the city with religion and sacrifices and the
edifices appear to be liberated from fear of fire. The divinity of Mars being outside of
consecrated ground will not make the dissension that comes from contrasts between
citizens, but with that defence from enemies conserve that from the perils of battles.
[I.VII.2] Likewise to Ceres are made temples outside the city, in places where no
one goes except for necessity, that place being guarded with religion and constant
customs. For the remaining gods, it is necessary to find places for building that are
suitable, always with regard to the manner of sacrifices.
(Barbaro) In this chapter Vitruvius speaks about things pertaining to
the universal disposition, distribution, and decorum of places, considering
the compartition of the places for common use. Here by ‘compartition’ I
mean a reasonable division of the place accompanied by decorum, by the
sufficiency of parts, and by the correspondence of things. Thus for important
subjects, important edifices are made, and important edifices should have
important members. Since the city is like a very large house, we can say that
the house is a small city. The wise architect must contribute something to the
custom of cities, and he must not err or abandon reason; he must not depart
from custom and must keep himself to science, otherwise custom is noth-
ing but the old age of vice, which man must mindfully avoid and set a fine
p. 65 115

example for his successors.96 So, the rationale of the forum is that it must be
made near the port if the city is near the sea, or in the middle of the city if it
is in the countryside. The forum is the place where things are sold and where
discussions take place; being near the port, it is convenient for foreigners and
merchants who come from faraway regions. If it is in the countryside it is
convenient for the forum to be in the middle of the city because the middle
is close to all parts and readily provides for all needs. Vitruvius says in medio
oppido because oppidum comes from ‘to bring aid’, which in Latin is to give
opem, because here is where riches called opes are brought. The rest is easy.
(Vitruvius) [I.VII.2 cont.] I will render the way of fabricating the temples
and the measures and symmetries of those in the third and fourth books. So it has
pleased me to determine first the supply of material that must be prepared for build-
ings, and expound the strength and use of that, and then treat the measures of the
edifices and the orders and manners distinctly and explain all the symmetries, in
each of the following books.
(Barbaro) Reasonably, he first treats material and then form. First be-
cause there is little to say about material, as something that nature brings us,
and there is much to be said about form, so it is right to get material over
quickly; and then because the same material serves for various forms and
manners. Aristotle does the same thing, for ease of doctrine, in the books on
natural principles.97

The end of Book I.

96
 This phrase sheds light on the phrase above on p. 18: ‘Philosophy shows the architect how
to live in an accustomed way’. ‘Custom’ refers to ethos, not simply actions repeated by rote or
tradition, whereas ‘vice’ (vitio in Barbaro; vitium in Latin) can here be thought of as ‘careless
action’ rather than vice in the sense of immoral or wicked behavior.
97 
That is, Aristotle, Meteorologica.
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book II

Preface
[p. 66]

rchitect Dinocrates, confiding in his thoughts and his astuteness,

Alexander being the ruler of the world, departed from Macedo-
nia to go to the army, desirous of being commended by the ruling
majesty. Departing from his country, his relatives, and his friends, he obtained
letters of recommendation addressed to the principals and powerful ones at court
so that by means of them he might be more easily introduced. Being so benevo-
lently received, he asked them to take him to Alexander as soon as possible. These,
having promised this to him, were very late in doing so, waiting for the appro-
priate time. Dinocrates, thinking that he had been made a fool by them, turned
to himself for aid. He was of large stature, graceful appearance, and the greatest
dignity and beauty. Trusting then to these gifts of nature, in the lodging where
he stayed he removed his clothes and anointed his entire body with oil, covered his
left shoulder with the skin of a lion, and crowned himself with fronds of poplar.

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 117

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_3
118 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Holding a club in his right hand, he went towards the tribunal of the king, who
was holding forth and reasoning. [II.Pref.2] The novelty of the fact already hav-
ing made all the people turn around, Alexander saw him. Marvelling, he com-
manded that way be made for him so that he could come forward, and asked him
who he was. He said, ‘I am Dinocrates, architect from Macedonia, who brings
you thoughts and forms worthy of your illustriousness. Thus I have formed Mount
Athos in the figure of a virile statue in whose left hand I have drawn the walls of
a very great city, and in the right a vase that is to collect the water from all the
rivers there are on that mountain so that from that vase they extend to the sea.
[II.Pref.3] Alexander, delighting in the rationale of the form, immediately asked
if thereabouts were fields that could provide grain to supply the needs of that city.
Having found that there was no other way than that of across the sea, he said, ‘I
look with attention at the composition of such beautiful form and I delight in it,
and I believe that if one wanted to go to that place to live, he could not be criti-
cised for lack of judgment. But just as the boy child already born cannot be raised
without the milk of the wet-nurse nor can he grow, neither can the city without
possessions or fruits being brought to it sustain itself, nor can it grow without co-
pious provisions, nor be frequented, nor can the people survive without abundant
victuals. Hence (in my estimation) such a beautiful drawing merits praise, but I
judge it necessary to criticise the place. But I very much want that you stay with
me because I intend to make use of your work’. [II.Pref.4] From that time on Di-
nocrates never left the king, and followed him into Egypt. Alexander, having seen
there that the port was secure by nature, the market excellent, the fields around
Egypt abundant in grain, and that there were many conveniences of the great riv-
er of the Nile, commanded that in his name Alexandria be built. And Dinocrates,
by the beauty and grace of his appearance, the grandeur of his body, out of that
nobility and that lustre, arrived to this. But to me, O Emperor, nature has not
given greatness of person; age has deformed my face and infirmity has taken away
my strength. Being thus by such aids abandoned, I hope by means of science and
writing to arrive at some degree of commendation and glory. [II.Pref.5] Having
[p. 67] thus in the first book written about the office of the architect and the terms
of architecture, and then about the walls and the divisions of the areas that are
within the walls, and continuing on to the order of the sacred temples and the pub-
lic edifices as well as the private, with what measures and proportions they must
be made, I have not thought to set down these things before I have reasoned about
the supplies of the material of which the buildings are made, what strength is had
in their use, and with what principles the nature of things is composed. But before
p. 67 119

I start explicating natural things, I will explain the rationales of building. Where
they originated, and how by invention they grew distinctly I will say. Continuing
on I will expound on the origins of the ancient nature, following those who with
the writings and rules dedicated the start of human comfort and beautiful and
well-founded inventions, and so according to how I was instructed in them I will
demonstrate them.
(Barbaro) In the second book Vitruvius treats the material necessary
for building, showing how it is selected and known and the way of putting
it together. He artfully provides the preface to this end: having in the last
four chapters of the first book reasoned about the many things pertinent to
the selection of places for building the city, and having treated the city walls,
defences, the subdivision of the areas, both for avoiding harmful winds and
for distributing each site with grace and decorum, he now wishes to give us
a noteworthy precept and fix it in our memory (although it appears that he
says it to another end), and shows us with a remarkable example that above
all things we must consider building in a place that provides the inhabitants
with the provisions and supplies necessary for living. No one would move to
a place where they might die of hunger; to the contrary, we see that places
are frequented when there is an abundance of things. We read in Aristotle’s
book of marvellous things of life1 that Carthaginian merchants, navigating
outside the strait for many days, discovered an island never before discov-
ered, inhabited only by beasts but full of trees of a marvellous size and huge
rivers, fertile and abounding in all that can be born, very far from the land of
Africa. There they found the most temperate air and by experience found it
to be copious in all the fruits of the earth. The people began to abandon their
own cities and go live in those places, so that the Carthaginians were forced
to issue an edict that under pain of death no one could navigate in those
parts; perhaps those parts were the ones that have been discovered in our
times to the West.2 So, Vitruvius, seeing the importance of provisions, want-
ed to bring it once again to our attention in the preface, this being an impor-
tant place and the first to come to the reader’s attention. ‘Architect Dinocrates’:
we read ‘Chirocrates’ in the works of Strabo, as in those of Aelianus.3 But the

1 
Aristotle, De mirabilibus auscultationibus (On Marvellous Things Heard) 84.
2 
This may refer to the islands discovered during the 1519-1525 circumnavigation led by
Ferdinand Magellin.
3 
Strabo, The Geography I.14.23; I have been unable to find a reference to either Dinocrates or
Chirocrates (sometimes written Cheirocrates) in the works of Claudius Aelianus (Aelian).
120 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

texts of Vitruvius have Dinocrates, who is mentioned by Xenophon, if I am

not mistaken.4 ‘His thoughts and his astuteness’: Vitruvius said in the second
chapter of the first book that the ideas of disposition are born of thought and
invention,5 so here he shows Dinocrates to have had disposition, as again is
shown below when he says: ‘I am Dinocrates, architect from Macedonia, who
brings you thoughts and forms worthy of your illustriousness’. In saying ‘thoughts
and forms’ Vitruvius means the building and the discourse; the thing sig-
nified and the thing that signifies; the work and the rationale, from which
things architecture is born. ‘I have formed Mount Athos in the figure of a virile
statue’: Dinocrates wanted to represent the figure of Alexander (as we read).
On the right he carved an enormously capacious channel to receive all the
waters of Mount Athos, the very high mountain between Macedonia and
Thrace. On the left he wanted to build a city large enough to hold ten thou-
sand men. Beautiful, and of subtle invention, if only he had considered how
to give provisions to his city, as he had provided it with water to drink. So,
I say again it is necessary to make cities in places that are convenient and
opportune. Praise in this regard is deservedly given to the city of Venice, in
which are found so many rivers, so many entrances, and so many conveni-
ences that it appears that all the world is obliged to nourish and adorn her. It
can be said that as the wet-nurse of the babe takes her food from somewhere
else [p. 68] and from its substance she then makes the milk to nourish the
babe, thus Venice receives from all parts of the world the nutrition to main-
tain the rest of its state. It truly appears that nature has reserved some places
that only rare accident would leave uninhabited because of the conveniences
of their site. Such are Rome, Constantinople, Paris, and many other places
that have always been celebrated and frequented for these reasons.

4 
I believe Barbaro is indeed mistaken, as Xenophon (ca. 430-354 BC) lived a generation
before Alexander the Great (356-323 BC). Barbaro might be thinking of Pliny, who
mentions Dinocrates (or Dinochares) in Natural History 5.11.
5 
See Barbaro, p. 32; Vitruvius I.II.2.
p. 68 121

Chapter I
On the life of ancient men, and of the beginnings
of human life, and of houses and their development

[p. 68] (Vitruvius) [II.I.1] Men by ancient usages were born savage in the forests
and caves and among the woods, and by eating food that grew wild they led their
lives. By winds and storms the trees were agitated and moved, and the branches
rubbing together kindled fire, so that those who were close to the great flames were
afraid and took flight. The flames died down, and first one and then another came
close to it and found it to be very comfortable for bodies. Adding wood as it was
needed and conserving it, they carried it to the others and, making signs among
themselves, they demonstrated the usefulness that came from it. In that concourse
of men, sounds being emitted differently by the breath, for everyday conversation
they made up words for things as it came to them. Then signifying them more
often and putting them to use by that occurrence, they began to speak and so fab-
ricated reasonings. [II.I.2] It was thus by the invention of fire that there arose
conversing, living together, and many convening together in the same place. Also,
being by nature not bent over like the other animals but walking upright, they
regarded the magnificence of the world and of the stars. Handling (as they liked to
do) all things easily with their fingers, some among that multitude began to make
coverings with foliage, others to dig caves beneath the mountains, and others, in
imitation of swallows’ nests, built with lute and shoots to make places for taking
cover. Then many observing the coverings made by the others and adding to their
thoughts new things, day by day they made a better manner of houses. [II.I.3] Men
being by nature docile and easily able to imitate, glorying more each day in their
own inventions, some demonstrated to others the effects of the buildings and thus,
exercising their minds through competitions, every day they became more judicious.
First they erected forked sticks and wove the walls using branches with lute; others
then, drying bushes and clods of lute, made the walls with timbers fitted together;
to avoid the rain, hail, and heat they covered them with canes and foliage. Then,
since the roofs during the storms of winter could not resist the rains, making ridges
and covering them with lute to make sloping roofs, they made the draining and the
falling of waters.
(Barbaro) Up to this point Vitruvius has artfully narrated, step by step
in order, the beginning, middle, and end of building that sufficed for hu-
man necessity. I say ‘artfully’ and ‘in order’ because first he gave the reason
that constrained humans to stay together, which was knowing the usefulness
122 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

produced by fire, chance having shown its utility. This constrained men to
stay together. Then from this union was born speech, the recognition of be-
ing able to work with their hands, and the work itself, from which was born
the competition of one advancing further than another in the invention of
buildings. From this gradually came art, born (as we said in the preface to
the first book 6) [p. 69] of experience, founded in the nature of things. But
some might deny that this was the origin of ancient nature. Vitruvius replies
to this, saying:
(Vitruvius) [II.I.4] But that such things were ordered from those principles
that we have said can be known in this way: in our day in other nations, as in
France, Hispania, Lusitania, Aquitaine, things such as this are made from boards
of durmast oak or with straw and fodder. In the nation of the Colchians in Pontus,
due to the abundance of woods, are made buildings with whole trees laid on the
right and the left, placed in the ground, leaving between those as much as space
as allowed by the length of the trees. On top of the ends of those they place others
crosswise that close the space of the house all around. Then after that they put beams
over the four sides, tying and tightening the corners. In this manner, making walls
of trees directly on top those below, they erect the towers. The spaces which are not
filled by the thickness of the material they stop up with lute and chips. Also cutting
out the roofs from the corners, they fill them in with beams crosswise step by step,
narrowing them to make the roof. In this way, in the middle of the four sides, they
raise pyramids, which are covered with foliage and lute, in the way the barbarians
use to make the testudinate ridges.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius seems to think it a great argument to show the ori-
gins of building via the enduring customs of other peoples. It is truly quite
reasonable to say that where beauty and greatness of art have not arrived,
the natural ways and that which nature showed the first men can be seen.
It can be said that every art has its infancy, its adolescence, the flowering
of its age, and its maturity. So it was in architecture, which was roughly
shaped in the early centuries, grew in Asia, attained its vigour in Greece,
and finally in Italy achieved perfect and mature dignity. It is thus reasonable
to believe that in the beginning architecture originated in that necessity first
shown to all mankind, as seen by our explorers on the Spanish Island [i.e.,
Hispaniola] and in the parts of the world discovered by the moderns, where
the rooms and habitations are made of trees, woven from canes, and covered

6 
See Barbaro, p. 4.
pp. 69-70 123

with straw, but in such a way that reflects the dignity of the inhabitants,
giving larger, finer and more comfortable habitations to those among those
people who attain a greater rank. It is said that our explorers found things
done in this way. But as more expert and more ingenious people began to
practice in those places, better and more artful ways of building were intro-
duced. Working wood and making many ornaments that they did not have
before, day by day they developed artifices and inventions of things, domes-
ticating the land through human concourse. Vitruvius’s argument is thus a
good one, although he didn’t exactly say the truth about fire being ignited
by the rubbing of branches blown by the wind, because he didn’t know the
history of the creation and origin of the world. But those who will pay mind
to the words of Vitruvius will discover in the present discourse a marvellous
order. First he revealed, as far as he was able, necessity and nature, explain-
ing the reason why men were constrained to live together. Then he showed,
as much as he could, experience and habit, narrating what many people were
accustomed to do to make themselves comfortable and to protect themselves
from the things that went against them, with different manners of habita-
tions according to the customs of places and things. Finally he will say what
art has been able to do regarding the regulated inventions of ornaments and
displays of building. In the first chapter of the tenth book Vitruvius reaffirms
this, saying that the things humans observe to be good for use, they also
attempt to achieve with the study of art and with ordinations by means of
doctrine.7 Here we see in any case how human nature advances day by day,
going from the necessary to the convenient, and from the convenient arriv-
ing at the honourable. It is a fine and worthy thing to consider how architec-
ture is founded upon nature: not altering that which is made by nature, but
making it more perfect and ornamented. Vitruvius clearly shows us in the
present chapter, by various examples, not only the origin of building but also
the natural ways and manners that were then carried by [p. 70] art to the
perfection of things such as sloped roofs, ridges, vaults, columns and their
ornaments, and other things that were transported by human industry from
natural necessity to the certainty of art. He then goes on:
(Vitruvius) [II.I.5] The Phrygians, who live in the countryside, due to the
lack of forests having need of wood, select some parts of the terrain that are more el-
evated and, digging them out in the middle and emptying them, and making paths

7 
See Barbaro, p. 444; Vitruvius X.I.4.
124 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

through them, they widen the spaces until they are of a suitable quantity and size of
the place. Then, tying together the tops of many trunks, they make the summits of the
roofs pyramidal. Covering those with canes and straw they raise above the rooms
enormous mounds of earth. In this way, using the rationale of roofs, they make the
winters very warm and the summers very cool. Others covered their hovels with
algae from the marshes. Again, in other nations and in some places houses are made
similarly in this manner. Even in Marseilles it can be seen that the roofs are made
without tiles and there is only earth placed on top with straw. In Athens too, by
example of antiquity, in the Areopagus up to our own day are seen roofs of lute. On
the Capitoline, in the sacred rock, the ancient customs can be observed in the house of
Romulus, because it is covered with straw and hay. [II.I.6] So by such signs we can
discourse on the invention of the ancient edifices, which were such as we have said.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius has finished the proposed argumentation and with
many examples has confirmed our belief in the ancient and necessary way of
building. He has almost induced us to believe that the invention of human
consortium occurred as he said it did. Now he wants to tell us how much use
and experience, and then art have shown us. He says:
(Vitruvius) [II.I.6 cont.] Men, working every day, having made their hands
readier and more dextrous in building, and by the continuous exercising of their
intellects having with astuteness attained to art, it follows that adding industry to
their minds made it so that some among them, more studious and diligent, made a
profession of being makers.
(Barbaro) Fabro in Latin refers to any maker. In Greek it is tecton,
whence comes the name ‘architect’, as was said in the first book.8 Here can
be seen not only the origin of things pertaining to architecture but also the
terminology for things. Thus Vitruvius, not omitting anything, prudently
renders the listener perfect.9 So, the most studious and diligent workers were
called fabri because to nature, exercise, and astuteness they added industry,
which is none other than the desire to exert oneself reduced down to work-
ing with diligence and exercising ingeniousness and the advantage of art in
order to achieve perfection. Vitruvius concludes, saying:
(Vitruvius) [II.I.6 cont.] When thus from the beginning these things were
ordered in this way and nature not only having adorned men with sentiments like
those of the other animals, but also having armed their intellect with consideration

See Barbaro, p. 6.
8 

This is a literal translation of prudentemente rende perfetto l’auditore. The meaning is likely:
9 

Vitruvius takes care to make sure the listener (or reader) perfectly understands.
pp. 70-71 125

and counsel, subjecting the other animals to their power, men, having arrived step
by step at the other arts and disciplines, left off building and living savagely and
wildly and were led to a mild and humane life. [II.I.7] Then, intelligently teaching
themselves and also looking beyond with greater thoughts born of the variety of
the arts, no longer did they build humble and base houses but founded great hab-
itations and began to make walls built of brick and stone, and composed of wood,
and covered with tiles. Then, increasing in various observations of studies with
judicious discourse from uncertain to certain rationales of measures,10 they conduct-
ed the thing further. Then, noting that nature produced wood in large amounts
and provided them with abundant supplies for building, they began to nourish
and cultivate it. And when it had grown by their artifices, they adorned it for the
delightful and elegant use of life. So I am going to speak of those things which are
convenient and good in buildings, showing (as far as I am able) the qualities and
virtues of these.
[p. 71] (Barbaro) Vitruvius has led us little by little to the discovery of
material and the abundance of things that go into building, making it so
that one thing is born from another almost before our very eyes with the
evident success and improvement of art. He has not chosen all of the man-
ners of building because, while there are infinite sorts of buildings made by
unlearned people and built out of necessity, the infinite is not comprised in
the teaching of precepts. He wishes instead to treat those which, due to their
customary usages in society, convenience, and beauty, are worthy of being
considered and comprehended.
(Vitruvius) [II.I.8] But if some would wish to dispute the order of this book,
thinking that it should have been placed before all the others, in order that it not
be thought that I have erred, I will explain the rationale. Writing as I am the
corpus of architecture, I have thought to expound in the first book the trainings
and disciplines with which it must be adorned; and with certain determined terms
define its manners; and say from what it is born. Thus that which is necessary for
the architect I demonstrated there. As in the first book I spoke of the office of the art,
in the present book I will discuss the natural things of material and what use they
have in building. So, the present book does not declare whence architecture is born
but whence buildings are born, with what rationales they are nourished, and how

10 
Barbaro’s Italian translation of certas symmetriarum (Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 14r) is certe
ragioni di misure. Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 41, ‘definite rules of symmetry’); Granger (1931, p.
85, ‘the assured method of symmetry’); Schofield (2009, p. 40, ‘the ascertainable rules of
modularity’).
126 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

they arrived step by step at this determination. [II.I.9] In this way in its place and
order will be the composition of this volume.
(Barbaro) Just as he who builds is held to render account of the order that
he holds, so too he who composes a work and teaches an art is obliged to say
why he set some of the things that compose that art before others, in order
to appease the minds of those who commission buildings. So Vitruvius with
great humanity renders account of the order of the present book. His ration-
ale is essentially this: it is not appropriate to treat any individual thing that
appertains to an art before the principles of that art itself are treated, because
no effect comes before its cause. If I had thus (Vitruvius might say) treated
first material, which is a particular treatment of this art, instead of treating
the principles of the art as a whole, I would not have used the order that is ap-
propriate. This would not have made manifest the aim of the architect, some-
thing that is of the highest necessity, because cognition of the aim precedes
all endeavour. Then the office of the architect would have been obscured;
the precepts of the art omitted; confusion would have impeded true under-
standing. Quite rightly, then, the things said in the first book had to precede
all the rest. Why the second book must contain the treatment of materials is
similarly clear: material is not the principle of architecture because architec-
ture is not made of wood or of stone, but of the things that are formed and
built by the arts. Architecture is the starting point and subject through which
is expressed what is in the mind of the maker—that is, order, arrangement,
distribution, symmetry, grace, decorum, and, in short, the why, the rationale,
the discourse, the signifying thing—as was shown in the first book. Thus the
treatment of material is in its place. So, since in the first book is given the
origin of the art of architecture, in the second is treated the origin of building.
(Vitruvius) [II.I.9 cont.] Now I will return to the purpose and speak about
the materials suitable for being set into place, in what way they are composed by
nature,…
(Barbaro) …how timber, stones, and other things are…
(Vitruvius) [II.I.9 cont.] …and with what mixtures and principles their
components are tempered. So, not obscurely but clearly to him who reads I will
explain the reason why no sort of material, or body, or anything else without the
union of those principles can come to light nor otherwise be subject to understand-
ing. Nor can the nature of things have solid and true statements from the precepts of
natural philosophers if first the causes that are found in them are not demonstrated
and how and why they are so is not investigated with the most subtle of rationales.
pp. 71-72 127

(Barbaro) Knowledge consists in the cognition of the causes and the

principles. Because there is nothing subject to the senses that is not com-
posed of the mixture of its principles, and for things to be understood as
they are, it is necessary to treat the principles. This cognition will allow
us to understand which material is good for one thing, and which is good
for another, because of one nature is [p. 72] oak; of another is fir; of still
another, larch. One effect is made by marble, another by tuff, another by
stone, still another by brick. Thus Vitruvius says that from different causes
come different effects. Philosophising, he gives the opinion of the ancients
regarding material principles—that is, those which play a part in making
things of nature. In what follows he will then apply the causes to the effects,
as we shall see.

Chapter II
On the principles of things according to the philosophers

[p. 72] (Vitruvius) [II.II.1] Thales firstly thought that water was the principle of
all things; Heraclitus of Ephesus (who from the obscureness of his sayings was called
Scotinus) posited fire; Democritus and Epicurus the follower of Democritus, atoms,
which are called ‘indivisibles’ by our authors, and ‘individual bodies’ by others. But
the discipline of the Pythagoreans added air and earth to water and fire. Democri-
tus therefore, even though he did not call things by proper names but only proposed
the individual bodies, appears to have posited those same principles for this reason:
because those bodies separately, before they concur together for the generation of
things, neither assemble, nor die, nor divide, but everlastingly retain in themselves
perpetual and infinite solidity. [II.II.2] When thus it is seen that all things are
born of these principles appropriately compounded, and those being in infinite sorts
distinct by nature, I have thought it necessary to treat the varieties and differences
of their use and to declare what qualities they have in edifices, so that being known,
those who think of building will not err, but will prepare the things that are good
and sufficient for the use of buildings.
(Barbaro) In this part Vitruvius relates the diversity of the opinions of
the ancient philosophers regarding the principles of things, meaning (as I
have said) the material principles—that is, those that enter into the compo-
sition of things and into which everything ultimately resolves. He says that
128 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Thales made water the principle of all things; Heraclitus, fire; Democritus
and Epicurus, atoms; the Pythagoreans, water, fire, air and earth. Vitruvius
does not argue here which opinion was best but he agrees with that of the
Pythagoreans, which embraces all four elements, as can be seen clearly in
the eighth book;11 he gives ample rationales with the dignity that the subject
deserves. But since there he makes no mention of what Democritus means
by atoms, I will briefly relate that philosopher’s opinion. So, seeing that all
bodies that have parts which differ in name and rationale were compounded
of parts that are similar in name and rationale, Democritus would have it
that the parts which are similar in name and rationale were compounded of
some minute, indivisible bodies, which he called atoms. Although we cannot
discern this tiny corporeal part—which could not be divided into any small-
er parts that, in their turn, could not be divided, and so on to infinity—good
Democritus, so highly praised by Aristotle, would nevertheless have it that
such infinite tiny bodies were found—bodies that for some reason could
not be divided but were indivisible and undividable. As to how he intend-
ed this—because so great a man cannot be criticised unreasonably—I will
say that the division of bodies into bodies and parts and particles went on
infinitely, nor could this possible division be understood otherwise. On the
other hand, carefully considering that natural bodies were compounded of
material and of form, and could be divided into such minute parts that none
of those could any longer perform its function or its natural operation—as if
a minimum part of meat were taken so that it could not perform the actions
of meat—Democritus would have it that natural bodies were compounded
of those little indivisible bodies, not as solids and intelligible quantity and
mathematics but as natural bodies compounded of material [p. 73] and nat-
ural form. He would have it that these were infinite—that is, of an extremely
large number—and of different forms, so some were round, others flat, some
straight, others hooked, some pointed, others rounded, some square, others
of some other shape. Being dispersed in the vacuum of the world, he would
have it that by the union and separation of those differently made forms,
things as they appear to us were produced and passed away. This was the
opinion of Democritus, by which it can be understood that he would have
it, and indeed believed, that the natural figure and appearance of bodies are
their substantial and true forms. This in truth is not so, because the figure

11 
See Barbaro, p. 328; Vitruvius VIII.Pref.1.
p. 73 129

is an accident and not the substance of the thing. It appears that Vitruvius
would have it that Democritus held the opinion of the Pythagoreans, even
though he never named air, water, earth, or fire. Perhaps it is for this reason
that in the eighth book Vitruvius never mentions him.
But let us say something more. There are four material principles of all
things (as the ancients would have it, who called them the ‘prime bodies’);
these are earth, water, air, and fire. If one were to wish to go further, it could
be said that these too are compounded of other principles, but this is not the
place to penetrate deeper into the matter since now we are treating those
principles whose qualities determine all the mutations and effects that are
found in things. Those qualities must be made manifest as in the following
verses drawn from our Meteore12 show:

Since the world, at the dawn of time but a youth,

Showed its visage handsome but unclearly made,
Containing all forms but one aspect in truth,
So the divine hand opened the barricade
For the elements, and by their joyful stead
By them did his virtue into all pervade.
Moreover from earthly slopes he created
The beautiful order and assorted style
For the benefit of men designated.
He distinguished water from earth, the breeze mild
From fire; to some of those bodies he assigned
Sublime locus, to others low and servile.
If one by distance surpassed another kind
They still have among them virtues concordant
Whence everything down here is therefore designed.
Among themselves often change is attendant
As when the earth into water is resolved
So becoming rare, liquid, itinerant.

Meteore was a poem composed by Barbaro himself in hendecasyllablic terza rima. Notice
12 

of the poem, now lost, is given Soldati (1829, p. xi). It appears that the only traces of the
poem are found in Barbaro’s Vitruvius, here and in Book VIII, Barbaro, pp. 332-335. My
English translation is aimed at preserving the meter, the rhyme scheme, and the meaning
of his verses.
130 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Humour from substance is also disinvolved

And more subtle turns to air; air yet again
Into the subtlest of all, fire, is evolved.
In this variation not one can remain,
So subtle fire reduces its levity
and in its new form colour does not retain.
Air, slipp’ry and heavy, to more clarity
Moves the liquor, which to superior weights
Adds the dryness and the solidarity.
And therefore nature the world variegates
Changing from one into the other the seed
Of things that a fine joyful world fabricates.
Whence dying is nothing but becoming freed
Of the being before; birth the defining
Of another being, form, aspect indeed.
It is through this unending reassigning
Of the earthly state that order is maintained,
Based on virtues celestial and shining.
Thus the eternal course by it is sustained,
Is tempered, is discerned, and transforming then,
On behalf of us living beings, is retained;
And the measure of ev’ry thing is the when.

There are thus four primary qualities before which no others are found:
hot, dry, wet, and cold. All other things come from the mixture of these:
hard, soft, sharp, smooth, sour, sweet, light, heavy, tough, airy, dense, and
every other secondary quality. Hence it is necessary for the architect, who
must consider the goodness and the effects of the material that he has to
work with, to know the forces of the primary qualities, as Vitruvius says
towards the end of this present chapter, when he says, ‘thus it is seen that all
things are born of these principles appropriately compounded ’, and the rest.
There are also four possible and natural confluences of the primary
qualities in the elements: hot and wet go together, as do wet and cold; cold
and dry; and dry and hot. Each of the elements have two of those: one is
proper, the other is appropriated. The proper quality of fire is hot; air, wet;
water, cold; earth, dry. The appropriated quality of fire is dry; air, hot; wa-
ter, wet; earth, cold. Those elements [p. 74] that agree in a quality—such
p. 74 131

as fire and air; air and water; and water and earth—are more easily trans-
formed from one into the other since where agreement and similarity are
found transmutation is easier. Fire is hot due to its own heat and dry due to
the dryness that it receives from the earth; air by its nature is wet and from
fire receives heat; water in itself is cold and from air it receives wetness; earth
from its own dryness is dry but by the cold of water it is cold. And when it is
said that the heavenly signs are fiery, airy, watery, or earthy, it is meant that
their virtues are apt to influence down here the effects of the quality of those
elements. So Aries, to which is attributed the nature and complexion13 of
fire, multiplies with its heat the ardours in the human body, expels frigidity,
consumes moisture, and dries and desiccates bodies. So since the virtue of
this sign agrees more greatly with fire than with any of the other elements,
we say that it is hot and dry. Similar statements can be made about all the
other signs according to the virtues and powers of their influences. With
regard to these things it is worthwhile to consider the power of the quali-
ties just mentioned: fire resolves, draws to itself, dilates, separates, destroys,
lightens, and makes all things mobile; cold condenses, restricts, kills; wet
fills, swells, obstructs, retards; dryness renders every subject harsh, hoarse,
desiccated. Thus it is necessary to observe all the principles that concur in
the composition of things in order to well understand their effects. Therefore
Vitruvius begins to treat bricks and says:

Chapter III
On bricks

[p. 74] (Vitruvius) [II.III.1] Therefore I will speak first of bricks, and of what soil
they are to be formed. So, they are not made from mud that is sandy or gravelly,
or mud of coarse sand because if they are composed of that sort of soil, first they are
heavy; then, being made wet by the rain, the walls will fall; and the straw that
is in them, due to their roughness, will not stick nor will they hold together. They
must therefore be made of soil that is white, chalky, or red, or of coarse sand because
these sorts of soil, due to their lightness, have solidity, do not overload the work,
and have a good hold.

13 
The ‘complexion’ is the ratio of constituent elements.
132 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Vitruvius treats bricks—or quadrelli as we call them—and

offers this consideration before all others because the final resolution of all
building boils down to the bricks. He takes their effects and use from the
soil with which they are made, and then treats the time for making them. Of
stones, some are natural; others made by art. In the present chapter he treats
first those made by art and then treats the natural ones in the following chap-
ter. The artificial stones are thus bricks. Here one must know of what kind of
soil and how they are made; what qualities and shapes they must have; and
in what season they must be made. So, with regards to the soil, it should be
clayey soil, white and manageable; red clay will also work, as will ‘masculine
sand’, which in the opinion of some is a very coarse, gravelly14 sand called
‘masculine’15 for the same reason that large-grained incense is called ‘mascu-
line incense’ from the size of its grains. I cannot confirm what this is unless
perhaps it is a large-grained clayey sand that makes a paste or is used along
with other sorts of soil. Leave completely aside all gravelly and sandy soil.
The soil is well beaten—that is, it is beaten with iron spades until it is well
compacted and the pebbles and small stones are removed from it. The more
it is compacted and beaten, the better it is. In the bricks of antiquity crushed
marble and red sand are seen. The soils of Samos, Arezzo, Modena, Sagunto
in Spain, and Pergamum in Asia were praised by the ancients in their works
on soil16 but we must take soils where they are found. The soil is dug in the
autumn; macerated during the winter; and moulded in the spring. In the
winter it is covered with dry sand and in summer with wet straw. If necessity
forces us to mould the bricks in winter or in summer, then it is necessary to
dry them in the shade for a very long time, which cannot be done well in less
than two years. Then they must [p. 75] bake. When well baked by a great
fire they become extremely hard. Some bricks were baked, others were left
unbaked; of the baked ones, some were glazed, others not. The shape was
this. In antiquity they were made a foot and a half long, and a foot wide.

14 
For the Latin adjective calculoso (Fra Giocondo 1511, p. 14r) Barbaro uses the Venetian
term giarosa, gravelly; giara is mentioned again on Barbaro, p. 78 ). Cfr. Morgan (1914, p.
42, ‘pebbly’); Granger (1931, p. 89, ‘chalky’); Schofield (2009, p. 42, ‘pebbly’).
15 
‘Masculine’ in the sense of ‘large’, according to the Compendio del Vocabulario della Crusca
(4th ed., 1739, vol. III, p. 121): ‘Per Grande, Sfoggiato. Lat. masculus, grandiis , immanis’.
16 
Barbaro takes this list verbatim from Alberti (1485, 2.10); (1988, p. 52). In fact, most
of Barbaro’s whole commentary in this chapter seems to be lifted directly from Alberti.
Palladio’s passages about brick also repeat part of what is said here; see Palladio (1570, 1.3);
(1997, p. 8).
p. 75 133

Fig. 2.3.1. [Triangular bricks] Image [p. 77], legend: I, the square form
with scored diagonals; II, the individual triangular brick
This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

There were also those of four and five palms on each side for larger buildings,
although in the ancient buildings in Rome they are seen to be six fingers
long, one thick, and three wide, for being laid in a herringbone pattern. In
arches and in connecting elements are seen bricks that are two feet on all
sides. Leon Battista Alberti also praises those of a triangular shape made
from a square that is a foot on all sides and a finger and a half thick. Four
of these are made together, making a little score along the diagonals so that
then when they are cooked they are easily broken into the triangles. This
shape is easy to handle, costs less, and is handsomer to see, since when placed
on the face of the wall with the angle turned inwards it shows a width of
two feet [recte one foot]. The work is more solid and more graceful because it
will appear that every brick in the wall is whole, while the corners forming a
saw-tooth will give it an admirable firmness, as shown in Fig. 2.3.1.
Similarly, bricks that are thin, polished, and rubbed are long-lasting.
They must be polished as soon as they are taken from the furnace. They
must be light in weight, resistant to water, not collect moisture, and have a
good hold. They must be light so that they don’t overload the structure; resist
water so that moisture does not cause them to come apart; have a good hold
in order to strengthen the wall. Palladius, in the twelfth chapter of his sixth
134 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

book, says that cut straw was put in with the clay used to make bricks.17 We
can also read this in the passage of the Bible where the people of Israel were
punished by Pharaoh with the work of making bricks.18 ‘Of white soil ’: Vitru-
vius says albida; Pliny albicante.19
(Vitruvius) [II.III.2] They must be made in spring or in autumn, so that they
dry equally in the same way. Those that are made during the time of the solstice
are defective because, being baked by the sun, their superficial covering makes them
seem dry and desiccated but inside they are not dry. Then the dry parts will crack
when they dry and shrink and, thus flawed, they will be weak. The most excellent
will be those that are moulded two years before, because they cannot dry as much
as required in less time. When they are fresh and not dry and are laid in the work,
when the coating is put on and becomes rigidly solid the brick will slump and
cannot maintain the same height as that of the coating but separates from it, and
since the plaster of the building, when separated, cannot stay in place by itself, its
thinness will cause it to break; and the walls, being left to chance, are defective. For
this reason the Uticans, in making their walls, lay the brick when it is thoroughly
dry and desiccated, and made five years earlier, after which they are approved by
the presiding magistrate.
(Barbaro) This present passage should moderate the avidity of those
who have not thought before they have begun to build and who wish to fin-
ish the building in an instant without consideration or choosing the material.
Rightly they are punished when, through their carelessness, something bad
happens.
(Vitruvius) [II.III.3] Three manners of bricks are made. One, called didoron
by the Greeks, is that which our builders use, one foot long and a half wide. The
others are used by the Greeks in their buildings. One is called pentadoron, the other
tetradoron. Doron is what the palm is called, and in Greek giving gifts is called
doron, that which is given being carried in the palm of the hand. Therefore the
brick that is five palms on every side is called pentadoron, and that which is four
is called tetradoron. Public works are made with those that are of five palms; and
private works, with those that are of four.

17 
Palladius, Opus Agriculturae 6.12; Owen (1807, p. 222).
18 
See Exodus 1:14, where the Israelites were forced to gather on their own the straw used
in brick-making.
19 
See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 35.49.
p. 75 135

(Barbaro) Palladius says that bricks must be cast in May, in a form that
is two feet long, one foot wide, and four inches thick.20 Pliny, who takes all
of the present passage from Vitruvius, says that the brick named didoron21
was a foot and a half long and a foot wide.22 Philander says that he also found
this written in Vitruvius’s text but he would rather have it that Vitruvius had,
with respect to the width, intended a smaller palm, where two palms made
half a foot.23 In larger buildings there must be larger members, and larger
members must have larger parts. So the Greeks made a distinction when
they used bricks in their works (Fig. 2.3.2).

Fig. 2.3.2. [Three kind of bricks] Image [p. 77]

20 
Palladius, Opus Agriculturae 6.12; Owen (1807, p. 222).
21 
Mostly interpreted now as ‘Lydian’ instead of didoron. Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 43); Granger
(1931, p. 93); Schofield (2009, p. 42). For the background of the dual interpretation, see the
discussion in Baldi (1612, pp. 59-60).
22 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 35.49.
23 
Philander (1544, p. 32). Two kinds of palm (the palaeste, of four fingers, and the spithame,
of twelve fingers) are discussed on Barbaro, p. 114. The problem is that if the name didoron
is taken to mean ‘two palms’ (in the way that tetradoron means ‘four palms’ and pentadoron
‘five palms’), then two palms must equal half a foot.
136 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 2.3.3. [Wall with alternating half and whole bricks, called anisodomon]
Image [p. 77]

[p. 76] (Vitruvius) [II.III.4] In addition there are also made half bricks
which, when they are laid in the work, the whole ones are laid in the courses on one
side; the halves in the other side. So when on both sides they are laid in alternating
courses, the walls are tied together. And the half bricks, laid so they are located over
the joints of the whole ones, make both firmness and a not ungracious aspect on
both sides.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius shows a fine manner of laying bricks one on top of
the other since variety creates delight in any kind of building. So, finding a
form of brick that has different dimensions, he teaches us how to pair it in or-
der to make something good. These half bricks, accompanied by whole ones
in the courses, which he calls coria, make a fine sight when over the joints of
two larger bricks is laid a smaller brick and the middle of the small brick lines
up precisely with the joint between the two larger ones, as can be seen in Fig.
2.3.3, marked anisodomon.24 Fig. 2.3.2 shows the bricks called didoron, tetra-
doron, and pentadoron, and Vitruvius talks about the manners of laying them
in the eighth chapter of this present book. Vitruvius then goes on to philos-
ophise about the reason why, in some places, dried bricks float over water.
24 
Barbaro seems to have coined for himself the term anisodomon, as it appears nowhere else.
See Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 63, line 3), where he mentions the difference between anisodomon
and interpretations of the term pseudodomum used by Vitruvius.
pp. 76-78 137

(Vitruvius) [II.III.4 cont.] There are places in Hispania Ulterior, Callentum,

and Maxilua, and Pitane in Asia, where bricks, when moulded and dried and
then put in water, float. Why they should float like that, it seems to me that the rea-
son is this: because the soil from which they are made is like pumice, and so is very
light. Made solid by the air, it neither receives nor absorbs moisture and so, being
of light and rare properties, it does not allow the humour to enter into its body. No
matter what weight it is made, it is forced, like pumice, due to its nature, to be sus-
tained by the water. In this way it has the greatest utility because it has neither too
much weight in buildings, nor when they are made are they undone by the rains.
(Barbaro) Strabo, in the thirteenth book of his Cosmography [recte Geog-
raphy], has this to say:

They say that in Pitane bricks float upon water, which also occurs sim-
ilarly in Etruria on a certain island, because that soil being lighter than
water, it happens that it floats. Poseidonius reports that he has seen float
on water brick that was made of a certain clay that cleans silver things.25

It might also be that the reason for floating is the oiliness of the stone,
and the hollowness with the excessive dryness, which admits no humour.

Chapter IV
On sand

[p. 78] (Vitruvius) [II.IV.1] In works of rubble it is necessary to take care to quar-
ry the sand so that it is good for mixing into mortar, nor should it have any earth
mixed with it. The kinds of sand that are quarried are these: black, white, red and
carbonised sand. Of these the best is that which, when rubbed with the fingers,
rasps; but that which is mixed with earth will not have any coarseness. Similarly,
if the sand is thrown onto a white robe and then, shaken off, leaves no stain, nor
does any soil remain beneath it, then it is good. [II.IV.2] But if there are no places
to quarry it, then it will be necessary to separate it out from the rivers and from
gravel pits and also from the seashore, but in masonries and in works that sand will
have these defects: that it dries with difficulty and where it is found the walls will

25 
Strabo, The Geography 13.1.67; (1856, vol. II, p. 387).
138 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

not stand to be continually subject to supporting a great weight and nor be able to
receive vaults if they are not relieved with some omissions in the work. The sand
of the sea has this additional defect: that when the walls are coated and plastered,
spitting out the salt, they dissolve. [II.IV.3] But the sands that are extracted from
ditches, when placed in the work, soon dry; and they last in the finishes of walls
supporting the vaults. It is necessary to extract them when they are fresh because if
they stay too long in the open, they turn into dirt by the actions of the sun and the
moon and the frost. Then, when they are placed in the work, they do not hold the
stones but separate and fall, and walls made with those do not support weights.
But if the sands are freshly extracted, even if they are very good in building walls,
they are still not useful in the plastering and coating of walls, because when lime
and straw are mixed with that, whose strength comes from its fattiness, it cannot
dry without cracking. But that from rivers, by its leanness, when well beaten and
mixed like opus signinum,26 receives solidity and firmness in finishes.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius speaks about the sorts of sand, the signs for recog-
nising them, what we must do in case of necessity, and the defects and uses of
those sorts. Pliny used this passage in the twelfth chapter of the thirty-fifth
book.27 The substance of the earth varies in three ways: the coarse is called
sand; the fine, clay; the middle between them, common. Sand is sterile and
not suitable for being shaped in any way. Clay is good both for nourishing
plants and for being used in many forms. Of this sort was the white earth
that in earlier times was called tasconicem,28 of which in Spain in the high
mountains were made the high outposts of the guards. In our day, as we are
told by Agricola,29 there is a tower made of this earth near Ceruecia, a city
in Saxony. It is more secure from fire, winds, and rain than if it were built of
stone because its weight resists the impetus of the winds, it is hardened by

26 
Barbaro does not comment on the term astracco (today, làstrico), which he uses as the
translation for the phrase uti signinum (Fra Giocondo 1511, p. 15r). Cfr. Granger (1931, p.
97, ‘like that of Signia’) and Schofield (2009, p. 44, ‘like Signian sand’). I believe Morgan’s
translation, ‘in signinum’ (1914, p. 45), provides the key: the medieval Latin term astracus
(from the Greek Ostrakon) refers to a paving tile and is related to the pavement type known
as opus signinum, crushed tiles mixed with cement and water. The modern Italian term
làstrico relates to this, as does another modern term, cocciopesto. This is the ‘rubble pavement’
of Book VIII. See Barbaro, pp. 310-311; Vitruvius VIII.1. It also appears earlier, in Book V:
Barbaro, p. 265; Vitruvius V.XI.4.
27 
See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.54.
28 
Barbaro’s tasconicem is rendered tasconia in Agricola, De natura fossilium (1558, p. 191), and
as tasconium in Pliny the Elder, Natural History 33.21.
29 
Agricola (1558, p. 191).
pp. 78-79 139

fire, and, not absorbing moisture, it does not take on water, and so it must be
fatty, whether thin or thick.30
But let us go back to sand. Quarry sand has the highest degree of good-
ness. There is also river sand, found beneath the first layer of the riverbed
and, in streams, under the ledges where the water drops down. There is also
sea sand. For this to be good it must be blackish and shiny as glass. The col-
ours of sand are black, white and red. The black is very good; among those
quarried the white is the worst. The red was used in Rome but now they use
the black called ‘pozzolana’, which is very good. Carbonised sand is earth
that has been burned by fire enclosed in the mountains;31 it is more solid than
unbaked earth, softer than tuff, and more commendable. Sand mixed with
gravel is useful in foundations, and the most recommended is that which is
finest, angular,32 and without soil. Among those of the sea, that which is
largest and closest to the shore is the best. It dries quickly; it wets quickly;
it falls apart because of the salt; and does not support weight. River sand is
good for plastering walls. Quarry sand serves for continuous vaults, but it is
fatty, strong, and makes cracks in walls. Among the quarry sands, the best
is that which makes a rasping sound when rubbed between the fingers and
which, when spilling down on white cloth, leaves behind neither soil [p. 79]
nor stain. Pozzolana gives a marvellous solidity to works built in water. Vit-
ruvius will speak about this below.

Chapter V
On lime and how to make it into a paste

[p. 79] (Vitruvius) [II.V.1] Having made clear what appertains to the supply of
sand, it is now necessary to use diligence so that the burnt lime is of white stone,
that is, of silica. That which is of the densest and hardest silica will be more usefully
employed in masonries, but that which is spongy will be good in plaster. When the
lime is slaked, then the mortar must be made into a paste in this way: it is tempered

30 
‘Fatty’ sands are those which contain some amount of clay; quarried or excavated sands
are usually fatty, and because of the clay, they tend to repel water. ‘Lean’ sands are those
without clay; sea sands are often lean.
31 
Sand made from igneous rocks formed after lava flows have cooled.
32 
That is, with grains that are faceted, not round; today known as ‘sharp’.
140 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

by taking three parts of quarry sand with one part lime; if the sand comes from a
river or the sea, then two parts of sand and one of lime. In this way the ratio of malt
and tempering will be correct. Also if the sand is from a river or the sea, tiles shall
be broken up and sifted; the third part will make the best paste. [II.V.2] The reason
why lime, receiving water and sand, makes masonry more solid, appears to be
this: because stones, like other bodies, are made of elements. Those which have more
air in their mixture are soft; those which abound in water are slow because of the
moisture; those which have more earth are hard; those in which fire predominates
are fragile. So being of those bodies, if the stones are placed in the work before they
are burnt, finely crushed, and made into a paste with sand, they will not be solid
nor will they hold the building together; but when they are cast into the furnace
and taken by the great heat of the fire, they will lose the virtue of their hardness
so that, their forces burned and consumed, they remain with holes and pores that
are open and empty. [II.V.3] Thus the liquid and the air that is in the body of that
stone, being consumed and removed, having hidden within itself the remains of the
heat, when placed in water before the fire has escaped, it recovers its strength; and
the liquid, penetrating into the rareness of the pores, bubbles, and thus cooled down
sends that heat forth from the body of the lime. So too stones treated by the furnace
do not answer to their initial weight and, although they have the same size, when
the liquor has dried they are found to lack the third part of the weight. Their holes
thus being open and rare, they take the mixture of the sand and accompany it; and
drying with the stones, they unite with it and make the walls solid.
(Barbaro) In this present passage Vitruvius treats lime, its nature, mor-
tar, and a comparison of the materials of which lime is made. All stone that
is purged of moisture, dried, and fragile, and does not have something that
can be consumed by fire, is good for making lime. The ancient architects
praised lime made from stone that was extremely hard, dense, and white.
Vitruvius praises silica, although others say that for lime any stone that is
quarried is better that that which is gathered; that shady, damp stone turns
out harder than dry stone; and that white is better than dark. Lime made
of hard sandstone is by nature fatty and has no salt; it is denser and when
filed produces powder. Lime that is burnt for sixty hours is the most highly
praised; it will remain a third lighter than the stone it is made from. The
wonderful thing is the bubbling that it makes when water is thrown onto it.
In the fourth chapter of the twenty-first book of Saint Augustine’s City of
God is found this fine sentiment:
pp. 79-80 141

Lime conceives fire from fire, and the cold clod being immersed in wa-
ter, it brings forth the hidden fire that is manifest to none of the senses
but is known by experience, so that, although the fire does not appear,
it is yet known to be inside. We call that ‘living lime’, as the hidden fire
is like the invisible soul of the visible body. How wonderful is it that
by being extinguished it ignites more? And that, in removing it, the
hidden fire is infused in water? Being first cold, it is then made to boil
by that very thing by which [p. 80] all boiling things are made to cool
down. It thus appears that the clod expires while the fire goes out, and
finally remains dead, so that throwing water on it again, it no longer
burns; and that lime which was called ‘living’, now extinguished, is
called ‘dead’. Further, lime does not boil when infused with oil.33

I say that the heat that lime acquires in the furnace, enclosed within
it, constricts, fleeing from the cold of water as though from its enemy; and
by that constricting it is reinforced and becomes fire. So water ignites the
lime but cannot ignite the ashes, because in the ashes the heat is consumed.
So lime, treated in the furnace and purged by fire, is light, sonorous,34 and
highly praised; when wetted, it evaporates with a huge clamour. More sand
is mixed with this kind than with that whose chips have turned into powder
in the furnace. Mortar is made softer by sifting the sand; thicker when the
sand is angular; stronger when a third part of crushed tiles are added and it
is thoroughly mixed and beaten.

Chapter VI
On pozzolana

[p. 80] (Vitruvius) [II.VI.1] There is also a kind of powder which by its nature
makes wonderful things. It is born in Baiae and in the fields of those who are near
Mt. Vesuvius. This, tempered with lime and with stones, not only gives strength
to other buildings but also made stronger by it are the great works that are made

St. Augustine, The City of God 21.4. The Italian translation is Barbaro’s.
33 

That is, they make the ringing sound that is characteristic of metals when struck, in
34 

contrast to non-metals which make a dull sound.

142 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

in the sea. The reason for this is that below those mountains and under the ground
are extremely hot and dense fountains, which would not exist except in their depths
they have sulphur, alum, or bitumen which make enormous fires. Thus the fire and
the vapour from the flames penetrating amongst the veins and burning renders
that earth light, and the tuff that is born in those places absorbs and is without
liquid. Thus three things of similar nature being formed by the vehemence of the
fire into a concurrent mixture, as soon as they receive liquid, they unite. Taking
moisture and hardening, they unite and solidify such that neither the sea nor the
force of water can dissolve them. [II.VI.2] That fierce heat exists in those places is
demonstrated by this: that in the mountains of Cumae and Baiae the places for the
baths are excavated where the hot vapours originate. These vapours, borne up from
the depths by the force of the fire, penetrate through the earth, and passing into those
places, rise, whence great benefit is derived for those who sweat. Similarly it is nar-
rated anciently that fierce heat grew and was abundant under Mt. Vesuvius, and
then the flames spread through the surrounding fields. [II.VI.3] So that stone which
is called ‘sponge’ or ‘Pompeiian pumice’, perfectly burnt, appears to be reduced into
this quality from another kind of stone. The sort of sponge which is quarried there
is not born anywhere except around Mt. Etna and the hills of Mysia, called Cat-
acecaumene by the Greeks, and elsewhere if there are places with these properties.
If then in those regions are found sources of hot waters, and it is narrated by the
ancients that in the concavities of mountains hot vapours are found, and the flames
have gone wandering through many places, it truly appears to be a sure thing that
by the heat of fire from the tuff and from the earth, as from lime in the furnaces, so
from these stones moisture is drawn. [II.VI.4] So from things that are unequal and
dissimilar united together and condensed into one virtue, and the heat, deprived
of moisture and suddenly saturated by water, uniting the bodies together, it boils
due to the hidden heat and makes it so that those strongly unite and quickly receive
the strength of solidity. There remains to us the desire to know why, there being in
Etruria many sources of boiling water, there is not also the powder that is born in
such places, which for the same reason makes works built under water solid. But be-
fore that can be asked, it seems to me that an account must be given of it. [II.VI.5]
In all regions and all places are not found the same [p. 81] sorts of earth or stones:
some are earthy; some are of coarse sand; some gravelly; others of fine sand; and oth-
ers are different again in other places, and all are of unlike and unequal manners.
As the regions are, so are the stones that are found there. This can be well considered:
that there where the Apennines gird the parts of Italy and Tuscany almost no region
is lacking in quarried sand, but beyond the Apennines, where the Adriatic Sea is,
p. 81 143

none is found, neither in Achaia nor in Asia. In short, beyond the sea the name is
almost unheard of. Thus not in all places where the springs of hot water boil can
the same commodity of things concur together; everything (as ordained by nature)
is divided and distributed not according to human wishes but by kind. [II.VI.6] In
those places therefore in which there are no earthy mountains, but which retain the
qualities of disposed matter, the springs, passing through those, are burned by the
force of the fire. It dries that which is soft and tender and leaves that which is hard.
So, as in Campania the burnt earth becomes powder, the burnt earth in Etruria
becomes lignite, and both materials are excellent in buildings. But they retain one
force in buildings that are made on the ground, another in the great works that
are made in the sea, because the virtue of the material there is softer than tuff and
more solid than earth. Of that tuff which is completely burned from the bottom by
the force of the heat in some places is made that sort of sand that is called lignite.
(Barbaro) Pliny takes from this passage what he writes in the thirteenth
chapter of the thirty-fifth book.35 He doesn’t understand that Vitruvius is
talking here about the pozzolana that is used today in Rome. The rest is easy
to interpret.

Chapter VII
On the places where stone is cut

[p. 81] (Vitruvius) [II.VII.1] Up to here I have reasoned clearly about lime and
sand, about what different kinds there are, and what powers they have. It follows
in order what is to be said about stone quarries, from which great quantities of
squared stones and rubble are quarried for buildings. These are found in vari-
ous and most dissimilar manners, since some are soft, like the red ones, those of
Paliano,36 those of Fidenae, and those of Albano around Rome, while others are
temperate, like those of Tivoli, those of Amiternum, those of Soracte, and others of
this sort; still others are hard, such as flints. There are also other kinds, such as the
red and black tuff in Campania, and the white in Umbria, in the area of Piceno

See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.53.

35 

Paliano (in the province of Frosinone) is the site of a Roman-era pozzolana quarry. Cfr.
36 

Morgan (1914, p. 50, ‘Palla’); Granger (1931, pp. 106-107, ‘Palla’, ‘unknown’); Schofield
(2009, p. 49, ‘Pallia’).
144 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and in that of Marca Trivisana,37 which is cut, like wood, with a toothed saw.
[II.VII.2] But all those that are soft have this utility: that when the stones are
taken out of the quarry they are easily handled in the work; if they are covered, they
support weights. But if hardened by air, frozen by frost, and dripped on by water,
they break. If they are in the area of the sea, they are eaten by the salt; nor can they
stand great heat. Those of Tivoli, and those which are like that, support the weights
of the work and the ravages of bad weather, but they are not secure from fire: as
soon as they are touched by it they break, because in their natural tempering 38 they
have little humour and not much earth, but much of air and fire. Thus being of little
earth and humour, the air is driven out of them by the force of the vapour; the fire,
also penetrating, comes after it and occupies the empty spaces of the veins, boils, and
renders them similar to its burning bodies. [II.VII.3] There is also another stone
quarried within the confines of the area of Tarquinia; called Anitianus,39 it is of
the colour of those of Albano. The workshops of these are found especially around the
lake of Bolsena and in the Stratoniese prefecture.40 These have infinite virtues be-
cause neither great frosts nor the force of fire harms them; they are firm and, because
of this, durable in old age, since in their mixture they have little of air and fire but
a moderate amount of humour [p. 82] and much of earth; and thus, made solid
with dense compositions, they suffer harm from neither storms nor the forces of fire.
[II.VII.4] This can be best judged by the monuments made from those stones that
are around the land of Ferentium, because they have large, handsomely made stat-
ues and wonderfully sculpted figurines, flowers, and acanthus which, although they
are old, appear to be as new as if they had just been made. Similarly, metal workers
use moulds made of these stones for casting; and they have some enormously capa-
cious ones for founding metals; if they were near Rome, it would be worthwhile
having all things made by these workshops. [II.VII.5] But the necessity of nearness

37 
This name for the area around Treviso dates from the 1200s. Vitruvius clearly says ‘Venice’
(Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 16r, venetia) where Barbaro says Treviso; Barbaro might be ‘refining’
Vitruvius on the basis of his own knowledge of stone quarries in the area. There are various
quarries located in Alpine foothill towns from Revine Lago, south to Cison di Valmarino,
to Follina where a kind of sandstone known locally as pietra dolze (‘soft stone’) has been
quarried since the 1500s.
38 
That is, their mixture of the primary elements.
39 
Lapis Anitianus, also known as pietra manziana, a trachyte; see Giardini and Colasante
(2002, Appendice, p. 219).
40 
In all three of his editions Barbaro refers to the prefettura Stratoniese for Vitruvius’s Latin
prefectura Statoniensi (Fra Giocondo 1511, p. 16r). Breislak (1786, p. 96) reports that what is
now Lago di Mezzana was historically known as Statoniese, and stone was indeed quarried
there.
p. 82 145

presses us to use the red ones, those of Paliano, and those which are close to Rome. If
anyone wants to place them in work without defect it is necessary to prepare them
in this way. Having to build, two years earlier, not in winter but in summer,
these stones are quarried and left lying in the open. Those which the rains and bad
weather have ravaged for the space of two years shall be placed in the foundations;
the others, not broken as though approved by nature, can maintain themselves
above ground in building. These things must be observed not only in squared stones,
but also in works of rubble.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius treats stones made by nature and very easily
shows their diversity, uses, and advantages. All of this material was likewise
taken and relieved of weight (if I may say so) by Pliny in the twenty-second
chapter of the thirty-fifth book.41 Now we too will sum this up. Five kinds
of natural stones are found: gem, marble, whetstone, silicate and rock. Gems
are known by their substance, from seeing, touching, and filing. They are
heavier and colder than glass; are not affected by the file; have a steadier,
clearer gleam; the more they are looked at, the more they fill and delight
the eye; they do not grow dim in lamplight; and they are of a lively and
full substance. The architect does not deal with these because they are not
used in building. Marbles can be filed, they are large and shine; silicates
have flakes; whetstones have grains; rocks do not shine. Reasoning about
stones, we can understand their qualities by considering the time to quarry
them, the quantity, quality, comparison, their use, and the buildings built.
White stones are more obedient than dark ones; transparent ones better
than opaque. The more they resemble salt, the more unmanageable they are.
Granular stone, such as sand, is rough. If black spots come out of it, it cannot
be tamed. Angular granular stone is more solid than rounded. The less it is
veined, the more whole it is, and it lasts longer when its colour is pure and
clear. The best is that whose veining is similar to stone. Small veins make the
stone look bad. The more twisted the veins are and the more they turn, the
more austere it is. The knotty kind is sharper. The stone that has a line in its
middle that is red like putrefaction is easier to cleave; the next easiest is the
white stone; that which looks like green ice is the most difficult. The number
of veins shows that the stone is inconstant and will crack. Straight veins are
judged to be the worst. The stone whose flakes are sharpest and clearest are
the most solid. The stone whose surface remains the smoothest when broken

41 
See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.43-51.
146 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

is the most suitable for the chisel. Rough stone: the whiter it is, the less it
obedient it is to iron. Dark stone: the more the moon wanes, the less obe-
dient it is to iron. Every ignoble stone: the harder it is, the more cavernous
it is. That which does not absorb water when this is sprinkled on it is more
raw. Every heavy stone is more solid and can be made smoother than light
ones, and the lightest of the heavy ones is more fragile. That which makes a
ringing sound when struck is denser than that which doesn’t. The one which,
when rubbed, smells of sulphur is harder than the one that has no odour.
The one that is most resistant to the chisel will resist water and bad weather
for a longer time. Every stone is softer when it is newly quarried. I have seen
in England that it is necessary to work them in the quarries because if they
stay for a long time they harden so that they can’t be worked unless they are
placed in water for an entire winter. When the south wind blows it is easier
to work stone than when the north wind blows. That stone which becomes
heavier in water will come apart because of moisture. That which crumbles
in fire will not withstand [p. 83] the sun. Let that be all that is said about the
comparison of stones, since Leon Battista Alberti has gathered this.42 Other
things pertaining to stone will be discussed below.

Chapter VIII
On the manners of building walls and their qualities,
ways and places

[p. 83] (Vitruvius) [II.VIII.1] The manners of building masonry walls are these:
first that which is made like a reticule, which is now used by everyone; then the an-
cient, which is called ‘incertum’. Of these two the most graceful is the reticular one,
in which cracks are easily made because it has beds and joints running unrestrained
on every side. The incertum manner, seating the stones one on top of the other like
imbricated tiles, is not handsome like the reticulated but it renders the wall much
more solid. [II.VIII.2] It is true that both manners must be impasted with the most
minute things so that the walls, thickly covered with mortar made from lime and
sand, hold together for a longer time since, being of soft and rare virtue and the
juice of the lime escaping, they dry out. But when they abound in a supply of lime

42 
See Alberti (1485 2.9); (1988, pp. 49-50).
p. 83 147

and sand, the wall that will have absorbed the most moisture will not lose strength
so quickly but will hold together. But as soon as the humid force is sucked from the
lime by the rareness of the stones, then the lime, detaching itself from the sand,
dissolves and the stones cannot adhere to this and over time the wall will go to
ruin. [II.VIII.3] This can be understood from some monuments around Rome that
are made with marble or squared stones, in which and between which the mortar,
tamped and filled, having lost strength due to old age and its rareness dried by the
stones, is ruined; and the joints, dissolved by the frost, are dissipated. [II.VIII.4]
If one does not wish to incur this defect he shall make the walls of two feet, leaving
a cavity in the middle along the pilasters on the inside, and they shall be either of
squared red stone or baked earth, or of regular-shaped stones of flint, and the faces
bound with dovetails of iron and lead. Thus built not in heaps and willy-nilly but
made in an orderly way, the work can last forever without defects, since the beds
and joints of those, being seated and enchained together, will not push on the wall,
nor allow the pilasters or supports, tied together, to go to ruin. [II.VIII.5] So the
walls of the Greeks must not be scoffed at.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius teaches us the way and manners of putting togeth-
er the stones, commends walls of bricks, and with fine examples proves
what he says. Before I explain Vitruvius, I will talk about the parts of the
building above the foundation and what role is played by each of them.
In every building we have to consider the bottom part, the top part and
the sides. The bottom part is the pavement or ground; the top part is the
roof and the ridges; the sides are the inner and outer walls. The pavement
will be discussed in the seventh book; the roofs in the fourth. Now we are
concerned with the wall, which differs from the foundation in this: that
the foundation consists in a single, unitary component laid within the sides
of trenches, while the wall is composed of several parts—the base, the belt
course, the crown, the bones and supports, the openings, the lips, the infill,
and its observances. We will set forth the use of each of these parts, like
physicians do when, in the constitution of their art, they explain the use of
the parts of the human body.
The base is the lowest part—that which rises from the foundation—and
is much thicker than the wall; it could be called a scarp. The belt course
and crown are parts of the wall; the latter on the top and the former in the
middle. The belt course is the middle part and is the tie that belts the wall
all around like a cornice; in city walls we might call this a ‘cordon’, while
in other walls they are called ‘string courses’, ‘belts’, or regoloni. The bones
148 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and supports are the corners, pilasters, posts, columns, beams and all that
which supports the openings; they can be either curved or straight, since the
arch is like a curved beam, a beam is like a crosswise column, and a column
like an upright beam. The openings, or lips, are such as windows, gun slits,
crenels, doors, holes, and niches, so-called according to [p. 84] their shape,
called concha in Latin.43 The infill is what is placed between the bones and
the openings and other parts.
Now we will speak of what is necessary for each part to be suitably
made, and about the quantity and quality of stone. Stones are either of reg-
ular surfaces, angles, and lines—thus called ‘squared’—or of irregular sur-
faces, angles, and lines—called ‘opus incertum’. Some stones are large and
cannot be managed without instruments and machines; others are small and
can be lifted with one hand; still others, called ‘just’, are in the middle.
Stones have different qualities. Some are living, strong, and filled with mois-
ture, like flint and marble, in which sound and strength are innate; others
are without moisture and lightweight, like tuff and sandstones. Marbles are
close to the honour of gemstones in their beauty and grace. Especially noble
are those marbles which are marvellous thanks to their variety of colour,
great whiteness, fineness, and shine or transparency, such as Parian, por-
phyry, serpentine, alabaster, and similar mixed marbles and granites. Flint
actually has many qualities: hard, soft, strong, brittle, heavy, light; fire can-
not reduce it to ash or cause it to flake; it withstands cold and water but does
not shine because it is not marble, but it is used in building, as are some
other stones. Whetstones such as coticule are used to sharpen steel; some
stones used in the Indies for cutting are also used to sharpen iron. They are
consumed little by little by these iron things that they sharpen but the other
things are consumed before they are. The part that faces the sun is better
than the part underneath, because the sun perfects it. Stones differ in their
properties, such as lodestone for its power; calamachnus for its colour; am-
mochrysus for painting; alabandine for its shape; trochite for its ability to
resist fire, as magnesium resists water. The properties of lodestone are noted:
it attracts and repels iron, shows the regions of the heavens and the winds to
sailors, and makes marvellous effects for unknown causes. The ‘reed foam’

43 
The Italian word nicchia (a shell-shaped recess) is derived from nicchio, seashell, thought in
its turn to derive somehow from the Latin mitilus or mussel shell (thus concha); the English
‘niche’ is taken from the French.
p. 84 149

called calamochnus44 is extremely strong and extremely hot, and consumes the
bodies buried in it.45 Trochite is striated and grooved on its surface, in the
middle of which is a point from which all the grooves begin; the surface is
rimmed like a light drum, and it moves by itself if vinegar is poured on it.46
Ammochrysus—that is, golden sand—has the colour of gold and is flaky; if
a powder is made from it, it dries ink in writing. Alabandine displays several
figures in itself.47 However, these stones are of little use in building, although
they can be appreciated in some ornaments.
I have spoken of the quantity and quality of stones; now I will speak of
the way they are put together. First, a few observations. Each stone must be
integral, not muddy, and well wetted, by a stream if possible. Solid stones
are known by their sound. Again, those quarried are more suitable. Stones
used more than once do not turn out well and do not stick because they have
already taken in moisture. Some fill foundations with small stones and a
great quantity of mortar; others put into them all sorts of rubble. Imitation
must be made of nature which, in making mountains, places the softest ma-
terials between the stones that are the most solid. Thus over large, square,
integral stones is thrown a great quantity of dissolved lime. The strongest
parts of the stone are placed where there is the greatest need for firmness.
If the stone is apt to break, it is not placed on its side but lying down. The
face of the stone that is cut crosswise is stronger than that cut lengthwise.
In making foundations for columns it is not necessary that the foundation
be continuous; instead, below the columns (so that they don’t make a hole in
the ground because of their weight) is built a little wall and inverted arches
are built from column to column.48 Dry and thirsty stone wants river sand;

44 
Cardano (1550, p. 162r) mentions calamochus harundium spuma (‘reed foam’), a kind of
pumice or limestone so called because it was found in damp, marshy places near reeds. See
also Agricola, De natura fossilium (1558, p. 241).
45 
Cardano (1550, p. 162r) claims that calamochnus is not dissimilar to the stone called
‘sarcophagus’ because of its reputation for decomposing bodies. For other mentions of
sarcophagus, see Alberti (1485, 2.9); (1988, p. 50); Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.27.
46 
Trochite is an individual section of a fossil crinoid resembling a small wheel. Cardano
(1550, p. 162r) says that trochite moves spontaneously if vinegar is poured on it. If a stone
sizzles and seethes when vinegar is dropped onto it, this indicates the presence of calcium
carbonate and so the rock is limestone, dolomite or marble.
47 
Regarding the ‘figures’ of alabandine, see Cardano (1550, p. 149r). Occasionally mineral
crystals will merge or ‘twin’, producing shapes such as crosses. For example, ‘iron-cross
twins’ can exhibit the forms of two pentagonal dodecahedra.
48 
Inverted arches in foundations are mentioned again in Book III, Barbaro, p. 135.
150 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 2.8.1. [Three kinds of masonry walls: top) Opus reticulatum; middle)
in regular courses; bottom) opus incertum] Image [p. 77]

Fig. 2.8.2. [Two kinds of cavity walls] Image and captions [p. 77]: left)
orthostatae; right) ‘box work’ with stones of equal sizes
pp. 84-85 151

stone that is humid by nature wants quarry sand. Sea sand is not used for
works that face south. On small stones thick, solid mortar is used, although
the strong one [i.e., that made with a third of crushed tiles] was approved
by the ancients. It is beneficial to wet the walls often; stones that are humid
inside and blackened, being broken and in pieces, do not need to be wetted.
Large stones made slippery by liquids are more easily cut, but they must be
laid on soft and liquid mortar.
Now it remains to us to speak of the manners of building masonry
walls. There are three ways to build masonry walls: in regular courses, opus
incertum, and opus reticulatum (Fig. 2.8.1). Vitruvius deals with this in the
present chapter and is easier to understand if several terms are explained.
The first is cemento, which is rough, uncut rubble; unshaped, without any
determined form. Every day in Rome there are oxen laden with this, and
in the working areas [p. 85] of Campania rubble is still called that. Opus
reticulatum and opus incertum are two ways of laying stone together. Opus
reticulatum is so called because in walls the joints between one stone and the
next form a diagonal grid pattern. This cannot be done unless at least one of
the faces of the stone is squared and clean. It is also necessary that the cor-
ners of the stones touch each other, as shown in Fig. 2.8.1. Opus incertum is
that made with stones of different shapes arranged randomly; that which is
called ‘box work’ is what is referred to below as enplecton (Fig. 2.8.2, right).
But here we are dealing with what is seen on the outside. The correction
of opus incertum, in order to make it secure and strong, is made as shown in
Fig. 2.8.2 (left)—that is, it is necessary to bind the two faces together using
masonry placed crosswise and to fill the spaces with stones mixed with a
lot of mortar. Regular walling is that where the stones are squared and me-
dium-sized and large ones are placed together in a regular way, square and
plumb (Fig. 2.8.1, middle). Vitruvius mentions this, saying:
(Vitriuvius) [II.VIII.5] So the walls of the Greeks must not be scoffed at, even
though they do not make a finish of soft stone; also when they depart from squared
stone, they make courses of flint and of hard stone.49

A line found in other translations is missing from Barbaro’s text. Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511,
49 

pp. 17v-r); Granger (1931, p. 113-115, ‘and as with brick buildings, they bind their joints in
alternate courses, and so they produce strength firm enough to last’); Schofield (2009, p. 51,
‘and as though building with bricks, bind their vertical joints in alternating courses and so
achieve maximum duration for eternity’).
152 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) The technique of laying stones in courses is between opus

incertum and that which is made of squared stones. It must be observed
that the base—which is perhaps what Vitruvius calls the ‘stereobate’50 —must
have a facing of stones that are squared, large, and hard, since this part of the
wall needs to be firmer, being a part that has the nature of a foundation that
supports the entire load. Moreover, it will be close to the humidity of the
water and the earth. This must be especially observed in Venice, as well as in
houses that are well built. Cato says that you should raise the building above
the ground by one foot with solid stone and mortar, while the other parts
can be made of unbaked brick.51 But in Venice this part is raised higher than
that—to a great height indeed—and is made solid; it can arrive at a height
of five or six feet. Placed on top is a cordon of stone in a round shape, in the
form of a belt that projects outwards. Between the belts are placed some ties
of larger stones, which are like concatenations of the bones, and of the bones
with the finishes on the inside and outside; thus stones that are long, wide,
and solid are required. They also make other belt courses to bind the corners
and keep the work together, but these are thinner. The ones described before
must be plumb and square with the wall both inside and outside; the larger
ones, such as cornices or coronae, must project and be securely tied back to
the courses so that, when the pavement is placed on top, the building is well
covered. The stones in the walls should be placed on top of each other as
said above, like imbricated tiles, so that the joints between two on top are
directly over the middle of one below; this must be true especially in the
belt courses and the ties. In works of opus reticulatum the ancients laid belt
courses of five bricks—or of at least three—in which all were of the same
thickness as the others—or at least not thicker—but longer and wider. In
works with regular courses, it is sufficient to place one two-foot brick every
five feet as a tie. When building with larger stones less frequent ties are
needed and the cornice alone is almost sufficient. This must be done with the
greatest diligence and using firm, wide, regularly-shaped stones of medium
size, with unbaked bricks in the walls. The corona must be made of baked
earth because that provides protection from the rain and is lightweight. It
must be observed that marble rejects lime and stains easily, which is an even
stronger reason why the ancients did not use marble with mortar. The bones,

Barbaro discusses stereobates and foundations in Book III, Barbaro, p. 134.

50 

Marcus Porcius Cato, De re rustica 14.4.

51 
pp. 85-86 153

supports, and openings will be discussed later. The infill is placed between
the bones, the openings, and the other parts. Consideration must be given
to opening, filling, and finishing both inside and out because it is seen that
there is a difference between the bones and the infill: stones that are large,
solid, and regular will be placed in the bones, while stones that are small,
broken, and less regular will be placed in the infill, with a lot of lime and
sand. It is true that walling would be perfect if all the stones were squared
but, that being too expensive, it is necessary that between one surface and
another some regularly-shaped stones be laid crosswise in the wall to unite
the surfaces. The stones for infill shouldn’t weigh more than a pound because
smaller stones have better hold. Stones that are the best and proven must be
placed on the outside face, as Vitruvius says, but far from where water falls
[p. 86]; there must be no stones of unequal size or weight, and they should
correspond on the right and the left, close and far away, following the cours-
es that were begun. The inside finishing must be of a softer stone and follow
the rules that are set out in the seventh book. The wall made of unbaked
bricks, which the ancients called lateritius, makes the building sounder but
it is vulnerable to earthquakes. It must be made thick to support the floors.
Lute for building is similar to pitch, which slowly dissolves when placed in
water and sticks to your hands; when thoroughly dry it solidifies. Works in
lute will be discussed in the seventh book.52 Stone without a facing must be
squared, solid, large, hard, and without flakiness. It is placed in the work
with clips and dowels. The clips make the stone stay even; the dowels tie the
one above to the one below. If the clips and dowels are of brass, they will
not rust; they are fixed in place with molten lead. Those of wood are made
in the form of dovetails. Those of iron are made to resist rust with white lead
or gypsum. It is necessary to be careful that no water touches the clips. But
let us return to walling.
For those walls that are made of rubble, I would place boards or wattles
for support until they are dry. Here too is found the way to cast columns in
wooden formwork in order to reduce expense. The formwork is filled with
all sorts of rubble and a lot of mortar. Some place a trunk of durmast oak or
bricks in the middle for safety, while others make a paste with tiny stones.
These are left to dry thoroughly. Then, when dry, the formwork is removed,
then the finish and the plaster are put on the column, and it is finished with

52 
See Barbaro, pp. 314-315; Vitruvius VII.III.11.
154 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

marble, breccia or granite, as desired. Stones that are round must be avoided
as far as possible. I’ll go on to say that the lime is dry when it sends out a kind
of efflorescence—a certain kind of ‘bloom’ that builders know well. When
the work is finished, it should be covered with straw or something like that
so that the lime does not dissolve before it has taken hold. Then, when work
resumes again, you won’t be sorry if it gets thoroughly wet with water. The
wall makes its own armature. It is necessary to leave a generous space for
the openings, making an arch that can be filled in until there is a need for
the openings, so that the weight does not press too hard on the empty parts.
If you want to add an opening to the wall after a certain period of time, it
is necessary to leave teeth that protrude. Cornerstones, because they par-
ticipate in two sides and are intended to keep the walls straight, must be
extremely firm, with long, hard stones that are like arms (Fig. 2.8.3).

Fig. 2.8.3. [Cornerstones] Image and caption [p. 77]

pp. 86-87 155

Let this be all there is to say about this section. When carefully thought
about, there is no doubt that it will be of great benefit for the considerations
of the learned ones and the operations of the master builders.
(Vitruvius) [II.VIII.5 cont.] These buildings of the Greeks were built in two
ways. One is called equal; the other, unequal. [II.VIII.6] The first is when all the
courses are equal in size; the other is when the orders of the courses are not aligned
equally. Both manners are firm because, first, the stones are of a solid and firm na-
ture, nor can they dry the liquid from the mortar but are conserved in its humour
for an extremely long time. Their beds, flat and well levelled, do not let the mortar
sag and, well bonded with the continued thickness of the wall, they last for an
extremely long time. [II.VIII.7] There is another manner of building, called en-
plecton, which is also used by our rustics. The front faces of this are usually finished
but the other faces are left as they were born; placed together with mortar, they are
connected with alternating joints. Our builders, to make short work of it, making
the courses straight, attend to the front faces and fill in the middle with broken
stones and mortar. In this way in that walling are erected three surfaces: two on the
fronts and one in the middle made of filling. The Greeks do not do like this. Placing
the stones flat and ordering the lengths of the courses in thickness with alternating
joints, they do not fill the middle but with their bricks…
(Barbaro) …called frontati…
(Vitruvius) [II.VIII.7 cont.] …they make the wall continuous and of a solid
thickness. In addition to the other things they interpose those which have fronts on
both sides, called diatoni because of this, of continuous thickness, which, strongly
bonding, confirms the solidity of the walls. [II.VIII.8] But if anyone would want
from these commentaries to observe and select this sort of walling, he would do
[p. 87] very well to have a care for perpetuity because those buildings which
are of soft stone and subtle aspect of beauty cannot be otherwise than ruined with
time. So, when the arbitrators for party walls are selected, the estimate is not made
according to the cost at which they were built but, discovering by instruments the
precise locations, they take away the eightieth part of each year that has passed; thus
they command that a part of the remainder of the sum should be given back for those
walls, for we deem that those walls cannot last more than eighty years. [II.VIII.9]
Of the walls made of bricks, as long as they are made perpendicular and straight,
nothing is taken away; the price they are built for will always be the amount at
which they are estimated. So in some cities are seen public works and private and
royal houses built of bricks. First, in Athens the wall that looks towards Mount
156 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Hymettus and Pentelicus, and the walls53 of the Temple of Jupiter; and in that of
Hercules, the cellae are of brick, the columns and the architrave around the temple
being of stone. In Italy in Arezzo there is an extremely well-made wall, and in
Tralles the house made by the Attalid kings, which is given as a residence for the
one who holds the priesthood of the city. So in Lacedaemon were removed from
some walls the paintings that were in forms and frames of wood; cut from the
walls, enclosed and encased, these were taken into the comitium for the adornment
of the aedilship of Varro and Minerva. [II.VIII.10] The house of Croesus, which
the people of Sardis consigned to the citizens for the repose of the aged to the college
of the elders…
(Barbaro) …called a gerusian54…
(Vitruvius) [II.VIII.10 cont.] …was of brick. Similarly the royal house in
Halicarnassus of the most powerful King Mausolus, for all that he had adorned
everything in Proconnesian marble, the walls were nevertheless made of brick.
Since that time those temples have had a marvellous firmness, with plastering and
hardened finishes that shine like glass. Nor was this done out of any necessity that
the king had, because he was most rich in revenue, being the one who controlled all
of Caria. [II.VIII.11] But his astuteness and acumen in building is to be considered
in this way: being of Mylasa and having seen the site of Halicarnassus fortified by
nature and having a suitable bazaar and convenient port, he built there his resi-
dence. This place is similar to the curvature of a theatre. In the lower part, near the
port, is the forum. In the middle of the curvature and the perimeter of the high part
there is an enormous square, in the middle of which is built the Mausoleum, of such
well-made and noble work that it is counted among the seven spectacles of the
world. In the middle of the high fortress is the Temple of Mars, which holds the
statue of the colossus called Acrolith, made by the noble hand of Telochares, although
others say it is by Timotheus. On the tip of the right horn55 is the Temple of Venus
and of Mercury, near the spring of Salmacis, [II.VIII.12] of which, out of false
53 
Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 18r) has parietes, which Barbaro has taken for pareti, walls. Cfr.
Morgan (1914, p. 53, ‘Patras’); Granger (1931, vol. I, p. 116-117, Patris, ‘Patrae’); Schofield
(2009, p. 52, ‘Patras’).
54 
In Letter 42 to the emperor Trajan, Pliny the Younger refers to a fire that destroyed
two buildings, one of which was a gerusian; see Bandini (1833, p. 180-181). The term was
translated as ‘town-house’ by William Melmoth (Pliny the Younger 1909, Pt. 4, Letter
XLII). It was left untranslated by John Delaware Lewis (1879, p. 345), who commented in
a note that, ‘It is disputed whether this was a Senate-house or an Asylum for old men who
had deserved well of the State’.
55 
Later on, in Book V, the curve of the theatre is also compared to curved horns. See
Barbaro, p. 223.
pp. 87-88 157

opinion, it is said that those who drink of it are afflicted with a venereal infirmity.
But I am not sorry to say that this opinion has been falsely spread around the world,
because it cannot be as they say, that men because of that water become loose and
unchaste, as the virtue of that spring is very clear and the flavour excellent. Melas
and Arevanias from Argos and from Troezen, having led a combined colony to
those places, chased out the barbarians from Caria and the Leleges. These, chased
out, gathered together in the mountains and made many incursions; robbing in
those places, they cruelly ruined the inhabitants. It then happened that one of the
inhabitants, to profit from the goodness of the waters, made near that spring a
hostelry that was furnished with all things and, working there, gratified those
barbarians who, first one and then another and then many congregating together,
from their hard and feral customs, were reduced of their own volition to the usages
and gentleness of the Greeks. That water therefore, having mitigated the ferocious
breasts of the barbarians, acquired a reputation for instilling not dishonest infir-
mity but the sweetness of humanity. [II.VIII.13] It now remains for me, because I
am come to the declaration of their walling, that I describe how all of them are. So,
as on the right side is the Temple of Venus and the aforementioned spring, so on the
left horn [p. 88] there is the royal palace that Mausolus had built as his residence.
On the right is seen the square and the whole boundary of the port and the walls;
on the left is the secret port under the mountains formed such that no one can see or
know what is being done there, so that the king from his palace, without anyone
being aware of it, can command the sailors and soldiers as necessary. [II.VIII.14]
Then, after the death of Mausolus, Artemisia his wife remained, and the Rhodi-
ans, indignant that a woman should lord over all the cities of the Carians, set
about occupying the kingdom. The queen, being advised of this, commanded that
the fleet would remain closed in that port with the order that the soldiers and sailors
were to stay hidden, but that the remainder of the citizens were to appear on top of
the walls. The Rhodians having conducted their fleet into the larger port, the queen
ordered that they be hailed from the walls and the city promised to them. Thus they
left their ships and came inside the city. But the queen immediately, through the
channel that had been built, drew forth the fleet from the smaller port into the sea
and, entering into the large port, the sailors and soldiers disembarked and pulled
into the sea the empty ships of the Rhodians, who, having nowhere to take cover,
their vessels being removed, were all cut to pieces in the square. [II.VIII.15] Arte-
misia, boarding the ships of the Rhodians, set sail for Rhodes. The Rhodians seeing
that their ships returned adorned with garlands, thinking that they were their own
citizens, received the enemy. Then the queen took the city, killed the leaders, and
158 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

placed inside it a trophy of her victory. She had two statues of bronze made: one
represented the city of Rhodes; and the other her own image, depicted as though
sealing the city of Rhodes with a fiery iron. This done, the Rhodians, impeded by
religion because it was not permitted to remove consecrated trophies, built an edifice
around the statues; they covered them, erecting a place for guards in the custom of
the Greeks so that no one could go there. And they commanded that this would be
called Abaton, that is, inaccessible. [II.VIII.16] Therefore, such powerful kings not
having disdained works of brick, being able by plunder and by the things that were
brought to them from every side to make them not only of stone or of squared stone
but also of marble, I do not think that edifices built of brick are to be criticised, as
long as they are well made and straight. But why it is not permitted in Rome for
the Roman people to build in this way, I will give the reason. [II.VIII.17] Public
laws do not permit the thickness of walls in common places to be greater than a foot
and a half; and the other walls, so that the spaces are not made narrower, are made
of that same thickness. But those of unbaked bricks, if they are not made in two or
three courses of bricks, with the thickness of only a foot and a half cannot support
more than one floor. But in the majesty of that city with such a concourse of citizens
it was necessary to build innumerable habitations. The area inside Rome was not
able to accommodate such a multitude of people, therefore the situation made it
necessary to add height to the buildings. So with pilasters of stone, with exterior
walls of baked brick and interior walls of rubble, and with thick beams and floors
dovetailed together were built the heights to accommodate the rooms and high places
from where one looks down. So the Roman people without impediment have beau-
tiful residences, multiplying the floors and corridors to great heights. [II.VIII.18]
So, having explained that the reason why in Rome, due to the necessity of tight
spaces, walls are not made of unbaked bricks, now I will say how they must be made
so that they will last to an old age without defect. Let there be placed in the top of
the walls, below the covering of the roof, a wall of baked earth of the height of a foot
and a half which has the projections of the coronae and the cornices, and can thus
avoid the damages or defects that those walls usually have because when in the roof
the tiles are broken or thrown down by the winds, the projection and the belt of
baked bricks will not allow the unbaked bricks to be damaged, because the projec-
tion of the cornices will carry the drops of water far away. In this way the wall of
unbaked bricks will remain whole. [II.VIII.19] Whether the wall of baked bricks
is good or not cannot be judged [p. 89] in a short space of time. If it remains firm
in storms and gales and in summer, then it is proven because as soon as that which
is not made of good clay, or which is badly baked, is touched by ice or frost, it will
p. 89 159

show itself to be defective. That which in roofs cannot stand wear will be less good
in walling to support weights. Thus the walls covered with old tiles will be espe-
cially firm. [II.VIII.20] But I would not have it that wattles were ever discov-
ered, since as good as they are for rapidity and taking up less space, they are equal-
ly good for great public calamity because they are like sheaves prepared for fire. So
it appears that the expense of baked bricks, for all its sumptuousness, is better than
saving time with dangerous wattles. Also, those which have been placed in the
finishes make cracks in it, due to the disposition of the uprights and crosspieces, since
when the coatings are applied, receiving moisture, they swell and then, drying,
they shrink, and thus becoming thinner, they break the solidity of the coating. But
because some are forced to do like this either out of expediency or need or to separate
one space from another, this should be done: make it so there is a base that is raised
high so that it is not touched by the rubble pavement or by the pavement, because
if it is submerged there, with time it will rot; then, giving into itself, it will bend
and break the beauty of the coating. Up to here I have said as much and distinctly
as I could about walls and the preparation of their mortar; of what goodness it
shall be and what defects it can have. It remains for me to explain clearly that
which appertains to beams and floors, with what rationales the materials for mak-
ing them are prepared, and how they can last for a long time, as shown to us by the
nature of the things.
(Barbaro) I wanted to set forth the interpretation of the present chap-
ter without interruption, both because it is easy and clearly intelligible and
because I have exerted myself to summarise in my previous discourse all of
the material offered here. Thus every scholar can consider on his own all that
Vitruvius wanted to do in this part. And his intention will be seen to be to
reason as to the building of exterior and interior walls, as he says here at the
end, having divided this reasoning into several parts. In the first he spoke
about the manners of walling and gave the reasons for their defects and
assets, almost as though comparing them. In the second he explained the
walling of the Greeks, the three manners of it, and compared them to the
Roman way of building. In the third he praised the technique of building in
brick, showed the true way to do it, and with fine and historical commenda-
tions praised the buildings of Mausolus, king of Caria, and provided many
examples of those, accompanied by a discussion of the laws of the Roman
people—a case that allowed him to show that he was not ignorant of civil
law. This detailed digression completed, he came back to teaching us about
what was necessary for various sorts of interior walls, such as wattles, which
160 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

he will discuss again in the third chapter of the seventh book. Finally, having
achieved what he had wanted to do here, he tells us what he intends to do in
the next chapter. The terminology used for the interpretation is clear from
our commentary in other sections. See all of Pliny’s thirty-sixth book, and
you will find many things that are pertinent for our purposes. The figures
of walling are shown above, marked with their names if there is no other
description. Now Vitruvius goes on to speak about the rationale of wood.

Chapter IX
On cutting timber

[p. 89] (Vitruvius) [II.IX.1] The material must be cut at the beginning of au-
tumn, which will be until that time further on, when the Favonius begins to blow,
because from spring the trees are pregnant and they all send the virtue of their
properties to the branches and the fruits that they make each year. When thus by
the necessity of seasons they are made [p. 90] empty and humid, they become rare
and weak due the rareness, as female bodies are when they have conceived, and
from conception to birth they are not deemed to be sound. Nor are animals to be
sold, when they are gravid, given for healthy, since that which was inseminated
before, growing in the body, draws nutriments to itself from all the virtues of food;
and the longer the birth delays until maturity, the less solid it leaves the thing
which generated it. Thus as soon as the birth is sent forth, it receives into itself,
into its the empty and open veins, that which was detracted for another manner
of growth, now made available by the separation of the birth of the thing; and the
juice escaping, it is made firmer and returns to the pristine firmness of its nature.
[II.IX.2] For the same reason, at the time of autumn, the branches, weakened by
the ripeness of the fruits and the roots of the trees drawing juice from the earth,
recover and are restored to their initial firmness. So the force of winter compresses
and makes them solid for that season which we have said. So, when the trees are
cut with that rationale and at that season which I have said above, it will be a
useful and opportune thing. [II.IX.3] It is necessary to cut them such that you go
to the middle of the pith and leave the cut until, dripping out of it, the humour
dries so that the useless liquid found inside, exiting from its sapwood, will not
allow putridness to die in there nor ruin the quality of the material. When the tree
is dry and drips no longer, it is necessary to fell it to the ground. And in this way
pp. 90-91 161

it will be found perfect for use. [II.IX.4] That this is true can also be known from
shrubs, since when each in his season is bored to the bottom they are castrated; they
send forth from the pith the tainted and excessive humour and unhappy liquid and
thus, drying, they receive into themselves the lastingness of duration. But those
humours that do not have ways to exit from the trees, remaining inside, putre-
fy, and those trees are rendered empty and defective. If then the ones that remain
standing and are living, drying, do not grow old, certainly when the same are
felled to the ground to make timber, when they are handled in that way, they will
be able to last for a long time and usefully in buildings. [II.IX.5] These trees have
among them contrary and distinct virtues: durmast oak, elm, poplar, cypress, fir,
and the others suitable for building. So what can be done with fir cannot be done
with durmast oak, nor with cypress what is done with elm. Neither do the other
trees have that same resemblance of nature among themselves, but each species of
these with the dispositions and properties of principles compared with others, pro-
duce other sorts of effects in the works. [II.IX.6] So fir, having much of air and fire
but less of water and earth, being compounded of the lighter forces of nature, is not
heavy; content with its own natural rigour, it is not so readily bent by weight but
always remains straight in beam structures; but because it has more heat in itself
it produces and nourishes the woodworm, and by that is ruined. Also because of
this it is readily ignited, because the rareness of the air that is in that open body
receives fire and thus it sends forth large flames. [II.IX.7] That part of it which
is near to the earth before being cut, receiving humour through its roots from that
nearness, is rendered without knots and humid. That which is above, towards the
top, its branches sent into the air because of the vehemence of the heat, shall be cut
at a height of twenty feet above the earth; finished, it is called knotwood from the
hardness of its knots. That lower part when cut is divided by four cuts where the
humour can flow; casting off the sapwood, it is prepared for carpentry work and
is called sappineus.56 [II.IX.8] In contrast, durmast oak abounds in earth and,
having little of air, humour, and fire, when it is covered with soil in earthworks,
it holds for an infinite eternity; but because, having rareness in its pores, when it is
touched by humidity it does not admit humour into its body, but flees from that and
resists and warps and makes cracks in those works in which it is found. [II.IX.9]
Aesculus, by being temperate in all its principles, is very useful in buildings; but
placed in water, receiving humour through its pores, the air the fire being expelled,
[p. 91] by the operation of the humid force it is usually ruined. Turkey oak, cork

56 
Sappineus refers to the ‘choicest clear-grained wood from a tree’; see Ulrich (2007, p. 320).
162 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

oak, and beech, because they likewise have the mixture of humour, fire, and earth
and much air, the humour passing in there because of the rareness that they have,
soon rot. White and black poplar, willow, linden, and vitex, sated with air and
fire, temperate of humour, and having little of earth, compounded of a tempered
lightness, have in their use a marvellous rigidity. Not being hard by the mixture of
earth, they are white because of their rareness and they lend us a marvellous trac-
tability in inlay work. [II.IX.10] Alder, which grows close to the banks of rivers
and does not appear to have much usefulness, has the most beautiful ratios because
it is very temperate in air and fire, and has much earth and little humour; and so
because it does not have so much humour in its body, when placed in marshy sites
amidst the foundations of buildings with thickly driven piles, receiving into itself
those liquids of which by its nature it is needy, it lasts eternally and sustains very
great weights without defects; thus that which cannot last long above the ground,
placed in water, conserves itself eternally. [II.IX.11] This can be considered at Ra-
venna, where all works public and private under the foundations have piles of
this wood. Elm and ash have very great humours and very small parts of air and
fire, but are temperate of earth; they bend when placed in work because, due to the
abundance of humour, beneath weights they have no hardness but soon bend. As
soon as the humour that abounded in them when they were standing goes away,
either due to old age or because they were aged in the field, they become harder; and
in joints and mortices, because of their slowness, they receive firm concatenations.
[II.IX.12] Similarly the hornbeam, because it is of a minimum mixture of fire and
earth but has great amounts of air and water, is not fragile but can be resorted to for
all uses with great utility. The Greeks, who of that material made yokes for oxen,
because zygia is the name for yokes, call that material zygia. No less marvellous is
the nature of cypress and pine because, these trees having an abundance of humour
and having equal mixtures of the other principles, by the satiety of the humour they
split but are conserved until old age because the liquid that is inside those bodies is
of the right bitterness which, because of the asperity, does not permit woodworm
or other harmful little animals to penetrate. So works made of these sorts of trees
last forever. [II.IX.13] So too cedar and juniper have the same virtue, and as from
cypress and the pine comes resin…
(Barbaro) …which we call rasa…57

Rasa is a dialect term for resin; it sometimes appears as carasa; Barbaro uses the term again
57 

below as well as in the commentary on Vitruvius VII.I (Barbaro, p. 313).

pp. 91-92 163

(Vitruvius) [II.IX.13 cont.] …so too from cedar comes the oil called cedar-
wood oil, with which other things, such as books, oiled with that oil, do not suffer
woodworms or termites. The trees of those are similar to the foliage of the cypress,
and the veins of that material are straight. In the temple of Ephesus the simula-
crum of Diana and also the beams are of cedar; not only there but also in other
noble sacred places are works made of that material because of its eternity. These
trees are born mostly in Candia, in Africa, and in some parts of Syria. [II.IX.14]
But larch, which is not known except by the inhabitants around the banks of the
Po and the shores of the Adriatic, due to its great bitterness, is not only not affected
by the flight of the woodworm nor offended by caries,58 but neither does it receive
flame from fire nor can it burn on its own; if placed in the furnace like the stone
to make lime, with other woods it will be burned but not even then will it receive
flame or coals, but in a long interval it will hardly be consumed since among the
principles of which it is compounded it has very little temper of fire and of air, and
its material is thickened and hardened by humidity and earth. Not having porosity
by which fire can enter, it drives away the force of that; nor does it allow itself to be
offended by it very readily. This wood, due to its weight, is not supported in water,
so when it is transported it is placed in boats or on top of rafts of fir. [II.IX.15] But
the occasion requires that it be known how this material was discovered. Divine
Caesar, having the army around the Alps and having commanded the inhabitants
of [p. 92] those castella and lands to give them provisions, there was there a strong
castellum called Laregno, and those who were inside, entrusting themselves to the
natural fortification of the place, did not want to obey. Thus the Emperor pushed
ahead with the army. There was in front of the door a tower made of this material
with crosswise beams alternately doubled, like a pyre built high, so that with stakes
and stones they could drive away anyone who wanted to draw near. Seeing then
that these did not have any other arms except stakes and that because of the weight
of those they could not be thrown very far, it was commanded that sheaves be placed
below and set on fire. Very soon the soldiers made a great gathering. [II.IX.16] Af-
ter the flame around that material had taken the sheaves and risen to the heavens,
it was believed that the entire heap had fallen to the ground. But then when the
fire had extinguished itself and gone out, it was seen that the tower had not been
touched by the fire. Admiring this, Caesar commanded that, far out of range of the
arrows, the castellum was to be surrounded by trenches so that those inside were

Barbaro’s i caroli is Venetian dialect for the Italian le carie; see i Caroli used also by
58 

Cesariano (1521, p. XLIIIIr).

164 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

forced by fear to given themselves up to the emperor, who then asked them what
was that wood was that not consumed by fire. Then those showed him those trees, of
which there is an enormous supply, and for this that fortress and this material was
named laregna [i.e., larch]. This was transported along the Po to Ravenna, to the
colony of Fano, Pesaro and Ancona, and to other places and lands that are in that
region. That material, if it were convenient to move it to Rome, would be found to
be of the greatest utility in buildings and, if not in all things, at least in the boards
beneath the eaves around the insulae…
(Barbaro) …insulae—that is, houses of private persons (so called be-
cause all the houses were separate from each other)…
(Vitruvius) [II.IX.16 cont.] …if they were set in that material, they would
be freed from the danger of fire passing from one to the other, since this wood does
not receive either flames or coals and cannot make them on its own. [II.IX.17]
These trees have leaves that resemble pine; their material is no less extensive and
manageable for works in timber than that of sappineus mentioned above. It has a
liquid resin of the colour of Attic honey, which is beneficial for consumptives. I have
spoken about all the sorts of material, what properties they have by nature, and I
have expounded the reason with which they are generated. It follows that it must
be observed by what cause that fir which in Rome is called highland is worse than
lowland fir, which usefully lasts for an extremely long time in buildings. It appears
that these things take goodness or vice from the properties of the places. I will clearly
explain so that these things are manifest to anyone who wishes to think about it.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius has taught us about that which pertains to mate-
riatio (which is how timber is referred to): the time to cut trees, the reason,
the way to cut them, their nature and use. He has made worthwhile and
wise observations about fir, larch, and cedar, and has described several trees,
concluding clearly what he had explained up to this point. In similar fashion
we will set out all of the present material from the point of view of what we
have read in the good authors. So, in timber must be considered the time
and way of cutting them, their nature, their use, and the comparison of the
parts and the whole. According to Theophrastus, the durmast oak, silver fir,
and pine should be cut when the plants are coming into leaf; but maple, elm,
linden, and ash are to be cut after the vintage.59 Vitruvius would have them

59 
Theophrastus, Historia Plantarum 5.1.1-4. Theophrastus doesn’t include durmast in the
list of trees to be cut in the spring; he says that those to be cut in the spring are those whose
bark is stripped, thus fir, silver fir and pine. Durmast, he says, is to be cut latest of all, ‘early
winter at the end of autumn’ (5.1.2).
pp. 92-93 165

cut from the beginning of autumn until the time when the Zephyr begins to
blow. Columella gives the time as being from the twentieth to the thirtieth
of the waning moon;60 Vegetius from the fifteenth to the twenty-second;61
Hesiod when the leaves fall.62 Cato says durmast oak should be cut at the
solstice; material that has mature or green growth, when the seeds fall; elm,
when the leaves fall;63 Pliny says when the dog star is rising in the waxing
of the moon.64 This is an astronomical observation, since the force of the
moon moves all humour; the moon thus pulling the humour to the roots, the
rest of the material will be purer and more purged. So Pliny would have us
wait until the night that follows the day of the new moon, when that moon
is below ground. All of these authors have their reasons and for the most
part agree. Timber should not be used before three months have passed, nor
should it be dragged through the morning dew; indeed, after midday, when
the moon begins to wane, [p. 93] it must be cut very deeply all around in
order to allow the liquid to drain out and then its bark stripped, especially
those that bear fruit; but they must not be cut before the fruit is produced.
The felled trees should be placed where they are not exposed to either strong
sun or winds. Some are smeared with cow dung so that they dry uniform-
ly. Chestnut is purged in seawater. Material that is worked with a lathe is
submerged in water and mud for thirty days; some smear the material with
sludge against woodworm. That which can be ruined by water is smeared
with tar. Material aged in wet alum does not burn.
The nature and use of timber is this. Alder is enormously good in piles,
in marshes, and near rivers but does not last in the open air. Aesculus, which
is a species of durmast oak, is intolerant of humour. In the open air elm
grows more dense but elsewhere it splits; its roots are the most beautiful of
all woods because of the variety of colours and a certain lustre. Then too
the root of the olive is extremely beautiful. The silver fir and fir last forev-
er underground. Durmast—because it is thick, fibrous, with few holes—is
excellent in earthworks because it doesn’t take on moisture and supports
weight admirably. Oak does not grow old. Beech and juglans [i.e., walnut]

60 
Lucius Junius Moderatus Columella, De re rustica 11.2.11.
61 
Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus, De re militari 4.35.
62 
See Hesiod, Works and Days, line 420ff.
63 
Marcus Porcius Cato, De re rustica 17.1-2.
64 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 16.74.
166 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

are not ruined by water. Cork oak, pinaster, 65 mulberry, maple, and elm are
not unsuited for columns but for flooring and use in beam structures the
best are Euboean chestnut66 and, above all, fir, which, however, due to its
lightness, is vulnerable to fire but for the rest is most useful, though not
more so than cypress. It does not suffer old age or wormwood, nor does it
break on its own accord, although it is true that it weighs a lot; it is good for
making doors. By nature it is born and grows straight up over all the other
trees. Pine is subject to wormwood because its sap is sweeter than that of fir.
Larch is good for supporting weights and for beams; it is hard and fibrous,
not vulnerable to woodworms, and appears to scorn fire, even though we see
that it burns. It is true that a large trunk of larch with its bark is very resistant
to fire. Olive, fig, linden, and willow are not good for beam structures. Palm
bends under weight. Juniper is suitable for open beam structures. Similar in
nature (although more solid) is cedar, of which the Venetians have made very
beautiful doors for the Hall of Arms. It is a very fragrant wood. Turkey oak
and beech do not last in carpentry work such as beds, shelves, and tables. Fir,
cypress, and beech, 67 as well as silver fir, although they are fragile, are good
for chests, beds, and thin boards. Similar to these is holm oak. Juglans, elm,
and ash are useless, because when made into boards juglans is easily broken,
and the other trees sag and get holes in them. Ash is very easy to work with,
and so is walnut. Though the ancients did not give it much consideration,
in our day it is much appreciated and used in many and quite subtle works
of many kinds. Mulberry is praised because over time it becomes black and
lasts a long time. Elm is good for the hinges of doors, since hardness serves,
but the root must be placed on top.68 Handles69 are made of holly, as well as
of laurel and elm; steps are made of manna-ash and laurel; keys of horn. Pine

65 
Wild pine; see Pliny the Elder, Natural History 16.17.
66 
Pliny mentions the trees of Euboea (a Greek island) in Natural History 16.76. The Venetians
took full control of Euboea in 1390; presumably Barbaro knew these trees from imports to
Venice.
67 
There appears to be an error since first he says beech is not good for woodwork and then
that it is.
68 
Cfr. Theophrastus, Historia Plantarum (Enquiry into Plants) 5.3.5. Hinges were made like
metal ones are still made today in Italy, where a cylindrical slot on the door fits over a vertical
pin on the frame. Theophrastus explains that wood from the root is to be used for the upper
(cylindrical slot) part while wood from the upper part of the tree is to be used for the lower
(pin) part.
69 
Barbaro means the handles used, for example, in presses (p. 297), windlasses (p. 446), and
ballistae (p. 444).
pp. 93-94 167

and silver fir are good for covered water cannons. Female larch is of a colour
similar to honey and it is good for adorning houses, it having been observed
that in the panels of painters it is immortal. It is good for statues since it
does not have fibres that extend in length but are instead interrupted, varied
and minute. The ancients used lotus, box, citron, and cypress, as well as the
most solid root of olive and the Egyptian persico,70 to make statues but to
make panels for painting the ancients used white and black poplar, willow,
hornbeam, sorb, sambucus, and fig. Some praise jujube and, for working on
the lathe, beech, mulberry, terabinth, and especially box and ebony. Oak is
difficult to join with other woods and rejects glue, as do other woods that are
weepy and whose wood is crinkled, and all woods that can be shaven. Those
trees that are of different natures cannot be joined together. For example,
ivy, laurel, and linden, which are hot, cannot be joined with those born in
humid places; likewise aesculus and oak will not stay glued for long, nor
must they be joined to elm; ash, mulberry, cherry must not be joined to the
wood of the plane tree and alder because the former are of a humid nature
while the latter are of a dry one.
Trees are usually compared with regard to both the whole and the parts.
Regarding the whole, infertile ones are more solid than those that bear fruit;
those that grow wild and uncultivated by hand or by iron [p. 94] are hard-
er. Among fruit bearers the acute and late are stronger. Among the sweet
ones, the sterile ones grow more than the fertile. Sterile ones and those that
occasionally produce fruit are knottier on the whole than productive ones.
Among the knotty ones, short ones are the most difficult. Those that are
nourished in valleys are knottier and shorter than those of the mountains;
those of the mountains are more solid and larger. Those born in humid and
shady places are softer than those exposed to air and sun. Woods of a white
colour are less dense and more workable. All heavy wood is thicker and
harder than light wood, which is more fragile. Finally, those that live longer
last longer, even when cut longer than the others.
Now regarding the comparison of the parts, the less pith there is the
more strength there is. The parts near the pith are stronger, while those

70 
Theophrastus refers to the ‘persea’ in Historia Plantarum (Enquiry into Plants) 4.2.5. Pliny
the Elder refers to the ‘Persian tree’ in Natural History 13.17, remarking that it is used for
sculptures. In Natural History 15.13, Pliny cautions against confusing the ‘persea’ with the
‘persica’ or Persian apple, the peach supposedly introduced into Egypt by the Persians.
168 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

closer to the bark are more tenacious; the worst is the sapwood.71 The parts
closest to the ground are the heaviest; those in the middle more crinkled; the
inner parts more convenient; those exposed in the middle dryer and thinner
and they have the pith closer to the bark. Ultimately there are many more
things that remain to be said, but I would have these suffice. The rest can be
found collected with great diligence by Leon Battista Alberti in the second
book,72 by Pliny in the sixteenth book, and by Theophrastus.
However, what is worthy of observing in Vitruvius is where he speaks
about fir, saying ‘excisa quadrifluviis disparatur’.73 It isn’t that Vitruvius did
not interpret well, nor did Pliny, when he wrote Quae habeant quadripar-
titos venarum cursus, bifidos autem omnino simplices.74 But Theophrastus says
dizous, monozous, tetrazous,75 words that were translated by Theodorus Gaza
as Quadrivivas, binivivas and univivas.76 As Hermolao Barbaro says, neither
those terms, in Greek or in Latin, give us to understand what there is in
fact.77 I wonder, with regard to Theophrastus and Theodorus, if perhaps The-
ophrastus had not wanted to say monorous, dirous, and tetrarous. I would not
dare to posit this except that some firs cut crosswise are seen to have a course
of veins that go in one direction, while some have two—one going over
the other, like the fingers of one hand crossed over the fingers of the other.
71 
Alburnum, sapwood or inner bark, is described by Pliny in Natural History 16.72.
72 
See Alberti (1485, 2.4-7); (1988, pp. 38-47).
73 
Barbaro translates Vitruvius’s excisa quadrifluviis dispartur (Fra Giocondo 1511, p. 20r)
as partita per quattro tagli (‘divided by four cuts’). Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 60, ‘split up into
four pieces’); Granger (1931, p. 135, ‘divided into four directions’); Schofield (2009, p. 59,
‘divided … into four sections’).
74 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 16.76.
75 
Barbaro has transliterated these terms from the Greek: dizous (δίξοος), monozous
(μονξόους), tetrazous (τετραξοος); see Theophrastus, De Historia Plantarum (Enquiry into
Plants) 5.1.9.
76 
Theodorus Gaza’s Latin translation, De Historia Plantarum, of Theophrastus’s Greek
text was first published in 1483 though it had circulated in manuscript as early as 1454. A
corrected edition was published in Basel in 1534 by Andreas Cratander. There the Latin
text is found: Hæc abietis propria: illa vero & pino, & abieti, & alijs communia constant: alia
enim quadripartita, alia bipartita, alia simplex (1534, 5.2, p. 69, my emphasis); see also
Theophrastus (1529, p. 177). These terms were translated as ‘four-cleft, two-cleft and one-
cleft’ by Arthur Hort (Theophrastus 1916, p. 425 and the explanatory figure, note 2, p. 424).
The subject of the discussion may be the patterns formed between the concentric growth
rings and radial xylem rays; see below Barbaro’s description using hands.
77 
Daniele Barbaro’s uncle, Hermolao Barbaro, was the author of Castigationes Plinianae
(H. Barbaro 1492), in which he made extensive corrections to Pliny’s Natural History.
Theophrastus often cited there, but I have been unable to find a specific reference to this
question.
pp. 94-95 169

Some have four placed like a gridiron or a grid, like the fingers of one had
crossed over the fingers of the other, and another one on top of those, up to
four rows. It has been observed that as fir grows from year to year, in its early
years the number of veins grows and from a simple order of veins shown in
the first year it makes another crosswise over those the following year, and
so multiplies until the fourth year. This I believe is how these authors are to
be understood.

Chapter X
On highland and lowland fir,
with the description of the Apennines

[p. 94] (Vitruvius) [II.X.1] The first roots of the Apennine mountain are born in
the Tyrrhenian Sea up to the Alps and the extreme parts of Tuscany, but the yoke
of that mountain turning and with a half-turn nearing the shores of the Adriatic
Sea, it arrives with its turns towards the sea. Where it curves on that side which
faces towards the regions of Tuscany and Campania it is very exposed to the sun
and air and is florid because it continually takes vigour from the course of the sun;
but the part on the other side that is turned towards the upper sea lies under the
north and is perpetually gloomy and shadowy. Whereby the trees that are in that
area, being nourished by humid virtue, not only grow to immeasurable heights
but also their veins are impregnated with a great moisture; tumid and swollen,
they are saturated by the abundance of moisture. But then, when cut and flattened
they have lost their natural vigour, their drying changing the rigour of their veins,
they become by their rareness empty and without strength. For this reason they do
not last in buildings. [II.X.2] But those generated in places exposed to the sun, not
having any rareness among their veins and desiccated by the dryness, become ever
firmer because the sun not only dries moisture from the earth but also removes hu-
mour from trees. So those that are partly exposed to the sun are [p. 95] solidified by
the density of the veins, not having any rareness from the humour, when they are
placed in work, planed and finished, they last with many uses to old age. So those
that are on the lower parts of the Apennines, because they are taken from sunny,
airy places, are better than those that are born in the upper regions and come from
shady places. [II.X.3] I have expounded as much as I was able to consider with
my mind about the supplies necessary for building, of what temper they are by the
170 Book II of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

mixture of their principles, and what perfections and defects they have so that these
things are manifest to anyone who wishes to build. So those who can follow the
laws of these precepts will be more observant and can make a choice in the works of
the use of each species. Having thus told about the preparations of the material, it
remains for me to speak in the other volumes about buildings, and first about the
sacred temples of the immortal gods, of their measures and proportions, as suits the
proposed order.
(Barbaro) In the tenth and final chapter of this second book Vitruvius
wished to define the difference between trees that are born in places on
the side of the sun, called aprica [i.e., exposed to sun and air] and those of
shady places that face towards the north. This is easy to understand and is
confirmed by Palladius78 in the fifteenth chapter of the eleventh book and by
Pliny in the thirty-ninth chapter of the sixteenth book.79

The end of Book II.

78 
Palladius, in Opus Agriculturae, mentions timber not in 11.15, but in several other places:
timber for floors, 1.9; cutting down wood and timber, 2.25; cutting down materials for
building, 12.15.
79 
In general see Pliny the Elder, Natural History 16 (The natural history of forest trees) and 17
(The natural history of cultivated trees).
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book III
Preface
[p. 95]

elphic Apollo, in the reply given to Pythia, affirmed Socrates to be

the wisest of men. This one (it is said) with prudence and great
learning said that the breasts of men should be as windows, and
open, so that their feelings were not hidden, but were open for consideration. Would
God that nature, following the opinion of Socrates, had made men’s breasts open
and illuminated because if it had been thus then not only could the virtues and
vices of minds be seen, but also the knowledges of the disciplines could be exam-
ined by the eye with sure judgement, and the stable reputations of the erudite and
those who understand would grow. But because nature not in the way of others
but in her own way wanted to make things, it cannot be that men with minds
obscured in their breasts can judge how are the knowledges of artifices that are com-
pletely hidden, and that the makers who promise their prudence if they are not
wealthy, or have not been recognised for the great age of their workshops, or do not
have grace or elegance in public, are believed for that which they do by profession.

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 171

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_4
172 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[III.Pref.2] This can be especially known from the ancient statuaries and paint-
ers, of whom those who had marks of dignity and the grace of being commended,
with eternal memory are maintained for posterity. Such are Myron, Polycleitus,
Phidias, Lysippus, and the others who have with their art achieved nobility, be-
cause for the great cities, or for kings, or for noblemen they produced works and
buildings, and so obtained that which I have said. Yet those who with no less
study, intelligence, and astuteness left works no less beautiful for citizens who
were ordinary and of lesser fortune have left no record of themselves. This is not
because they were without industry [p. 96] or astuteness in the arts, but be-
cause they were abandoned by fortune. Such were Hellas of Athens, Chion the
Corinthian, Myagrus the Phocaean, Pharax the Ephesian, Boedas the Byzan-
tine, and many others. Likewise painters such as Aristomenes of Thasos, Polycles,
Andramithes, Nicomachus, and others, in whom industry, study of the art, and
astuteness were not lacking, but rather their possessing little, or lacking in luck, or
being surpassed by the ambition of rivals, hindered their dignity. [III.Pref.3] Nor
is it to be wondered at if through ignorance of art virtues are obscured, but it is
well that men should greatly disdain the grace of feasts that often lead flatteringly
from true judgements to false approbation. And so if (as it pleased Socrates), the
feelings, opinions, and knowledges that grow out of the disciplines were rendered
illuminated and manifest, then neither grace nor ambition would count; and if it
were thus, then to the one who, with true and certain efforts employed in learning
the doctrines, had arrived at the acme of knowledge, would the works be placed
willingly in his hands. But because such men are not illustrious and apparent in
appearance (as we think should be the case), I see that the unlearned more readily
advance in grace than the learned. Since I do not consider it good to contend with
the ignorant in ambition, more readily with these precepts will I demonstrate the
virtue of our knowledge. [III.Pref.4] In the first book therefore, O Emperor, I
have set forth for you the art and the power that the architect has, and the disci-
plines with which it is necessary that he be adorned. To this are added the reasons
why he should be thus instructed, and the sum of the rationales of architecture
divided into categories, and then, these divided, I have defined them. Further
discoursing, I demonstrated first what is necessary for the walls and how to select
healthy sites. I have demonstrated through a description of lines, how many and
which and from what direction the winds blow. And I taught how to make the
just compartitions of city squares and the districts inside the walls, and with this
I concluded the first book. In the second then I have furnished a treatment of ma-
terial, of its usefulness in buildings, and of the virtue nature has given it. Now in
pp. 96-97 173

the third book I will speak of the sacred houses of the immortal gods, and set forth
in what way they must be drawn.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius declares in the third chapter of the first book that
there are three parts of architecture, one of which is building. Similarly, he
says that building is divided into two parts, one of which is concerned with
the construction of communal and public buildings, the other with private
buildings. He would have it that there are three manners of distribution in
public works: one appertaining to defence; another to religion; the third to
utility. In the same book he supplied that which appertained to defence. He
should have then treated the buildings appertaining to religion, but because
it appeared necessary to him to describe material and the ways of putting
material together (as he himself said), he made it the subject of his second
book, in which he clearly described the material most necessary for build-
ings, expounding its nature, use, and rationales. Now, having settled that,
he returns to the distribution of buildings appertaining to religion, treating
sacred temples in the third and fourth books, and embracing the whole
corpus of this present subject. Thus it may be said that here begins every
good thing that may be expected from the hand and mind of the architect.
Here order has its place; here disposition draws; here symmetry, decorum
and grace are evident; here is felt the utility of distribution. In these things
lie the valour of the architect and the power of the art; in them the keenness
of his ingeniousness shines. Thus it may be said of him, in the words of the
great poet,

O Muses, O lofty genius, now assist me,

O mind that didst inscribe that which I saw,
Here shall thy nobility appear.1

And truly, that which will be said about the present subject is a wor-
thy consideration. This has been delicately observed by Vitruvius, because
knowing the great importance of the [p. 97] thing and that the rank of
fools is infinite, he was moved to desire what Socrates desired—that is, an
open window in his breast—so that the science and art, and the good and
bad, that lay within could be seen, because grace, favour and fortune would
find their place were the expert and the intelligent and the non-expert and

1 
From Dante, Hell, Canto II, 7-10 (1891-1892, vol. 1, p. 6).
174 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the ignorant equally exposed to the judgement of men. Virtue would be

more highly esteemed, and arrogance would give way to modesty. I believe
that Vitruvius had fine and lofty thought, and a lively and sweet taste for
the rationales of architecture, and thus, because he himself so enjoyed it, he
desired that the whole world would know the beauty of this virtue. So, he
agreed with the opinion about Socrates, whose dignity was judged by the
Pythian priestess in the name of Apollo to be wise above all men. Certainly
I have observed it is not without great cause that Vitruvius provided a preface
to each of his books: the preface (as we stated in the second book 2) being the
first thing that is offered to us, and we paying the greatest attention to what
comes first, it is a fine and appropriate custom to tell us in the preface what
will be considered and what we can expect. Vitruvius thus wishes (nature
not having made things as we might have wished) that we at least exert our-
selves to reveal through the excellence of art that which is enclosed in our
breasts. The excellence of art (as we have often said, and as it behoves us to
repeat) lies in reason, which Vitruvius has located in the six things already
stated. This he has called discourse, signifying thing, and form.3 So, should
anyone wish to look deeply and find the truth of things, I beg that he read in
good faith the discourse written in what follows, and finding that which is
desired, to praise with me the goodness of God. If he is not completely sat-
isfied, then he should add his own study and favour to the work that I have
begun; the first in order to discover the truth, the second to accept my good
faith, for which I will be forever in debt.
So great is the force of proportion, so great its necessity, so great its
usefulness in things, that neither the eyes, the ears, nor the other senses can
receive any delight without the agreement and the correspondence of pro-
portion. Nothing that delights or pleases can delight or please at all unless it
comprises proportionate measure and moderated temperament. Voices and
sounds, entering into the mind by way of our ears, do not delight and please
if they do not agree in proportioned ratio of time and interval. The more the
beautiful inventions of man are ingeniously proportioned, the better they
are. Proportion is a most efficacious thing in the composition and mixing of

See Barbaro, p. 67.

2 

Barbaro’s translation of Vitruvius’s ratiocinatio is ‘discourse’. See Book I, Barbaro, p. 8 and

3 

note there.
pp. 97-98 175

herbal medicines,4 as in the preparation of theriac and mithridate.5 Divine is

the power of numbers compared among themselves through ratio. Nor can
it be said that in the building of this universe that we call ‘world’, and in the
still smaller world, that there is anything greater or more worthy than the
agreement of weight, number and measure with which time, space, move-
ments, virtue, speech, artifice, nature, wisdom, in short, all things divine
and human, are compounded, raised, and perfected. Because this is true,
I do not consider it useful to want to prove it with more ample inductions.
So, when it is ordained by us with fine and subtle foresight that
everything that will be made by us is composed with the rationales of pro-
portion, not only shall we be worthy judges of the works of the ancients, but
moreover we ourselves shall be inventors and operators of rare and excellent
things. And even if Vitruvius were not to be found in this world, he who
truly understands the value of proportions would find innumerable precepts
for architecture; nor would he be considered reckless because reason would
come to his defence. Reason has given reputation to makers, comfort to the
world, and glory to princes.
Wishing, therefore, to consider proportions, we shall first say what pro-
portion is, then distinguish its species, and finally compare the use of each
species, so that we know which proportion is appropriate to what building.
The name ‘proportion’ covers a broad range of meanings, since every agree-
ment and resemblance between things is commonly called proportion. It is
also true that virtue, substance, quality, and other very generalised terms are
said to be proportion. But we are speaking of true ratio,6 [p. 98] which is
comprised under quantity; not that ratio is quantity, but because it is proper
to quantity. There are two manners of quantity: one is called ‘continuous’,
such as the line, the surface, the solid, time, and movement; the other is
called ‘divided quantity’, or discrete or separate (as we would say), such as the

4 
Le semplici medicine were herbal treatments; semplici were herbalists. Barbaro refers to this
again on p. 155 when talking about acanthus leaves in the Corinthian capitals.
5 
Theriac and mithridate are among the medicines known as ‘electuaries’—that is, aromatic
herbs mixed with honey or syrup to form a paste; both of these are used against poisoning.
Theriac is also known as ‘Venice treacle’.
6 
When not speaking of proportion in a generic sense, but in a mathematical sense, Barbaro
refers to proportione, which in modern terms would refer to ratio (that is, a comparison of
quantities), and to proportionalità, which would refer to proportion (that is, a comparison
of ratios). This is consistent with the vocabulary of the day; see Belli (2003, p. 15). In what
follows, for the sake of clarity the modern terms have been adopted.
176 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

numbers two, three, and four, and the uttering of syllables to form words,
and the words themselves that are separate from one another. It is proper to
both manners of quantity that things are equal or unequal. This property
has been transferred to many other things that are not quantity, because all
things of which any comparison can be made are among themselves either
equal and even, or unequal and uneven. Now I say that ratio is counted
among those things that refer to others,7 and its being is such that it does not
stand alone, but is in regard to another; and a thing in comparison to anoth-
er is either more, or less, or the same. So, among ratios, some are even and
equal; others are unequal—that is, larger or smaller. Since we are reasoning
about the ratio that is found in quantity, we say that it is nothing other than
the determined relation, respect, or comparison of two quantities comprised
within the same genre, as in the case of two numbers, or two solids, or two
places, two times, two lines, two planes. Thus it cannot be said that a line is
less than or greater than or equal to a surface, as one often hears, since com-
parison must be made between things belonging to the same genre. I said
‘determined’, not because it is considered so by us, or by itself, but inasmuch
as it cannot be otherwise, as will be shown below.
The definition of ratio thus explicated, it is clear that, being found in
quantity, some ratios pertain to measures, some to numbers, and some are a
mixture of numbers and measures. That which pertains to measures, called
‘geometric’, will be found in continuous quantities, all of which fall within
measure. That which pertains to numbers, called ‘arithmetic’, is found in
quantities that are distinct and separate, as when a comparison is made be-
tween numbers. That which is a mixture of numbers and measures, called
‘harmonic’, is that which compares the times and the intervals of sounds,
and the excesses and differences of ratios; these we will describe in the fifth
book. Here we will speak about the geometric ratio, which is found when
a comparison is made between one continuous thing and another, and the
arithmetic ratio, which is made between numbers. So, wishing to find the
species of ratios, we need to know how things stand between the quanti-
ties being compared. So, finding that quantities are either equal or unequal
among themselves, in making the comparison of them, the ratio shall be
one of two manners. One is when a comparison is made of two quantities,

7 
See the discussion of the distinction between things that are distinct and do not refer to
others and those which are necessarily seen in relation, Barbaro, p. 26.
pp. 98-99 177

neither of which exceeds the other, but are exactly the same; this is called
a ‘ratio of equality’. The other is when a comparison is made between two
unequal quantities—that is, when one exceeds the other; this is called a ‘ratio
of inequality’. Thus we have two sorts of ratio, the first of which does not
have any species because equality cannot be divided, being born in only one
way. The second may be divided into two general categories, one when the
greater is compared to the lesser, the other when the lesser is compared to
the greater. The first is called the ‘ratio of greater inequality’;8 the second is
called the ‘ratio of lesser inequality’.9 Because there are as many species of
the ratios of greater inequality as there are of ratios of lesser inequality, we
will state the species of the ratio of greater inequality because then the ratios
of lesser inequality will also be clear.
So, there are three ways in which a comparison is made of the greater
magnitude or quantity to the lesser—that is, there are three ways in which
the greater exceeds the lesser; I am speaking here of simple ratio. The first is
when the greater contains the lesser an exact number of times; this is called
a multiple ratio, as when four contains two exactly two times and no more,
or when nine contains three exactly three times. Another way is when the
greater contains the lesser one time plus some part of it; this is called the
‘superparticular ratio’: because the greater exceeds the lesser by some part
of it, as in four to three, when four contains three exactly one time plus its
third part, which is one. The third way is when the greater contains the lesser
one time plus more than one part of it, as in five to three: five contains three
one time plus two parts of it. This is called the ‘superpartient ratio’, [p. 99]
because the greater term contains the lesser term an exact number of times
as well as some division of it—that is, with the addition of more than one
of its parts. It must be understood, however that these parts do not exactly
measure the whole. These are the simple and universal species of ratios of
greater inequality.
Now we will briefly subdivide each of the aforesaid species into other
more precise distinctions. So, the multiple ratio is subdivided in this way:
if the greater quantity contains the lesser two times and no more, the ratio
formed is called duple; if three times, triple; if four times, quadruple, and

8 
‘Ratio of greater inequality’: when the first term of the ratio (the antecedent) is larger than
the second term (the consequent), as in 4:2.
9 
‘Ratio of lesser inequality’: when the antecedent of the ratio is smaller than the consequent,
as in 2:4.
178 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

so on infinitely. Four to two is a duple; nine to three, a triple; eight to two,

a quadruple. The superparticular ratio is found in this way: if the greater
contains the lesser one time and a half, it is a sesquialteran ratio, as six to
four, because six contains four entirely plus one half of it, which is two. If it
contains the lesser plus a third as much again, then it is a sesquitertian, as in
four to three, and eight to six; if it contains the lesser plus a fourth as much
again, then it is a sesquiquartan, as in ten to eight; if it contains the lesser
plus a fifth as much again, then it is a sesquiquintan, and so on infinitely. If
we wish to have the species of the superpartient ratio, we do so in this way:
by saying that the greater contains the lesser one time and two or three or
four parts of it, and so on infinitely. If it contains the lesser plus two parts,
then we call it superbipartient, as in five to three, which is once three plus
two thirds; if it is three parts more, then we call it supertripartient, as in
eight to five, which is once five plus three fifths. If it is four parts more,
then we say superquadripartient, as in nine to five, which is once five plus
four fifths, and so on. These are the species of simple ratios that are ratios of
greater inequality.
The compound ratios are actually two—that is, they are called com-
pound because they are made of two simple ratios. The first is called ‘multi-
ple superparticular’; the second is called ‘multiple superpartient’. These are so
called because they retain the nature of those ratios of which they are com-
pounded. Inasmuch as the first is called multiple, it follows that the greater
contains the lesser more than one time; inasmuch as it is called superpar-
ticular, it follows that the greater contains the lesser plus some part of it. So,
the multiple superparticular, comparing the greater and the lesser, is found
when the greater contains the lesser more than one time plus some part of
it. If the greater contains the lesser two times plus one half of it, then it is a
duple sesquialteran, as in five to two; if three times and a half of it, then it is
a triple sesquialteran,10 and so on infinitely. Similarly, two times and a third,
as seven to three, is a duple sesquitertian; if three times and a third, it will
be a triple sesquitertian, and so forth. Likewise, the multiple superpartient:
inasmuch as it is a multiple, the greater will contain the lesser more than
one time, and inasmuch as it is superpartient, the greater will contain some
part of the lesser. If two times and two parts, it is a duple superbipartient,
as twelve to five; if two times and three parts, it is a duple supertripartient,

10 
He gives no example, but one would be 7:2.
pp. 99-100 179

as thirteen to five, and so on, infinitely. If the greater contains the lesser
three times and two parts, it is a triple superbipartient, as seventeen to five;
if three times and three parts, it is a triple supertripartient, as eighteen to
five, and so follow all the others. When these properties of ratio of greater
inequality are known, then all the species of ratio of lesser inequality are also
known, the only difference being that with those of greater inequality, one
begins with the greater quantity and ends with the lesser, while in those of
lesser inequality, one begins with the lesser and ends with the greater; thus
superparticular is transformed into the subparticular, so we say submultiple,
subduple, subsesquialteran, subsesquitertian.
It must be observed that there are two ways in which a quantity is part
of another. The first is when one part of a quantity, taken to mean a certain
number of equal parts, goes into the other part entirely. That is, when the
divisor goes into the dividend an exact number of times with no remain-
der, this is called a ‘multiplying part’, the very name of which gives a true
and proper understanding of the term ‘part’. The second kind of part is that
which, no matter how many times it is taken, never renders the whole. This
is called an ‘added part’ because when added to another part it renders the
whole. An example of the multiplying part is two to six, inasmuch as two
measures, or goes into, six exactly three times; other examples are three to
nine and eight to thirty-two. An example of the added part is two to five,
because two taken two times does not make five, and taken three times it
exceeds five. These added parts, however, are compounded of multiplying
parts, because two is compounded of unity, which measures [p. 100] two
and goes into it exactly two times. This is as much as shall be said about the
definition and divisions [i.e., the species] of ratio.
Now we shall tell what comes from this. From ratios are born compar-
isons and the relationships between them—that is, when one ratio is com-
pared to another; these comparisons of ratio are called ‘proportion’. Just as
ratio dealt with the relationship and agreement between two quantities of
the same genre, so proportion is the relationship and comparison, not of one
quantity to another, but of one ratio to another. That is to say, the ratio of four
to two is similar to the ratio of eight to four because each one is a duple. So
all duples, all triples, all quadruples, whether of the same genre—as between
line and line, or solid and solid—or between different genres—as between
line and solid, or solid and space, or space and time—are proportional, and
consequently similar. Where there is proportion there is necessarily ratio
180 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

because (as has been said) proportion is none other than the comparison of
ratios. But the opposite, that where there is ratio there is proportion, is not
true because there is ratio between four and two, but no proportion. All the
secrets of art consist in proportion. So that what we wish to reveal is well un-
derstood, it is useful to say how to reckon the denomination11 of ratios, how
ratios are subtracted and added, and how they are multiplied and divided.
Then we will speak about proportion and its terms after that.
It is necessary to understand how to find the denomination of ratios
because this serves to know which ratio is greater and which lesser. Build-
ings with larger ratios are larger than buildings with smaller ratios; a room
of two squares [i.e., 4:2] is larger in size than one of a square and a half [i.e.,
3:2], since the duple is a larger ratio than the sesquialteran. It should be kept
in mind that when the ratio is one of equality—that is, when there are as
many unities or measures in one number or size as there are in another, it is
not necessary to exert oneself to find denominations because in that category
of ratio there are no species, there being no greater or lesser quantities. It
remains, therefore, that denominations appertain to the species of the ratios
of inequality.
A brief and expedient rule for finding the numbers by which ratios are
denominated is to divide one term of the ratio by the other. The result of
such division is always the denomination of the ratio. Dividing is none other
than seeing how many times one number goes into another, and with what
remainder. From the division and its remainder we can reasonably know
the name of each ratio. Here is an example: if you want to know the name
of the ratio of four to eight, divide eight by four—that is, see how many
times four goes into eight; you will find that four goes into eight exactly
two times, and from this ‘two’ the ratio between eight and four takes its
name; you will say that the ratio is duple.12 Similarly, if you want to know
the name of the ratio of five to sixteen, you divide sixteen by five; you will
find that five goes into sixteen three times, so you will say it is a triple ratio
because it is denominated by three; and because the remainder is one, which
11
 Here the term ‘denomination’ (denominatione) is used, not to define the denominator as we
think of it today but rather to indicate the value that gives the ratio its name. For example,
3:2 has the denomination 1-1/2 and is thus a sesquialteran (one plus one-half of one); 2:1 has
the denomination 2 and is thus a duple. Denominations were discussed in the thirteenth-
and fourteenth-century works of Jordanus de Nemore and Thomas Bradwardine, among
others.
12 
Technically, the ratio 4:8 is a subduple, while its inverse 8:4 is a duple.
pp. 100-101 181

is the fifth part of five, you will say that the ratio is a triple sesquiquintan.
You also will know that it is compound—that is, multiple superparticular.
So you will do with the others. From this knowledge (as I have said) derives
this usefulness: being able to know which ratios are among the ratios of
greater inequality and which are among those of lesser inequality; which are
among the ratios of equalities; and which are similar ratios. Similar ratios
are those that have identical denominations; larger ratios are those having
greater denominations; smaller ratios, those having lesser denominations,
because the denomination is said to be as large as the number that denotes
it. So the quadruple is greater than the triple because the quadruple [i.e., 4:1]
is denominated by four and the triple [i.e., 3:1] is denominated by three. So
too, the sesquialteran is greater than the sesquitertian because the sesqui-
alteran [i.e., 3:2] is denoted by the half and the sesquitertian [i.e., 4:3] by the
third. In fractions, the larger the denomination, the smaller the fraction, so
a fourth is less than a third because four is greater than three. So, a triple
sesquialteran is greater than a triple sesquitertian, but a triple sesquitertian
is greater than a duple sesquialteran; this is not due to the denomination of
the fraction, but [p. 101] to the denomination of the entire number, which
is greater.13 Similarly, in the superpartient ratio, the greater is that which is
denominated by the larger number. So that this shall be better understood,
I say that the superpartient ratio is when the greater contains the lesser one
time and more than one part of it, and this is due as much to the number of
its parts as to the denomination of those parts—that is, it depends as much
on the one as on the other. As to the number of the parts, when the greater
contains the lesser one time plus two of its parts, it is called superbipartient;
if one time plus three of its parts, supertripartient, and so on. As to the
denomination of the parts, when the greater contains the lesser one time
plus its parts, if these parts be thirds, then the ratio is called a superpartient
of thirds. Thus from both of these—that is, from the number and from the
denomination of the parts—we would say, for example, the ‘superbipartient
of thirds’. I say therefore that which ratio is greater is understood from the
first denomination, which expresses how many parts of the lesser number are

 Adding numerical examples to this is helpful: A triple sesquialteran (e.g., 7:2) is greater
13

than a triple sesquitertian (e.g., 10:3), but a triple sesquitertian (e.g., 10:3) is greater than a
duple sesquialteran (e.g., 5:2). The second part of this sentence makes clear the difference
between ‘denomination’ and the ‘denominator’ as we use it today: 10:3 is greater than 5:2 not
because its denominator is larger, but because 10 divided by 3 is larger than 5 divided by 2.
182 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

contained in the greater, because the second denomination, which expresses

what the parts of the lesser number are, is the same. For example: the su-
peroctapartient of elevenths [i.e., 19:11] is greater than the supertripartient
of elevenths [i.e., 14:11] because this last has the smaller number of parts,
which is three, and the first has the greater number of parts, which is eight;
this number in the first denomination is determinant because the number in
the second denomination is the same in both cases.
Here it would be necessary to go into the generation and the properties
of each ratio, and that fine discourse that the arithmeticians make in prov-
ing that every inequality is born of equality, and that equality is the origin
of inequality, and that every inequality may be reduced to equality.14 But we
must leave these high considerations to those who want to find the origin of
all created things, the interlaced unity not of these particular fabrications,
but of the universe, the world, and all things in it. We will thus speak of the
adding, multiplying, subtracting, and dividing of ratios because Vitruvius, in
many places, takes away, sets, and divides ratios, as will be seen in the first
chapter of this present book, as well as in the second and last chapters, and
in the third chapter of the fourth book. And an infinite number of times he
uses one ratio more than another, as when he divides the bodies of buildings
into atria, tablina, halls, loggias, basilicas, and other things of great impor-
tance, or when he doubles bodies, or finds proportional lines, or shortens
planes, or when he describes the making of machines; in other words, in
every aspect of the art that is our subject.
Now to our purpose. In order to combine two ratios together, it is nec-
essary to find the denomination of the ratio produced; then to combine the
numbers under that produced ratio. The first operation is done this way:
multiply the denomination of one ratio by the denomination of the other
so as to find the denomination of them combined. The second operation is
done by multiplying the antecedents of each ratio and also multiplying the
consequents, observing that this rule serves in the case of similar ratios—
that is, when both are ratios of either greater or lesser inequality. Now for
an example: take a ratio of nine to three, a triple, and a ratio of four to two,
a duple; I want to combine a triple and a duple and see what kind of ratio is
formed. First I multiply the denominations, three and two, and find that the
product is six. This then will be the denomination of the new ratio; thus from

14 
Cfr. Boethius, De institutione Arithmetica 32.
pp. 101-102 183

a triple and a duple is born a sextuple. This appears from the multiplication
of the numbers of both ratios, since multiplying nine by four gives thirty-six,
and three by two gives six, and thirty-six with respect to six comprises the
ratio denominated sextuple. I also want to give an example from the su-
perparticular ratios, and combine the sesquialteran between three and two
with the sesquitertian between three and four.15 I multiply half, which is the
denomination of the sesquialteran, by a third, which is the denomination
of the sesquitertian, to get two,16 which will be the denomination of the re-
sulting ratio. In other words, combining a sesquialteran and a sesquitertian
results in a duple ratio. Continuing, we multiply the antecedents, which are
three and four, to get twelve; and the consequents, two and three, to get six;
and thus we have twelve to six, a duple ratio. This is of great use in music.
You see, the musical consonance called diapente is in a [p. 102] sesquialteran
ratio, and the diatessaron is in a sesquitertian ratio: if the two are put togeth-
er, this gives rise to the diapason, which is a duple ratio. Thus from a fifth
and a fourth is made the octave. Similarly we adduce the example from the
superpartient ratios, so wishing to add17 a superbipartient of thirds, such as
five to three, to a supertripartient of fourths, such as seven to five [recte four]
we take the denomination of the superbipartient of thirds, which is one and
two thirds, and multiply it by the denomination of the supertripartient of
fourths, which is one and three fourths, and we get two and eleven twelfths;
thus is born the duple hendecapartient of twelfths. You see, we multiply five
by seven, which are the antecedents of the ratios and produce thirty-five,
and we multiply the consequents, three and four, and the result is twelve.
Thirty-five contains twelve two times, with a remainder of eleven. So this is
how we combine ratios when they are of like kind.
However, when they are dissimilar—that is, when one is a ratio of
greater inequality and the other of lesser inequality—then the ratio that is
denominated by the greater quantity must be divided by the lesser. Let a
subduple, such as one and two, be combined with a sesquialteran, as three
to two. The subduple has a denomination of two, like the duple, while the

15 
This appears to be a mistake in ordering, and should be four to three, since Barbaro writes
that the rule is valid as long as both ratios are either greater or lesser equalities: 3:2 is a ratio
of greater equality, but 3:4 is a ratio of lesser equality.
16 
He must mean multiply the denomination of the first, which is one and a half (not mezo
[sic]), by the denomination of the second, which is one and a third (not un terzo), to get two.
17 
Barbaro says aggiungere here but the mathematical operation is multiplication.
184 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

sesquialteran has a denomination of one and a half, which is less than that
of the duple. Dividing two, then, by one and a half, the result is one and a
third; from this it is known that the new ratio will be a subsesquitertian. You
see, taking one and two over three and two, first multiply the antecedents,
which are one and three, to get three, which must be noted under [recte
on top of 18] a line. Then multiply two by two to get four. Three to four is a
subsesquitertian ratio. When it is necessary to compound more than two
ratios together, you will compound the third with the result of the first two
compounded together, and then compound that result with the fourth, and
so on. We need only one example of this, using these numbers: four and
three, three and two, three and one.19 From the ratios four to three, which
is a sesquitertian, and three to two, a sesquialteran, a duple is born, as we
have said. This, divided [recte multiplied] by the subsequent sesquialteran
three to two, makes a sesquitertian; this, multiplied by a triple, three to one,
makes a quadruple, which is four to one. From these things it follows that
when two ratios of greater inequality are combined, the result is a ratio of
greater inequality, but one which is greater than either of the starting ratios.
Consequently, when two ratios of lesser inequality are combined, the result
is a ratio of lesser inequality, but one which is smaller than either of the
starting ratios. The ratio made from a ratio of greater inequality and one of
lesser inequality is the one that is denominated by the greater number. A
ratio of equality combined with a ratio of greater inequality results in a ratio
of greater inequality and, in keeping with this, a ratio of equality combined
with a ratio of lesser equality results in one of lesser equality. From this it
can be seen that the ratio of equality multiplied by itself produces a ratio of
equality. This is all that needs to be said about the compounding of ratios.
When we want to subtract one ratio from another in order to know
what ratio remains, it is necessary to begin with this observation: just as
in numbers, where we take the lesser from the greater, so too with ratios
we take the lesser from the greater. So, first of all, divide the denomina-
tion of the greater by the denomination of the lesser, in order to derive the

18 
The original text says ‘under a line’, but as these are antecedents, they are placed on top of
the division bar (also known as the vinculum).
19 
There is a corruption of the text here that renders the sentence that follows nonsensical.
In Barbaro (1556, p. 59), he proposes the example using the five numbers ‘four, three, two,
three, one’, which he combines into the ratios 4:3, 3:2, 2:3, 3:1. He then shows how these
ratios are compounded.
pp. 102-103 185

denomination of the result. Then, by the numbers placed under the given
proportions, set above a transversal line [i.e., the division bar or vinculum]
the numbers of the greater ratio (that which is to be divided) and under it, set
the numbers of the lesser. Next multiply the antecedent of the ratio that is to
be divided by the consequent of the divisor, because this will give the ante-
cedent, or first number, of the result; then multiply the second number [i.e.,
the consequent] of the ratio being divided by the antecedent of the divisor,
giving the consequent of the resulting ratio. This method agrees with that of
dividing common fractions. Let us say that we want to subtract a duple from
a triple; we will thus be dividing three, the denomination of the triple, by
two, the denomination of the duple. The result will be one and a half, which
denominates the sesquialteran. If those numbers are nine and three, a triple
ratio, [p. 103] and four and two, a duple ratio, then multiply nine by two,
which is eighteen, and three by four, which is twelve, to which eighteen is
in a sesquialteran ratio. It is the same when proceeding with superparticular
ratios, as when you take a sesquitertian from a sesquialteran. You divide the
denomination of the sesquialteran, which is one and a half, by the denomina-
tion of the sesquitertian, which is one and a third, and the result will be one
and an eighth. Thus, from this subtraction there results a sesquioctave: three
to two is a sesquialteran and four to three a sesquitertian; three multiplied by
three is nine and two by four is eight; nine to eight is a sesquioctave. Finally,
in the superpartient ratios, I want to take a superbipartient of thirds from a
supertripartient of fourths. Dividing one and three fourths by one and two
thirds, the result is one and one-twentieth. This denominates the ratio of
twenty-one to twenty, which will result also from the numbers seven to four
and five to three: multiply seven by three, which is twenty-one, and four by
five, which is twenty; these are the numbers found in the ratio twenty-one to
twenty. So, when dividing a greater ratio by a lesser ratio [i.e., when both are
ratios of greater inequality], the result is a ratio of greater inequality which is
smaller than both of the starting ratios. The similar thing must be adjudged
of dissimilar ratios of lesser inequality, because the result will be a ratio of
lesser inequality that is smaller than both of the starting ratios. If the two
ratios are both either of greater or of lesser inequality and they are also among
the similar—that is, if the proposed ratio is to be divided by itself—the result
will be a ratio of equality. Finally, if one is of greater inequality and the other
of lesser inequality, the result will be a ratio that will have more in that part
of the ratio that is to be divided than in that which is to divide; it will be that
186 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

which is expressed by the greater number. And that is as much as will be said
about increasing, reducing, and dividing ratios.
It remains for us to present that which is most important, is a marvel-
lous thing for comprehending the resemblances of ratios, and will be useful
in civil matters, in the discourse about music, and in many things that we
encounter every day. I shall summarise what has just been said with the
discourse of the ancient author al-Kindi, 20 which I am not at all sorry to set
forth for the purpose of greater understanding. First of all, he sets out the
following four definitions as starting points:
- Ratio is the reciprocal relation of two quantities of the same genre.
- Given two quantities of the same genre, when one divides the other,
the result is the ratio of the dividend to the divisor, as we have stated.
- Multiplication, or rather the compounding of one ratio with another,
is none other than when the resulting denomination is the product of
the two starting denominations. This will be demonstrated through
examples.
- The division of one ratio by another—that is, subtraction—is none
other than when the denomination of the ratio to be divided is divided
by the denomination of the divisor.
Next, some propositions are set forth, which are set out in what follows.
The first proposition is this: when the denomination of a given ratio
compounded of whatever two terms you please is multiplied by the second
term, the result is equal to the first term. This is because, by the second
definition, the first extreme is divided by the second to produce the denom-
ination of the new ratio; thus the new ratio multiplied by the denomination
of the second produces the first.
The second proposition is this: when between two end terms is inter-
posed a middle term that is set into a ratio with both, then the ratio of the
first to the third shall be compounded of the ratios of the first to the middle
and of the middle to the third. Let the three terms be two, four and twelve,
and the middle quantity be placed in ratio to the extremes. I say that the
ratio between the first and the third is compounded of the ratios of the first
to the middle and the middle to the third. So, the ratio between two and
twelve being a sextuple, I say that the sextuple is compounded of the ratios
Al-Kindi or Alkindus (800-873 AD) was an Arabic mathematician. In Barbaro (1556, p.
20 

60) he says that he had this information from a copy of al-Kindi made by Filippo Archinto
(1500–1558).
pp. 103-104 187

of two to four and four to twelve. You see, the denomination of two to four
is two, which denominates the duple, and the denomination of four and
twelve is three, which denominates [p. 104] the triple. So, let two be a; four
b; twelve c; the denomination between two and four d; the denomination
between four and twelve e; and the denomination between a and c [i.e.,
between two and twelve] f. So, f into c equals a, and e into c equals b. Ac-
cording to the first proposition, f is to e as a is to b.21 And since d is the de-
nomination between a and b, it will also be the denomination between f and
e. So, by the same proposition, from d multiplied by e is made f, because the
denomination of a to c is produced by the denomination of b to c. It follows
from the third definition that the ratio between a and c is as that from two
and twelve, which is a sextuple, and is produced from the ratio that there is
between a and b—that is, between two and four, the duple—and between
b and c—that is, four and twelve, which is a triple. Thus from a duple and a
triple is made a sextuple.
Next follows the third proposition of al-Kindi. Given as many middle
terms as you please, I say that the ratio between the end terms is compound-
ed of all the ratios that the middle terms have among themselves. Let there
be between the end terms a and d, two intermediate terms b and c. I say
that the ratio of a to d is compounded of the ratios between a and b, b and
c, and c and d. According to the preceding proposition, the ratio a to c is
compounded of the ratios a to b and b to c; and the ratio between b and d is
compounded of the ratios b to c and c to d. Thus the ratio between a and d
is compounded of all the ratios that lie between them. Thus we have proved
what we said about when there is more than one middle term. Through this
and the examples given above, we have said enough, but we will continue in
order to respect al-Kindi’s order and to exercise our memories about things
of such importance.
The fourth proposition of al-Kindi is that if some ratio is compounded
of two ratios, its converse is compounded of the converses of the two ratios.
So, given the ratio of a to b compounded of the ratios c to d and e to f, I say
that the ratio b to a shall be compounded of the ratios d to c and f to e. So, let
there be continued ratios c to d and d to f between g, h, and K such that g is
to h as c is to d and h is to K as e is to f. I say that the ratio of a to b shall be
compounded of the ratios g to h and h to K. According to the second propo-

21 
Note that here Barbaro is discussing proportion—that is, ratios of ratios.
188 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

sition, ratio a to b is as ratio g to K, and conversely, b to a is as K to g; by the

same proposition, the ratio of K to g is made from the ratio of K to h and that
of h to g. K to h is as f to e and h to g is as d to c. Thus b to a is compounded
of the ratio that is between d and e, and between f and e, which is what we
intended to show. Having finished the definitions and the propositions set
forth by al-Kindi, we come to the rules, which are as follows.
When of six quantities, of which the ratio between the first and the
second is compounded of the ratios of the third to the fourth and the fifth to
the sixth, three hundred and sixty species of compounds are made, we can
only make use of thirty-six of them.22 Those remaining are useless. This is
apparent if we set out that the ratio of a to b is compounded of the ratios c to
d and e to f. Because, since there are six terms, it can be understood that the
ratios of any two terms whatsoever are compounded of two ratios between
the remaining four terms. This much can be proved by multiplication. From
these six terms come thirty distinct spaces: ten from a, eight from b, six
from c, four from d, two from e and none from f because they are all already
comprised in the previous ones. This is shown in Table 3.1, where there are
five rows of cells, in the first of which is the comparison of a to all the other
terms, and of the other terms to a; in the second, the comparison of b to all
the others and the others to b; in the third, the comparisons of e [ recte c];23
in the fourth, of b [recte d]; in the fifth the comparisons of e to the others and
of the others to that.
Thus there were six terms; taking away two that made up the com-
pounded space, those remaining are four, of which we may make twen-
ty-four orders, which make only twelve spaces. So that this can be well un-
derstood, let us remove those terms a and b that make the ratio of a to b and
the converse b to a, so that there remain [p. 105] four terms, c, d, e and f, of
which are made twenty-four orders (Table 3.2).

22 
For a comparative text on compounding ratios of six quantities using modern notation, see
Richard of Wallingford, Quadripartitum II.5-6, in North (1976), vol. II, pp. 63-71.
23 
Numerous printing errors appear in the text that follows. Had Barbaro chosen to use
upper-case literals instead of lower-case, much of this confusion in the text would have
been avoided. In order to correct the text and signal the appearance of errors, I have chosen
the following convention: the original, incorrect variable appears in italics, followed by
the correct variable within square brackets. Where that correct variable within brackets
was correct in the 1556 edition, it appears in bold type. Where the correct variable within
brackets appears in normal (non-bold) type, it means that the variable was printed incorrectly
in the 1556 version as well.
 189

direct converse
a a a a a b c d e f
b c d e f a a a a a
FIRST ORDER: TEN SPACES

direct converse
b b b b c d e f
c d e f b b b b
SECOND ORDER: EIGHT SPACES

direct converse
c c c d e f
d e f c c c
THIRD ORDER: SIX SPACES

direct converse
d d e f
e f d d
FOURTH ORDER: FOUR SPACES

direct converse
e f
f e
FIFTH ORDER: TWO SPACES

Table 3.1.
190 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

c d d e
13 19
e f e f
FIRST SEVENTH

c d c d
14 20
f e f e
SECOND EIGHTH

c e e c
15 21
d f d f
THIRD NINTH

c e e c
16 22
f d f d
FOURTH TENTH

c f f c
17 23
d e d e
FIFTH ELEVENTH

e f f e
18 24
c d c d
SIXTH TWELFTH

Table 3.2.

The numbers posted on the outside of Table 3.2 indicate that two orders
compose the same interval: thus, for example, the number of the fifth order
inside the table being next to the number seventeen outside the table denotes
that the interval compounded in the seventeenth mode is the same as that
compounded in the fifth mode because the interval compounded of the same
ratios d to e and c to f proposed by the seventeenth mode is the same as that
compounded of c to f and d to e proposed by the fifth mode. Thus the outside
numbers show that these intervals are combined in pairs—that is, the first
through twelfth are twins of the thirteenth through twenty-fourth. The ratio
of a to b and the converse b to a may be understood as being compounded of
twelve ratios among four terms, c, d, e, and f; the same is true of each of the
p. 105 191

aforesaid ratios. Therefore, there being thirty ratios that may be compound-
ed, all the possible combinations will be thirty times twelve, which makes
three hundred and sixty. Of these, given that the ratio a to b is compounded
of the ratios c to d and e to f, then only thirty-six are useful. The others do
not count. It is sufficient to present fifteen in Table 3.3, the other fifteen
being the converse; we have demonstrated from the fourth proposition that
every converse ratio is made from the converse of the ratios from which the
principal ratio is compounded.

FIRST a b
compounded
SECOND a c
compounded
THIRD a d
compounded
FOURTH a e
compounded
FIFTH a f
compounded
SIXTH b c
compounded
SEVENTH b d
compounded
EIGHTH b e
compounded
NINTH b f
compounded
TENTH c d
compounded
ELEVENTH c e
compounded
TWELFTH c f
compounded
THIRTEENTH d e
compounded
FOURTEENTH d f
compounded
FIFTEENTH e f
compounded

Table 3.3.
192 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

If, for example, the ratio of a to b is compounded of the ratios of c to d

and e to f, then the converse—that is, b to a—is compounded of the ratios d
to c and f to e. This being demonstrated, the other fifteen are also manifest.
Thus we shall present the fifteen set forth in Table 3.3, of which by necessity
nine are compounded of two ratios between the remaining four terms, while
the other six are not necessarily so. What is compounded is shown in the
table; that which is not compounded is also apparent.
Thus, every ratio involved in compounding may be compounded in only
two ways: that is, from the ratio of the third to the fourth and the fifth to the
sixth; and, similarly, from the ratio of the third to the sixth and the fifth to the
fourth. As there are nine ratios, there are eighteen compositions, and again as
many of their converses. There are thus thirty-six useful ways. Those that are
not compounded [p. 106] are six, and their converses are six, so that twelve
are useless. Thus the sum of all the useful and useless ways is forty-eight.
Given the first mode—that is, the ratio of a to b compounded of the
ratios c to d and e to f—I will prove that the second mode is compounded of
the same as that compounded of c to f and e and d, because I will set the ratio
d to e between c and f, where the ratio e [recte c] to f shall be compounded of
the ratios c to d, d to c [recte e], and e to f. From this it follows that the ratios of
e [recte c] to f and e to d are compounded of the ratios c to d, d to e, e to f, and
e to d. The ratios c to d, d to e, and e to d compose the ratio between e [recte c]
and d. By reason of the third proposition, given d to c [recte e] between c and
d, therefore, e to d and c to f are as c to d and a [recte e] to f. The ratio a to b is
compounded of the ratios e [recte c] to d and e to f, and thus the ratio a to b is
compounded of ratios that are between c and f, and e and d, which was what
I set out to prove.
The third mode is that the ratio between a and c shall also be com-
pounded of the ratios b to d and c [recte e] to f, which is apparent when b is
set between a and c. The ratio of a to c will be compounded of that of a to b
and b to c, but the ratio of a to b is compounded of c to d and e to f according
to the supposition. Thus, a to c is made of b to c, c to d, and e to f, while b to
c and c to d compose b to d, c being set between b and e. Thus the ratio a to c
is compounded of b to d and e to f.
The fourth mode proceeds from the third, as the second proceeded
from the first, given d and e between b and f. So are all the even-numbered
modes connected to their uneven-numbered modes, to avoid repeating the
same things.
pp. 106-107 193

The fifth mode is that the ratio of a to e is compounded of b to f and c to

d. Given b between a and e, it will be the same argument as the third mode
because a to e is compounded of a to b and b to e; a to b is compounded of e
to f and c to d because it was set out that way in the first mode. Thus a to e is
compounded of b to c [recte e], e to f, and c to d, while b to f is compounded
of b to e and e to f, since e is set between b and f. Thus the ratio a to e is com-
pounded of the ratios b to f and c to d.
The sixth mode is derived from the fifth, according to the same argu-
ment as the second, given f and c set between b and d.
The seventh mode composes the ratio of b to d from the ratios a to c and
f to e. So, since a to b is compounded of c to d and e to f,24 it follows from the
fourth proportion [recte proposition] that the ratio b to a is compounded of
d to c and f to e. Since a is put between b and d, the ratio b to d will be com-
pounded of b to a and a to d. So b to a is compounded of d to c and f to e; the
ratio b to d is compounded of three ratios: a to d, d to e [recte c] and f to e. The
ratios a to d and d to c compose the ratio of a to c because d is set between a
and c. Thus the ratio b to d is compounded of a to c and f to e, as was proposed.
The eighth mode is derived from the same argument by which the sec-
ond mode is derived from first mode, and is proved by the preceding way,
putting e [recte c] and f in between a and e.
Similarly the ninth mode, where the ratio b to e [recte f] is compounded
of the ratios a to e and d to c, since b to a is compounded of d to c and f to e,
given that a is set between b and f. The ratio b to f will be compounded of b
to a and a to f and so b to f will be compounded of a to f, f to e, and d to c.
The ratios a to f and f to e compose a to e. So b to f is compounded of a to e
and d to c.
[p. 107] The tenth mode, by reason of the argument of the second mode,
proceeds from the things already proved in the preceding one, e and d being
placed between a and c.
The eleventh mode compounds c to d from a to b and f to c [recte e]. So,
by the third mode, a to c is made of b to d and e to f, thus c to a is compound-
ed of d to b and f to e set between c to d. The ratio c to d is compounded of a
to d, d to b, and f to c. The ratios a to d and d to b compose a to b; then c to d
is compounded of a to b and f to e.

The variables are inverted in the Quadripartitum according to North (1976, vol. II, p. 69):
24 

(17) (B:A)=(D:C)·(F:E).
194 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The twelfth mode is derived from the argument given above, b and f
being placed between a and e.
The thirteenth mode is similar: the ratio c to f is compounded of the
ratios a to b and d to c [recte e], given d and c between e and f. The ratio c to f
is compounded of the ratios c to d, d to e, and e to f. Since c d and e f compose
a b, then c f is compounded of a b and d e.
The fourteenth mode is derived from the preceding, when, as in the
second, b and d are set between a and e.
The fifteenth mode is that d e is also compounded of b a and of c f,
setting c and f between d and e. The ratio d e is compounded of d c, c f, and
f a [recte e]. The ratios d to c and f to e compose b a. Because their converses
compose a b according to the supposition, then d e is compounded of b to a
and c to f.
The sixteenth mode is deduced from the preceding, by reason of the
second mode, such that a and c are set between b and f.
The seventeenth mode is that e f is compounded of a b and d c, by which,
according to the converse of the fifth mode, e a is compounded of f b and d c.
The rest is ordered as was done in the first deduction of the eleventh mode.
The eighteenth mode, by reason of the second mode, is derived from the
preceding, b and d being placed between e [recte a] and c.
I believe enough has been said at this point to shed light on the things
of which al-Kindi speaks. Here below will be derived a most beautiful prop-
osition, which contains seventeen extremely useful things worthy of being
exercised by all sorts of studious people. These serve to find any unknown
number among six given terms.
If the ratio between the first and the second is compounded of the ratios
between the third and fourth and the fifth and sixth, then the same shall be
compounded of the ratios that are between the third and sixth and the fifth
and fourth. Here are the numbers to use for the example:
1 2 3 4 6 9.
From the subsesquitertian (that is, three to four) and the subsesqui-
alteran (that is, six to nine) is born the subduple, which is between one and
two. I say that the same subduple is born of the ratio between the third and
the sixth (that is, between three and nine, which are in a subtriple) and that
between the fifth and the fourth (which are six and four, where the ratio is
a sesquialteran). So, from a subtriple and a sesquialteran is born a subduple,
as between one and two.
pp. 107-108 195

Similarly, the ratio of the first to the third is compounded of the ratios
of the second to the fourth and the fifth to the sixth. This is to say that the
ratio of one to three (which is a subtriple) is compounded of the ratios of two
to four (which is a subduple) and six to nine (which is a subsesquialteran);
the result is a subtriple.
In the same way, where the ratio of the first to the fifth (that is, of one
to six, which is a subsextuple) is made of the ratios of the second to the sixth
(which is of two to nine, a subquadruple sesquialteran) and the third to the
fourth (which is three to four, a subsesquitertian), then that same ratio will
come from the second to the fourth (which is two to four, a subduple ratio)
and from the third to the sixth (which is three to nine, a subtriple); that is, a
subsextuple will be born.
So too, where the ratio of the second to the fourth (which is a subduple
as in one [recte two] to four) shall be born of the ratio of the first to the third
(which is a subtriple, as between one and three) and [p. 108] the ratio of the
sixth to the fifth (which is nine to six, a sesquialteran). So, as from a subtriple
and a sesquialteran is born a subduple, that same ratio is born from the first
to the fifth (that is, from one to six, a subsextuple) and the sixth to the third
(where from nine to three make a triple). So, from a subsextuple and a triple
is born a subduple (as in two to four).
Similarly, where the ratio between the second and the sixth (as between
two and nine, a subquadruple sesquialteran) is born of the ratios of the first
to the fifth (which is one to six, a subsextuple) and of the fourth to the third
(which is four to three, a sesquitertian), that same subquadruple sesquialter-
an ratio will be born of the ratio of the first to the third (that is, from one to
three, a subtriple) and the fourth to the fifth (which is four to six, a subses-
quialteran). So, from a subtriple and a subsesquialteran is born a subquadru-
ple sesquialteran.
Similarly, where the ratio of the third to the fourth (as three to four, a
subsesquitertian) is born of the ratios of the first to the second (which is one
to two, a subduple) and the sixth to the fifth (which is nine to six, a sesqui-
alteran), that same ratio will be born of the ratios between the first and the
fifth (which is one to six, a subsextuple) and the sixth to the second (which is
nine to two, a quadruple sesquialteran). So, from a subsextuple and a quad-
ruple sesquialteran is born a subsesquitertian.
Further, where the ratio between the third and the sixth (which is a
subtriple as between three and nine) is born of the ratios of the first to the
196 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

second (which is one to two, a subduple) and the fourth to the fifth (which is
a subsesquialteran, as between four and six), that same ratio will be born of
the ratio between the first and the fifth (which is one to six, a subsextuple)
and that of the fourth to the second (as between four and two, a subduple).
So, from a subduple and a subsesquitertian comes a subtriple.
Again, where the ratio of the fourth to the fifth (which is four to six, a
subsesquialteran) is compounded of the ratios of the second to the first (that
is, of two to one, a duple) and the third to the sixth (which is three to nine,
a subtriple), then that same subsesquialteran will be born of the ratio of the
second to the sixth and the third to the first.
Finally, where the ratio of the fifth to the sixth (as between six and nine,
a subsesquialteran) is born of the ratios of the first to the second (as between
one and two, a subduple) and the fourth to the third (which is a sesquiter-
tian), that same ratio will be born of the ratio between the first and the third
(a subtriple, as between one and three), and that between the fourth and the
second (which is the duple, as in four to two).
Let this be all that is said of the ratios and their regeneration and re-
lations. When these things have been examined diligently, exercised, con-
signed to memory and applied to the sciences and to practice, they will ap-
pear miraculous to men. But it is time that we listen to Vitruvius.

Chapter I
On the compositions and compartitions of temples,
and on the measure of the human body

[p. 108] (Vitruvius) [III.I.1] The composition of the sacred houses is made accord-
ing to compartition, whose rationale must be learned with the greatest diligence by
architects. The compartition is taken from proportion, which is called analogia in
Greek. Proportion is the agreement of the modules and measures in every work, of
the proportionate part of the [p. 109] members as well as the whole, from which
proceeds the rationale behind the compartitions.
(Barbaro) The sum of all that Vitruvius has to say regarding the build-
ings pertinent to religion is as follows. First he demonstrates the necessity
of knowing the power of proportions and commensurations, which were
called ‘symmetry’ by the Greeks. Then he tells where the rationale of meas-
p. 109 197

ures comes from, and treats the composition of temples, considering first
that which is represented externally. He discusses at length the outward
appearance25 of the different figures and forms of temples, and in this part
he touches on the five manners of temples, and the rationales of each. He
states the way of making the foundations, the ornaments of columns, cap-
itals, architraves, roofs, pediments, and other things pertinent to what is
seen on the exterior, such as steps, platforms, pedestals, projections, taper-
ings, swellings, additions, fluting, and the like, according to the manners of
buildings. Then he comes to the parts inside, and reasons distinctly about
the measures, lengths, widths, and heights of temples, cellae, ante-temples,
altars, doors, and all the ornaments that belong to the aforementioned parts.
Thus he leaves nothing to be desired on our part, collecting all this material
together in the third and fourth books.
So, he says that in order to build temples it is necessary to know the ra-
tionale behind the compartition, and that architects must learn this with the
greatest diligence. The reason for this is readily seen because every building
must be compartitioned and measured according to reason, especially when
we consider how far the divine exceeds the mortal, since we rightly put all
that is beautiful and rare to use for the honour and observance of divine
things. Since the human mind participates on earth in the quality of the
divine, we must exercise this in every study so that we honour the gods, as
the true friends of God are called. Reason in the mind of man is an excellent
thing, and this is most excellently demonstrated in proportions. So when
Vitruvius says that the rationale of symmetry, which is correspondence of
measures, must be learned with the greatest diligence by architects, he says
something reasonable, honest, and divinely inspired. If a mortal thing may
suffice to honour immortality, then I too would say that the things most
precious and dear must be the subject and material of the well-proportioned
buildings for sacred places, so that the divinity may be as highly honoured
as possible by form and material. Thus, symmetry is necessary for the com-
position of temples.

25 
The aspetto, which I interpret to mean ‘[outward] appearance’, refers to the formal
dispositions or arrangements of colonnades on the elevations of temples. Vitruvius’s term
aspectus (see Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 23r) has been variously translated: Morgan (1914, p. 75:
‘general aspect’); Granger (1931, p. 167: ‘effects of its design’); Rowland and Howe (1999, p.
48: ‘appearance’); and Schofield (2009, p. 69: ‘external appearance’).
198 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Here Vitruvius defines symmetry according to its application to archi-

tecture, but earlier we have defined it according to the all-embracing nature
and universality of the term.26 Vitruvius thus says that proportion, which is
called analogia by the Greeks, is a consonance and correspondence of the
measures of the parts among themselves and with the whole in every work
that is made. He calls this consonance ‘commodulation’ because the module
is said to be that measure which is taken first, and with which all the parts
and the whole are measured. Thus proportion in buildings is none other than
the comparison of the modules and the measures in it, in which agree both
the parts among themselves, and the whole together with the parts. This
has already been amply demonstrated in the first book. So, going forward,
Vitruvius states the example of nature from which the rationale behind the
measures has been taken.
(Vitruvius) [III.I.1 cont.] No building at all without measure and propor-
tion can have rationale of composition if first there is no respect or consideration for
the true and certain rationale of the members of a well-proportioned man. [III.I.2]
For nature has composed the body in such a way that the bone of the head from chin
to the top of the forehead and the low roots of the hair is the tenth part, and so also
is the palm of the hand from the joint of the node to the tip of the middle finger.
The head from the chin to the top of the head is the eighth part, and it is that much
again from the bottom of the neck. From the top of the chest to the roots of the hair
is the sixth part; to the top of the head, the fourth part. From the end of the chin to
the end of the nostrils is the third part of the height of the whole face, and as much
again is the length of the nose all the way to the middle of the eyebrow. So too is
that from that to the roots of the hair, where the [p. 110] forehead is. The foot is the
sixth part of the height of the body; the cubit is the fourth part, the chest is also the
fourth. In this way, all the other members of the body have their appropriate and
proportionate measures, which were used by the ancient painters and statuaries,
and which brought them great and infinite praise.
(Barbaro) Mistress Nature teaches us how to guide ourselves in the
compartition of buildings; she wants nothing else but that we learn the ra-
tionales of the symmetries that we must use in temples, since the sacred tem-
ple is made in the image and likeness of God, which is man, in whose com-
position are comprised all the other marvels of nature. With wise foresight
the ancients took every rationale of measuring from the parts of the human

26 
See Barbaro, p. 34.
p. 110 199

body; thus Vitruvius very rightly says that no work can have a rationale of
composition if first it does not have regard for the symmetry of the human
members. I shall propose some definitions so that what Vitruvius says may
be better understood.
Measure is understood in three ways. Firstly, when something is the
most perfect of its kind, it is said to be the measure of perfection. In this way,
as man is the most perfect among all the animals, it may be said that he is the
measure of all animals. Secondly, there is the so-called measure of equality,
which is when the measure contains the measured thing exactly one time, as
an urn of wine is called a measure because it contains just as much wine as it
can hold. Lastly, we call a measure that quantity which, taken more than one
time, measures the whole, as when we say that the rod measures cloth. We
are speaking of this one; this is the one that was taken by the ancients from
the measure of perfection, which among the animals is man. Thus measur-
ing is nothing other than making explicit a quantity otherwise unknown by
means of a quantity that is known and certain. So with reason the measures
of things and the rationales of those measures have been taken from the
parts of man. Further, it is reasonable that the measure of everything be tak-
en from the head, since the head, being the location of the value of all human
sentiments, is most noble, principal, and most manifest.27
Vitruvius would have it that a man be of ten heads, 28 where a head is
understood to be from the chin to the hairline; he would also have man be
of eight heads, where a head is understood to be the space from the chin
to the crown. The ancients, in addition to proportion, looked to grace to
make a satisfactory appearance, so they made the bodies somewhat large, the
heads small, and the thigh long, as in these qualities swiftness resides. I am
speaking now of perfect bodies, because a different measure is appropriate
for infantile bodies, for the lean, or for fat or slender bodies that you may
wish to draw.
27 
Cfr. Plato, Timaeus, 44d: ‘First, then, the gods, imitating the spherical shape of the
universe, enclosed the two divine courses in a spherical body, that, namely, which we now
term the head, being the most divine part of us and the lord of all that is in us...’. Trans.
Benjamin Jowett, in Plato (1961, p. 1173).
28 
The use of the human head (testa) here as a module is clear. Below, in discussing columns,
Barbaro also uses the term testa to indicate the thickness (or diameter, as we would say) of
the column at its bottom, which is used as a module. Testa, in the sense of ‘end’ can indicate
either top or bottom of the column, but we know that the bottom diameter is the one used.
Unfortunately, the affinity between the human head and the column thickness used as the
module is lost in the English translation, so I wished to point it out in a note.
200 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Staying always within appropriate measure, the ancients were fond of

length and slenderness in some parts of the body, as it seemed to them to
lend some kind of greater gracefulness to their works. Even though they
said that the length from the wrist, which is the bending of the hand, to the
tip of the middle finger should be equal to the length from the chin to the
top of the forehead, nevertheless, for the reason I just stated, they made the
hand and the fingers somewhat longer. Philander aptly observes that what
Vitruvius said—that the chest should be a fourth part of the height—cannot
be true. He maintains that when Vitruvius states that the cubit is a fourth, he
means, not from the elbow joint to the wrist, but rather from the elbow joint
to the tip of the middle finger.29 Pomponio Gaurico said that the correct
height is nine heads.30 Others say it is more. Cardano, in his book on subtlety
gave the following formula for the perfect human body:

The face is the tenth of the whole length from the hairline to the
extremity of the big toe of the foot. The face is divided into three
equal parts: one from the roots of the hair to the top of the nose;
another is the length of the nose; the third, from the end of the
nose to the chin. The length of the mouth is equal to the length of
the eye, and the length of the eye is equal to the space between one
eye and the other, in such a way that the space from one corner of
one eye to that of the other eye is divided into three—that is, two
eye lengths and the space in between. All of this is twice the length
of the nose, in such a way that the length of the eye and the open-
ing of the mouth are double the ninth part of the length of the face.
Thus, it turns out that the length of the nose is in a sesquialteran
ratio with the opening of the mouth, and with the length of the
eye. As the length of the nose is [p. 111] triple the space from the
nose to the mouth, it follows that this space shall be the measure of
the opening of the mouth and of the length of the eye. The circum-
ference of the mouth is double the length of the nose, and triple the
opening. Thus the total length of the face is a sesquialteran with
respect to the circumference of the mouth, and to the space from
the exterior corner of one eye to the exterior corner of the other, so

29 
See Philander (1544, p. 57).
30 
See Gaurico (1528, pp. not numbered); see also the citation in Philander (1544, p. 56).
p. 111 201

this space is equal to the circumference of the mouth. The circum-

ference of the lower part of the nose is equal to its length. The cir-
cumference of the ear is equal to the circumference of the mouth.
The hole of the nostril is a quarter of the length of the eye. In this
way the measures of the body are disposed, as will be seen below.
The face is divided into eighteen parts; between the two outside
corners of the eyes, twelve parts; the length of the nose, six parts;
the circumference of the lower part of the nose, six parts; the
length of the ear, six parts; from the roots of the hair to the nose,
six parts; from the chin to under the nose, six parts; the length of
the mouth, four parts; the rotundity of the mouth, twelve parts;
from the crown of the head to bottom of the back of the head,
twenty-four parts; from the top of the chest to the top roots of the
hair, thirty parts; from the collarbone at the top of the chest to the
crown of the head, thirty-six parts; the circumference of the ear,
twelve parts; the length of the eye, four parts; the distance between
one eye and the other, four parts; from the lower part of the nose to
the mouth, two parts; from the mouth to the chin, four parts; the
hole of the nose, one part; the space of the forehead, eighteen parts;
from the wrist joint of the hand to the tip of the middle finger of
the palm, eighteen parts; from the chin to the crown of the head,
twenty-four parts; the foot, twenty parts; the cubit, thirty parts;
the chest, thirty parts; the whole body, one hundred and eighty
parts. Also, men’s temples are proportional to the length of the
face, and the ears to the nose, as we have observed.
Similarly, from the joint of the hand to the tip of the middle finger
is a tenth of the whole body; from the chin to the crown of the
head, or from the crown of the head to the neck is double the space
from the corner of one eye to the corner of the other, meaning the
outer corners. From the collarbone at the top of the chest to the
roots of the hair and the top of the forehead is equal to the cubit,
and the width of the chest is the sixth part of the length of the
whole body. The length of the foot is the ninth part of the same
length; from the collarbone at the top of the chest to the crown of
the head is the fifth part of the whole length, and the double of the
face. Thus in what Vitruvius said, that the difference of the eighth
and the tenth part added to the sixth makes up the fourth of the
202 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

whole, there can be no reason. However, stretching out the hands

one reaches exactly the length of the whole body, and stretching
out both hands and feet, the navel is found to be in the middle in
such a way that from the first position one makes a square, and
from the second, a circle. Both of these figures, one of straight
lines and the other of circular lines, are the most perfect.31

This is what Vitruvius says:

(Vitruvius) [III.I.3] Similarly, the members of the sacred temples must have
between each part and the universal sum of all the most appropriate correspondence
of measures. Accordingly, the very centre of the body is naturally the navel. Thus,
if a man, spread out and lying down, stretches out his hands and feet, and the
point of a compass is placed in his navel, and the compass rotated, the fingers of his
hand and feet will by touched by the resulting line. And just as the circular figure
is formed in the human body, so also is the square figure found. Thus, if from the
soles of the feet to the top of the head the human body is measured, and that measure
transferred to the outstretched hands, then that width will be found to be the same
as the height, as it is in square surfaces. [III.I.4] If then nature has composed in this
way the human body, so that the members correspond with proportion to its perfect
figuration, then it seems that the ancients with cause constituted it so that in all the
perfections of the works there is diligent measure and proportion of each member to
the whole figure. So, teaching the orders in all works, this in sacred places, where
praise or criticism of works remains for all time, they observed above all.
(Barbaro) Not only did the ancients take proportions from the human
body, but also the measures themselves and their names. Vitruvius having
concluded that the symmetries and the compartitions of works [p. 112] have
been taken from human bodies and transferred to the compositions of tem-
ples, he also says how the measures themselves were taken:
(Vitruvius) [III.I.5] Similarly, the ancients gathered from the members of
the body the rationales of the measures that in all works seem necessary, such as
the finger, palm, foot, and cubit. They distributed them in perfect number, called
teleion by the Greeks.
(Barbaro) A perfect thing is that in which nothing is lacking, to which
nothing can be added, that is composed of all its parts, and in which nothing

31
 This very lengthy quote is Barbaro’s translation of Cardano’s Latin text (1550, pp.
217r-281v).
p. 112 203

is in excess.32 For this reason the world is absolutely perfect, and many other
things are perfect of their type. Let us see the reason why numbers are called
perfect, and which ones they are.
(Vitruvius) [III.I.5 cont.] Perfect number by the Greeks was posited as ten,
because from the hand derives the denarius number of the fingers, and from the
finger, the palm, and from the palm, the foot. Since from one hand and the other
the ten naturally proceeds, thus it pleased Plato that the number ten was perfect,
because of unities, called monads by the Greeks, is furnished the ten, which is the
first cross, after which is made eleven, then twelve, which cannot be perfect, until
the next cross is reached, since the unities are only small particles of that number.
(Barbaro) We said above that the ‘part’ is really that which, taken as
many times as it can be, composes the whole without a remainder [i.e., a
‘part’ is a divisor], from which comes the understanding of what now follows.
I say therefore that some numbers, with respect to the parts of which they
are composed, can be called poor and diminished, others superfluous and
rich, and others truly sufficient and perfect. The poor ones are those whose
parts, when gathered together, do not add up to the sum of the whole. For
example, take eight, the parts of which are one, two, and four, which, when
added together, do not make eight. Rich are those numbers whose parts add-
ed together make a larger sum, such as twelve, of which the parts are one,
two, three, four, and six: these parts gathered together exceed the whole [i.e.,
twelve], and make sixteen. Perfect are those numbers whose parts may be
added together to arrive at precisely equal the whole, such as six and twen-
ty-eight. You see, one, two, and three, which are the parts of six, when added
together, make exactly six. In the same way, one, two, four, seven, and four-
teen, the parts of twenty-eight, add together to make exactly twenty-eight.
The generation of perfect numbers will be best understood when first
some definitions are set out. So, there are some numbers that are called
evenly even. These are numbers which, their sum being even, may be divid-
ed in even numbers down to unity, as in the case of sixty-four, which is an
even number divisible into thirty-two, sixteen, eight, four, two, and down
to unity, all in even numbers. There are also other numbers that are called
prime and non-composite. These may only be measured by unity and do not
have any other number that divides them into whole numbers, such as three,

Cfr. the well-known definition of beauty in Alberti (1485, 6.2); (1988, p. 156): ‘Beauty is
32 

that reasoned harmony of all the parts within a body, so that nothing may be added, taken
away, or altered, but for the worse’.
204 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

five, seven, eleven, and others like these. The generation of perfect numbers
is made by setting the evenly even numbers in a row in order and adding
them together; multiplying the sum by the last number used in its summa-
tion will make a perfect number when that sum is prime and non-compos-
ite; otherwise the result is not a perfect number. Here is an example: one
and two make three. Since three is a prime number and non-composite,
it is multiplied by two, which was the last of the number to be summed;
two times three makes six, thus among the first ten numbers, the number
six is perfect. There follows the generation of another perfect number: one,
two and four make seven, which is prime and non-composite; seven mul-
tiplied by four, the last number in the sum, makes twenty-eight, which is
the second perfect number among the first hundred numbers. Next there is
one, two, four, and eight, which make fifteen. But fifteen is neither prime
nor non-composite because it can be measured by unity as well as by other
numbers, such as three and five, so we continue on to another evenly even
number, sixteen, which when added to fifteen makes thirty-one, which is a
prime and non-composite number. So thirty-one is multiplied by sixteen,
the last number in the sum, which makes four hundred and ninety-six. This
is the third perfect number of the first thousand numbers. With the same
rationale all the other perfect numbers may be made. They are rare because
perfect things are rare. The perfect numbers have [p. 113] this property:
their terminations are denominated alternately by six and by eight, as in six,
twenty-eight, four hundred and ninety-six, eight thousand one hundred and
twenty-eight, and so on. This rule is certain.
I will tell you the reason why the third and tenth numbers have been
called perfect. Three is called perfect because it embraces the first odd and
even numbers, odd and even being the principal differences between num-
bers. Ten was judged perfect because it finishes and terminates as a form
all the other numbers, thus Vitruvius said that when ten is passed, it is
necessary to return to unity; nor is the next perfect number found until the
number comes to the next cross. He calls this decusim, which is made in the
form of the letter X. But, in truth, only six is truly perfect because of the
reasons just stated. The others are called perfect because of certain relation-
ships and respects.
(Vitruvius) [III.I.6] The mathematicians argued against the aforesaid opin-
ion, saying that the six was perfect for this reason: because, according to their rea-
sonings, that number has the parts that convene in the number six.
p. 113 205

(Barbaro) That is to say, according to the reasonings of those mathema-

ticians who would have it that a number is perfect when it is born precisely
from the sum of its parts. Hence Vitruvius says, ‘because, according to their
reasonings, that number has the parts that convene in the number six’ because
when the parts of six are added together they make exactly six.
(Vitruvius) [III.I.6 cont.] For this reason they called one part of six sextans;
two parts of six, triens; three, semis; four, bes, called dimerone; five, quintari-
um, called pendamerone; and the six, perfect.
(Barbaro) As was said in the first book,33 the ancients used to call every
whole thing an as, and to divide that into its parts. Like those who interpret
the Greeks correctly, they reasoned quite properly. Thus, the ancients, moved
by reason, considered six a perfect number, and they called it an as. This had
its parts, and the names of these show us what those parts were. One was
called sextans because it is the sixth part of six. Two was called triens be-
cause it was the third part. Three was called semis, which means half-as. The
fourth bes, because it is two parts short of the whole; it was called dimerone
in Greek. Five, the quintarium, called pentimerone in Greek. And the six,
perfect. When unity is set above the perfect number, the process begins of
doubling the as to arrive to twelve. This may be called a double as, which
in Greek is called diplasiona. The seventh part is called ephecton, as in ‘unity
added to six’. Eight is called tertiarium because it is one third, or two parts,
over six; in Greek this is called epitritos—that is, that which adds the third
part to six. Nine is called sesquialterum and hemiolios because nine contains
six one time and a half. When ten is reached, it is called bes alterum—that
is, another bes (because the first, as we said, was four and is called dimerone,
as in two parts), as in ‘to six was added another two [recte four] parts’. In a
similar way, the eleven is called epipentamerone, which is the addition of five.
Thus, all the numbers are named according to their relationships. This is how
Vitruvius wanted it, whereby it appears that six is a perfect number for the
same reason that ten is a perfect number. That is, when ten is reached, we
begin again with unity, and go forward until we reach another decad, which
is made with two crosses, and so too do the mathematicians, who upon
reaching six begin again with another six, until they reach another as, which
is twelve. Vitruvius did well to mention the reason for which six is called
perfect, saying, ‘according to their reasonings, that number has the parts that con-

33 
See Barbaro, p. 23.
206 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

vene in the number six’, because when the numbering and the multiplying
parts of six are taken together, they render it exactly. When Vitruvius says,
‘For this reason they called one part of six sextans’, he doesn’t want to render the
reason why six is perfect, but rather to demonstrate that, because it is perfect,
for the aforesaid reason the mathematicians had wanted to give its name to
the other parts of six, and to show that six was a whole beyond which, if it
was necessary to go higher in numbering, it was necessary to begin again
with unity, as was done with ten. Otherwise, it was useless for the mathe-
maticians to oppose those who held that ten was a perfect number, if those
same mathematicians wanted six to be perfect for the same reason that ten
was held to be perfect. I believe that this is worthy of [p. 114] consideration.
(Vitruvius) [III.I.6 cont.] And when to the total made is added another as,
the amount grows above six, and is called ephecton. When eight have been made,
because a third part has been added, it is called epitriton. Having adding half and
reaching nine, it is called sesquialterum, which was also called hemiolios by the
Greeks. Adding two more parts and making the crossing it is called besalterum,
which they call epidimiron. In the number eleven, because to six has been added
five, called a quintarium, it is called epipentamiron. But twelve, because it is
made of two simple numbers, is called diplasiona.
(Barbaro) This has been very clearly stated. Vitruvius would then have
the rationale of the measure of the human body taken from the senarius [i.e.,
the number six], inasmuch as it is man’s height.
(Vitruvius) [III.I.7] Similarly, since the foot is the sixth part of the height of
man, thus by that number of feet by which is measured and perfect the body, termi-
nating it in height with these six they made it perfect, and they observed that the
cubit was six palms and twenty-four fingers.
(Barbaro) Just as the rationale of numbering was taken from the fingers,
from this too comes the rationale of measuring, and thus the rationale of the
senarius enters into measures. Here Vitruvius reasons in accordance with the
opinion of the Greeks, who wanted six to be a perfect number. Thus they also
transferred it into their coins. So Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [III.I.7 cont.] From this is appears that the cities of the Greeks
made it so that, as the cubit is six palms, the same number would be used in the
drachma. So those cities made it so that the drachma would be worth six marked
coppers, like asses, that were called oboli, and instead of dividing the drachma into
twenty-four fingers, each obolus was constituted of four quarters, which some called
dichalca, others trichalca.
pp. 114-115 207

(Barbaro) The Greeks would have their drachma equal to six oboli, and
this corresponded to the cubit, which contains six palms. They wanted each
obolus to be worth four coins that were called ‘dichalca’, where twenty-four
dichalca made a drachma, as twenty-four fingers make a cubit. Though the
obolus was a copper coin of little value, it was marked and coined and was
a whole, which is called an as. The fourth part, called a quadrans, is named
‘dichalcus’ or ‘trichalcus’, depending on its different relationships. So, just as
the number of oboli in the drachma corresponded to the number of palms
that make a cubit, which are six, the number of dichalca or trichalca in the
obolus corresponded to the number of the fingers in the cubit, which were
twenty-four. Thus it appears that even in their coins the Greeks took the
rationale from numbers. In this case we believe Vitruvius.
(Vitruvius) [III.I.8] But our forebears first made the ancient number the ten,
and put into the denarius ten asses of copper. Even to the present day the coins re-
tain the name denarius, the fourth part of which is worth two and a half asses and
is called sestertius. Then, having observed that both the one and the other number
were perfect, that is, the six and the ten, they put the two together and made sixteen
a perfect number. From this they found author for the foot, since taking two palms
from the cubit leaves a foot of four palms, but the palm has four fingers, thus the foot
has sixteen fingers and the denarius has that many asses of copper.
(Barbaro) There are two kinds of palm, the greater and the lesser. The
lesser is four fingers, and is called a palaeste; the greater is twelve fingers
and is called spithame. A finger, or digit, is the space of four grains of barley
laid in a row width-wise. Vitruvius says that the Romans first took ten to
be a perfect number, and so they called their coin ‘denarius’ (which appears
reasonable), as is still the custom today. They divided the denarius into ten
asses of copper. Later, seeing that the six too was perfect, they combined the
ten and the six. Maintaining, however, the name ‘denarius’, they divided it
into sixteen asses, which correspond to sixteen fingers, which make a foot.
Things being in this way, Vitruvius concludes and says:
[p. 115] (Vitruvius) [III.I.9] If then it is a reasonable and appropriate thing
that number was found from the fingers of man, and that the separate members of
the body make the correspondence of measures according to the module of the whole
form of the body, then it remains to us to admit that those who also built the houses
of the immortal gods ordered their works so that the distribution and compartitions
of the individual parts and the whole joined together were appropriate to the pro-
portions and symmetries.
208 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius sets forth the universal conclusion to all that
he has said. Thus it seems to me that the first chapter of this book needs
to end here, where what Vitruvius said earlier clearly is concluded: that no
building at all can have rationale of composition with measure and pro-
portion, unless due regard and consideration are first given to the true and
absolute rationale of man’s well-formed and well-proportioned members, a
rare example of proportion and just compartition. However, we will never-
theless follow the ancient division of the chapters, and attend to the things
presented to us by Vitruvius who, erudite in the disciplines of the Greeks,
uses a reasonable way and mode of treating of these things. So he says:
(Vitruvius) [III.II.1] The principles of the temples are those by which are
formed the appearance of their forms. The first is that which is called ‘ face with
pilasters’, after which come that called prostyle, then amphiprostyle, the winged, the
false winged of two rows, the winged of two rows, and the open.
(Barbaro) Wishing to teach us the composition of temples, it is with
great reason that he begins with the differences that first come before our
eyes, because the order of cognition leads us to start with universal things,
which are confused and indistinct, and then arrive to the particular, which is
explicit and distinct.34 Besides, in architecture it must be noted that the eye
wants its own part,35 and that the variety of appearances according to the fig-
ures and forms of the different temples endows them with delight, veneration,
and authority. Just as oration assumes different forms and ideas in order to
satisfy the ears, architecture assumes its appearances and forms to satisfy the
eyes. And, just as oration takes that which resides in the mind and in the will,
artfully takes it out of us, and carries it to other places, and just as the words,
figures, composition of words, numbers, members, and conclusions shape the
ideas and the forms of speech, so do proportion, compartitions, different ap-
pearances, numbers, and collocation of the parts form the ideas of buildings
that are most appropriate to those purposes for which they are made.
One rationale of sentences, artifices, words, figures, parts, numbers,
compositions, and terms is used when the orator wants to be clear, pure, and
34 
Silvio Belli places a strong emphasis on this point, in almost the same words. Cfr. Belli
(1573, p. 8v); (2003, p. 40): ‘When we begin to philosophize, all species of things present
themselves confusedly to the intellect, but then they pass through the senses to the memory,
and stop there’.
35 
This is still a very common Italian adage: Anche l’occhio vuole la sua parte (the eye too
wants its part), and is perhaps most synthetically translated as ‘appearance matters’. Barbaro
repeats this phrase on p. 282.
pp. 115-117 209

elegant in speaking, another when he wants to be grand, vehement, sharp,

and severe; another again is required for charm; still others, for beauty and
ornateness of speech. Similarly, in the ideas of building, we require differ-
ent proportions, dispositions, orders, and compartitions when grandeur and
veneration are desired, and when beauty, delicacy, simplicity are desired. The
nature of the things which go to form an idea in oration make it so that some
things are suitable for being placed together with another thing, which com-
bination then forms yet another idea. Thus, in purity may be found great-
ness; in greatness, beauty; in beauty, simplicity; and in simplicity, splendour.
Indeed, this is the highest praise for the orator, and is earned by mixing the
conditions of one form with the conditions of another, as is manifest to the
true architects of oration.
Thus I say that in buildings, combining, according to reason, the propor-
tions of one manner, compounding them, or reducing them, with those of an-
other manner may result in a beautiful middle way. At first things are simple
and pure, and then with various additions they are made grander and more
ornate, as is seen clearly in all mortal works and inventions. However, the wise
and prudent architect must not take everything that is made by everybody,
but only those things that begin to have some kind of hidden virtue that de-
lights our senses, just as the excellent orator does not take everything that the
silly common man or the low plebeian understands, but everything that the
listener with more elevated sentiments is capable of hearing; on his own the
plebeian might not find such things, but upon their being found by others,
he takes them and delights in them. Thus Vitruvius does not take [p. 117]
all of the forms and figures of buildings that are made by this one or another
in vulgar, plebeian places; since there is no end of that, it cannot be counted
as artful. Rather he proposes to us those things that satisfy those who don’t
know anything, inasmuch as they exist but cannot be discovered by everyone.
He says that the principle—that is, the starting point—of our consideration
is the overall figure of the temple—that is, that which first represents the
appearance. This figure, or appearance, is seen in the fronts, the backs, and
the sides of temples, and may be seen separately in several buildings, or all
at once in the same building. So Vitruvius sets before us seven figures and
appearances of temples and says that the first is called ‘in antis’—that is, ‘face
with pilasters’—because antae is the name of the pilasters on the corners of
the face, which are called parastades in Greek. The first appearance is there-
fore of the front face of the temple, on which there are pilasters and square
210 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

counterforts and, in the middle, the columns that project forward, and above
which is the pediment made according to rationales that will be explained
later. Vitruvius thus speaks about the first appearance, which is in this way:
(Vitruvius) [III.II.2] The temple of faces with pilasters shall be when it has in
the front the pilasters of the walls that enclose the temple, and between the pilasters
in the middle two columns. Above those [p. 119] the pediment shall be made with
the appropriateness of measures that will be described in this book. The example
of such an appearance can be seen at the Three Fortunes, and of the three, the one
closest to the Porta Collina.
(Barbaro) Today no remains of this temple survive, but with the ration-
ales we have learned from Vitruvius, we can draw the plan, the elevation,
and sometimes the profile and sides. However, we will leave out the shadows
and avoid filling the page with figures and simple little things, not affecting
the quantity and the refinement of the figures obscured by foreshortening
and perspective, for our intention is to illustrate these things, not to teach
painting. The plan of the temple called ‘face with pilasters’ (Fig. 3.1.1) is
marked A; the drawing of the square pilasters in the form of columns is
marked B; the columns in the middle are marked C. The elevation of the
temple is marked D (Fig. 3.1.2).
(Vitruvius) [III.II.3] The face with columns called prostyle has all the things
that pertain to the face with pilasters, but it has two columns at the corners oppo-
site the pilasters. Above, it has architraves, like the face with pilasters, and on both
the left and the right at the turning of the corners, it has one column per side. An
example is on the Tiber Island at the Temple of Jupiter and of Faunus.
[p. 120] (Barbaro) The second appearance grows out of the first, with
two columns at the corners opposite the pilasters and two where the pilasters
turn the corner—that is, one per side. I believe that the only light in these
temples came through the door because I have not found mention of win-
dows anywhere.
The Tiber Island, consecrated to Aesculapius, was first built on at ran-
dom, but later fortified by the Romans, and adorned by many grand and
beautiful buildings. Jupiter had his building near the Temple of Aesculapius,
built by the consul Lucius Furius Purpureo; some say it was dedicated by
Caius Servilius.36 The Temple of Faunus was on the tip of the island, and only
the merest vestige is visible today; even less will be visible in the future, for
the Tiber is eroding the land around it and washing the soil away. Livy would
36 
This is recounted in Titus Livius (Livy), Ab Urbe Condita 34.53.7.
 211

Fig. 3.1.1. [The plan of the temple ‘face with pilasters’] Image [p. 116],
legend: A, plan; B, the square pilasters; C, the columns in the middle
All images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

Fig. 3.1.2. [The elevation of the temple ‘face with pilasters’] Image [p. 117]
212 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 3.1.3. [Plan of the amphiprostyle temple; removing the columns

at the other end and continuing the wall gives the prostyle temple]
Image [p. 118]

Fig. 3.1.4. [Elevation of the prostyle and amphiprostyle temple]

Image [p. 119]
p. 120 213

have it that condemnations built the so-called Temple of Gnaeus Domitius,

aedile with Caius Stribonius.37 In Fig. 3.1.3 the plan of this temple is marked
F and also serves as an example of the third appearance, called amphipro-
style, because if the columns at the other end are removed and the wall con-
tinued, what remains is the second appearance, called prostyle. In Fig. 3.1.4
the elevation is marked E, and serves also for the third appearance, which has
the same face at the other end.
(Vitruvius) [III.II.4] The appearance called amphiprostyle maintains all that
is in the prostyle, but, in addition, it serves the same way of columns and pediments
on the part behind. [III.II.5] The appearance called peripteral…
(Barbaro) …that is, ‘winged around’…
(Vitruvius) [III.II.4] …is that which has on both faces six columns, but on
the sides eleven with those at the corners, placed in such a way that the space be-
tween column and column is the same as that from the walls to the last rows of
columns all around, and it is possible to walk around the cella, as in the Portico of
Metellus, of Jupiter Stator, and at the Mariana of the Honour and Virtue,38 built
by Mucius, without the part behind.
(Barbaro) We read that a temple was consecrated to Honour outside
the Porta Salaria because near the altar a plaque was found bearing these
words: Dominae honoris.39 Marcus Claudius Marcellus dedicated a Temple
to Honour and Virtue, which was later restored by Vespasian near the Porta
Capena (as is found on medals). Marcellus built this in memory of all those
who came out of the enterprise, because by way of virtue one enters into
honour. Similarly, Marius built a Temple to Honour, entered by way of the
Temple of Virtue. The praetor Gnaeus Domitius erected a Temple to Fortu-
na Primagenia on the Quirinal, where there was also a Temple to Honour.
It was built of the Cimbric and Teutonic spoils in that area of the Esquiline
Hill that is called ‘Merulana’ instead of ‘Mariana’. The plan and elevation of
the [dipteral] temple are placed above in Book I (Figs. 1.2.1–2) and again
here in Figs. 3.1.7–8.40
37 
Ibid., 34.53.4. Livy says that the Temple of Faunus was built using money collected
through fines (Barbaro’s condennagioni).
38 
This refers to Aedes Honoris et Virtutis built at the behest of Marius by the architect
Mucius, one of the Monumenta Mariana. It is also referred to in Barbaro, p. 309; Vitruvius
VII.Pref.17. There Barbaro translates it slightly differently, as ‘the Temple of Honour and
Virtue of the Marian cella’.
39 
This is found in Cicero, De Legibus (On the laws) 2.23. It is also reported by a contemporary
of Barbaro’s, Lucio Fauno (1548, p. 13r).
40 
Figs. 1.2.1–2 (Barbaro, pp. 31-32) and Figs. 3.1.7–8 (Barbaro, pp. 123-124) are identical.
214 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 3.1.5. Image [p. 121], caption [p. 121]: Plan of the appearance called
peripteral—that is, ‘winged around’ [also the example of the species
called pycnostyle]

Fig. 3.1.6. Image [p. 122], caption [p. 122]: The elevation of the peripteral
appearance—that is, ‘winged around’
 215

Fig. 3.1.7. Image and caption [p. 123]: [half] Plan of the dipteral
appearance—that is, of two wings of columns [also an example of the
species called systyle]

Fig. 3.1.8. [The dipteral appearance] Image and legend [p. 124]:
I, elevation; O, profile. [I is also the elevation of the pseudodipteral]
216 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [III.II.6] The false appearance of two rows called pseudodipter-

al is made so that in the front and back there are eight columns, and on the sides
fifteen, with those on the corners. The end-walls of the cella are opposite the four
columns, and so the space between the surrounding wall and the outer rows of the
columns will be two intercolumniations plus the thickness of the column at its foot.
The example of this is not in Rome, but it is found in Magnesia, in the Temple of
Diana built by Hermogenes of Alabanda, and in the Temple of Apollo built by
Menesthenes.
(Barbaro) The fifth appearance is called ‘pseudodipteral’, which means
‘false double winged’: ‘pseudo’ meaning ‘false’; ‘dipteral’, two wings. Pteros
means ‘wing’, and the walls to the sides of the ante-temple, called pronaos,
are called pteromata, or more commonly, wing walls. The colonnades around
a temple are also called pteromata because they wrap around it like wings.
Hence ‘peripteral’ is the name given to that form of temple which has a
single row of columns around the temple’s cella or nave (Figs. 3.1.5–6); the
dipteral has two rows of columns (Figs. 3.1.7–8); the pseudodipteral is that
from which the interior row of columns has been removed, leaving a freer
space for walking around the body of the temple. The plan is marked O41 in
the first book (Fig. 1.2.1), as well as in Fig. 3.1.7 below.
(Vitruvius) [III.II.7] The appearance having two rows of columns, called
dipteral, has eight columns front and back, and around the cella two rows of col-
umns, as in the Doric Temple of Quirinus, and the Ionic Temple of Diana at
Ephesus built by Ctesiphon.
(Barbaro) [p. 121] Vitruvius mentions the dipteral and the pseudodip-
teral in the preface to the seventh book, and in the following chapter he
discusses the inventiveness of Hermogenes.42
(Vitruvius) [III.II.8] The open air or unroofed appearance called hypaethral
has ten columns at each end, and is otherwise similar to the dipteral. On the part
inside, it has a double row of columns as high as they are far from the surrounding
walls, as in the portico of peristyles. The middle part is open without a roof, and
is entered from doors at front and back. The example is not found in Rome, but in
Athens there is one with eight columns, in the Temple of Jupiter Olympius.

There are actually no markings on this plan; the profile is marked O in Fig. 3.1.8.
41 

Reference is made in the preface to Book VII to the Ionic Temple of Diana (Barbaro,
42 

p. 309; Vitruvius VII.Pref.12); and below it is hinted that Hermogenes wrote books about
his works (Barbaro, p. 131; Vitruvius III.III.9).
p. 121 217

(Barbaro) This must have been a most beautiful and very grand temple.
It had double porticoes around it. Inside it had two orders of columns, one
above the other; these were smaller than those outside. The roof ran from
the interior columns to the exterior columns and was sloping. All the space
that was surrounded by the interior columns was unroofed. The altar was in
the centre. There must have been a niche with a statue at every intercolum-
niation, both inside and outside and it must have been reached by steps. We
have to regret both the lack of examples, and the poverty of language, unless
we, through their use, soften the hardness of the foreign words and allow our
own language to do the courtesy of receiving them, as the Roman language
did. Figs. 3.1.9–11 demonstrate our intentions regarding the hypaethral
appearance.

Fig. 3.1.9 Image and caption [p. 125]: The [half] plan
of the appearance called ‘hypaethral’—that is, uncovered
218 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
 219

Fig. 3.1.10 Image and caption [p. 126-127]: The elevation of the
appearance called ‘hypaethral’—that is, uncovered
220 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter II
On the five species of temples

[p. 123] (Vitruvius) [III.III.1] There are five manners of temples, and these are
their names: pycnostyle, that is, with closely-spaced columns; systyle, wider; dia-
style, wider still; araeostyle, beyond what is appropriately wide; eustyle, having
reasonable and appropriate intervals. [III.III.2] Pycnostyle thus is when between
one and another column can be placed the thickness of a column and a half, as in
the Temple of the Divine [p. 124] Julius and in the Forum of Caesar the Temple
of Venus, and other temples if composed in this manner. The manner called systyle
is that where two thicknesses can be placed between columns, and the socles of the
bases to that space are as large as that between two socles, as in the Temple of
Equestrian Fortune at the theatre of stone, and in others that are built with the
same rationales.
(Barbaro) Human cognition, be it of whatever virtue of the soul you
like, whether of the senses or of the intellect, commences first with confused
and indistinct things, but then, drawing nearer to its object, becomes more
definite and certain. I do not want to philosophise now on this subject, but
will only give an example of the cognition of the senses. Upon seeing a thing
from far away, first we form a confused cognition of being, but then upon
seeing that with movement it carries itself somewhere, we judge it to be an
animal. Upon drawing near to it, we recognize it as a man, and when even
closer, we recognize in the man a friend, and finally we see every part of him.
Thus from being, which is a most universal thing, we come to movement,
and from movement we narrow down to the animal, and arriving to a more
distinct recognition, we find the man, recognize the friend, and distinguish
every part of his body. A similar thing happens with the cognition of the
intellect. So Vitruvius has provided us with an indistinct and confused cog-
nition of temples, taken from their figure and appearance, since the figure is
a common object among sensible things, being submitted to the cognition of
more than one of the senses. He descends then to the distance between parts,
and will finally arrive at the particular and definite measure of every particle.
So, the regulated appearances of the forms of temples are seven, and are
as universal principles of knowledge in this subject; what they are has already
been described. Moving closer to the building, we can see the openings and,
especially the spaces between the columns, which are more restricted in some
temples and larger in others, presenting different appearances to the eye and
pp. 124-128 221

producing different effects—of sweetness, or beauty, or grandeur, or sever-

ity—just as the intervals between sounds do in our ears. Thus that which is
consonance to the ears is [p. 128] beauty to the eyes. Vitruvius distinguishes
the species of temple according to the spaces between columns; not by their
number, but by their size. He says that the first class, called ‘pycnostyle’—
that is, of closely-spaced columns—is when one column is very close to an-
other. The second, ‘systyle’, is when the spaces are larger, because then the
columns are more distant. The third, called ‘diastyle’, is designed with still
larger spaces. The fourth, ‘araeostyle’, is when the intercolumniations—that
is, the spaces between columns—are larger than they need to be. The fifth,
‘eustyle’, separates the columns in a reasonable and delightful way. If it were
permitted, I would give these classes the following descriptors: narrow, wide,
relaxed, spacious, and just intercolumniations. Vitruvius then defines each
class, and would have the closely-spaced species called pycnostyle be where
the space between columns is made equal to a column thickness and a half.
The wide species or manner called systyle is when between two columns can
be placed two column thicknesses, or diameters.43 Vitruvius would have the
socles, called plinthides, which comprise the socles and the lower parts of the
bases, be at a distance equal to the space that is between two socles.
Philander understands ‘theatre of stone’ to mean the Theatre of Pompey,
the remains of which are in the Campo de’ Fiori.44 Good Pompey45 spared no
effort to make his theatre eternal, making it of stone, but the forces of time
are too strong, and its effects injurious to everything. What is not subject to
time? Time, with time, consumes even itself, and that which with time gains
life and vigour, again with time grows weaker and is ended: because to be of
time is to be ever born, and ever dying. While we live, there is nothing to be
done but to receive the injuries of time, which art, as far as she can, seeks to
remedy. But in the end, time exceeds art.
The example of the species called pycnostyle is noted in the plan of the
peripteral in Fig. 3.1.5; the systyle is shown in the plan of the dipteral shown
in Fig. 3.1.7 above.
(Vitruvius) [III.III.3] The two aforesaid manners are defective in use because
matrons ascending the steps to make their supplications cannot go in pairs between
43 
This is the first instance where column ‘thickness’ is equated by Barbaro with column
‘diameter’.
44 
See Philander (1544, p. 66).
45 
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, known as Pompey the Great (fl. first cent. B.C.).
222 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the intercolumniations but rather must pass in single file. The other defect is that
their doors and their ornaments, because of the close spacing, cannot be seen. Final-
ly, by the narrowness of the spaces walking around the temple is impeded.
(Barbaro) One might ask, if use, appearance, and walking are impeded
by the two manners described above, to what end did Vitruvius propose
them to us? I say that some forms of speaking must not be left out simply for
being less beautiful because sometimes obscurity and confusion, which are
the opposites of clarity and elegance of speaking, serve a purpose. Thus Vit-
ruvius should not have left out some forms, even if they are less comfortable
and less pleasing in appearance, because the mind of the observer, by means
of the eyes, is sometimes inspired to delight and pleasure, sometimes to awe
and horror, as needs be. This cannot be done well by one who does not know
the effects made by different manners of building. If one were to say that the
defective kinds of buildings serve to allow us to understand how they must
be avoided, perhaps he would not be off the mark. Anyone who would make
the columns so big that between two columns two thicknesses could easily
fit, so that there would be an appropriate space for pairs of people to pass be-
tween them together, would not have taken into consideration the fact that
the great height would go beyond the limits, that more than two matrons
could go through at the same time, and that the socles in the systyle manner
occupy space between the columns, and would also make the same impedi-
ment to walking. Similarly, the doors, which must correspond in proportion,
would be blocked as before.
(Vitruvius) [III.III.4] The composition of the diastyle is when we can trans-
pose into the intercolumniation the thickness of three columns, as in the Temple
of Apollo and Diana. This disposition holds this difficulty: that the architraves,
because of the width of the spaces, break.
(Barbaro) Oh how careful the architect must be not only with respect
to form and rationale, which are artfully directed to his faculties and mind,
but also to the material, the defects of which [p. 129] are infinite, while the
remedies are few and difficult, and are sometimes non-existent, or worthless.
Thus it is good (as we said), that Vitruvius has proposed to us the defective
manners, so that by taking the opposite course we might guard ourselves
against error. It is true that the aforementioned defect is usually corrected
by making lots of arches above the architrave, leaving them to cure and dry
well, and also locating them under the open space, since those arches relieve
the architrave of its load.
p. 129 223

Leon Battista Alberti in the seventh chapter of his fifth book46 has very
fittingly interpreted the names of the aforementioned species, although no
one can match the Greeks for felicity in the composition of names. He called
them consertis, subconsertis, subdispansis, dispansis, and elegantibus. It must be
well observed that Vitruvius did not want to provide a fixed rule for the
spacings of the above manners, so he used indeterminate words, saying, ‘one
could place’, or ‘one could locate’, and other similar phrases. This will be
noted again when we treat Doric works, in the fourth book.
(Vitruvius) [III.III.5] In the araeostyle manners we are not given the use of
stone or marble architraves, but over the columns must be placed continuous beams
of wood. The manners of these temples are low, wide, and humble, and their pedi-
ments are ornamented with figures of terracotta or gilded copper as is the custom in
Tuscany, as is seen in the Circus Maximus at the Temple of Ceres and of Hercules,
and of the Pompeian Capitol.
(Barbaro) In the araeostyle manners, the spaces between columns are
more generous. Note that Vitruvius used the plural, and said not the araeo-
style ‘manner’ but ‘manners’. So we are at liberty to make the spaces larger,
there being no prescribed law or rule. In these manners architraves of stone
or marble are not used because they would break. If this danger was already
present in the diastyle, where the space was three columns wide, it is even
greater in the araeostyle, where the spaces are more generous. In order to ob-
viate this defect, the architraves were made of wood and adorned with ivory,
and they were cladded to cover the wood. Vitruvius says the same thing in
the seventh chapter of the fourth book,47 but with other words. There too is
the plan and the elevation of the Tuscan araeostyle (Figs. 4.7.3–4).
Vitruvius’s words, ‘The manners of these temples are low, wide, and humble’,48
and the Latin terms barycae and barycephalae, present difficulties. We can un-
derstand that the word barycephalae means the ivory that was used to cover
the ends of the wooden beams because elephants are called barri. However,
it is very difficult to interpret barycae, unless perhaps it has been taken from
the Greek, because varis, which is the Greek word for ‘life’ means ‘large
churches’, as the Greek doctors of the Church say about the psalms, and as

46 
Actually Alberti (1485, 7.5); see Alberti (1988, p. 199), where these terms are translated
respectively as ‘close’, ‘not-so-close’, ‘not-so-wide’, ‘wide’ and ‘elegant’.
47 
Barbaro, p. 192; Vitruvius IV.VII.4.
48 
See Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 26r): Et ipsarum aedium species sunt barycae, barycephalae,
humiles….
224 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Athanasius says about the words in Psalm 44,49 a domibus eburneis, which in
Greek is Apò bareon elephantinon. He says that ornate houses and sumptuous
temples are called vareis, because the psalm says eburneis, as if those temples
and houses were made with great artifice and magnificence. Didymus says
that varis means ‘tower’, and that the churches are towered by the power
and grace of Christ, and used eburneis in place of ‘splendid’ and ‘precious’.
Theodoret says similar things about the same words;50 Basil says that great
edifices are called by that name;51 Eusebius understands it in the same way.
The art of moulding clay developed in Etruria before developing in any
other place in Italy. Damophilus and Gorgasus were most excellent in this,
and were also painters.52 Using both arts, they decorated the Temple of Ce-
res in the Circus Maximus; with the Greek inscription in verse they showed
that the works on the right were by Damophilus, and those of the left of
Gorgasus. All the things on the front of the temple were Tuscan, including
the pediment. Vitruvius mentions again in the fourth book the things that
he says here:

Let the beams be joined with dowels and tenons such that the joint has
a space that is two fingers wide, since if the beams touch and receive no
breath of air, they will heat up together and soon rot. Over the beams
and over the walls the mutules should project by the fourth part of the
height of the columns, and on their fronts of them, let the ornaments be
close together.53

Vitruvius calls the ornaments that are placed close together in order to
clad the beams antepagmenta. He says here below that the larger the spaces
between the columns, the larger the [p. 130] columns themselves should be,

49 
The psalm referred to is 44/45 (Greek numbering/Hebrew numbering), verse 8. Standard
Revised version: ‘Your robes are all fragrant with myrrh and aloes and cassia. From ivory
palaces stringed instruments make you glad’. King James version: ‘All thy garments smell
of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad’.
50 
See Theodoret (2000, p. 263).
51 
St. Basil’s commentary on this passage appears in Homily 17, where he speaks of ‘ivory
houses’; see Basil (1963, pp. 290-291).
52 
Damophilus (written ‘Dimofilo’ by Barbaro) and Gorgasus were Roman painters who
decorated the Temple of Ceres in Rome. See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 35.45.
53 
This is a paraphrase of the actual translation as it appears in Book IV; see Barbaro, p. 192;
Vitruvius IV.VII.4.
p. 130 225

and consequently, when the spaces are smaller, the columns should be lower.
So araeostyle temples are humble, squat, and low.
(Vitruvius) [III.III.6] Now must be rendered the rationale of the beautiful
and elegant manner called eustyle, and the rationales of its use, beauty, and solid-
ity. So, the intercolumniations must be made of two and a quarter column thick-
nesses. The space in the middle at the front as well as the back must be made of three
thicknesses because in this way it will have both a graceful figure of appearance and
the use of the entrance without impediment, and the walk around the cella will
have width.
(Barbaro) The narrow intercolumniation impeded walking, entering,
and appearance: thus the first two manners were defective. The largest and
more generous intercolumniations posed a danger for the architraves. So the
just intercolumniation is the middle road between the greater and the lesser,
both of which are defective extremes and must be reduced to a virtuous
medium. If then one and a half and two column thicknesses are too little,
and three is too much, then it remains that two and a quarter is appropriate.
But why two and a quarter, and not two and a half? I reply that this will be
the just measure of the compartition when it is desired to make the space
of the middle intercolumniation greater than those of the intercolumnia-
tions of the ends. Besides, if we take a subsesquiquintan ratio away from a
subsesquialteran, the result is a subsesquioctave. You see, one and a half is
six fourths, two are eight fourths, two and a half, ten fourths; three, twelve
fourths; six to eight is a subsesquialteran, ten to twelve a subsesquiquintan.
You will then say that six times twelve is seventy-two; eight times ten is
eighty. The ratio of seventy-two and eighty is a subsesquioctave.54 The nine
is better proportioned to the six and the twelve than to the ten, thus nine
fourths shall be the measure of the space made in the beautiful manner.

54 
There is an accumulation of errors in this argument (the same errors appear in the 1556 edition,
p. 76, lines 66-71). First (and aside from the problem of terminology of ‘subtracting’ ratios,
when as mentioned earlier the numerical operation is division), taking a subsesquiquintan
away from a subsesquialteran does not result in a subsesquioctave: 23 ÷ 56 = 23 × 65 = 12 15
; the result
is instead a subsesquiquartan, since 12 = 4 . Next, ‘six to eight’ is a subsesquitertian, not a
15 5
sesquialteran, since 68 = 34 (an error corrected in the 1567 Latin edition, p. 104, line 9). Finally,
the result of numerical operation itself is incorrect: 6 ÷ 10 = 6 × 12 = 72 = 9 , a subsesquinonus,
8 12 8 10 80 10
not a subsesquioctave 89 (this last result remained erroneous even in the 1567 Latin edition).
For the result to be a subsequioctave, he should have said ‘take a subsesquitertian away from a
subsesquialteran”, since 23 ÷ 34 = 23 × 43 = 89 .
226 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Now we shall see the proof:

(Vitruvius) [III.III.7] If the face of the temple is to have four columns,55 it is
divided into eleven parts and a half, leaving out from the sides the margins and
projections of the bases. If it must be of six columns, it will be divided into eighteen
parts; if of eight, into twenty-four and a half. Of these parts, if the temple is of four,
or six, or eight columns on the face, you will take one and that will be the module.
The thickness of the columns shall be of one module, and each intercolumniation,
except that in the middle, shall be of two modules and a quarter. The middle inter-
columniation, both in front and in the back, shall be of three modules. The height of
the columns shall be of eight modules and a half. In this way by that division, the
spaces that are between the columns and the heights of the columns shall have the
just ratio. [III.III.8] We have no example of this in Rome, but in Asia in Teos is
the Temple of Father Bacchus of eight columns in front.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius gives us an account of the beautiful manner called
‘eustyle’, which is when the spaces between the columns are of two thick-
nesses and a quarter, and the middle space is of three. With this rationale
he regulates those six forms of appearances described above, leaving out the
face with pilasters because it is enclosed and does not have a portico in front
of it. This is very clearly understood from the words of Vitruvius. He demon-
strates each of those figures according to the number of their columns and
thus instead of saying prostyle and amphiprostyle—that is, with ‘face with
columns’ and ‘both faces with columns’—he says tetrastyle—that is, having
four columns. Instead of saying peripteral, he says hexastyle—that is, of six
columns; and instead of saying pseudodipteral or dipteral, he says hexastyle
[recte octastyle]—that is, six [recte eight] columns on the front. Having thus
set out the manners in an indistinct way, now he wishes to regulate them.
He begins first with the beautiful manner [i.e., eustyle] of just and chosen
spacings, and then goes on to the others, which have more restricted or more
generous intervals. He regulates the prostyle and the amphiprostyle with a
single rule because both of these appearances have four columns. He takes
the space of the front of the temple and divides it into eleven parts and a
half, one of which must be the module—that is, that measure that is the
regulator of all the parts of the work. Thus, here you see order, of which we

There is a lacuna of the first part of the sentence. Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 26r): Huius
55 

autem rei ratio explicatibur sic). See also Morgan (1914, p. 80); Granger (1931, p. 172-173);
Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 49); and Schofield (2009, p. 76).
pp. 130-131 227

have spoken in the third chapter of the first book.56 So, the thickness of the
column shall be of one module, and there being four columns, there will
be four modules, leaving out the plinths and the projections of the bases
that are beyond the corners, [p. 131] or as Vitruvius says ‘praeter crepidines
et proiecturas’—that is, ‘excluding the margins and the projections’. Since
the spaces are one fewer than the columns, there will be three spaces, and
that in the middle wants three modules, making seven in all with the four
modules of the column thicknesses. The other two spaces shall have four
modules and a half, making each of them two modules and a quarter. Thus
are regulated the spaces of the face with columns [i.e., prostyle], and of the
amphiprostyle. The peripteral, or ‘winged around’ manner, is regulated in a
similar way. So, having to place six columns at each end, the face is divided
into eighteen parts, one of which becomes the module. Five will be given
to the spaces, and six to the thicknesses of the columns; the middle space,
three; the remaining four spaces, two per side, nine—that is, two modules
and a quarter per intercolumniation. All these added together make eight-
een. The false double-winged [i.e., pseudodipteral] and the double-winged
[i.e., dipteral] manners are regulated in the same way because they both have
eight columns at either end. The face will be divided into twenty-four parts
and a half, one of which will be the module. Eight modules will then go to
the thicknesses of the columns and three to the space in the middle, making
eleven. There remain three intercolumniations per side, making six, each
two modules and a quarter wide, which all add up to thirteen modules and a
half, which, when added to eleven, make twenty-four and a half.
This is what Vitruvius teaches us, and he also regulates the height of
the columns for us. He would have it that in every manner of appearance
regulated according to the chosen division of the spaces, the height of the
columns is equal to eight modules and a half.57 Here he mentions the Ionic
manner, of which he reasons in the present book.
(Vitruvius) [III.III.8 cont.] This correspondence of measures was ordered by
Hermogenes, who was also the first to find the rationale of the temple of eight col-
umns, that is, of the false double appearance. So, from the symmetry of the dipteral,
he removed the inner rows of thirty columns, and with that rationale, spared both

Actually chapter II. See Barbaro, pp. 27-28; Vitruvius I. II.2.

56 

In other words, the species (eustyle, pycnostyle, etc.) governs the column heights, no
57 

matter what manner (Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, etc.) is adopted.

228 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

expense and effort. He made in the middle around the cella a very wide space for
walking, and did not detract anything from the appearance, and by not desir-
ing anything superfluous, he maintained the authority with the distribution of
the whole work. [III.III.9] Thus the rationale of the wings and of the columns
surrounding the temple was found, so that its appearance would be noted for the
asperity of the intercolumniations, and so that even if because of the rains the force
of the water were to keep occupied and enclosed a multitude of people, they would
have in the temple and around the cella a large free space in which to stay. All of this
is found to be taken care of in the dispositions of the pseudodipteral. Thus it appears
that Hermogenes achieved these effects in his works with keen and great acuteness,
and that he left the sources so that those who came after could derive the rationales
of the disciplines and the teachings of the art.
(Barbaro) Removing the inner row of columns from the dipteral and
placing only the outer ones, a total of thirty columns are removed, as can
be seen from the plan (Fig. 3.1.7). To spare both expense and labour, Her-
mogenes did away with the inner rows, leaving the porticoes more spacious,
without taking anything at all away from the appearance, since there are still
eight columns to be seen at the ends and fifteen along the sides. Hence this
appearance is called ‘false dipteral’ because it seems to be dipteral but is not.
From this it may be understood that Vitruvius has regulated the appearanc-
es, even if he has not called them by name. That when he said ‘octastyle’ he
clearly meant dipteral and pseudodipteral is clearly understood when he said
that Hermogenes ‘was also the first to find the rationale of the temple of eight
columns, that is, of the pseudodipteral ’.
He also clearly shows his meaning in the preface to the fourth book,
in which he says what has been done in the third book, saying that he has
told of the distributions that are in each manner—that is, in the principles of
the cognition of temples—as well as the appearances and the five manners
of treating the spaces between columns. Here doubts might arise: why has
Vitruvius not mentioned the round temple, and why has he not regulated
the manner of unroofed temples [i.e., hypaethral] that have ten columns on
the ends? As to the first I say that Vitruvius explains the round temple in the
fourth book, and perhaps places it among the appearances that have generous
intercolumniations, as he did the Tuscan, and has postponed the treatment
of those appearances, preferring to deal here with those appearances that de-
velop by means of some addition. As to the second doubt, it may be said that
[p. 132] it is easy from the rules stated above to subdivide the unroofed tem-
p. 132 229

ple called hypaethral, according to the beautiful manner. When the temple
has ten columns at the front, then the front shall be divided into thirty-one
parts, of which one shall be the module. The thickness of the column will be
one module, and so ten columns will make ten modules; to the middle in-
tercolumniation three, making thirteen modules. To the intercolumniations
on each side of the middle, which are four and make eight spaces, are given
eighteen modules, which, added to thirteen, make thirty-one. The plan and
the elevation of this form are marked by name (Figs. 3.1.9–10).
(Vitruvius) [III.III.10] In the araeostyle temples, where there are generous
spaces between the columns, the columns must be made in such a way that the
thickness of those is the eighth part of the height. In the diastyle form the height
must be measured in this way, that it is divided into eight parts and a half, and
one part given to the thickness of the column. In the systyle manner, the height must
be divided into nine parts and a half, and one of those given to the thickness. In
the pycnostyle manner, the height is divided into ten parts, and of one is made the
thickness of the column. In the eustyle manner serves the rationale of the diastyle,
that is, that the height of the column is divided into eight parts and a half, and one
given to the thickness. [III. III.11] In this way is given by module the rationale of
the spaces between the columns: as the spaces between the columns increase, so too
with proportions must the thicknesses of their shafts increase. So, if in the araeo-
style manner the thickness of the column were the ninth or the tenth part, it would
appear to us to be tenuous and thin because, due to the width of the spaces, the
air consumes and diminishes the apparent thickness of the trunks of the columns.
To the contrary, if in the pycnostyle form the thickness were the eighth part of the
height, then, because of the narrowness and tightness of the spaces, it would have
an appearance that is swollen and without elegance. Thus it is necessary to follow
the appropriateness of the measures according to the manner of the work. So for
this the columns at the corner must be larger by the fiftieth part of their diameter,
because they are cut by the air surrounding them, and they appear more slender to
the observer. Thus that which deceives the eyes must be executed with reason.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, having regulated the appearances with the choic-
est and most beautiful manner of intercolumniations, called ‘eustyle’, now
teaches us how the appearances of the other manners are to be regulated.
These other four are: the narrow, called ‘pycnostyle’; the wide, called ‘systyle’;
the relaxed, called ‘diastyle’; the spacious and generous, called ‘araeostyle’.
The sum of his intention is this: we must consider the spaces between the
columns in each of the said forms, and where we find that the spaces be-
230 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

tween the columns are larger, we must make the columns thicker in pro-
portion. The reason is this: if the columns were slender where the spaces
are largest, then much would be taken away from their appearance because
the air is what detracts from the apparent thickness of the columns and
makes them seem thinner, as experience shows us. So, the larger the gap or
space, the more the air enters, and surrounding all, cuts away at the shaft.
It is therefore with good reason that the width of the intercolumniations
regulates the thickness of the columns. Thus Vitruvius, wishing to confirm
for us with further experience and rationale that which he has proposed to
us, would have the columns on the corners of buildings that have porticoes
all around be somewhat thicker than the others because the corner columns
have a greater quantity of air and light around them, and this eats away at
their apparent thickness so that they seem more slender than the others. So,
to make up for what light and air diminish, they are given a fiftieth part
of the diameter more than the others. This serves that most worthy part of
architecture, called ‘eurythmy’ in the first book.
Vitruvius has so far described the number of the columns of the appear-
ances, described their instances in the five manners, and talked about their
sizes. Thus he descended, little by little, from the universal to the particular,
and has made the confused things distinct, according to the order of human
cognition. Now he comes to still finer details, and deals with the contrac-
tions and taperings that are made at the top of the columns, and similarly of
the swelling that there is in the middle. He says:
[p. 133] (Vitruvius) [III.III.12] The diminutions that are made in the upper
part of the columns, above the necking…
(Barbaro) …called hypotrachelion…
(Vitruvius) [III.III.12 cont.] …must be made in this way: if the column is at
least fifteen feet, then the thickness of the shaft at the bottom shall be divided into
six parts, and of five of those make the thickness at the top; of that column that is
from fifteen to twenty feet, the shaft at the bottom is divided into six parts and a
half, and of those are given five and a half to the thickness at the top. Similarly,
of those that are from twenty to thirty feet, the bottom shall be divided into seven
parts and six of those will be the diminution at the top. Those that are from thirty
to forty feet, at the bottom shall have seven and a half and at the top six and a half.
And so those that are from forty up to fifty feet high, the bottom divided into eight
parts, seven shall be at the top in the necking. Those that are higher shall be made
p. 133 231

thinner, with the same rationale according to the proportionate part.58 [III.III.13]
Those by the distance of the height deceive the vision, which rises, so temperament
is added to the thickness, so that our vision pursues admirably the grace and beauty
that please it. If we do not consent to entice it through proportion and the addition
of modules so that that by which it is deceived and defrauded with fine tempera-
ment is increased, then the work will follow in appearance those that are graceless
and without the proportion of beauty.
(Barbaro) The ancients made the top of the columns more slender than
the bottom. Similarly, in the middle they made a very mild swelling or dis-
tention, which, gently curving, added much goodness. The reason they did
this was that things that are born of the earth, such as trees, become more
slender the taller they are. Men as well, the more weight they gain, the
thicker they become in the middle. So, in imitation of trees, columns taper at
the top, and in the imitation of the effect of weight, they swell in the middle.
Therefore, in response to an increase in the width of the intercolumniations,
Vitruvius would increase the thickness of the column in proportion. Then,
by the same rationale, as the column becomes higher he decreases the ta-
pering at the top. This is because when the height is increased it makes this
effect on its own. He gives an example, rule, and rationale which is easy to
understand. But Vitruvius does not show us how this diminution is accom-
plished, where it begins, or with what delicacy the swelling in the middle is
realized, even though he promises a drawing at the end of the book. He says:
(Vitruvius) [III.III.13 cont.] The addition that is made in the middle of the
column, which is called entasis, at the end of the book will be formed its rationale,
how gently and appropriately it is made.
(Barbaro) I believe that the success of this tapering lies more in discre-
tion and adroitness than in art or rule, even though Serlio and some others
have found ways of doing it, to whom I shall defer.59
I very much wish it to be observed that a man is not to be admired just
because, in measuring the antiquities of Rome, he frequently finds the exact
measures of the columns, because if the entire body of the building could be

58 
Rata parte, translated here as ‘proportionate part’ has been variously translated. Cfr.
Morgan (1914, p. 86: ‘proportionally’); Granger (1931, p. 179: ‘proportionately’); Rowland
and Howe (1999, p. 50: ‘to scale’); and Schofield (2009, p. 78: ‘according to the same
principle of proportions’).
59 
Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 27r) shows a figure with entasis (additio in medias columnis). Serlio
also shows a figure with entasis; see Serlio (1537, p. VIIr); Scamozzi (1584, p. 128r).
232 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

seen, one would not wonder about the greatness or smallness of its members.
When discovering a foot, or a detached arm—I say this with respect to the
human body—he is able to say that this foot is large or small; if this is true
for the human body, then why should it not be true as well for the body of a
building, or any other manmade thing? Why do we wish to judge a column
without knowing how it was positioned in the building, what spacing was
between columns, in what way it was situated, according to what standard
it was compartitioned, what effect it created in that place, and many other
similar aspects? What shall we give, or say, to those draftsmen who vainly
measure the bits and pieces, without consideration of the whole, and then
make inviolable rules and precepts? And then they say that there is noth-
ing in Rome built according to the rules of Vitruvius as they were given to
believe, when in fact he himself relieved us of superstition, obligation, and
slavery by means of manifest rationales. It is fine to define the terminations
of things according to the greater and the lesser, but between those termina-
tions he who wishes to proceed with reason has not lost the way of dwelling
longer in one place than in another, when there is occasion to do so.

Chapter III
On foundations, columns and their ornaments,
and architraves, in locations solid, shifting and clotted

[p. 134] (Vitruvius) [III.IV.1] The foundations of the buildings described above,
having to be made below ground, it is necessary to excavate, if it can be found, out
of the solid ground, and then they are built into the solid, as much as seems appro-
priate for the size of the work. That building or structure across the whole terrain
must be made as solid as possible. Above ground are made the little walls under the
columns, half as thick again as the columns are, so that the parts beneath will be
firmer than the parts above (and these can be called the stereobates…
(Barbaro) …as in ‘firm plantings’…60
(Vitruvius) [III.IV.1 cont.]…because they sustain the weight of the entire
building). The projections of the spirae, or bases, must not extend beyond the solid
60 
Barbaro writes quasi ferme piante. This is rendered in Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 51) as:
‘For this reason these walls are also called ‘ground-walkers,’ stereobates, because they bear
the weight of the building’, though what ‘ground-walkers’ might mean is not explained.
p. 134 233

parts. In the same way must be served the thickness of the wall, but the spaces must
be well made of vaults, or be well consolidated and beaten so that they are well
restrained and firm.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius having treated those things that appear confused
at a distance, and those that we see more distinctly from close up, in order
that they not seem to be only in the air and have no footing, he now wishes
to treat their foundations. With fine order, from the foundation he arrives
to the very top, allowing the building to be born and grow. The first thing
he shows us is what must be under the building. He would have us imitate
nature, which makes the lower parts of trees larger than the upper parts, in
order that they can better sustain their weights and great loads. The site, then,
where one wants to build, may be of terrain that is either hard, solid, and
natural, or soft, yielding, and shifting. These types call for different kinds of
foundations. Where the terrain is solid, it must be excavated for foundations,
and a pit dug that is as wide as required by the rationale of the work to be
built. As for terrain that is yielding on the surface, or that sinks down quite a
lot: if it is only on the surface, it should be excavated down until solid ground
is found; if it sinks down deeply, it is necessary to have well-driven and close-
ly-spaced piles. The foundation is called the ‘substructure’, which is nothing
other than the building below ground, up to the part that is seen. Now this
foundation must be broad at its lowest part, and become narrower as it rises.
The terrain of the pit must be uniformly excavated; the bottom must be level
and entirely even so that the weight of the building will press down equally,
and the walls will make no damage or mark of any kind. The width of the pit
for the foundation must be made according to the judgement of the architect,
according to the thicknesses of the walls, the size of the building, and the
quality of the terrain. When there is occasion to build a large palace, tem-
ple, or bridge, the foundations are made continuous over the whole site and
below it with long-lasting masonry. When all of the substructure has been
raised to the level of the floor, then the foundation needs several little, quite
solid walls, which are called ‘stereobates’ and sometimes ‘stylobates’, and firm
footings for the columns. Although elsewhere the term ‘stereobate’ refers to
the basement of the entire building, and in some buildings it is scarped, here
we understand it to be a pedestal, as is seen from the words ‘and below ground,
little walls shall be made under the columns’,61 that is, at the point where the
Barbaro writes here e sotto terra si facciano i muretti sotto le colonne, but in fact, Vitruvius—
61 

and Barbaro above—says ‘above’ ground (sopra), not ‘below’ (sotto).

234 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

building begins to be visible. The little walls under the columns are nothing
other than the pedestals; it would be better to say piedestyles—that is, the feet
below the columns, a word compounded from both Greek and the vernacu-
lar—but we will use customary speech. These, then, should be half as wide
again as the shaft at the bottom of the columns. Here is the reason why: the
spira, or base, of the column should not project beyond half of the thickness
of the column—that is, a quarter on each side. It is this way in the Doric, but
the projection of the Ionic base [p. 135] is made a quarter and an eighth of the
thickness of the column, as it is in the Corinthian. Thus Vitruvius would have
the pedestal beneath the column be half again as wide as the column that
rises above it. Further, he would have the projections of the base, which are
as wide as the socle, not project beyond the square perimeter of the pedestal.62
It must be observed that although the name ‘stylobate’ refers to that little wall
under the column, which is its footing and setting, stylobates are also joined
to each other by that addition of which Vitruvius will speak below. That en-
tire connected structure is also called the ‘stereobate’, as we have previously
explained that term. This entire structure is immediately above ground, and
could also be called the platform; of this platform more will be said below. It
must be observed that the good ancients, although they made the basement
wider than the building above, did not however make it scarped, but rather
stepped, as Fig. 3.3.1 illustrates.
Vitruvius then says, ‘In the same way must be served the thickness of the
wall ’—that is, the lower part should be broader than that above. The spaces
that are between one pedestal and the next in the foundation should be tied
by arches, as in the elevation of a temple drawn in the second chapter of the
first book (Fig. 1.2.2), and they should be reinforced with well-driven and
solid piles. In this way the ties of the building shall be the strongest. These
arches have been found to reduce the expense and to insure that the col-
umns do not sink due to their weight. The arches are inverted, but this does
not prevent them from also being flat, as in the example included here.63

62 
The term vivo is usually associated with column, but here we find it associated with the
pedestal, and below on p. 145, it is associated with the capital as well as the column. When
something rests sul vivo, it means that it is squarely centred on whatever is below it. In this
case, the column with its base and projections should sit squarely on top of the pedestal.
Another usage occurs on Barbaro, p. 165.
63 
The elevation of the temple shown in Fig. 1.2.2 does not show inverted arches, but inverted
arches of the type Barbaro is referring to are discussed in Alberti (1485, 3.5); (1988, p. 68).
They are illustrated clearly in the French translation of Alberti; see Martin (1553, p. 43r).
p. 135 235

Fig. 3.3.1. [The stepped structure of the basement] Image [p. 135]

And everybody knows how the pilings are driven with the instruments called
fistucaeby the Latins, and becchi by us.64 So, these are the rules for founda-
tions in places that have good and solid terrain, such as that which is most te-
nacious and firm on the Island of Candia [i.e., Crete], where excavations are
made with considerable effort. But if the sites are of terrain that is yielding or
marshy or soft, as in Venice, Vitruvius teaches us what is to be done, saying:
(Vitruvius) [III.IV.2] But if the solid is not found, or if the soil is shifting or
marshy, then that site must be excavated and drained, and piles made from dried
alder, olive, or durmast oak that has been charred must be stuck in and, with the
machines made for this purpose, driven extremely densely. The spaces between the
piles shall be filled with charcoal, and the foundations shall be filled with very solid
masonry. Once the foundations have been well driven, pedestals must be placed at
that level. [III.IV.3] Above these the columns will be placed (as was said above),
either in the manner of closely-spaced columns as it requires, or one of the other
manners as each of them requires, whether relaxed, spacious, or gracious, as ordered
and described above. In the araeostyle, one is at great liberty to make the spaces as
one pleases. It must be well observed that in the ‘winged around’ manner called
peripteral the columns must be placed in such a way that however many spaces are
made on the front, twice that many are made on the sides because in this way the
length of the work will be double the width. So, that those who wanted to double
the columns and not the spaces appear to have erred because it appears by one inter-
columniation more than necessary is extended the length.

64 
A fistuca, or festuca, was a rammer or beetle. See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.61.
236 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Vitruvius said in the preceding chapter that the ‘winged

around’ manner called peripteral had six columns [p. 136] in front: thus it
had five spaces because the intervals are always one fewer than the columns.
On the sides it had eleven columns, counting those on the corners, and thus
it will have ten spaces. Those who doubled the number of columns on the
side erred, because they did not include in the count of the number of col-
umns on the side those on the corners, which serve both the front and sides.
This is why it is necessary to double the spaces, and not the columns. This
rule also holds for the other manners that have columns all around, which
perhaps were all embraced by the name ‘peripteral’, since they all have wings
around them.
So far we have the foundations, the pedestals, and the building raised
above ground. Now we shall reason about the steps by which one ascends to
the temple. These were placed in the fronts, as can be seen in many of the
plans shown above, and they also ran all around the building, as the plan of
the peripteral of six columns shows (Fig. 3.1.5). A single rationale regulates
the number, height, and width of the steps. So, Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [III.IV.4] The steps in the front must be made in such a way that
they are always an odd number, so that climbing the first step with the right foot,
the same foot shall be placed above entering into the temple itself. But the heights of
those in this way I judge to be determined: it shall not be higher than ten fingers nor
less than nine, because in this way it will not be difficult to ascend. The retraction
of the steps shall not be less than one foot and a half, nor more than two. And if all
around the temple steps must be made, then they will be made in the same way.
(Barbaro) In ascending, the foot is first raised, then extended by that
measure that is made when lifting it; this is called the width of the step; Vit-
ruvius calls the distance that the foot lifts and extends to go up to the next
step ‘retraction of the step’. I call one the ‘height’ of the step [i.e., the riser],
and the other the ‘width’ of the step [i.e., the tread]. Vitruvius does not say
here that the steps must be three in number rather than five, or five rather
than seven, but it is true enough that it has been observed in ancient build-
ings that there have never been more than nine steps. If there was a greater
number, then a large landing or ‘retraction’, which we call a requie, was made
where men rested before continuing upwards. The steps must not be higher
than ten parts of a foot nor less than nine, but they will be more comfortable
if they are exactly nine parts, or less than ten. Vitruvius thus sets forth the
terms of the greater and lesser limits, but in our day we use the lesser. Not
pp. 136-137 237

that I would condone this practice, for although the ascent is easier, the steps
lack grandeur. The foot is divided into twelve inches, as we have said. Dex-
trante are ten inches, and dodrante are nine; inches are also called fingers. If
it is desired to make the platform of three sides, then Vitruvius tells us what
needs to be done:
(Vitruvius) [III.IV.5] If it is desired to make a platform of three sides, then it
is necessary to see that the plinths, the bases, the dados, the cornices, and the cymae
agree with the pedestal that is beneath the bases of the column.
(Barbaro) That is, if the pedestal has plinths, fillets, dados,65 cymae,
cornices, bases, and other small members, then the same things are also
found on the platform, as shown by the following elevation of the temple
with a platform (Fig. 3.3.2). But the pedestal, on top of which was the col-
umn, came out of the straightness of the platform and because of this the
platform was retracted inside by the space between one pedestal and the
next, making a certain concavity that Vitruvius calls alveolato. This requires
Vitruvius to provide us with the rules to equalize and level the pedestals, so
that it might be known how much they had to come out beyond the level of
the platform. He says:
(Vitruvius) [III. IV.5 cont.] In this way it is necessary that the pedestal be
levelled so that it has in the middle an addition by means of the scamilli impares;
because if it were made aligned straight, the eye would see the bed and hollow. But
how to do it so that the scamilli are made as they should be, like the other things,
so too this will be written at the end of the book, the form and the demonstration.
(Barbaro) The pedestals rise out of the platform, and Vitruvius calls
this rise an ‘addition’. The part of the platform that recedes is called alveo-
latum. The term scamilli cannot actually be found (as far as I know) in either
Latin or Greek. Having found camillum, or the masculine camillus, I believe
that Vitruvius intended it as I have explained because camillus in the fourth
[recte tenth66] book refers to a box, container, or frame, which he calls locu-
lamentum. The little boxes [p. 137] or cells of beehives are called camilli, and
anything that separates one thing from another, as in a box, is referred to
by this term. Things being in this way, that the pedestals separate one part

65 
Tronco refers to a dado or die. Palladio reports that the dados take their name from their
resemblance to dice—that is, their cubic forms; see Palladio (1570, 1.14); (1997, p. 20) .
Below, on p. 140, Barbaro refers to a dado as a tronco di mezzo—that is, an intermediate form
between the base and the cyma.
66 
The terms camillum and loculamentum appear in Barbaro, p. 472; Vitruvius X.X.3.
238 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[p. 138] of the platform from another, why can’t we use the term camilli to
refer to the spaces separated by the pedestals? [p. 139] These project out and
are not continuous, but break the flatness of the platform. [p. 140] It is with
license that he uses the masculine form of this term, which is neuter. The
sense is thus as I have said, which I will also prove below. And if scamillus
comes from scamnum, ‘stool’, and by reduction is translated as ‘footstools’,
because the pedestals are like crosswise footstools on which the columns
stand, that does not change how we feel about its meaning, which is, in any
case, confirmed by what Vitruvius will say below. The plan and the elevation
of the temple made with a platform are given in Figs. 3.3.2–4.

Fig. 3.3.2. Image and caption [p. 137]: Plan of the temple with a platform
 239

Fig. 3.3.3. Image and caption [p. 138]: Part of the front of the temple
made with a platform
240 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 3.3.4. Image and caption [p. 139]: Side of the temple made with a
platform
p. 140 241

All buildings agree in the foundations, natural or artificial as they may

be. Of the artificial enough has already been said. The rules for what is above
the foundations, whether there will be steps or a platform, have been given
already.
Now we shall describe pedestals, which take two forms. First, the en-
tire basement of a building may be called a ‘pedestal’. The first parts above
ground that are wider than the walls are called ‘stereobate’ in Greek, and
also ‘stylobate’, since they tie the building together with durability and last-
ing solidity. This is exemplified in some of the plans of temples shown above,
as in the plan of the dipteral (Fig. 3.1.7), where one can see the tie running
all the way around it, on top of which is set the colonnade. Steps are set
within that tie at the front, which is done to raise the building above ground,
and to lend it solidity and majesty as well as ornament.
The ancients often placed statues in the fronts, so that they were on
either side of the steps of the basement, which projected forward beyond
the row of columns to tie the steps.67 This projection could be a quarter of
the height of the columns. According to what we read, the pedestals do not
exist in the Tuscan or Doric orders separately from the basement, so it would
appear that those who have provided measures for pedestals for these two
types, where they are not found, have created them out of their own heads.68
They are, however, found in the descriptions of the Ionic, Corinthian, and
Composite in the present book of Vitruvius, and in the descriptions of plat-
forms of scaenae in the fifth book, where they are clearly visible. There are
numerous examples in the triumphal arches, temples, and theatres of Rome.
These have various measures, but all are derived from the height of the col-
umn including its base and capital. Some are a third of the height, as in
the triumphal arch built next to the Castelvecchio of Verona [i.e., Arco dei
Gavi], a Corinthian work that is most highly praised. Others are a quarter
part, as those of the Colosseum. Others are a quarter and a half, as in the
Arch of Trajan in Ancona built in memory of the victory in Dacia; this is
a beautiful and forthright work. Others are a fifth part, as has been ob-
served. This diversity is born of the different approaches the architect takes

67 
This arrangement with statues is shown in Figs. 3.1.10–11, but its flattening into two
dimensions make it hard to see. But it is found, for example, in the Tempietto for Villa
Barbaro at Maser designed by Andrea Palladio.
68 
Serlio, for example, shows pedestal or stylobates beneath the Tuscan and Doric columns
in his Book IV; see Serlio (1537, p. 6r).
242 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

to achieve grandeur or beauty in buildings. Vitruvius, reasoning about the

platform of scaenae in the fifth book, makes the pedestal a third, propor-
tioning both the platform and the columns according to the diameter of the
orchestra, and this is a most beautiful form.
From the observations already made, the heights of pedestals are thus
divided into eight parts. One of these parts is for the ornaments or small
members on top, which are like a capital for the pedestal. Two parts are
given to the base, the rest to the dado. The base is divided into three parts;
two are given to the socle, the third to the other parts. So, the lower orna-
ments or small members are double the heights of the upper ornaments or
members, which Vitruvius calls quadrae, coronae, and lysis. The ancients used
to place one or two socles under the base of the pedestal, which were no less
high than the whole base of the pedestal. This was to give stability and gran-
deur to their works. They also used to place another socle under the plinth
of the base of the column, especially on triumphal arches. The whole base,
including this socle, was of one piece, so that it could better sustain the loads,
as can be seen in the triumphal arch at Ancona, and in those of Septimius
Severus, Titus, and Constantine in Rome, and in other places in Italy.
Before I describe anything else, it seems to me appropriate to describe
the origin and rationale behind the words and names given to the parts
and members of the building, so that we do not have to keep returning to
the beginning. The column (as has been said) was invented to sustain loads.
First it was of wood, and round. Then there grew a desire for grandeur and
perpetuity because of competition among men, and the earth was scoured
for new ways to accomplish this. From the bowels of the earth stones and
marbles were excavated. This led to marble columns, but they were made in
such a way as to maintain a resemblance to wooden columns, which, in order
to support their loads, had iron circles and rings encircling their ends to bind
the ends of [p. 141] the trunks. In imitation of this, architects devised bands
above and below the shafts of the columns, and then those parts developed
in such a way that the upper part was called the capital, and the lower part
the base. In the base they observed that its width was greater than its height,
and then that it projected somewhat further beyond the shaft of the column,
in imitation of the human foot. Also, the very lowest part of the base was
somewhat wider than that above it; the pedestal was wider than the base,
and the foundation wider than the pedestal, all in imitation of nature, as we
have said. The Greek name for base is basa; in Latin it is called spira, which
p. 141 243

Fig. 3.3.5. [Elements of the base] Image [p. 141], caption [pp. 141-142]:
A, plinth (plinthus, laterculus, nel latastrum, orlo); B, torus (thorus, stivas,
rondbozel, bastone); C, scotia (scocia, cavetto, scorza, contrabozel, orbiculus,
trochilus); D, astragal (astragalus, talus, tondino); E, fillet (quadra, quadretto,
listello, filette); F, the part where the shaft of the column terminates, called
cimbia (annulo, listello dell’apofige), of which I shall say more below

means ‘turn’ or ‘revolution’. The bases were round, in imitation of circles and
rings, but the Greeks called them basa because, more appropriately, basis
means foot, and the basa of a column is like a foot. The Greeks also took
their terms for the other parts of the base by referring to the human foot
and its parts, as well as shoes. The parts of the base are called plinthus, torus,
scocia, trochilus, quadra, supercilium and astragali. Plinthus is a Greek name
that means brick, laterculum or catastrum. In the vernacular it is called a
‘plinth’. Because the socle is placed under the base, I would call it more pre-
cisely a sub-base rather than socle or quadrello, and instead I would call the
plinth the socle or quadrello. The torus is a small round member that goes
above the plinth, called stivas in Greek. It is called ‘torus’ because it is like a
fleshy swelling, or like a little feather-pillow. We call it a bastone because it
is round, and the French call it bozel for the same reason. Scocia is Greek and
means ‘shadowy’ and ‘dark’, and indeed it is a concave member that casts a
shadow, so we call it a ‘scotia’. Others call it a scorza, ‘peel’ because it is like
the bark peeled from one half of a stick; the French call the scotia a contre-
bozel.69 Other names for it are trochilus, taken from the Greek, and orbiculus
in Latin, because it is said to resemble a wheel that has a groove cut into its
rim, where a cable would run on a pulley. A fillet, quadra or listella, and fillet

The French terms bozel, contrebozel and fillet are all named and clearly illustrated in the
69 

French translation by an unknown translator of Diego de Sagredo’s 1526 Medidas del

Romano, entitled Raison d’architecture. See Sagredo (1536, pp. 13r-v).
244 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

in French, which is the size of some small members,70 is a thin, flat, square-
edged member placed above the scotia, as the supercilium is placed above
the astragal. The bone that joins the foot to the ankle is called astragalus; in
Latin, it is talus. It is commonly called ‘heel’, but the architects who remain
true to origins call it an astragal, and there are two in the base. The drawings
of these small members are shown in Fig. 3.3.5, marked with their letters
and the different term for each part.
Now we will first set out all of the orders distinctly, before we come to
Vitruvius’s text, so that, in imitation of Philander, all of the present material
is presented with clarity. It certainly needs to be put in order. We will also
satisfy those who care little for philosophy, and who are opposed to an excess
of lofty concepts and discourses. I have no wish to make excuses for myself
because I doubt if the reader would believe me, but even I do not consider
myself to be more theoretical than practical.

[The Tuscan manner]

[p. 142] The Tuscan base has these parts: a plinth and a torus, the meas-
ure of which is such that the height must be half of the diameter of the col-
umn. This height is divided in two parts, one of which is given to the plinth,
which in this base is round. The other part is given to the torus, together
with the parts called apophyge and apothesis, which are certain curves at the
ends71 of column shafts that add an admirable grace when well done. It ap-
pears that they slip away and are pulled back, which is why the Greeks called
them ‘apothesis’ and ‘apophyge’. The upper one is called the collar, and the
lower one the cimbia, and they are made in such a way that, if joined together,
they would take the form of a scotia.72 The projection of the plinth is a third
part of the height of the base. The torus projects as much as the plinth and is
made with a compass; although it appears square in elevation, this is known
from the plan. The semi-diameter of the torus is the termination of the cim-
bia, which does not extend beyond the line marked a in Fig. 3.3.6. The height

70 
A clause which makes no sense, but appears the same in Barbaro (1556, p. 88).
71 
This usage of teste to denote the locations of both apophyge and apothesis shows that testa
refers to ‘end’, both bottom and top, rather than just ‘head’. In other instances, as mentioned,
it is used as a synonym for ‘thickness’, in the sense of the column diameter at its bottom used
as a module.
72 
The terms apophyge and apothesis are used interchangeably for the curves at the top and
bottom of the column shaft; today both are referred to as ‘apophyge’.
p. 142 245

of this cimbia is the eighth part of the height of the whole base. In the Doric,
Ionic and Corinthian manners this is part of the column, but in the Tuscan
it is part of the base, and is set out with a compass in this way. Drop a line
straight down from the column to above the plinth; the part that projects be-
yond the line of the column shall be divided into three equal parts, as 1, 2 and
3 in Fig. 3.3.6, and shall be carried beyond the outer edge of the cimbia from
point a to point b; opening the compass from point a to point e, above which
is the line of the column, one foot of the compass is fixed on point b, while the

Fig. 3.3.6. [Elements of the Tuscan manner] Image [p. 143], legend
[p. 144]: [from bottom] C, plinth; B, torus; A, cimbia; D, apophyge;
[from top] E, abacus; F, echinus; G, fillet; H, necking; I, astragal; K,
fillet; L, hypotrachelion with apophyge—that is, the contracted part of
the collar with the cimbia
246 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

other marks point d, which must be the centre of the arc that fixes the curve
of the cimbia. Similarly, with that compass so opened, the distance between
e and c is taken above the shaft of the column, and placing the compass at c,
point d is struck; this is the centre of the apophyge, or cimbia, as we say.
The drawing is shown in Fig. 3.3.6. A, B and C on the plan mark the
parts of the base. A corresponds to the cimbia, also called the apophyge; B to
the torus; C to the plinth, which in the Tuscan order is made circular, as we
have said. The column must be seven ends high, including the base and the
capital, but it should be tapered by a quarter of the thickness at its foot—that
is, an eighth on each side. The Tuscan capital has these parts: abacus, echi-
nus, hypotrachelion and apophyge. All of the capitals agree in the member
called abacus, which is a square slab called an operculum by Leon Battista
Alberti,73 but which we call a dado, since it has a square shape. In the Tuscan
it can be referred to as a socle or plinth. All of the capitals agree in the fact
that all are placed to meet their columns at the upper part of the shaft where
the contraction and diminution of the column occurs. The measures of the
Tuscan capital are these. First, it is as high as the base—that is, equal to half
of the thickness of the column at the feet. This height is divided into three
parts: one of these is given to the abacus (or socle or dado, however we want
to call it); the middle part is given to the echinus, or ovolo, the meaning of
which I will explain below; the third part [i.e., the necking] narrows down
to the hypotrachelion, or collar, and the apophyge. Echinus means ‘chest-
nut husk’ or ‘sea urchin’ or ‘hedgehog’; and this part of the capital is called
echinus because it was the custom to sculpt chestnut husks on it. We must
imagine lots of open chestnut husks clustered together, with the ripe chest-
nuts showing; these were lovely to behold and were a marvellous ornament.
In speaking of the Ionic capital, Vitruvius calls this part encarpus because
it was ornamented with fruit and leaves, as can be seen on many ancient
capitals. The moderns call this part an ovolo, not knowing its origin, and it
appearing to them to have been carved into the shape of an egg. The encarpus
can also be called a festoon. The hypotrachelion is like a collar, resembling a
man’s neck. The dado or plinth shall be made a sixth of the thickness of the
column, which amounts to a third of half the diameter. The echinus occupies
the middle part. So that this can be made with a compass, it is necessary to
draw a straight line from the top of the column up to the abacus, and di-

73 
Alberti (1485, 7.8); (1988, pp. 205-206).
pp. 142-144 247

vide the projection of the abacus into two equal parts. Bring one part in to
make point a, [p. 144] and place the compass on the outer fillet, which goes
under the echinus (whose height is one-sixth of the height given to the hy-
potrachelion). Next, open the compass to point a, and make an arc; then do
the same from the extremity of the abacus. Place the compass point where
these intersect, and draw the echinus elegantly, leaving the abacus a certain
graceful prominence. The hypotrachelion, or collar, is made in the same way
as the apophyge.74 It is double the height of the fillet under the echinus. Its
cimbia is half as high—that is, it is the same height as the fillet under the
echinus. The rounded edge projects beyond the projection of this fillet, so let
a line be dropped straight down from the extremity of the fillet, where point
g is, which is the centre for the compass and the aforementioned roundel.
The curves under the cimbia and its centre are made in the way explained
above, making the centre, as was said, where points h and l are. Above the
capital is placed the architrave, according to those rationales dictated by the
rationale [i.e., the manner] of the work, of which Vitruvius has more to say
in the fourth book, and to which I will refer here.

[The Doric manner]

If we want to follow the proposed order it is necessary to continue with
the Doric manner. We concur with Vitruvius that the Doric order does not
have a base of its own, but sometimes it is given an Attic base, which is made
of the following parts: plinth, lower torus, fillets, upper torus, scotia (Fig.
3.3.7). What these parts are has already been stated. This base has a plinth,
two tori with a scotia between them, with its little fillets and gradetti (an-
other name for those fillets above and below the scotia). The measure of this
base is that its height is half the thickness of the column, and its length is a
thickness and a half. The column thickness is then divided into three parts,
one of which is given to the height of the plinth. The remainder is divided
into four parts, one of which will be given to the upper torus; the remaining
three are divided equally into two parts, one of which is given to the lower
torus, the other to the scotia and its fillets. This scotia is divided into six
parts, one of which is given to the upper fillet, the other to the lower fillet;
the remaining four parts are given to the scotia. The projection of the lower
torus should be in line with the plinth, and is drawn with a compass, as said.

74 
That is, it is curved in profile.
248 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 3.3.7. [Doric column base and capital] Image [p. 147], legend
[adapted from the text on [p. 144]]: The parts of the Attic base: A, plinth;
B, lower torus; ~ [above and below C], supercilium or fillet; C, scotia; D,
upper torus; E, cimbia; F, apophyge. The parts of the Doric capital: N,
hypotrachelion ; M, astragal; L, frieze; K, annulets; I, echinus; H, dado;
G, cyma; O, architrave; P, guttae; q, taenia; R, triglyph; S, metope

The projection of the lower fillet should be in line with the semi-diameter of
the lower torus. The projection of the upper fillet should be in line with the
cimbia. The cimbia should be in line with the semi-diameter of the upper
torus. This semi-diameter extends beyond the line of the column by the third
part that the plinth also projects beyond the line of the column. The curve
of the apophyge is made in this way: let a line be dropped straight down
the column over the cimbia, and divide the space between that line and the
projection of the cimbia into two parts. Extend one of those parts beyond
pp. 144-145 249

the projection of the cimbia and, using the compass, take the measure that
is contained under the three parts to the column line, and make an inter-
section, as stated before. The scotia should be made judiciously by drawing
a line from the outer edge of the upper fillet to the outer edge of the lower
fillet, making the centre on the line, and striking an arc from the outer edges
of both fillets; this works well.
The Doric column is seven ends high, and contracts according to the
rationale determining its height, as we shall relate below. The Doric capital
has these parts: plinthus; cymatium; echinus cum annulis; pars, qua hypotrache-
lio contrahitur columnae—that is, socle or dado; cymatium;75 ovolo or echi-
nus with annulets; and collar (the origin and derivation of which we have
already explained) (Fig. 3.3.7). The measures are these: [p. 145] the height
of the capital is half the thickness of the column. According to Vitruvius,
its width is equal to the thickness of the column plus one sixth, but in the
works of antiquity we find one fifth on each side, and this is better. You will
divide the height of the capital into three parts, of which one is given to the
socle with its cyma, another to the echinus with the annulets, and another
contracts to the collar of the column, so that the width or thickness of the
capital is two-fifths larger than the thickness of the column. The height
of the socle, or dado, is divided into five parts, three of which are given to
the socle and two to its cyma. Those two are divided into three parts, two
of which are given to the cyma and one to the fillet. Having finished the
socle and the cyma, there follows the echinus and then its annulets. The
height of the echinus is divided into three parts, two of which are given to
the echinus, and one to the annulets. There are three of these, and they are
of equal height. The first projects beyond the line of the top of the column
by half its height; the second projects beyond the first by half its height; the
third, which is uppermost, similarly projects beyond the second. It would
not be bad if each projected by an amount equal to its height. The echinus is
made round, taking with a compass the distance between the outer edge of
the last annulet to the underside of the abacus, and making the intersection
from that outer edge to the underside of the abacus as well, then placing the
compass where the two intersect. Next comes the part which contracts to
the collar, which some call the frieze. With its pretty curve it reaches to the

The term cimasa (cymatium) is used to refer to a finishing element that contains a cyma
75 

along with other members such as fillets, as opposed to a simple cyma (gola) on its own.
See Branko Mitrović’s remarks on this in Vignola (1999), notes to Plates 13, 24, 25 and 27.
250 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

cimbia and the astragal, until it meets the line of the top of the column. The
astragal is as high as the three and a half annulets, and projects out half as
far as the echinus. The cimbia is half as high as the astragal. It rests straight
down from the semi-diameter of the astragal; the rest is made in the way
described above. The ancients used to put immediately above the capital an
addition that was not very high and was set on the socle, in line with the top
of the column. They did this so that the architrave would rest squarely on the
capital and the column and not break the projections.
The architrave, which together with the parts above it is called trabs,
has these names derived from the Latin for its parts: epistyle, taenia, guttae,
triglyphs, metopes, fillets, capitals of the triglyphs, channels, femurs, cymae,
corona, tympanum, acroteria, raked cyma.76 The meaning of these names
follow here (Fig. 3.3.8). Epistilium is a general name for everything above
the columns and capitals; properly, it is the ‘master beam’, but in the vernac-
ular it is called architrave. ‘Epistilium’ means column impost. Those of the
Doric order have a fascia or band that is called a ‘taenia’, under which the
guttae are carved with a little fillet so as to look like drops of falling water;
there are six at the end of every beam, which is represented by the triglyphs.
The origin of these is that in wooden buildings the ends of the beams used
to project; these projections were called ope, while the space between one
beam end and another was called a metopa. Since the naked, uncovered ends
of the beams did not look good, the ancients covered them with tablets that
they decorated with different colours of wax. But those not made of wood
were made of magnificently worked stone in imitation of beam-ends, and
formed the members called triglyphs, though they should almost be called
‘trifid’ because they are cut into three channels (two whole ones and one-half
on each side). It appears that from these channels the drops of water would
fall. The spaces between the channels are called ‘femurs’, but we could just
as well call them ‘fillets’. Triglyphs have their own capitals, on top of which
is the cornice, called a ‘corona’ because it encircles the building like a crown.
The moderns call this a ‘dripstone’ because the waters from the sky drip from
it and are cast far from the building. This cornice has two cymae, one below
and one above, as its ornaments. Above the cornice is the fastigium, which

Barbaro uses the term sima to differentiate this term from a horizontal cyma or cymatium,
76 

but see Fig. 3.3.8 where elements O, P and R are identified as raked (or sloped) elements of
the tympanum corresponding to the horizontal elements of the architrave. See also below,
p. 151.
 251

Fig. 3.3.8. Image [p. 148], caption [p. 146]: The parts of the Doric
architrave, cornice, and pediment: A, architrave; B, guttae; C, fillet; D,
fascia; E, femur; F, channel; F and E together, triglyph; G, metope; H,
half-metope; I, capital of the triglyph; K, cyma; L, corona; M, cyma
of the corona; N, tympanum; O, P, Q , raked parts of the pediment
that correspond to those of the corona; R, raked cyma; S, small pier or
acroterion where the statues go
252 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

we call ‘pediment’, which has a surface in the middle called a ‘tympanum’

because it is enclosed by the members of the corona and by a flattened curved
element called a cyma, which resembles the nose of goats. Besides the tym-
panum, the pediment also has acroteria that are placed on either side and on
the top. Acroteria are the low piers on which the statues were placed; those
on either side die into the roof, and the central one is free standing.
Now we come to the measures. The height of the architrave, including
the fasciae and the guttae is equal to half of the thickness of the column.
This half is now called the [p. 146] module. The fascia or taenia, as it is
called, is the seventh part of the module. The guttae with the little fillet is a
sixth; this fillet goes above the guttae, and if this sixth part is divided into
three, the fillet occupies one of the three. The width of the architrave—that
is, the lower plane that rests on the capitals—must be as large as the collar at
the top of the column because in that way it will come to rest squarely. The
height of the triglyphs is a module and a half; the width on the front, a mod-
ule. This front has two whole channels in the middle and two half channels
on either side. They are cut in such a way that the corner of a set square enters
into its centre and its arms form the sides. To make them properly, the width
of the triglyph is divided into six parts, and half a part per side is left for the
half-channels, after which one part is left per side for the little flat surfaces
that Vitruvius calls ‘femurs’. After the flat parts, there is one whole channel
per side, each occupying one of the six parts. It should be observed that the
centre of the triglyph falls on the centre of the abacus of the column. The
metopes are perfect squares—that is, they are as high as they are wide. Those
metopes that are above the corners are half as large, but not exactly. They
are rather less than half because that is how the compartitioning works out,
which will be seen in the fourth book.77 Above the triglyphs are their capi-
tals, which are a sixth part of the module in height. Above those capitals is
the corona or dripstone, which, including its cyma, is as high as a half-mod-
ule. This height is divided into four parts, of which one is given to the upper
cyma, one to the lower cyma, and two to the space between the two cymae.
The fillet of the cyma is one-third of one part in height; the other two-thirds
are given to its curvature. The corona projects by one-half plus one-sixth of
the module, and has some notches like small teeth below so that raindrops
will not run down the wall or the columns and spoil them. This is perhaps

77 
See Barbaro, p. 173.
pp. 146-149 253

why this part is called a dripstone. Vitruvius calls this part the ‘chin’ 78 of the
corona, and those places scotia or cavetti. The curves of the cymae of the
corona are opposite in direction to each other,79 as can be seen in Fig. 3.3.8.
The ancients adorned the spaces of the metopes with beautifully sculpted
heads of oxen, likenesses of sacrificial offerings, and other images. I praise
the inventiveness of Jacopo Sansovino who used the emblem of the Venetian
Republic, placing the winged lion in the metopes of the porticoes that sur-
round the public library.80 Similarly, on its cornice, on the plane that faces
downwards and projects out above the triglyphs and metopes, they sculpted
some drops above the triglyphs, and some rosettes above the metopes. The
drops corresponded to the drops under the triglyphs; they were round, and
were set in three rows of six, and were eighteen in all, as Fig. 3.3.8 shows.
We will speak of the pediment when we come to the Ionic manner.

[The Ionic manner]

[p. 149] The Ionic base is made in this way (Fig. 3.3.9). Let its width
on every side be equal to the thickness of the column plus a quarter and an
eighth of that thickness. That is, if you divide the diameter of the column
into sixteen parts, let it be lengthened so that it has twenty-two and this
will be the width of the base. The height will be half of the thickness of the
column. The plinth will be a third of the height. The rest shall be divided
into seven parts, of which three are given to the upper torus, two to the
scotia with its astragal and supercilium, and two shall be given to the upper
scotia with its supercilium. The astragals are an eighth part of the scotia. But
it will look better if the lower scotia is larger, so that it projects out to the
outer edge of the plinth. The upper projection beyond the thickness of the
column is made in this way. Take three parts of the division of the diameter,
which are the eighth plus the sixteenth, and divide those in half, and that
will be the projection—that is, a part and a half to the right and to the left.
That much is also the projection of the base, where the cimbia is formed with
the rationales stated above. The height of the cimbia is a third of the height
of the torus, the centre of which falls on the line that drops down from the

78 
This reference to the ‘chin’ of the corona appears again on Barbaro, p. 151; Vitruvius
IV.III.6.
79 
That is, one is a cyma recta and the other a cyma reversa.
80 
This is the Biblioteca Marciana, where Barbaro’s own manuscripts (ms. Marc. It. IV, 37,
5133) and (ms. Marc. It. IV, 152, 5160) are now conserved.
254 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

projection of the cimbia. The astragals must be touched by a line that goes
from the outer edge of the supercilium to the outer edge of the fillet that is
above the plinth and below the lower scotia. The scotiae are made as directed
above. This is the description of the Ionic base. The height of the column
differs in the different manners of buildings; their taperings are regulated by
Vitruvius according to their height. Now we will describe the capital.

Fig. 3.3.9. [Elements of the Ionic manner] Image [p. 153], legend [p.
152]: For the base: A, plinth; B, scotia; I [not shown but between B
and B], astragals; C, torus; D, cimbia; f, apophyge; a, b, c, points for
constructing the cimbia and apophyge. For the capital: e, contractio
columae, the tapering of the column and upper cimbia [i.e., apophyge]; d,
the cimbia of the collar; g, cimbia; A, h, abacus or dado and its fillet; l,
the cymatium [i.e., echinus]; m, the channel of the volute; n, the width of
the volute; o [not shown, but at the top], the plan of the capital; p, oculus
volutae, the eye of the volute with its centres
p. 149 255

Draw a line as long as the column is thick at the feet. You will divide
this into eighteen parts, and add another one to make nineteen parts in all.
Now, this total shall constitute the length and width of the capital. The
height including the volutes shall be half of it—that is, nine parts and a
half. I say ‘including the volutes’ because the height of the capital is a third
of the thickness of the column, and the volutes are ornaments and not part
of the capital, and are lower down than the capital. Then from the ends of
this line you will draw the catheti—that is, vertical lines—that are as long as
the nine parts and a half—that is, half the thickness. These lines will serve
us later. Let the nine parts and a half remain marked, but erase the division
marks made earlier for the length and width of the capital, because now this
dimension has to be divided into twenty parts. Now retract back from the
end of said line by one part and a quarter of the twenty parts and drop two
more catheti down in line with the first ones, with the same division. On
these retracted lines shall be the centre of the eye; on them will terminate
the volutes and by them will be regulated the remainder of the capital. Leon
Battista Alberti calls the eye of the volute a ciclum.81 The volute is a spiral
in imitation of the ringlets of a woman’s hair, and is called a cartoccio in the
vernacular. Of the nine parts of this line, one and a half are given to the
plinth or abacus, one to the cyma of the abacus, which is made in the form
of the letter S gracefully drawn, and half to its fillet. The volutes are formed
in this way. Go eight parts below the abacus and make a point where four
parts and a half end. Place the foot of the compass there and draw a circle,
whose diameter measures one of those parts, and so that there are three parts
below and four parts above. This circle or turn is the eye of the volute, which
has twelve compass centres; there cannot be fewer because the volute with
fewer turns would be unrefined and would not follow Vitruvius to the letter.
I will not say anything about the inventors of this method in order not to
cause many good men to come to blows. I confess that I learned it,82 and I
am obliged to the teachers. The excellent painter Iseppo Salviati83 dedicated
a short treatise on the subject to me and had it printed. I don’t know if those

81 
Alberti (1485, 7.8); (1988, pp. 206-207; 393, nn. 84, 85).
82 
That is, he confesses that he did not invent this himself.
83 
Giuseppe Porta, called ‘Il Salviati’ (?1520-1575), whose treatise Regola di far perfettamente
col compasso la voluta et del capitello ionico et d’ogn’altra sorte (1552) was dedicated to Barbaro.
Regarding the invention of the method of constructing the volute, see Magrini (1845, p. 30);
for more about Salviati, see Witcombe (2004, pp. 214-215).
256 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

who first showed me the method learned it from Salviati or not. Anyway, to
make the volute, it is necessary to drop a line on each side; these are parallel
to the line on which the centre of the eye lies, and distant from it by that
quarter, as we said, that was of one part and a quarter.84 So this line, when
we have drawn the diameter of the eye, will fall precisely on that diameter
and will give us the rule for forming a square in the eye, on the diagonals
of which will be found the aforesaid twelve centres. The distance measured
between the point where that line intersects the [p. 150] diameter of the
eye and the centre of the eye shall also be marked above and below the eye,
and on each side of the eye on the diameter as well. These four points shall
be the midpoints of the sides of a square inside the eye. From the corners
of this square are drawn the diagonals, and on those from the centre to the
corners are made three equal parts in each direction. These are the afore-
mentioned centres. The compass will be placed at the inner corner of the
upper part of the square, and then by opening the compass to the upper part
of the abacus, an arc shall be drawn to the diameter in the outer part. Then
the compass is moved to the next corner of the upper part of the square,
and opening the compass to where the first arc ended, a second arc shall be
drawn to the cathetus below, and a point marked. Similarly, the compass is
moved to the outer corner of the lower part of the square, and the third arc
drawn from where the second arc left off, and finally the compass is moved
to the inner, lower corner of the square and a fourth arc drawn from where
the third left off. This completes the first turn of the volute, which is reduced
at every quarter by half of the eye, as Vitruvius wishes. The second turn of
the volute may be made in a similar way, placing the compass at the other
centres in order, starting with the one that is closest to the centre where the
first turn was begun. Going on like this in order from quadrant to quadrant
completes the second turn. Just as the first turn reduced half the diameter
of the eye, so it is reduced a third in the second turn, the last will reduce
a sixth of the diameter of the eye. Thus in three turns the volute will have
reduced four diameters of the eye, and will turn out beautifully. It must be
done in this way because if the volute is to ease gently over the cyma, which
is a true member of the capital, it is necessary that its curves have this pro-
portion we have described, and this cannot be done with only four points

84 
Barbaro did not include a detailed drawing of the volute construction in either the 1556 or
this edition. See the figure in Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 117).
p. 150 257

or centres, as said by the one who has made vaulted foundations,85 for one
example, said to have been found in places that are not famous or works that
are not excellent.
Having drawn the volute in this way, with the same rationale of the
twelve centres the width of that volute shall now be drawn by reducing the
compass by half of the eye during the first turn. This is how the volute, which
is more properly an ornament than a member of the capital, is constructed.
The volute also has its channel, which is a hollowing in the width of the vo-
lute. This channel occupies a diameter and a half of the eye, and is as deep
as the twelfth part of the height of the volute—that is, a twelfth part of the
eight that are beneath the plinth or abacus. Having drawn the channel, there
remains the cymatium, called ovolo in the vernacular and cymatium by the
Greeks. It looks like a little wave and is called echinus by the Latins because
of the leaves and chestnuts that are sculpted there. The height of this is two
parts and a quarter of the eight already mentioned, and its projection beyond
the line of the abacus is equal to the diameter of the eye, which is the reason
why we dropped a plumb line from the outer ends of the abacus. The curve
of the cymatium is made with a compass. Having drawn its projection under
the channel as equal to the diameter of the eye beyond the projection of the
abacus, its height is taken with the compass, which (as I have said) is equal to
two parts and a quarter of the eight parts in the cathetus under the abacus; its
lower line terminates in the cathetus where the astragal begins. Placing one
foot of the compass on that cathetus, draw a segment of the circle and then
place the compass at the end of the upper cyma, and make an intersection
on that drawn segment of circle. Put the compass at that intersection and
draw the curve of the cyma, above where the volute gently turns. The cyma is
sculpted with the echinus, or chestnut husks, in such a way that between the
volutes there are three whole ones (one in the middle, and the others to its
left and right) and out from that come some of the leaves (called ‘pods’ in the
vernacular) that embrace the volute. Under the cyma is the astragal, which
occupies three-fourths of one of the eight parts. Its centre is on the cathetus.

85 
A thinly disguised criticism of Cesariano’s piedestali a botte (recall that on p. 134 Barbaro
equated the term piedestali with stereobates), who says that stereobates are made with pointed
arches (1521, p. LVIr, arcuate in lo Trigono acuto; see also the figure on p. XLVII). Volutes
made with fewer centres and based on half-circles were proposed in Cesariano (1521, p.
L[V]IIIr, figure p. L[V]IIIv) but these result in spirals that are Archimedean and whose
turns do not grow smaller as they approach the eye.
258 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 3.3.10. [The Ionic architrave and pediment] Image [p. 154]; legend
[p. 152]: For the architrave, frieze and cornice: A, trabs epistylium,
architrave; 1, first fascia; 2, second fascia; 3, third fascia; B, cymatium
epistylij, the cymatium of the architrave; C, zophorus, frieze; D, cymatium
zophori, the cyma of the frieze; E, denticulus, dentils; F, cymatium
denticulus, the cymatium of the dentils; G, corona, with its cyma; L,
fastigium, pediment; K, tympanum; I, acroteria, the little piers where the
figures are set; H, simae, raked cymae
pp. 150-151 259

Having finished the astragal, make the fillet of the apophyge (or collar, as
it is called), which must not project beyond the cathetus. Its height is equal
to half of the height of the astragal, and it is reduced with its curves to the
tapering of the top of the column, in the way described above. We can imag-
ine the volute as a little feather-pillow wrapped around the top of a stick and
tied in the middle, so Vitruvius gives us the thickness of that stick, which he
calls an axis, and says that it is precisely as thick as the [p. 151] diameter of
the eye, and that the bands, which he calls baltea, which are in the middle of
the sides between the volutes, do not project beyond the cyma. Thus, when
one foot of the compass is placed at the mid-point of the abacus of the capital
and then opened to the projection of the cyma, in turning it touches the ex-
tremity of the bands, as can be seen in the plan shown in Fig. 3.3.9, making
one turn about the centre to the circumference of the echinus.
The architraves are made according to the height of the columns so
that, as the columns grow in size, the increase that is given to the height
of the architraves makes their measure appear more certain to the eye (Fig.
3.3.10). Vitruvius will say below how much the architraves must increase in
proportion to the heights of the columns. But let us suppose that the column
is fifteen feet high. I say that the height of the architrave should be half of
the diameter of the column at the feet. The width of the lower part of the ar-
chitrave that is set over the capital shall be precisely as large as the thickness
at the top of the column, so that it rests squarely; this is the general rule. The
highest part of the architrave—that is, the upper plane—shall be equal to
the thickness at the foot of the column. The cyma of the architrave shall be
the seventh part of the height of the architrave, and must project by as much
as it is high. The projection is measured from the line that comes from the
tapering of the column. The remaining part under the cyma is divided into
twelve parts, of which three are given to the lower fascia, four to the middle,
and five to the upper fascia. Above the architrave is a frieze that Vitruvius
calls zophorus because small animal figures are carved in it. This is a fourth
less, measuring the height of the architrave and its cyma. This same height
serves when there are no carvings on the frieze because when there are, it is
made a quarter higher than the architrave, so that the carvings can be ap-
preciated better. The height of the frieze is divided into seven parts. One of
the upper parts is given to the cyma that goes above; above the cyma are the
dentils, called denticulus in Latin from their resemblance to teeth. Dentils
originate from wooden buildings; just as the triglyphs in the Doric order
260 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

were derived from the ends of the beams that projected outwards, the den-
tils are derived from the rafters (as will be explained in the fourth book86).
It must be noted that the frieze is the place that holds the ends of the beam
structures. The dentils are as high as the middle fascia of the architrave. The
projection of the dentils is equal to their height. The width, called metochi
by the Greeks and intersectio by the Latins, is equal to half their height.
The cavity or space between one dentil and the next, also called metopa and
pigeon-hole (as Vitruvius says in the fourth book87) is two-thirds the width
of the dentils. The cyma of the dentils is the sixth part of their height. The
cornice and cyma together are as high as the middle fascia. The projection
of the cornice with its dentils and the cut in the chin, must be equal to the
height of the space from the frieze to the top of the cyma of the cornice. This
projection is taken from the line that comes from the end of the cyma of the
frieze. The dentils on the cornice are made so that dripping water does not
damage the building. Finally where the cornice, or dripstone, is located, the
walls of the building are set back parallel from the plane.
Now we come to the pediment, which Vitruvius calls the fastigium. Its
raked cornices correspond to the small members of the horizontal cornice,
and it also has its own raked cymae that are called simae, or epitichide in
Greek, because of the addition placed above the cornice of the pediment.
These are an eighth part higher than the height of the cornice. Below these
is the tympanum, the height of which is equal to the ninth part of the length
of the cornice, measuring from the end of the cyma of the cornice. The plane
of the tympanum must rest squarely, such that a line dropped straight down
would first touch the architrave, then the collar of the column, then fall the
squarely on the column itself. The small piers called acroteria must be high
enough so that the figures placed upon them are visible. Their corners must
die into the roof; they must start directly in line with the columns, and be set
back as much as the rationale of viewing requires. With low buildings they
may be set back further, while in other buildings they must be as high as the
top of the tympanum. The acroterion in the middle must be an eighth more
than those on the corners.

86 
Barbaro, p. 169; Vitruvius IV.II.2.
87 
Barbaro, p. 170; Vitruvius IV.II.4.
p. 155 261

[The Corinthian manner]

[p. 155] The Corinthian capital is as high as the diameter of the column
and, according to Vitruvius, this height includes the abacus (Fig. 3.3.11).
However, the abacus is an extra in many constructions, and they are better
for it. The width of the abacus—that is, the quadro—must be such that the
lines that pass from one corner to the other, called diagonals, are double the
height of the capital. The faces in the middle must be curved inwards by
the ninth part of their width. The lower part of the capital must correspond
squarely to the shaft of the top of the column. The height of the abacus is
made the seventh part of the height of the capital. The rest is divided into
three parts, of which one is given to the lower leaf, another to the middle
leaf, and the last to the caulicoli or stems from which the leaves spring and
which receive the abacus. The volutes that grow out of the stems go to the
outer corners of the abacus, but the smaller volutes are curved inwards and
are under the flowers that are in the middle of the abacus on all four sides.

Fig. 3.3.11. [Plan and elevation of the Corinthian capital] Image [p. 156]
262 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

These flowers are as high as the abacus, but somewhat longer, as can be seen
in ancient works, by the fourth part of the diameter of the column. It is thus
necessary to carefully form the bell, which is our modern name for the form
of the capital that is dressed with leaves; those leaves are acanthus leaves,
which the herbalists call branca ursina. There are also other leaves, such as
olive, and other figures and carvings for capitals that are very good if well
worked, but we will leave this to those who observe antiquities.
We now return to Vitruvius, who deals with the origin of the Corin-
thian capital in the first chapter of the fourth book.88 The way to inwardly
curve the fronts by the ninth part is the same geometric method that is used
to find the centre of a circle given three points (Fig. 3.3.12). Let the entire
front of the capital ab be divided into nine parts, and from the middle of
that line be taken a straight line cd whose height is equal to one of those
parts, with c being the upper point. Then let these three points a, b, and c
be reduced under a circular segment drawn by means of an intersection that
results from drawing lines from a to c and from c to b. These lines shall be
bisected perpendicularly by lines that come to intersect, such as lines ef and
gf that intersect at point h.89
The architrave, frieze and corona may be made as in the Ionic manner,
but in place of the pulvinated frieze of the Ionic, make it flat; the same way
serves in the pediments.
(Vitruvius) [III.V.1] Once these things are finished, the bases are placed in
their positions, and these in such a way will be made to measure such that the
thickness of the plinth shall be half the thickness of the column. The projection, called
ecphora by the Greeks, shall be the fourth part, and thus the base shall be as long
and wide as a thickness and a half of the column. [III.V.2] If the height of the base
is made in the Attic way, it is divided so that the upper part is the third part of
the thickness of the column. The rest shall belong to the plinth. Taking away the
plinth, the remainder shall be divided into four parts, of which the upper torus shall
have one part. The three remaining parts shall be divided into two equal parts:

Barbaro, p. 163; Vitruvius IV.I.7.

88 

The construction is correct, but is incompletely described. First, pairs of points are joined
89 

to create two chords, ac and cb. Next, a perpendicular bisector of each chord is constructed.
This is done by striking similar arcs from each end of the chord, and then joining their
intersections (eh for chord ac, and gh for chord cb—noting that in Barbaro’s diagram there
are two distinct points both marked h). The perpendicular bisectors eh and gh are extended
until they intersect at point f (not point h as the text says). Because the perpendicular bisector
of a chord always passes through the centre of the circle, point of intersection f is that centre.
pp. 155-157 263

one shall be of the lower torus; the other shall be given to the scotia with its fillets,
called trochilos by the Greeks. [III.V.3] If the base is made Ionic, then it must be
compartitioned so that the width of the base on every side is as large as the thickness
of the column plus the addition of a fourth and an eighth part. But the height is as
those made in the Attic way, and so too its plinth. The remainder beyond the plinth,
which shall be the third part of the thickness of the column, shall be divided into
seven parts, and [p. 156] three of these shall be the upper torus; the others shall be
divided equally. Of one shall be made the upper fillet with its astragals and its flat
edge, called a supercilium; the other shall be left for the lower scotia. But the lower
scotia will appear larger because it will have its [p. 157] projection out to the end
of the plinth. The astragals must be made one eighth of the scotia. The projection
of the base shall be the eighth part plus the sixteenth part of the thickness of the
column. [III.V.4] This having been completed, and the bases placed in their proper
locations, it is necessary to set vertically on their centres the middle columns of the
ante-temple and the posticum. However, the corner columns and those opposite the
corner columns on the right and left sides of the temple must be placed; they are set
in such a way that the parts of them that face inside towards the wall of the cella are

Fig. 3.3.12 [Finding a centre when given three points] Image [p. 155]
264 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

vertical, but so that their outsides are as has been said regarding their contraction.
In this way the outlines of the composition of the temple will be properly taken care
of, according to the rationale of tapering furnished.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius says is that, the bases being set in their plac-
es, the columns must be set judiciously. Some of the columns are at the
corners, others are between those; the former are called angulari, the latter
mediane. Vitruvius would have the columns in the middle set plumb vertical
with respect to their centres, but the corner columns should be flat on their
inner sides and without tapering. This is done so that they meet the corners
of the walls correctly. Some observers of antiquities say that this works well
visually. Similarly, Vitruvius does not wish to see a tapering in those columns
that are next to the wall opposite the corner columns; I say from the sides of
the wall, because neither one nor the other of these columns have a contrac-
tion inwardly, and their inner side is plumb vertical.
(Vitruvius) [III.V.5] The column shafts having been positioned and erect-
ed, then follows the rationale of the capitals. If these are pulvinated, they shall be
formed with such symmetries that they are as large as the column at the feet, with
the addition of the eighteenth part of the lower part of the shaft: the abacus shall be
that long and wide. But the height with the volutes shall be half. We must retract
the end of the abacus by two parts and a half of twenty, for the fronts of the volutes,
and along the abacus on all four sides of the volute. Near the plinth of the end of the
dado drop down lines, which are called catheti. That height previously measured
shall be divided into nine parts and a half. One part and a half shall be given to the
thickness of the abacus, and of the other eight parts are made the volutes. [III.V.6]
Now, from the line that shall be dropped down from the end of the abacus another
line shall be dropped, which is retracted by one part and a half. Then these lines
shall be divided in such a way as to leave four parts and a half below the abacus.
Further, in that place that divides four parts and a half and three parts and a half,
let the centre of the eye be marked, and from that centre make a turn as large in
diameter as one part of the eight; this shall be the size of the eye. On the same line,
called a cathetus, shall be drawn its corresponding diameter. Then, from above the
abacus it begins, and for every quarter-turn the space is diminished by one-half
eye, until it arrives to the same quarter, which is below the abacus.
(Barbaro) Up to this point, Vitruvius has reasoned about the volute as
something affixed as an ornament for the capital, as it truly is. Now he will
explain how the capital itself must be formed, and this must be observed.
He says:
pp. 157-158 265

(Vitruvius) [III.V.7] The height of the capital must be made in this way: that
of nine parts and a half, three hang in front of and below the astragal at the top of
the shaft, and taking away the cymatium, the remainder is given to the abacus and
the channel. The projection of the cymatium beyond the fillet of the abacus is equal
to the size of the eye.
(Barbaro) Under the astragal, or tondino, are three parts that remained
of the nine and a half. According to Vitruvius, these three parts are not to
be counted as part of the height of the capital because they are occupied by
the volute, the beginning of which is under the astragal at the top of the col-
umn. It can be seen from these words that the astragal terminates under the
eye because three parts remained under the eye. Then he says that, having
taken away the abacus (which, as we have said, is one part and a half), the
rest is compartitioned between the channel and cymatium.90 The ends of the
channel are shown by the first turn of the volute because they are where the
second turn begins.
(Vitruvius) [III.V.7 cont.] The bands of the pulvinated elements project be-
yond the abacus such that when the foot of a [p. 158] compass is placed in the mid-
point of the capital, and the compass opened so that the other end touches the end of
the cymatium, then when the compass is turned, it will touch the ends of the bands.
The axes of the volute must not be larger than the size of the eye. And the volutes
are carved in such a way that their heights have the twelfth part of their width.
(Barbaro) In the first chapter of the fourth book, in comparing Ionic
columns to Corinthian, Vitruvius says that the height of the Ionic capital is
a third of the thickness of the column, while the height of the Corinthian is
equal to the whole thickness.91 This proves that the volute is a thing affixed
as an ornament and is not part of the capital. He stated above, ‘But the height
with the volutes shall be half ’. He included the volutes, and did not say ‘half
the height’ because the height is a third, not half.
(Vitruvius) [III.V.7 cont.] These shall be the compartitions of capitals for those
columns that are at least fifteen feet. Those that are taller shall have in the same
way the agreement of their measures. The abacus shall be as long and as wide as
90 
There is some confusion here. Barbaro translated Vitruvius as ‘taking away the cymatium,
the remainder is given to the abacus and the channel’ but inverts this in his commentary
to ‘having taken away the abacus… the rest is compartitioned between the channel and the
cymatium’. Cfr. Morgan (1914, pp. 92-93); Granger (1931, vol. I, pp. 188-189); Rowland
and Howe (1999, p. 52); and Schofield (2009, p. 84), who all agree that, taking away the
abacus and channel, the remainder is given to the cymatium.
91 
See Barbaro, p. 162; Vitruvius IV.I.1.
266 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the column is thick at the feet with the addition of the ninth part, so that the higher
column being less tapered, by no less than those shall the capital have the projection
of its symmetry, and in height the addition of the module. [III.V.8] As for the de-
scription of how the volute is turned directly with the compass, at the end of this
book its form and the rationale will be described.
(Barbaro) If the columns were higher than fifteen feet, the same meas-
ures would be given to their capitals. It is true that the dado or abacus is
made wider and longer than the thickness of the column by a ninth, since
the higher the column, the less it is tapered at the top. This is because, due to
the distance, the air makes the effect of tapering.
(Vitruvius) [III.V.8 cont.] The capitals being furnished, and placed at the
top of the column shafts, not aligned on a level, but according to a uniform module
(such that the addition made in the pedestals corresponds in the upper members
with the compartition of the architraves), the rationale of the architraves must be
had in this way.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius would have (as we said above) the pedestals project
above the platform, but all the small members of the pedestals correspond
to those of the platform, which was retracted. Considering this, he has us
observe that we should place the capitals in such a way that they correspond
with their rise to what was added below, so that the small members in the
architrave correspond with their reasonable measure to the parts below. The
example is seen in the elevation of the pseudodipteral temple [labelled I in
Fig. 3.1.8].
(Vitruvius) [III.V.8 cont.] If the columns are at least from twelve feet to fif-
teen feet, the height of the architrave is half of the thickness of the column at the feet.
If it passes from fifteen to twenty, the height of the column is divided into thirteen
parts, and the height of the architrave shall be one of these parts. If from twenty to
twenty-five, the height is divided into twelve parts and a half, and of one of those
parts shall be made the height of the architrave; if it is from twenty-five to thirty,
of twelve parts of the column, one shall be for the height of the architrave. If it is
beyond that, according to the module in the same way, to the height of the column
must be made the heights of the architraves. [III.V.9] Because the higher the acute-
ness of vision ascends, the less easily it cuts or breaks the density of the air, and so
debilitated and consumed by the space of the height, it reports to our senses doubt-
fully the size of measures. Thus always in the compartition of the members must be
added a supplement of the rationale, so that when the works are in high places, or
have members that are high and large, all the other parts have the rationale of the
pp. 158-159 267

sizes. The width of the bottom of the architrave, at that part that rests on the cap-
ital, shall be equal to the thickness of the upper part of the column that lies beneath
the capital. But the upper part of the architrave shall be equal to the thickness at
the feet of the column. The curved element called the cymatium of the architrave,
shall be equal to the seventh part [p. 159] of its height, and has its projection by the
same. The other part, excluding the cymatium, must be divided into twelve parts,
of which three are given to the first fascia, four to the second fascia, and five to the
third fascia. The frieze above the architrave shall be the fourth part less than the
architrave, but if it is to have little figures and symbols carved on it, then the frieze
shall be made the fourth part greater than the architrave, so that the carvings will
have something of grandeur. [III.V.10] The cyma or cymatium of the frieze shall
be the seventh part of its height, and the projection shall equal its height. Above
the frieze, the dentils must be made as high as the middle fascia of the architrave.
The projection equals the height. The gap, called metochi by the Greeks, must be
made in such a way that the dentil has a face that is half its height; the hollow of
the gap of that face is three parts, of which two are the width. The cyma of this
shall be equal to the sixth part of its height. [III.V.11] The dripstone called corona,
including its cyma or cymatium, excluding the cyma recta called sima, shall be as
high as the middle fascia of the architrave. The projection of the corona with the
dentils must be made equal to the height from the frieze to the upper cyma above
the corona. At the top, all the projections will be more graceful and beautiful when
the members have as much projection as height. [III.V.12] The tympanum in the
pediment has a height made in such a way that the entire front of the corona is
measured from the end of the cymatium and that length is divided into nine parts,
of which one is put at the very top so that it corresponds vertically to the architrave
and the collars of the columns. The coronae that go over the tympanum must be
located in line with those below, excluding the simae, or cymae rectae. Above the
coronae of the tympanum are the cymae rectae, called epitithide, which are an
eighth higher than the coronae. The summits, called acroteria, that are placed over
the corners must be equal in height to the centre of the tympanum; that of the centre
shall be an eighth higher than those on the corners. [III.V.13] All the members that
go above the column capitals, that is, the architraves, friezes, coronae, tympana,
pediments, and acroteria, must all lean outwards, each by the twelfth part of its
front. Thus, when we stand opposite the fronts, if two lines are extended to the
eye so that one touches its lower part and the other the upper part of some of those
members, then that touching the higher part will be longer. And so when vision
proceeds along the longer line to the higher point, it makes the appearance further
268 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

away, and seem to curve inwards towards the wall; but if they lean as described
above, then to our vision they will seem true to vertical.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius presents a beautiful rationale of perspective here.
In order to understand it, we need to set forth his intention as a conclusion,
and then prove it according to the rationale of perspective. He says, then,
that the front of each member that is placed above the capital must be di-
vided into twelve parts, and each must lean frontwards by one part of the
twelve. The rationale for this is based in perspective, according to which the
rays of vision emanate from the eyes in a straight line and have a certain
distance between them, such that the figure they form is like a pyramid or
cone whose point is in the eye and whose base contains the contours, or out-
lines, of the object being viewed. Things being in this way, it follows that the
angles under which anything is viewed are now smaller, now larger, because
as the eye draws closer, it makes the angle larger, and moving away it makes
the angle smaller. A similar thing follows from the height of the angles when
the object is viewed from the right, left, or centre, where objects viewed
under greater angles appear smaller [recte larger],92 and objects viewed under
a smaller angle appear smaller. Likewise, objects viewed from a high angle
appear tall; from a lower angle, short; viewed from the right, they appear to
have a prominent right side; from the left, the left side is prominent; seen
from the centre, the front is prominent. The more angles an object can be
viewed from, the better it can be observed.
So, considering Vitruvius, if the members were plumb vertical, the up-
per part would be farther from the eye than the lower part, and the building
would appear to be receding. This can be seen by drawing two lines from
the eye, because the line that goes to the upper part is longer than that
[p. 160] which goes to the lower part, and thus the building would appear
stretched out and inclined upwards, being seen under the more distant ray.
So he would have us lean the upper parts forward by the twelfth part of the
height of the members that are above the capitals, because in this way the
line of sight would be closer to the eye, and the angle larger, thus making the
work appear more vertical. This can be seen in Fig. 3.3.13.

The text here actually says ‘smaller’ instead of ‘larger’, an error that crept into the 1567
92 

edition, since it is correctly stated in Barbaro (1556, p. 202).

p. 160 269

Fig. 3.3.13. [Perspective rationale for leaning the upper members]

Image [p. 160]

Let the front of the architrave be cb and the eye be at a. Two lines are
drawn from the eye, one to the lower side c, the other to the upper side b. It
can be seen that line ab is longer than ac. But if the upper part is inclined
forward by the twelfth part of its height, then the line that goes from the
eye to the added part is shorter and more closely agrees with the line below,
thus the work appears more vertical and less stretched and inclined, as can
be seen from line ad. This must be observed especially where the works are
tall and the members large. Use judgement and discretion.
(Vitruvius) [III.V.14] The flutes of the columns must be twenty-four, and are
carved such that the arms of a set square placed in the hollow of the flute and turned
will touch with its arms on the right and on the left the corners of the strie, while
the point, or angle, of the set square moves freely and without impediment touching
its curve. The widths of the strie or fillets must be made in accordance with the
addition in the middle of the column from its description. [III. V.15] In the cyma
recta over the coronae are to be sculpted the heads of lions, placed so that against
each column is a hole to the channel that from the roof tiles receives the rainwater.
But the parts in the middle should be solid so that the force of the water that comes
down from the tiles into the channels does not come to be thrown out between the
intercolumniations and drench those passing underneath. Those that are above the
columns will appear to be vomiting to expel the waters outwards.
(Barbaro) Column fluting is made in imitation of the folds of women’s
dresses. Here the meaning of some terms must be explained before the for-
mation of the flutes can be discussed. The first term is what Vitruvius called
270 Book III of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

strix; the second what he calls stria; the third, ancones. Strix is the hollow, the
flute itself; stria is the space between one flute and the next, a flat strip called
a fillet. Ancones are the arms of the set square made of two straightedges, so-
called by Vitruvius because they are made like an elbow, which the Greeks
call anchon. Let there be [p. 161] twenty-four flutes carved in the shape of a
semi-circle. This may be verified using the corner of the set square, placing
it so it touches the middle of the flute at its deepest point, and making sure
that its arms touch the edges of the fillets. Their size would be known exactly
if we were to know exactly how the swelling of the column goes because,
in Vitruvius’s opinion it is according to its description that the fillets are
formed. Fig. 3.3.14 shows how the flutes should be set out.

Fig. 3.3.14. [Forming the flutes] Image [p. 160]

(Vitruvius) [III.V.15 cont.] I have described as diligently as I am able in this

book the dispositions of Ionic temples. In the next I will expose the proportions of
the Doric and Corinthian temples.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius concludes, and tells us that he has stated with all
possible diligence the rationales of Ionic temples. He promises to treat the
measures of Doric and Corinthian temples in the next book. So we must ob-
serve the things said in this book as pertaining to the rationale of the Ionic.

The end of the Book III.

 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book IV

Preface
[p. 161]

having, O Emperor, observed that many have left precepts of ar-

chitecture and volumes of commentary that are not ordered, but
begin with dismembered particles, I thought it a worthy and most
useful thing to first reduce the corpus of this discipline to perfect order, and then
explicate in each volume the prescribed and certain qualities of the manners indi-
vidually. Thus, O Caesar, I have declared in the first book the office of the architect,
and shown the arts in which he must be instructed. In the second I have discussed
the supply of materials of which edifices are made. In the third, about the disposi-
tions of the sacred temples and the variety of their manners, [IV.Pref.2] which and
how many forms they have, the dispositions that there are in each manner, and of
the three genres, those which have the most refined qualities of the modules in the
proportions, I have demonstrated the usages of the Ionic. Now in this volume I will
treat the Doric and Corinthian institutions, and of all I will show the differences
and the properties.
© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 271
K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_5
272 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) The reason why Vitruvius does not do in the preface to the
fourth book as he does in the prefaces of the other books—that is, give a dis-
course of some fine things—might be (in my estimation) this: the material of
the present book is continuous with the material of the preceding one, so he
had no need to make another preface with digressions and history as he did
in the others. But why did he make this bit of preface at all? First, to distin-
guish one book from the other, and then to continue the material, by telling
that which he had taught up to this point, and that which he was about to
teach. Should anyone ask, ‘Should he not have comprised in a single volume
the entire treatment of the buildings dedicated to religion?’, I would reply
that to avoid the tedium that length brings, he wished to commence with the
third book and reserve himself [p. 162] until the fourth book to relate us the
rest. Also, brevity, which he praises in the preface to the fifth book,1 makes
us readier to undertake things that finish quickly. It must be noted that
when he says, ‘In the third, about the dispositions of the sacred temples’, he means
that which regards the appearances of the fronts and the sides discussed
in the first chapter of Book III. Again, when he says, ‘the properties of their
manners’, he means that which regards the spaces between the columns, of
which there are five species, as seen in the second chapter, which comprises
that of which Vitruvius says ‘which and how many forms they have’, and the
rest. And when he says, ‘of the three genres, those which have the most refined
qualities’, he means the Ionic genre, about which he reasoned in the third
chapter. And in truth he aptly says ‘most refined qualities’, and so I find that it
is necessary to turn over in the mind the things said about the proportions
and compartitions of those, and become practised with those in the precepts
of Vitruvius, thinking about them quite often, recalling, in addition to this,
eurhythmy and grace, which is the temperament of the proportions applied
to the material, as equity is applied to the things of justice. Thus he treats
in this book the origin and invention of the columns, their ornaments, the
rationale of the Doric and the Corinthian, and the compartition and distri-
bution of the interior and exterior of the temples. He gives us some precepts
for situating temples according to regions and parts of the sky; he reasons
about doorways; the ancient way of building of Tuscany; the round forms of
temples; and altars. With this he brings to an end the discussion of buildings
dedicated to religion.

1 
For the reference to brevity, see Barbaro, p. 206; Vitruvius V.Pref.5.
pp. 162-163 273

Chapter I
On three manners of columns, their origins and inventions

[p. 162] (Vitruvius) [IV.I.1] The Corinthian columns have all the measures like
the Ionic, except the capitals. The heights of the capitals for those are made propor-
tionally higher and thinner since the height of the Ionic capital is the third part of
the thickness of the column, while for the Corinthian it is all of the entire thickness.
Because then two parts of the thickness of the column are added to Corinthian cap-
itals, they make the appearance of those thinner. [IV.I.2] All of the other members
that are placed over the column in the Corinthian are set either from the Dor-
ic measures and compartitions, or from the Ionic usages, because the Corinthian
manner does not have its own institution of coronae or of other ornaments. That is,
in the coronae the mutules are disposed according to the rationales of the triglyphs,
and in the architraves, the guttae are ordered according to the Doric usages. Accord-
ing to the Ionic laws, the friezes adorned with sculpture are compartitioned with
the dentils and the coronae. [IV.I.3] Thus the capitals of two manners interposed,
the third manner was produced in the works. So, the names of the three kinds, that
is, Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian, are taken from the formation of the columns, of
which the first born and most ancient is the Doric.
(Barbaro) In the present place Vitruvius treats the origins and inventions
of the manners of columns, as well as the Corinthian column and its capital.
The rules of the Corinthian are briefly summarised. The first is that Corinthi-
an columns are not at all different from Ionic in their measurements, except
in the capital, since (as we have seen in the previous book) the height of the
Ionic capital is one-third of the thickness of the column, and (as we see here)
the height of the Corinthian capital is equal to the entire thickness of the
column. From this it follows that the Corinthian capital, by the addition of
two parts, is slimmer and appears more refined. But where has Vitruvius
said that the height of the Ionic capital is one-third of the thickness? I say
that he has said it above, in the third book, when he says ‘The height of the
capital must be made in this way: that of nine parts and a half, three hang in front
of and below the astragal ’,2 because if three parts under the astragal are left to
the volute, there remain six parts and a half, and the thickness of the column
was of eighteen parts, and that half part is distributed to the cimbia, so the
thickness of the Ionic capital [p. 163] comes to have about the third part of

2 
Barbaro, p. 157; Vitruvius III.V.7.
274 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the thickness of the column. The second rule is that the Corinthian columns
do not have their own members on top, but take them either from the Doric
symmetries or from the usages of the Ionic. Vitruvius says, ‘ from the ration-
ales of the triglyphs’—that is, from the rationale of the Doric; not that there
are triglyphs in the Corinthian, but because the Doric compartition is reg-
ulated by the triglyphs. Likewise, by ‘guttae’ he means not the ones that are
below the triglyphs but those that are disposed under the corona, on the un-
derside, which we have said are called fusaioli3 by the moderns, who do not
know their origins. So in the Corinthian manner, the architrave, the frieze
and the cornice can be taken from the Doric measure and compartition. All
that is necessary up to the capitals of the columns can also be taken from
the Ionic, and in this case there is no difference between the Corinthian and
the Ionic. It can be said that the Corinthian manner has nothing of its own
except the capital, and this must be observed. Vitruvius goes on to discuss
the origins of the Doric manner, saying:
(Vitruvius) [IV.I.3 cont.] Because in Achaea and the Peloponnese Dorus, the
son of Hellen and the nymph Optice had a principality, he, in the ancient city of
Argos, happened to build a temple to Juno in that manner. Then, in the same man-
ner, there not being yet born the rationale of the symmetries, he built temples in the
other cities of Achaea. [IV.I.4] But then the Athenians, following the answer of the
Delphic Apollo, by a common council of all Greece led thirteen colonies in Asia at
once, and to each colony gave its chief and leader, gave the whole of the empire to
Ion, son of Xuthus and of Creusa, who the Delphic Apollo, in his response, wanted
to call his son. He led those colonies in Asia, and there built extremely great cities,
having occupied the borders of Caria, Ephesus, Miletus, and Myus, which had
already been swallowed by the waters, and the sacrifices and the suffrages of which
were attributed by the Ionians to the Milesians, and Priene, Samos, Teos, Colo-
phon, Chios, Erythrae, Phocaea, Clazomenae, Lebedus, and Miletus. This Melitus
had war declared on it by common council because of the arrogance of the citizens of
this city, and was ruined. In place of this then, by the benevolence of King Attalus
and of Arsinoe the city of the Smyrnians was received into the number of the Ionic
cities. [IV.I.5] These cities, having driven out the Carians and the Leleges, named
this region Ionia after their leader Ion, and placing there the temples of the immor-

3 
Barbaro uses the term fusaioli in the illustration of the profile of the Doric portal (p. 190,
Fig. 4.6.3, voice F), and again in Book IX in the description of the water organ (p. 465), but
it is not found in his earlier description of guttae. A fusaiolo or fusarolo is a ‘whorl’, a bead or
disc applied to a spindle, used to facilitate spinning.
pp. 163-164 275

tal gods they began to build some little temples. First (as they saw in Achaea) they
built the Temple of Apollo, called Panionian, and they called it Doric, because they
first saw it thus in the city of the Dorians. [IV.I.6] But wishing to place the columns
in that temple, not having the symmetries of those and seeking the rationales with
which they could be made so that they would be sufficient to support the weights and
so that their beauty of appearance would be approved, they measured the foot of the
male body. Having found that the foot was the sixth part of the height of a man,
thus they transported it to the column. And of the thickness that they made the base
of the shaft of the column, six times that much they raised that in height with the
capital. And in this way the Doric column began to give to building the proportion,
firmness, and delight of the male body. [IV.I.7] Close to that then, seeking to build a
temple to Diana, from the same vestiges they transferred to a new form of manner
feminine slenderness. First they made the thickness of the column the eighth part of
the height. In order to maintain the highest appearance, at the bottom they placed
a base instead of a shoe. On the capital they set the volutes hanging down on the
right and on the left, like curling tresses of hairstyles. They adorned the fronts with
cymatia and festoons of fruit…
(Barbaro) …called encarpa, that is, pieces of fruit and foliage gathered
together and tied…
(Vitruvius) [IV.I.7 cont.] disposed in the place of hair. For the entire trunk of
the column they let the flutes go down to the bottom, like the folds of the vestments
worn by matrons. Thus with two differences they imitated the invention of the
columns, one simple and nude without ornament, which was in the likeness of a
man, the other with girlish slenderness, ornament, and measure. [IV.I.8] But those
that came later with elegance and subtlety of judgement [p. 164] went further,
and delighting in more slender modules, made the height of the Doric column seven
diameters of the thickness, and the Ionic eight and a half. That which the Ionians
were the first to make was called Ionic. But the third kind, which is called Corin-
thian, is taken from the imitation of virginal slenderness, because virgins, due to
the tenderness of age, being formed of the most slender members, receive lovelier
and more graceful effects. [IV.I.9] It is said that the invention of the Corinthian
capital was discovered in this way. A virgin, citizen of Corinth, already of the
age to marry, being ill, came to die. Her wet-nurse collected all the vases that the
virgin delighted in while she lived. Having placed those in a basket, later, when
she was buried, she had them taken to the monument and placed at the head, and
so that they would remain for a longer time in the open air, she placed a tile over
them. The basket chanced to be placed over an acanthus root. That root, being
276 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

pressed down in the middle by the weight, sent forth in the spring curved stalks and
leaves. The stalks, growing along the sides of the basket and necessarily pushed out
by the corners of the tile, were constrained to curve in the last parts of the volute.
[IV.I.10] Then Callimachus, who for the elegance and subtlety of his art was called
Cachizotecnos by the Athenians, passing near that monument and observing, saw
that basket and around it the tenderness of the new-born leaves and, delighting
in the manner and novelty of the form, made the columns in that likeness in the
city of the Corinthians, and established the suitable rationales of those. Then in the
perfections of the works, he made the distribution of the Corinthian manner.
(Barbaro) A curious person would require me to cite here the authority
of Pliny, Pausanias, Strabo, and other authors to expound the histories and
descriptions of the places set out by Vitruvius, but I believe Vitruvius and I
have more pressing matters, of greater importance, than narrating the his-
tories, describing places, and depicting plants. Nature gave us a great and
fine occasion to make art that is perfect when it proposed to us the form
of the human body, because with number, terminations and outlines, with
the location and collocation of the parts, in a subject that is most noble it
provided us with a wonderful example of singular beauty. Nature made it
so that bodies, no matter how dissimilar, nevertheless appeared to us to be
beautiful, well-formed and graceful. Thus many beauties are born, because
with the certain and determined number of the parts nature conjoins the
corresponding magnitude with its terminations, leaving nothing that is not
in its proper and suitable place. Thus there are bodies that are refined and
slender, delightful to us, and others that are more solid and larger, but which
do not yet displease us, and finally between these two are still others that
are fine and graceful, just as in all things we find the large, the small, and
the in-between, each according to its rationale. Men thus reflecting on this,
and reading the book of nature in order to imitate its compositions, decided
on three principal manners of building, carefully taking into account the
purpose and aim of each building. Thus that which can best endure wear
and have more strength and solidity is called Doric, because the Dorians
were the first to use it. That which is the most subtle and slender is Corin-
thian. The one that is situated in between these is Ionic, named after Ion, as
Vitruvius says. So that each would be perceived as delightful and beautiful,
man began, with great diligence, to consider the number and terminations
and manner in which the parts should be disposed. Seeing therefore (as
pp. 164-165 277

Leon Battista Alberti discourses on quite well4), that the diameter of the
human body from one side to the other is the sixth part of the height of the
body, and that from the umbilicus to the kidneys is the tenth part of the
height of the body, man took the occasion for deriving the measurements.
Thus finding that if some columns were six times higher than the diameter
and others ten times, by the innate sentiment that enables us to judge that
too much thickness or slenderness was not good, man began to fulfil his role
and discourse on what would be pleasing between these extremes. Immedi-
ately he devoted himself to the invention of the proportions, adding together
these extremes—that is, six and ten—and dividing the sum [p. 165] into
two parts, thus finding that the number eight was the one that was equally
distant from six and ten. He was pleased with the invention and the proof
was convincing, so he gave to the length of the column eight diameters at
the foot,5 and that (as I have said) was called Ionic, after the Ionians. Then
he added the smaller term, which was six, with this number that he had
found—that is, with eight—making a sum of fourteen, which divided equal-
ly gives seven, according to which the Doric column was made seven diam-
eters high by the Dorians. But adding the largest term, which is ten, with
the middle term, which is eight, he obtained eighteen, which divided by two
gives nine, so that the height given to the slenderest and most subtle column
was nine diameters, and this was called Corinthian, because its invention
came from Corinth (now called Caranto) thanks to the architect Callima-
chus. It was therefore from number that beauty began to be bestowed. Then
they came to the outline, making the diminutions, the swellings, the col-
lars, and the cimbias with grace and ornament, disposing the parts of each
in its place. Of course it is true that the location and the disposition of the
parts are sooner known and sensed when they are wrong, and hence it is
understood how they must be, since that is a large part of man’s naturally
innate judgement. It is also true that there are some things that must be
observed in executing works that are well compartitioned, such as: things
must be made truly vertical; the upper members must correspond squarely
to the lower members (sul vivo 6); everything must rise from the earth; there
must be an even number of columns, like the feet of animals; there must be
4 
Alberti’s study of human proportions appears in the Tabulae dimensionorum hominis; see
Robert Tavernor (2007, pp. 31-33).
5 
That is, eight diameters measured at the foot of the column.
6 
See the note regarding the term sul vivo at Barbaro, p. 135.
278 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

an odd number of openings; the lower parts must be larger than the higher
parts; the Doric must not be excessively elaborate, the Ionic ornate, and the
Corinthian very ornate. Thus we cannot but condemn those who in Doric
works have put too much refinement and variety of work, which should
only have been made in Corinthian works, making them greatly expensive
and useless, not pleasing, and without decorum. Some, however, might call
them composite works. To me the reason for such flouting of both the expe-
rience and cognition of some things of the ancients, which when they were
placed far from the eye were perceived only roughly, but when they were
nearer were more detailed, can only be explained by ambition, advantage or
convenience of the workers. One reads that because of the danger that there
was that columns might break as they were raised, they used to raise them
first, and then work on them. In short, there should be a correspondence (as
I have said) between right and left, top and bottom, front and rear, such that
each thing is set in its place and all should correspond and confer beauty
and strength to buildings. I would now like to apprise those who marvel at
it, that Vitruvius himself, among other ancient architects who have built,
sometimes strayed from the measurements specified. I have stated above,
with the authority of Vitruvius, that the rationale of things in itself is true
and lasting, so that with proportion it lives and remains unopposed, but it
does not always delight that sentiment in our mind which, perhaps pen-
etrating further inside thanks to hidden forces of nature, sometimes does
not allow the eyes to be delighted by pure and simple proportion. Thus of
the material of things, the size, the distance (as I have said) is required
some manner and form that adjusts things gracefully instead of too simply
imposing measure and proportion on us, as in ancient statues it is seen that
some are made of nine units, some of ten, some of between nine and ten.
In music finally there are some sounds which arrive to the ear sweetly that
are not, however, collocated among the consonances.7 So I say that everyone
must cease to be surprised when they find in many works measurements
that differ greatly from the precepts, because it is sufficient to contain them
between the greatest and least extreme, varying the means with judgement
and subtlety of observation. Thus even though Vitruvius has regulated the
heights of the spaces and openings between the columns, he has never gone

Barbaro discusses musical ratios that are pleasing to the ear but are not counted among the
7 

consonances (for example, the major third, minor third, minor sixth and the eleventh) in
Book V; see Barbaro, p. 232 and p. 242.
pp. 165-166 279

outside the terms. Pliny, in the thirty-third chapter of the thirty-sixth book
of Natural History 8 reasons about the columns and their measurements, and
about the Temple of Diana at Ephesus9 and its proportions. In addition to
the manners of columns prescribed above, there are the quadrangular Attic
columns with equal sides.10 Vitruvius says that the architect Callimachus
was called ‘Cachizotecnos’11 because of the elegance of his art and because
he always broke the things that had been made, was never content, and was
always polishing, but others say he was called ‘Lixitecnon’12 because he finely
polished the things of his art. This perhaps makes more sense than what
Vitruvius says.
[p. 166] (Vitruvius) [IV.I.11] The symmetry…
(Barbaro) …that is, the compartition…
(Vitruvius) [IV.I.11 cont.] …of that capital must be made in this way: how-
ever much is the thickness of the column at the feet, that much will be the height
of the capital, with the dado or abacus. The width of the abacus will thus have its
rationale: that however much is the height, twice that much will be the diagonal, so
that the spaces on all sides will have correct fronts. The fronts of the widths shall be
curved inwards from the outer corners of the abacus by the ninth part of the width
of its front: at the lower part of the capital there shall be as much thickness as the
upper part of the column, excluding the apothesis and the astragal…
(Barbaro) …that is, the cimbia and the tondino.
(Vitruvius) [IV.I.11 cont.] The thickness of the abacus is the seventh part
of the height of the capital. [IV.I.12] Taken away the thickness of the abacus, the
remainder shall be divided into three parts, of which one is given to the foliage
below, the other two parts to the foliage in the middle, and the stalks will have the
same height, and from these are born the leaves, which, projecting out, embrace the
abacus. Those small volutes and spirals that are born from the leaves of the stalks,
project outwards to the outer corners and shall be sculpted in the middle behind the
flowers that are in the abacus. Those flowers on all four sides shall be as large as the

8 
The Doric, Ionic and Corinthian are described in Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.56
(not 36.33 as Barbaro says).
9 
The Temple of Diana at Ephesus is especially described in Pliny the Elder, Natural History
36.21.
10 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.56.
11 
Cfr. Pliny the Elder, Natural History 34.19 (‘Catatexitechnos’); Pausanias, Description of
Greece 1.26.7 (‘κατστησεν’).
12 
No mention of this second nickname for Callimachus appears in either Barbaro (1556) or
Barbaro (1567 Lat.), and I have been unable to find a provenance for it.
280 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

thickness of the abacus. Thus in these symmetries and compartitions shall be made
the Corinthian capitals.
(Barbaro) I have explained this composition very clearly above, and
shown it in Fig. 3.5.1. It is true that it has been observed among the ancients
that the height of the capital without the abacus was one diameter of the
column, which gave it greater slenderness.
(Vitruvius) [IV.I.12 cont.] There are also the manners of capitals that are
placed on the same columns, called by different names, of which neither the property
of the measures nor the manner of the column can be named. But we clearly see that
the names of those have been transferred and transmuted from the Corinthian,
Ionic, and Doric capitals, the symmetries of which have been transported into the
subtlety of new sculptures.
(Barbaro) The majority of the beautiful ancient edifices are of a com-
posite manner, and this manner varies according to the diversity of the pro-
portions that are compounded together. These manners do not have a proper
name, although there are some among us who call them ‘Italian’. Capitals
are seen that have an innumerable diversity of works, some with very large
foliage, others with tiny, very beautiful foliage, others have animal orna-
ments, as we have said, others that have both volutes taken from the Ionic
and leaves taken from the Corinthian. All of these are elegant and graceful.
They must be referred to without distinction simply as capitals, or as the
composite manner.

Chapter II
On the ornaments of columns

[p. 166] (Vitruvius) [IV.II.1] Because above were described the origins and the
inventions of the columns according to their manners, it does not appear to me far
from our purpose with the same rationales to treat the ornaments of these: how they
are born, from what principles, and from what origins they have been invented.
On the top of all the edifices are placed the beam structure and work in wood called
by different names. Like the names, so too in the effect they are held to be different
and of various utility. Thus over the columns, pilasters, and posts, …
(Barbaro) …or antae, as they are called…
pp. 166-167 281

(Vitruvius) [IV.II.1 cont.] …are placed the beams; in the flooring are the
joists, the small floor battens, and the floorboards; under the roofs if the spaces are
great, the ridge board goes at the top of the pitch, to which are then attached the col-
umns and crossbeams and struts.13 If the spaces are not so large, the ridge board and
the rafters extend out to the end of the eaves. Above the rafters are the purlins…
(Barbaro) … or pianelle …
(Vitruvius) [IV.II.1 cont.] …then on top beneath the tiles are the battens,
which project out such that by their projection and leaning out the walls are cov-
ered.
[p. 167] (Barbaro) In the present chapter Vitruvius teaches us an admi-
rable doctrine and practice of architecture, and therefore he accounts for all
of the adornments and members that are placed over the columns, pilasters,
exterior walls or posts, which he calls antae, clearly showing their origin
and invention. From these are derived the rationales behind many terms.
To be sure (as I have said often) the artifices have derived from the need for
magnificence in building. Nature has imposed necessity on us, but the great
mind ignited by competition sought to advance itself. Thus the first builders
built as it came to them, and as need required. Then came contests for them
to outdo each other, and they based the invention and the improvements on
the imitation of those things that by their nature had to be a certain way. So
they did not make any adornments that could not fully render the rationale
behind the imitation of things made by necessity. The edifice having been
erected in the form shown previously from the foundations to the top of the
interior walls, columns, exterior walls, pilasters or posts, it was necessary to
cover it, so that the end of the work could be seen perfectly. In the cover-
ing it was necessary to make sure that the interior walls stayed joined and
tied together, and that the covering rested properly and did not push on the
walls. Thus for this to happen, it is necessary to know how all of this work in
wood, which Vitruvius calls materiatio, must be done, as well as the individ-
ual names, effects, and function of each element. Three things must be ob-

13 
This passage is significantly different in the Latin of Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 35r) than in
other Latin versions, as it contains a phrase that others lack: sub tectis si maiora spatia sunt,
columen in summo fastigio culminis, unde & columnae dicuntnr [sic], & transtra & capreoli
(my emphasis). Therefore Barbaro’s translation is very different from other translations, all of
which lack this phrase. Ceasariano (1521, p. XLVIII) also includes it in his translation. Cfr.
Morgan (1914, p. 107); Granger (1931, pp. 212, 213); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 56); an
Schofield (2009, p. 95). The ‘columns’ are actually the posts of the trusses formed together
with the crossbeams and struts, shown in Fig. 4.2.1 in the form of a queen post.
282 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

served in work in wood.14 One is the wooden elements placed first on top of
the columns, exterior walls, and pilasters, called ‘beams’; the second is called
‘contignation’ and is divided into two parts, one of which is the framing of
the roof, while the other is the roof, or covering, itself. The utility derived
from the beams is that the interior walls are held together; that derived from
the framing is that the roof is held together; that derived from the roof is
that the edifice is covered and protected. From all these things originate
the diverse adornments in buildings, as will be explained below. We know
that sometimes between one interior wall and another there is a large space,
other times the space is not so large, and still other times it is not very large
at all, and thus the framing of roofs requires varying degrees of artfulness.
So, if the roof is extensive and too wide, at the top of the pitch is placed a
ridge board, which is called columen in Latin, while we call it colmello. From
this are born, like children, all the framing pieces of the roof, as from the
spine of a fish are born all of the other bones. Perhaps it is from this that the
common adage ‘il tale è di tale columello’ derives.15 There are the crossbeams;
there are also struts, called capreoli, from their similarity to the tendril that
ties grapevines together, because of the way they embrace the rafters. The
crossbeams are called transtra, or catene in the vernacular; they are the ele-
ments on top of which the struts are placed. If the roof is not so large, and
there is no danger of its coming apart or becoming unbolted, then the ridge
board alone with its rafters can suffice. The rafters are pieces of wood as long
as the roof, which start at the ridge board and go down the sides all the way
under the eaves. On top of these rafters (which make the roof look like an
upside-down galley, and among ourselves [i.e., in Venice in the Arsenale] we
say that the galley is ‘in rafters’ when the hog and the frames16 are made) go
the purlins, which are little beams that go across the rafters, on the outside
of the roof. On top of the purlins go the battens, which are timbers four
inches wide that go over the purlins, as the rafters go below them. This
then is the rationale of roofs, because over the battens go the tiles, the ends
of which meet resting on the middle of the battens. This is what necessity

14 
By defining ‘three things’, Barbaro is likely justifying the term tertiarium. See the
discussion below at Barbaro, p. 196.
15 
Literally, ‘that guy is like that ridge beam’, but in the sense of ‘a chip off the old block’.
16 
The hog is the longitudinal structural element of a wooden ship to which the keel is
attached (the equivalent of the ridge board of a roof), while the frames are the lateral timbers
that curve to form the sides (the equivalent of the rafters).
pp. 167-169 283

has shown us, both so that the roof will stay sloping and the snow does not
weigh it down, and so it sheds the water of rain and storms far from the walls
and is well tied together. This is what Vitruvius has said up to this point, as
the figure shows us (Fig. 4.2.1).

Fig. 4.2.1. [Two kinds of peaked roofs] Image with legend in Latin [p.
168]: Above, roof of moderate size: b, ridge board; a, rafters. Below, roof
of large size: I, rafters running from the ridge board to the crossbeams;
C, struts connecting the rafters to a queen post. Over the rafters are laid
purlins; over the purlins, battens
This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

[p. 169] (Vitruvius) [IV.II.2] And thus it can be see that each thing will con-
serve its proper place, manner, and order. From the things said, and from the work
in wood, the craftsmen with their sculptures in the works of stone and marble, in
building the temples have imitated the dispositions and have judged that those
inventions are to be followed. Thus the ancient builders, building in a certain place
284 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

having so placed the beams from the inside parts of the walls that ran to the ends
and came out and projected outwards, composed also those that were placed from
beam to beam. They adorned them with graceful works in wood that which went
on top of the cornices and the top, and then cut the projections of the beams perpen-
dicularly even with the wall. That form appearing to them to be without elegance
and grace, they attached on the ends of the cut rafters in the front some boards in
a way such that now they are triglyphs. Those they painted with pale blue wax so
that the cut ends of the rafters would not offend the eye. Thus in Doric works the
divisions of the rafters covered with the disposition of triglyphs began to have the
space placed between the rafters and the bed of the beams.
(Barbaro) Now, keeping in mind the effects of each of the things just
described, we can know quite well the origin of the ornaments that have
been introduced into the works of stone by the great architects, and the ra-
tionales according to which they must be made. Vitruvius said that over the
columns, pilasters, and walls are placed the beams, and over the beams the
roof or peak. He has set forth the elements and rationales of peaked roofs.
Now he tells us how the ornaments and elements from the works in wood,
such as the triglyphs and mutules in Doric works and the dentils in Ionic
works, were transferred from those to works of stone and marble. He says
that triglyphs were made in imitation of the ends of the beams, which first
projected beyond the walls and were then cut parallel to the walls; because
they were unsightly, they were covered with boards painted with wax. So
today triglyphs appear with those alternating channels and flat strips that
we see; it appears that those channels were made to receive the water falling
from the cornice. Architects then transported these inventions into works of
stone, making triglyphs and metopes—that is, the spaces between one tri-
glyph and another—which represented the divisions between one triglyph
and another as between one beam and another. In a similar fashion the mu-
tules, or modioni, in Doric works in stone were taken from those in wood.
These represent the projections of the rafters beneath the cornices, like the
triglyphs represent the projections of the beams over the architrave. These
mutules are sloped, so they help the water to fall. They are wider and less
thick than the triglyphs. Their place is beneath the cornice, as Fig. 4.2.2
shows.
pp. 169-170 285

Fig. 4.2.2. Image and caption [p. 170]: Figure of the mutules under the
cornice in Doric works

Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [IV.II.3] Then there are others who in other works perpendicular
to the triglyphs have made the rafters project, and have sloped their projections. As
from the disposition of the beams came the triglyphs, thus from the projection of the
rafters beneath the eaves was discovered the rationale of the mutules, or modioni.
Thus in the works of stone and marble are formed the sculpted mutules, which slope,
which is nothing but an imitation of the rafters. By necessity, because of the falling
water, they are made to slope outwards. Thus the rationale of the triglyphs and the
mutules in Doric works was invented by that imitation. [IV.II.4] Thus it is not,
as some have erroneously said, that triglyphs are images of windows, or could be
so, because the triglyphs are placed in the corners and over the abacuses of the col-
umns, locations where no rationale would have it that windows be made, because
the joints of the corners will become disconnected in buildings if the openings of the
windows are made there.
(Barbaro) The corners of edifices must be extremely strong because they
are like the bones of buildings. Thus it is no small error, and no small damage
to the building, if the corner should open with some aperture. Therefore the
opinion of those who would have it that the triglyphs and metopes [p. 170]
represent windows is not sound because, besides the fact that reason does not
permit this, it would follow that in Ionic works the dentils could similarly
represent the openings of the windows, which cannot be, as Vitruvius says.
Teaching us in a stroke the origins of dentils in Ionic works, he says:
(Vitruvius) [IV.II.4 cont.] And further again, if it is judged that where now
the triglyphs are made were once the spaces of the openings, by the same rationale it
286 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

can appear to us that in Ionic works the dentils occupied the place of the windows,
since both the spaces that are between the dentils and those that are between the
triglyphs are called metopes. The Greeks call the beds of the beams and the battens
ope, which hollows our people call pigeon-holes, and so the space of the beams placed
between two ope is called metopa by the Greeks. [IV.II.5] In the way [p. 171] that
earlier in Doric works was invented the rationale of the triglyphs and mutules, so
in the Ionic the ordering of the dentils in works takes its force. Since the mutules
represent the image of the projections of the rafters, so too in the Ionic the dentils
from the projections of the battens have taken the imitation. Thus in the works of
the Greeks there is no one who puts the dentils under the mutules, because the bat-
tens cannot be placed under the rafters. Therefore, that which must truly be placed
on top of the rafters and battens, if in the representation is placed below, will lead
to the form and rationales of the work being full of defects.
(Barbaro) Thus in Ionic works the dentils render the likeness of the
projections of the battens; since the battens are over the rafters, so too the
dentils are on top of the mutules. This was observed by the Greeks. Similar-
ly, there is another observation based on the rule that the adornments of art
must be taken from the true usages of the nature of things. This observation
is set out below by Vitruvius, who says:
(Vitruvius) [IV.II.5 cont.] Further, the ancients never lauded nor ordered
that the pediments should have mutules or dentils, but only unadorned cornic-
es, because neither the rafters nor the battens are distributed towards the front of
the pediment, nor can they project, but slope towards the eaves. Thus that which
in truth cannot be done, the ancients judged to be without determined rationale,
when it was represented in the image. [IV.II.6] So in the perfections of the works
they transported each thing with certain propriety of the true usage of nature, and
did not approve that which the explication of fact in the disputations could not
have its rationale taken from the truth. So they left us ordered the appropriateness
of measures from those origins and the proportions of all the manners, the principles
of which I have followed. I have spoken above of the Ionic and Corinthian orders.
Now I will briefly expound the Doric rationale, and all of its form.
(Barbaro) Everything said above is simple and efficient, but many ar-
chitects give but scant consideration to what Vitruvius says—that is, that
we must not do anything that is not probable, nor represent any image that
does not have its origin in truth and that, falling in disputation, has no sure
ground on which it can be defended. Vitruvius thus condemns, by the opin-
ion of the ancients, the dentils and mutules made for the pediments of build-
pp. 171-172 287

ings because, as those represent the rafters and battens, and rafters do not
come towards the fronts and the battens do not project, it is not possible to
make dentils or mutules in those places where they have no correspondence
to anything. But usage prevailed over reason even at the time of Vitruvius,
because every day in ancient works are seen dentils and mutules in the heads
of pediments, and it appears that such ornament looks fine, even though
there is no rationale behind it.

Chapter III
On the Doric rationale

[p. 171] (Vitruvius) [IV.III.1] Some of the ancient architects have denied it to
be a suitable thing to build temples in the Doric, alleging that in that manner the
compartitions are inconvenient and defective. Thus Tartesio,17 Pythius and Her-
mogenes likewise denied it, because Hermogenes, having prepared the material to
make the work in the Doric manner, altered this and of the same materials built an
Ionic temple to father Bacchus. He did not do this because the Doric appearance was
lacking in grace, nor because the manner or dignity of form was lacking, but be-
cause the compartition is hindered and unsuitable in the work of the triglyphs and
in the distribution of the beams. [IV.III.2] So it is necessary to place the triglyphs
against the mid-points of the columns, and that the [p. 172] metopes between the
triglyphs be as long as they are high. Conversely the triglyphs are placed in the end
parts of the columns, and not against the mid-points. From this it happens that the
metopes that are near the corner triglyphs do not turn out to be square but some-
what longer than the triglyphs by half of the height. Those who nevertheless wish to
make the metopes equal, narrow the last spaces of the columns by half of the height
of a triglyph. But by doing this, either lengthening the metopes or narrowing the
spaces, it is defective and does not do well. Thus it appears that the ancients have
wanted to avoid, in building temples, the rationale of the Doric compartition.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, wanting to set forth the compartition of the Dor-
ic, tells us about a difficulty that the ancient architects had so that we can

17 
Barbaro’s transcription of the name Arcesius. This architect is mentioned a second time by
Vitruvius in the Preface to Book VII (Barbaro, p. 309) and Barbaro’s transcription there is
‘Argelio’, leaving us to wonder if he did not connect the two references as being to the same
architect.
288 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

be better prepared. Some criticised the measure and compartition of the

Doric in building temples, not because the form lacked in goodness or the
manner was displeasing, but because the compartition of the triglyphs and
the metopes did not turn out well. We have seen above that the triglyphs
corresponded to the ends of the beams, because they were the cladding of
works in wood, and that the metopes corresponded to the spaces that were
between one beam and the next, called intertignia on the exterior and lacu-
naria on the interior; the beams and spaces between them are collectively
called the beam structure. If then the triglyphs represent the ends of the
beams and the metopes the spaces, it follows that, the compartition of tri-
glyphs and metopes being hindered, the rationale and compartition of the
beam structure and its decoration are also hindered. The way in which the
distribution of the triglyphs is hindered is seen in the fact that it is necessary
that the triglyph sit exactly centred over the abacus of the column, and that
the metope be as high as it is long, but the ancients, not paying any mind
to what the triglyphs and metopes represented, placed the metopes over the
outer edges of the columns, and the triglyphs not over the column centre.
From this it followed that the metopes that were next to the triglyphs were
not exact squares, but were much longer. This occurred because they wanted
to conserve the distance between column and column. Those, however, who
did not care about that, and wanted the metopes to come out right, narrowed
the spaces between the columns and thus made it so that these did not re-
spect the rationales of intercolumniation and regulated spacing. They thus
narrowed the end spaces by half the height of one triglyph in order to adjust
the metope, and this was defective. For this reason they avoided the Doric
way of building, not finding fault with either the appearance or the manner,
but rather with the compartition and the symmetry, as did Tartesio, Pythius
and Hermogenes. Vitruvius addresses this disorder by kindly showing us the
rationales and proportions of these compartitions, and says:
(Vitruvius) [IV.III.3] But we, as order requires, will set forth the way that
we have learned from our preceptors, so that if anyone who sets his mind to these
rationales wants to commence in this way, he has the explicated proportions with
which he can build well and without defect in the Doric, and bring to perfection
the sacred temples.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius promises us that he will provide the way and meas-
ures to build in the Doric manner without defect. Just as in the Ionic man-
ner he has set forth the precepts according to the forms of temples, and has
p. 172 289

regulated those according to the spaces between the columns, so too in the
Doric he regulates, according to the same forms, the spaces between the col-
umns. It is quite true that the rationale behind these spaces and this manner
depends completely on the compartition of the triglyphs. Hence above and
in other places, when Vitruvius says ‘the rationale of the triglyphs’, he means
the Doric manner. He thus begins to regulate the diastyle manner, which
has the space of three columns, according to the appearance of the face with
columns called prostyle (Figs. 4.3.1-2), and according to that of both fac-
es with columns, called amphiprostyle; he embraces these two appearances
with a single name, calling them tetrastyle, that is, of four columns. He also
regulates the surrounding portico known as a peripteral, calling it hexastyle,
that is, of six columns (Fig. 4.3.3). He then leaves us to regulate the other
manners in our own way, with the rationales of those.

Fig. 4.3.1. Image and caption [p. 177]: The plan of the Doric temple
called prostyle
290 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 4.3.2. Image and caption [p. 178]: The elevation of the plan shown
in Fig. 4.4.1

(Vitruvius) [IV.III.3 cont.] The front of the Doric temple, in the place where
the columns are to be set, there having [p. 173] to be four columns, shall be divid-
ed into twenty-seven parts. If it is made of six columns, it shall be divided into
forty-two parts. Of these parts one shall be the module, which is called embatis in
Greek. It is this by whose constitution, discoursing and reasoning, are made the
compartitions of every work. [IV.III.4] The thickness of the columns will be of two
modules, the height with the capital of fourteen.
p. 173 291

Fig. 4.3.3. Image and caption [p. 179]: Plan and elevation of a Doric
hexastyle systyle temple

(Barbaro) Here it must be kept in mind, that although Vitruvius has

said that in the diastyle manner there are three column thicknesses, never-
theless in the present distribution three column thicknesses do not go into
the intercolumniations exactly, but two and three-quarters. However, we
must observe (as we have observed above) that when Vitruvius in the third
book reasons about the spaces between columns, in all the forms—whether
close, or wide, or spacious—he uses the phrases ‘it can be’, ‘can be placed ’, ‘we
292 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

could interpose’, and does not say ‘must be placed ’, ‘must be interposed ’, ‘must be
the space of three columns’. Thus he does not command us, as he does in the
chosen and elegant aspect, saying ‘because the spaces of the intercolumniation
must be made two spaces and a quarter’.18 Vitruvius thus speaking indetermi-
nately, it is not necessary that there be exactly three diameters between col-
umn and column in this distribution. Next it must be observed that over the
corners are placed half-metopes, but in fact not exactly half, even though
Vitruvius says ‘semimethopia’,19 and he also says ‘semimethopia’ to denote half
a module in width, which is precisely a semi-triglyph, as he will say below.
Here he says half-metope in the way that semitone or semivowel is used,
not because it is exactly half a tone or half a vowel, but because it is a thing
between extremes.20 From this intelligence we learn that the front of four
columns is divided into twenty-seven parts, and the front of six columns in
forty-two, and that this rationale can be used to regulate the fronts of eight
and ten columns. Below we will set out the distribution with the undeco-
rated triglyphs and the spaces between the columns, since later information
about this distribution will be given with one or two examples of the ele-
vations. I would like the column to be fourteen modules high, without the
capital, in order to come closer to what Vitruvius said in the third book 21 —
that is, that in the diastyle appearance the heights of the columns are of
eight diameters and a half. But let us follow the master.
(Vitruvius) [IV.III.4 cont.] The height of the capital is one module, the width
two modules and the sixth part of one.
(Barbaro) It turns out better if it is of two modules and the fifth part,
as I said.22 The remainder is easy because of the explanation we gave in the
third book.
(Vitruvius) [IV.III.4 cont.] Divide the height of the capital into three parts;
of one is made the abacus with the cymatium, of the other the echinus with the
annulets, of the third the frieze up to the neck. Let the column be then contracted
and tapered, as in the third book it was shown in the Ionic. The height of the
architrave shall be of one module, placing there its taenia and the guttae, and the
taenia shall be the seventh part of the module. The length of the guttae below the

18 
He is speaking of the eustyle; see Barbaro, p. 130; Vitruvius III.III.6.
19 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511), p. 37r.
20 
Barbaro will refer to this again on p. 232 when discussing the musical ratios.
21 
See Barbaro, p. 132; Vitruvius III.III.10.
22 
See Barbaro, p. 145.
pp. 173-174 293

taenia centred on the triglyphs shall be as high, with the fillet hanging forward,
as the sixth part of a module, and thus the width of the lower plane of the archi-
trave corresponds to the collar of the column at the top. Above the architrave must
be placed the triglyphs with their metopes, a module wide on the front, divided
so that in the corner columns and in the middle they are centred on the abaci.
Between the other spaces two, but in those in the middle in front and behind the
temple three. In this way widened, the spaces in the middle without impediment
will make comfortable the entrance to the simulacra of the gods. [IV.III.5] Di-
viding then the width of the triglyph into six parts, of which there will be five in
the middle, so two halves will be drawn on the left and the right. With a straight
edge in the middle shall be formed the flat strip, which is called femur in Latin,
and meros by the Greeks. Along this flat strip with the point of the square shall be
turned the half-channels. The triglyphs are set in this way. Let the metopes that
go between the triglyphs be as high as they are wide. Near the top the corners shall
be the half-metopes set in by the half of a module, so that doing it in this way it
will happen that all of the defects and errors both of the metopes [p. 174] as for
the intercolumniations and the beams, the compartitions being made just, will be
emended. [IV.III.6] The capitals of the triglyphs are to be made the sixth part of a
module. Above the capitals of the triglyphs must be placed the corona, or dripstone,
which projects outwards by the half and one-sixth of a module, having one Doric
cymatium below and another one above. The cornice with its cymae or cymatia,
of a thickness of the half of a module. Then under the cornice must be divided
the straight parts of the ways23 and the compartitions of the guttae such that the
straight parts are perpendicular to the triglyphs, and in between the metopes and
compartitions of the guttae in a way that six guttae in length and three in width
are seen. But the remainder of the spaces are to be left plain or there shall be thun-
derbolts24 sculpted. Thus the metopes are wider than the triglyphs. At the chin25 of
the corona shall be cut a line that is called the scotia…

23 
Barbaro simply translates the obscure term viarum as delle vie, ‘of the ways’, as did
Cesariano before him (1521, p. LXVI), and makes no comment on it.
24 
Barbaro’s fulmine (thunderbolts) is one of several possible readings, but it is no printer’s
error, because he maintains the same term in Barbaro (1556, p. 110) and Barbaro (1567 Lat.,
p. 134). Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 112: ‘thunderbolts’); Granger (1931, p. 224, n. 1: numina,
translated as ‘sacred images’); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 58: ‘lightning bolts’); and
Schofield (2009, p. 102 and p. 372, n. 11: ‘rivers’, reading flumina, instead of fulmina).
25 
See the definition of the mento, ‘chin’, of the corona on Barbaro, p. 146.
294 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) …that is, cavetto.

(Vitruvius) [IV.III.6 cont.] All the rest of the parts, such as the tympanum,
cymae called simae, and coronae, are made as we have written in the Ionic.
[IV.III.7] And this rationale is found in the works named diastyle.
But if the work is to be made in systyle manner, and is to have a single tri-
glyph in the space, there having to be four columns, the front shall be divided into
nineteen parts and a half; if of six, into twenty-nine parts and a half, of which one
is taken for the module, to whose measurement (as written above) are divided all
the works. [IV.III.8] Thus above in each part of the architrave must be placed two
metopes and one triglyph, but in the corners no more than half a triglyph. Along
with the things said is added this: that the space in the middle under the pediment
wall be formed with two triglyphs and three metopes, so that the intercolumniation
is wider and more spacious and comfortable for those who wish to enter the temple,
and the aspect towards the image of the gods retain more dignity and grandeur.
[Above the capitals of the triglyphs must be placed the corona, which shall have (as
was said above) two cymae in the Doric manner, one above and the other below.
So too the corona will be the half of a module. And (as was said in diastyle works)
the straight pieces of the ways are divided and the distributions of the guttae and
the other straight things perpendicular to the triglyphs, and in the middle of the
metopes in the lower part of the corona.26]
(Barbaro) That is, in the plane of the architrave that faces downwards,
which shall not be wider than that part that contracts at the collar of the
column, which is as much as the upper part of the column.
(Vitruvius) [IV.III.9] It is necessary to flute the columns with twenty flutes.
These if straight must have twenty angles, but if concave they must be made in
this way: that the space of a flute will be as much as is made by forming a square
of equal sides and in the middle of the square placing the foot of the compass, and
turning the circumference around so that it touches the corners of the flute, and as
much of the hollow as there is between the circumference and the squared outline,
that much will be carved out, in that shape. In this way the Doric column will
have the perfection of the fluting that is suitable for its manner. [IV.III.10] But
the addition that is made in the middle of the column will also be transported in

The lines indicated by square brackets appear in the editions of Fra Giocondo (1511, p.
26 

37v) and Cesariano (1521, p. LXVI). They do not, however, appear in modern translations.
Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 113); Granger (1931, pp. 224-225); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 58);
and Schofield (2009, p. 102). I am grateful to Branko Mitrović for having pointed out the
lack of these lines in Granger.
 295

Fig. 4.3.4. Image and caption [p. 175]: a, the centre of the square;
c, the way to make the fluting
296 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

these, as was drawn in the third book in the Ionic. Since the exterior form of the
compartitions of the Corinthian, Doric, and Ionic has been described, it is necessary
for us to declare the distribution of the interior parts of the cellae and of those that
are in front of temples.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius is easy on his own, and having erected his building
from the foundation to the top, and measured all according to the three man-
ners, without leaving out any part, member, or ornament that is necessary for
the exterior parts, he wishes to enter the church, as we say, and recognise the
compartitions of the interior, dwelling at length in the entrance called the
pronaos—that is, ante-temple—after which preamble the execution is given.
Below are the figures of the things that have been said up to now (Fig. 4.3.4).

Chapter IV
On the distribution inside the cellae and the pronaos

[p. 176] (Vitruvius) [IV.IV.1] The length of the temple is compartitioned such that
the width is half of the length. The cella shall be the fourth part longer than that
which is the width with the walls in which will be placed the doors. The other three
parts of the pronaos, or ante-temple, run towards the antae of the walls, which
must be of the thickness of the columns. But if the temple will be of a length greater
than twenty feet, two columns must be placed between two antae, the office of
which is to separate the space of the wings and the pronaos.
(Barbaro) I believe that the present passage is difficult, and if there had
not been some observations of ancient temples, it might have perhaps been
necessary to guess at its meaning. But having observed some things, I am
of a mind to interpret the present passage between the lines, referring to
the best invention. The multiple ratio being the greatest among the simple
ratios, as I have shown in the third book, 27 it is deemed appropriate to use
multiple ratios in the distribution of temples, since temples are made for
the worship of the divine, which requires every magnificence and gran-
deur. Vitruvius, wishing to treat the interior parts of the temple, begins by
proportioning their length and width. In this resides that graceful manner
which in the first book was called ‘eurythmy’. There is no need to speak

27 
See the discussion in Barbaro, p. 98.
p. 176 297

of the height, this being born of the measures of the work, and hence the
architraves, cornices, and pediments are manifest by the things said above.
Vitruvius thus would have the length be double the width, and reasons here
about Ionic, Doric, and Corinthian temples. However, it appears that in the
plans placed in the third book (Figs. 3.1.1, 3.1.3, 3.1.5) the lengths are less
than double the width, and in fact that is so, because the intercolumniation
in the middle of the fronts is wider, but there is just a small difference from
the double. Now what matters is that the cella of that temple drawn in the
first book (Fig. 1.2.1) appears to be too long.28 Perhaps Vitruvius’s intention
is manifest here. So I would have it that consideration be given to: if the
thing can work (as I will demonstrate); if Vitruvius mentions it to us; and
if the ancient architect observed it. The ancients used to distinguish the
ante-temple, called ‘pronaos’, with some wing walls, which according to
Strabo are called pteromata.29 These wing walls extended towards the front
on both sides of the cella, but in some temples they did not come out all the
way, but terminated in some pilasters, or ‘antae’ as they are called, as thick
as the columns. If there was a large space between one wing and the oth-
er, then in line with the pilasters two columns were placed between them
for strength, and thus the pronaos was separated from the portico. This is
found in the plans of the three temples near the Theatre of Marcellus.30 This
is what is referred to by Vitruvius in the present passage, and thus it appears
that reason shows it. Let us take then the front of the temple, and divide
it into four parts. Eight of those we will make the length, so that they are
in double proportion. Of those eight, five will be given to the length of the
cella, including the thickness of the walls where the doors are; three come
from the ante-temple to the antae, or pilasters of the walls, which must be
of the same thickness as the columns. These antae are the ends of the wing
walls that come forward on both sides, and it can be that the space between
those wings is either small or large, depending on whether the manner of
the temples calls for small or large intercolumniations, so it is necessary
to place columns there according to need. In sum, I say that regardless

28 
In Fig. 1.2.1 only half the temple is drawn.
29 
Strabo mentions these in Geography 17.1, in the description of the temple of Heliopolis.
Pliny the Elder mentions the ‘pteron’ in Natural History 36.4.
30 
In Palladio (1570, 4.7) the plans of three temples answer to this description: the Temple
of Mars the Avenger (Palladio 1997, p. 226), the Temple of Jupiter Stator (Palladio 1997, p.
280), and the Temple of Jupiter the Thunderer (Palladio 1997, p. 283).
298 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of appearance—whether of faces with pilasters, or faces with columns, or

false, double, with surrounding wings, open—, manner—whether Doric
or Ionic or Corinthian—, or species—whether narrow, wide, or relaxed, or
just distance of intercolumniation—, all are regulated by the present passage
in the compartition of the cellae. And because the whole temple does not
arrive precisely at the double in length, as the necessary compartition of
the [p. 178] columns and spaces does not allow it to arrive to that, neither
does the cella, although the prostyle and amphiprostyle, in each genre and
manner, [p. 180] can arrive at the said proportion according to the precepts
of Vitruvius.
Nor is the above-indicated proportion arrived at exactly in the other
appearances and manners, because it is necessary that the walls of the front
of the cella meet up with the columns outside and be in the same line. So
the cellae of those temples will be much larger than what is said by Vitruvi-
us, who here in this passage compartitions for us the cellae, which are part
of the temples. He divides for us the pronaos—that is, the ante-temple—
and the posticum, 31 in each genre and in each manner. So, the cella is one
thing, the temple another, the portico another, and the pronaos another.
The temple is the whole. The cella is the part enclosed by walls. The porti-
co is the colonnade that goes around, which Vitruvius calls ‘wings’ in the
temple and ‘portico’ behind the scaenae. The pronaos is that part that is in
front of the cella, which on the sides has two wing walls that continue from
the walls of the cella, at the end of which are pilasters of the same thick-
ness as the columns. This is precisely true in the fronts of four columns, but
where the wings go around, it is not precisely true. Vitruvius, speaking of
the pseudodipteral in the third book, 32 says that it has eight columns on the
front and rear porticos, but fifteen on the sides, counting the corner col-
umns. Just a bit later he says that in the manners that have wings around,
the columns must be placed so that there are as twice as many spaces on the
sides as there are on the front. Thus the length of the work will be double
the width. From these words we can well understand that what is said is
true. So let the cella be a fourth part longer than that which is the width—
that is, you will divide the width of the temple in four parts, and make the
length of the cella one part more, which make five. Here there are three

31 
Fig. 3.1.5 shows a temple with both pronaos and posticum.
32 
See Barbaro, p. 131; Vitruvius III.III.8.
pp. 180-181 299

parts left over, which in the tetrastyle of each appearance of each species
and manner are given to the pronaos alone when there is no posticum, or to
pronaos and posticum, when there is one.
(Vitruvius) [IV.IV.1 cont.] And also the three intercolumniations which are
between the pilasters and the columns are enclosed with marble parapets, or by
work in wood but have openings by which to enter the pronaos.
(Barbaro) In this part as well Vitruvius is understandable, but let us
come to the description of things said.
Not only can there be three intercolumniations between those pilas-
ters, but also five, as in the aspect of ten columns. These intercolumniations
between the pilasters in all the other appearances are three, so that no ac-
count is taken whether the portico is simple or double. Between these then
are placed some parapets that Vitruvius calls plutei, made of either marble
or wood, just high enough to keep the water out, should it rain. Ordinarily
the cella had its doors and wall high so that it was enclosed on all sides,
but the ante-temple had its entrance in the intercolumniations between the
pilasters of the wings.
(Vitruvius) [IV.IV.2] But if the width of the front is greater than forty feet,
it is necessary to place other columns on the inner part opposite those that are
placed between the pilasters, and they shall be of the same height as those that are
on the exterior in the front. But the thickness of these shall be made more slender
with these rationales: that if those of the front are of eight parts, these will be of
nine, but if those of nine, or ten, these shall be in proportion.
(Barbaro) The ante-temple had great authority, because it appeared
that the temple was entered with greater veneration when one first entered
a vestibule and did not arrive so quickly to the place of adoration. If, then,
the ante-temple was very wide on the front, as in the works of eight and ten
columns, it was necessary to place between them other columns opposite
those that were between the pilasters; these corresponded to the columns
of the fronts and were of the same height and placed for support. When
the space was not very large, it appeared very good to leave the ante-temple
free without columns. Where columns went around, one could go around
without entering into the ante-temple. The thickness of the inner columns
was less than the thickness of the columns placed on the front.
(Vitruvius) [IV.IV.2 cont.] Because if in the air enclosed some are made more
slender, it cannot be discerned, but if they appear more slender, it is necessary
that if the outer columns have twenty-four [p. 181] flutes, those inside will have
300 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

twenty-eight, or thirty-two, so that which is taken from the body of the shaft,
with the addition of the number of flutes, is increased reasonably, that much less
will be seen. Thus with unequal ratio will be equalised the thickness of the col-
umns. [IV.IV.3] This occurs because the eye touching more points and more often, it
comes to wander with greater circuit of vision. So if there are two columns of equal
thickness measured around with a string, one of which is not fluted and the other
of which is, and that string touches the hollows of the flutes and the corners of the
fillets, even though the columns are equally thick, the circumferential line will not
be equal, since the circuit of the fillets and the hollows will make the length of that
string longer. There where this will appear, as we have said, it will not be out of
place in narrow places and in the enclosed space to order in the works more slender
compartitions of the columns, we having in remedy the tempering of the fluting.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius having stated how high the columns of the an-
te-temple must be, he shows us the rationale behind their thicknesses. He
wishes the inner ones to be more slender than the outer ones, and the rea-
son is quickly seen. Just as above in the third book he wanted the corner
columns to be thicker than those in the middle, because the air takes away
from the vision of those,33 so he commands in this place that the inner col-
umns be more slender than those outside, so that the inner and the outer
are equalised by proportion, in compensation for what the air takes from
the exterior ones. Not only does the diminishing of the inner columns by an
eighth or a ninth according to the module create this effect of equalisation
and make them appear equal to those outside, but also the number of flutes
can make one column appear equal to another, even though the shaft is of
a smaller thickness. This is because the more flutes there are, the larger the
column appears to be, because our eye has more to range over when there
are more, larger terminations in the things seen, than when there are fewer,
smaller terminations. When the eye has more space to wander, a thing ap-
pears larger to us. This can be seen by winding a string around two columns
of equal thickness, one of which is fluted and the other is not. More string
will be used to go around the fillets and hollows of the fluted column than
to go around that which has no flutes. Thus with the number of flutes the
appearance of columns can be remedied, when we want them to appear
more slender.

33 
See Barbaro, p. 132; Vitruvius III.III.11.
pp. 181-182 301

(Vitruvius) [IV.IV.4] It is necessary that the thickness of the inner walls of the
cella be made according to the module of the size, and that the pilasters of those be
equal to the thicknesses of the columns. If they are made of rubble, let the matrix be
of the finest grade of cement. But if they are made of squared stone or marble, they
shall be made of equal and very small squares, so that the stones in the middle that
contain the courses and reinforcement in the middle have more solid the perfection
of the work. Thus the courses and beds around the sides will make when seen a more
delightful appearance of components, as in painting.
(Barbaro) The pilasters, or antae, will always be the same thicknesses
as the columns, but the inner walls are much smaller, in accordance to the
rationale used in the work and with respect to the load. The outer walls can
either be of the finest grade of cement, which Vitruvius calls struttura, al-
though other times we have called it ‘masonry’, or it can be of squared stones
with equal angles, although not with equal sides, large and small, rough and
polished. It is aesthetically delightful when the stones are small, because
the multitude of ashlar blocks and prominences and projections gives more
pleasure, and appears like painting. I say painting, the most beautiful com-
position.

Chapter V
On making temples according to regions

[p. 182] (Vitruvius) [IV.V.1] The temples of the immortal gods must be made in
such a way that they look out towards the parts of the sky that are suitable, so that
(if no reason impedes it, and the power is free) the simulacrum that is placed inside
the cella looks towards west, so that those who enter to the altar to sacrifice and
consecrate the victims turn to the east and towards the simulacrum placed in the
temple and thus, in taking their oaths, look at the temple and the east. The simu-
lacra as though rising should appear to look at the supplicants and those who make
a sacrifice. Thus it appears that it is necessary that all the altars of the gods shall be
turned towards the east. [IV.V.2] But if the nature of the place is an impediment to
this, then the buildings of the temple must be turned in such a way that from them
can be seen the greater part of the city. Also if alongside a river, the temples will
be made as in Egypt on the Nile. It appears that the buildings must look towards
the banks of the rivers. Similarly if they are made along public streets, they must be
302 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

placed in such a way that the passers-by can look and perform their salutations and
reverences before the face of the building.
(Barbaro) This concerns the decorum that is observed in this case, which
was reasoned about in the first book, having treated the order, apportioning,
disposition, beauty, and distribution that are required. So, the fronts of tem-
ples should look to the west, so that the altars and simulacra, like rising suns,
will appear to illuminate the minds of the supplicants. Now, if those who
adored mute simulacra and gods in name only, who had tongues and did not
speak, had eyes and did not see, and had ears and did not hear, and were
works made by the hands of men,34 induced by a false error, were so very
respectful in their ceremonies and very devout, what must we do, liberated
from malignant spirits, who adore the true God and honour the saints, his
God-like friends? Must we not, through the abundance of the heart, make
every outward demonstration so that everyone is awakened and more greatly
inflamed towards the true and mental worship of the divine?

Chapter VI
On the rationales of the doors and frames of temples

[p. 182] (Vitruvius) [IV.VI.1] These are the rationales of the doors and their
frames and ornaments that are made in front of these. First it is necessary to know
the manner that is to be made. The manners are three: Doric, Ionic, Attic. The
compartitions of these in the Doric manner are found with these rationales, that
the topmost cornice, which is above the upper frame, shall be at an equal level with
the top of the capitals of the columns that are in the ante-temple. The opening of
the door must be such that, dividing the height of the temple that is between the
pavement and the coffers in three parts and a half, two of those shall be given to the
height of the opening of the door. This height shall be divided into twelve parts, and
of those five and a half shall be given to the width of the opening at the low part.
Above it shall be narrowed such that if the opening at the low part is of sixteen feet,
it shall be narrowed by a third of the frame, or jamb as it is called. If from sixteen
to twenty-five, the part of the opening shall be narrowed by a quarter of the frame.
If from twenty-five to thirty, by the eighth part. But in the rest, the greater the

34 
Cfr. Psalm 135: 15-17.
pp. 182-183 303

height, that much straighter and perpendicular it appears that the frames must be
placed. [IV.VI.2] These will be made large in the front by the twelfth part of the
opening [p. 183] and be narrowed above by the fourteenth part of their thickness.
The height of the supercilium shall be as large as the upper part of the jamb. The
cymatium must be made the sixth part of the jamb, and its projection as large as its
thickness. There is to be sculpted a Lesbian cymatium with its astragal. Above the
cymatium which is in the supercilium must be placed the hyperthyrum of the size
of the supercilium, and in that be sculpted the Doric cymatium and the Lesbian
astragal in low relief. After this is made the flat corona with its cymatium and its
projection shall be equal to the height of the supercilium that is set on the jambs.
On the right and the left must be made the projections so that the margins come
forward and at the top the cymatia are conjoined.
(Barbaro) Before we come to anything else, it appears to me to be neces-
sary to clarify some obscure words that are used by Vitruvius. They are: antep-
agmentum, thyromata, atticurges, hyperthyron, lacunare, supercilium, cymatium
Lesbium, cymatium Doricum, astragalus Lesbius, sima, sculptura [recte scalptu-
ra], crepidines, in ungue. So, we call the antepagmentum a jamb or frame of the
door—that is, those stone blocks that are placed upright in a stack on either
side of the door. But I have no doubt that the part that goes across the top
is also called an antepagmentum, because Vitruvius says ‘the topmost cornice,
which is above the upper antepagmentum’, which I have interpreted as ‘frame’.
It might be said that the antepagmentum is the entire casing or frame (if you
will) of the door, and the entire composition of the jambs, including the top
part. Thyromata signifies the doorways—that is, the portals. Atticurges is a
word used by Vitruvius and it appears to mean Corinthian, as can be seen at
the end of the present chapter. He distinguishes between Attic and Doric,
because he says that there are three manners of doors: Doric, Ionic and At-
tic. Moreover, above in the third book he made mention of an Attic base,35
which was then taken by Vitruvius for the Doric manner, but I don’t know
why. Pliny says clearly that there are four manners of columns, and numbers
among them the Attic, which is quadrangular and has four equal sides, so
that this manner appears separate from the others.36 But it might be that the
Corinthian, which has nothing of its own except the capital, partakes of this
manner, as it also partakes of the Doric and Ionic. What lacunare is I have

35 
See Barbaro, p. 155 and Fig. 3.3.7; Vitruvius III.V.2-3.
36 
Pliny identifies Doric, Ionic, Tuscan and Attic. See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.56.
304 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

expounded above.37 Lacus is the space between beams; lacunare is the beam
structure, that is, the spaces between the beams together with the beams
themselves. Supercilium—or sopralimitare as Dante says, saying ‘over the edge
of the high door’38 —is that high stone that goes across over the jambs of the
door, which perhaps is placed there for inscriptions. Cymatium: I said in the
third book that cymatium is the Greek name and means ‘little wave’.39 Today
it is called cymatium, while some call it gola. This, which is Doric, is clear
in Doric works. But what is meant by the one called ‘Lesbian cymatium’ has
not been completely resolved. Philander would have it be a decorated cyma
(although he doesn’t conjecture about it) and no different from the Doric
cyma, except for the decoration.40 However, it seems to me that it is not the
decoration but the shape that makes the Lesbian cyma or gola different from
the Doric. Perhaps it is the difference that there is between the cyma recta
and the cyma reversa. Astralagus Lesbius is like a half-astragal, or small ovolo,
and, as Philander says,41 is decorated with low relief, which Vitruvius calls
sima scalptura, because in the vernacular sima is a ‘goat’s nose’.42 Crepidines are
the edgings and the adornments that go around the doors—that is, the little
members that go straight up the jambs and across the top. These must join
completely at the corners and in turning. In ungue is the term used by Vit-
ruvius, elsewhere said ad unguem:43 ‘with diligence’, ‘exactly’, ‘that fit well’.
Hypothyron is the space and opening called lumen.
Now we will set forth what Vitruvius says, and with drawings we will
show every part in detail. Vitruvius says that it is first necessary to know what
manner the door shall be. He says that there are three manners of doors:
Doric, Ionic, and Attic. He then finds the measurements of the Doric, and
first says how much is required for the opening, for the elements along its

37 
Previously defined as ‘the space between one beam and the next’, or coffer. See Barbaro,
p. 172.
38 
Dante, Divine Comedy, Purgatory, Canto X: su ’l limitare della porta. However, this is
usually interpreted to mean the sill or threshold, and not the supercilium; see, for example,
Charles Eliot Norton’s translation (1891-1892, vol. 2, p. 61): ‘within the threshold of the
gate’. This term is mentioned again with regard to the roof of the portico of the theatre; see
Barbaro, p. 252.
39 
See Barbaro, p. 150.
40 
See Philander (1544, p. 137).
41 
Philander (1544, p. 137).
42 
The goat’s nose was mentioned earlier; see Barbaro, p. 145.
43 
A phrase from Horace, Ars poetica 294. I am grateful to Branko Mitrović for pointing this
out.
pp. 183-184 305

terminations and to the last space of the cornice, and above. This he does
with great clarity. He then compartitions the space that is above the open-
ing and the upper cornice, and says that the supercilium, or sopralimitare,
is of the same thickness as the upper part of the jamb. Then the sixth part
of the thickness of the jamb is taken to make a [p. 184] cymatium whose
projection is equal to its thickness. There must be sculpted the Lesbian cy-
matium with its astragal. Here it must be observed that this cyma goes all
around the jambs, because Vitruvius speaks immediately of the cyma of
the supercilium, saying that ‘above that cymatium which is in the supercilium
goes the hyperthyron’. This shows that there is understood to be another cy-
matium. Likewise, in saying that ‘over that cyma that is in the supercilium’,
he shows that the cymatium is included in the thickness or height of the
supercilium, and is not placed on top of the supercilium. Similarly, over the
cyma that is in the supercilium goes the hyperthyron, or frieze as we say.
This is of the same thickness as the supercilium, and it also includes the
Doric cymatium and the astragal, or the Lesbian astragal with low relief, so
these members must not project very far. Over the hyperthyron, or frieze,
goes the flat corona with its cyma, which aligns with the cyma of the abacus
of the capitals. But when Vitruvius says, ‘On the right and the left must be
made the projections so that the margins come forward—which Vitruvius says
are in ungue—and at the top the cymatia are conjoined ’, it must be understood
that the cymae that are in the hyperthyron project outwards and conjoin
to the cymatia, which do not go around (as Philander says 44) but rather, on
the right and left sides, turn back towards the wall, so that that part of the
projection of the hyperthyron does not have edges that remain without or-
nament. The corona, though tall, nevertheless goes as Vitruvius says it does,
and examples are found. Fig. 4.6.1 is the description of the Doric doorway,
with its profile shown in Fig. 4.6.2, so that it can be better understood.

Philander’s comment is a definition of crepidines as ‘margines’, edges; see Philander (1544,

44 

p. 138).
306 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 4.6.1. [Elevation of the Doric doorway] Image [p. 185], legend [p.
184]: A-B, height from the pavement to the coffers; C-D, height of the
opening; C-E, width of the lower part of the opening; D-F, width of
the upper part of the opening; C-G, width of the jamb at the feet; D-H,
width of the jamb at the top; I, supercilium; K, cymatium and astragal
that go around the jambs, called antepagmenta; M, antepagmentum—
that is, jamb; N, hyperthyron, or frieze; O, cymatium of the astragal,
or hyperthyron; P, flat cornice with its cyma, as high as the cyma of the
abacus of the capital; Q-R, height of the jamb; S, panel; T, middle rail;
V, hinge stile;45 X, [bottom rail]; Y, cyma; Z, cyma

45 
This is incorrectly identified in the drawing, where V indicates the top rail.
p. 186 307

Fig. 4.6.2. [The profile of the Doric doorway] Image and legend [p. 190]:
P, corona, or cornice; O, Lesbian astragal, or ovolo; C, Doric cyma, or
cavetto; N, hyperthyron, today called frieze; K, cyma, or ovolo; F, astragal,
today fusaiolo

[p. 186] (Vitruvius) [IV.VI.3] But if the doors are made in the Ionic man-
ner the opening shall be as high as in the Doric manner, but not so the width. The
height shall be divided into two parts and a half, and of these one and a half are
given to the bottom of the opening. The width of the contraction is as in the Doric.
The width of the jambs shall be the fourteenth part of the height of the doorway
in the front, its cymatium the sixth part of the width. The remainder without
308 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the cymatium shall be divided into twelve parts, of three of which shall be made
the first course with its astragal, or fusaiolo, the second, of four, the third of five.
These courses with their astragals shall go around. [IV.VI.4] The soprafrontale,
or hyperthyron, must be composed in the Doric way. The brackets or scrolls called
prothirides, sculpted on the right and on the left, shall hang far down to the level
of the lower part of the supercilium, without the leaf. These shall have in the front
one of the three parts of the jambs, and shall be at the bottom the fourth part thinner
than above.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius reasons about the compartition of the Ionic
doorway, and is easy to understand. ‘Course’ is the face of the jambs or an-
tepagmenta. The first is that nearest the opening. Ancones are certain brack-
ets on the sides of the doors that resemble the letter S, the ends of which
intertwine with the curls of the volutes. They are called prothirides in Greek,
as in ‘ante-portals’; others call them ‘scrolls’. They hang down from the lower
part of the cornice along the jambs perpendicular to the lower part of the
supercilium, not counting the leaf, as can be seen in Fig. 4.6.3.

Facing page:
Fig. 4.6.3. [The Ionic doorway and profiles] Image [p. 189], legend [p.
188]: Upper left) Profile/section through cornice elements at bracket:
b, corona or cornice; f, bracket; d [corresponds to C on the elevation],
hyperthyron, supercilium; c, leaf; e, cyma of the jamb. Lower left)
Profile/section through N on the elevation: I, E, stile, rail, g, cymatium,
cyma; h, moulding. Centre) Elevation: M, panel; N, rail; O, stiles; C,
hyperthyron or sopralimitare; A-E, height from the pavement to the
beam structure. Right) profile/section through cornice [also shown in
Fig. 4.6.4]: D, corona; G [C in Fig. 4.6.3], hyperthyron; H, cyma; I, first
course; K, second course; L, third course
309
310 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 4.6.4. [The Ionic profile, also shown in Fig. 4.6.3] Image [p. 190],
legend [p. 188]: D, corona; C [G in Fig. 4.6.3], hyperthyron; H, cyma; I,
first course; K, second course; L, third course

Nor should it be believed that the Ionic doorway has a cornice like the
Doric that is as high as the capitals, because Vitruvius does not say. Philan-
der rightly says that the opening must be one of the two and a half parts of
the height,46 and not one and a half as Vitruvius says, to avoid the defect of
the lower part of the opening being wider than the space in between the
columns, which is unsightly and defective. I find that Vitruvius intends it
in this way: if the opening were to be made of only one part, the doorway
would appear to be very narrow of opening and ill proportioned. Vitruvius

46 
See Philander (1544, p. 138).
pp. 186-187 311

will say just a little below that if the doors are folding, then the width is in-
creased, and he means the Ionic, and when he says in the third book that the
thickness of the columns blocks the view of the doors,47 he reasons about the
species which has closely-spaced columns [i.e., pycnostyle], in which there
is this defect, in that the doors—that is, the wooden parts that open and
close—are a bit hidden. In this place he uses this word valvae, and does not
reason about jambs and antae and their ornaments.
(Vitruvius) [IV.VI.4 cont.] The doors are to be placed together in this way,
that the stiles of the hinges are as long as the twelfth part of the height of the open-
ing. The panels or squares of the doors which are between the stiles, of twelve parts
retain three. [IV.VI.5] The distributions of the rails…
(Barbaro) …which are called impages…
(Vitruvius) [IV.VI.5 cont.] …are to be made so that, dividing the height into
five parts, two are given to those above and three to those below, but in the centre
shall be placed half-rails and of the others some face up and others down. The width
of the rail shall be the third part of the panel, the cyma the sixth part of the rail. The
width of the stiles shall be half of the rails, and so the frieze that goes over the rail,
called replum, will be the half and one-sixth of the rail. The stiles that are in front
of the second frame shall be half of the rail.
(Barbaro), Vitruvius has described the components of Doric and Ionic
doorways that appertain to the upper and lower parts, and how they are
made in stone or marble. Now he will deal with the work in wood or in met-
al; the ancients used to make them in metal as well. We will define some of
the vocabulary, to make understanding more straightforward. Ianua is noth-
ing other than the first adit and first entry to the temple, named for Janus,
to whom every beginning was consecrated. Hostia is the general term given
to the doors that open in some way, whether to the outside or the inside, or
turning back and folding in on themselves; the Greeks call them thyras, and
thus the opening is called ‘hyperthyron’. The sides of the doors are called ‘an-
tae’, or parastade, and from ‘ante’ the adornments of the doors are called ‘an-
tepagmenta’; we call them antae, jambs, posts, pilasters and planes. There are
some differences between the terms ianua and hostium, because some want
hostium to be properly those of cities and fortifications, and ianua of other
edifices, but then they confuse the names and [p. 187] use ianua and hostium
to mean the same things. The Greeks call the posticum pseudodethiron, as in

47 
See Barbaro, p. 128; Vitruvius III.III.3.
312 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

‘false door’, like the one in the front is called anticum. Fores are the doors of
wood or metal that open and close; their ornaments are made in this way.
The rails that go into the stiles called scapi cardinales by Vitruvius take their
dimensions from the height of the opening, because first the height is divid-
ed into twelve parts, and then we make the long rails the twelfth part. Thus,
if the opening is twelve feet high, then one foot would be given to the rails—
that is, half to the one on top and half to the one on the bottom. The heads
or ends of these rails enter, like tenons into mortises, into the hinges, one of
which is at the top, the other at the bottom, shown by the letters Q and R
in Fig. 4.6.1. In antiquity they used this way to keep the doors suspended, so
that the rails turned on those hinges and were opened and closed quite eas-
ily. The doors used in antiquity were less heavy and more easily opened than
those we use today. All of the flat wood of the door between the stiles, was
compartitioned into panels called tympana in Latin. These were surrounded
by certain mouldings, fillets, and cymae, which were like frames. Vitruvius
accounts for them saying that the panels must have three parts of the twelve
of the height of the opening, like panel S. The rails must be compartitioned
in this way: dividing the height into five parts, two are given to the upper
rails or impages, as from T to V, and three to the rails below, as from T to
X. But the middle—that is, between the panels, or tympana, in the space
between one panel and another—are to be placed half-rails, and in the other
remaining parts some mouldings or strips are to be affixed above and below.
The width of the rails is to be the third part of a panel, as from T to Z; the
cyma is to be the sixth part of the panel. The cornice—that is, the ornament
of the moulding—is to be of six parts and a half of the moulding, that is, a
half and one sixth. Here much consideration must be given to what Vitru-
vius says, because many have wearied themselves over it and then said it in
their own way. I am not claiming that I have found the truth, but neither do
I deny that I may be far from the reason. I say that he who wishes to make
a door in the way that Vitruvius says (as far as I can see) needs to consider
that some doors were more ornate, others less so; the less ornate, plain ones
were given to the Doric manner, the more ornate ones to the other manners.
Some plain surfaces were left for the adornment of the doors; these were
surrounded by some reliefs attached or affixed to said surfaces and carved
with cymae, mouldings, little frames, and other adornments. Besides this,
there were different compartitions of these surfaces and mouldings, because
the doors being made whole or of several pieces implies greater or lesser sizes
pp. 187-188 313

and adornments. So, considering what is appropriate to the Doric manner,

I would say that the first composition of doors set out by Vitruvius is most
suited to the Doric manner, and the other compositions are suited to the
other manners. We can reasonably judge this to be so, firstly because the first
composition is the most solid while the others are more ornate, and secondly
because it can be seen that the first compartition is wonderfully well suited
to the Doric and the others to the other manners. You see, Vitruvius said
above that the width at the bottom of the Doric doorway is five parts and a
half of the twelve parts of the opening. All of this space or opening, when
the door is closed, must be occupied by wood, or by metal, that goes into the
doorway in a single piece, so the width of the door supports it. This wood
that fills the space is simply adorned and has two panels, one above and one
below, which are called (as I have said) tympana. These are surrounded by
mouldings, strips and rails. In the distribution of the rails, which are called
impages, is used the compartition described above, and set out in Fig. 4.6.1
of the Doric doorway. But where he says, ‘the stiles that are in front of the sec-
ond frame’, it must be understood in this way: that the second pagmentum,
or frame, is a vertical from the inner part of the door that goes around and
meets up with those spaces that are in the panels. Replum is like a frieze or
plane framed between two cymae, as the figure shows.
(Vitruvius) [IV.VI.5 cont.] But if the doors are made folded and valved, as
they say, their height will be as said above, but to the width as much more will be
added as is the width of the [p. 188] door of two holes. But if they are of four holes,
then height must be also added.
(Barbaro) These are the Ionic doors—that is, those that open in more
than one piece—so that if they open in two parts they are called amphifores;
if in four, quadrifores. Thus the Ionic door is wider than the Doric, even
though it is the same height as the Doric. So Vitruvius says that to the width
is to be added an amount equal to the width of two pieces; in Attic doors,
which were of four pieces and consequently even wider, height is added as
well. The panels and other things serving the proportion are made in the
same way—that is, as in the Doric.
(Vitruvius) [IV.VI.6] Doors made in the Attic manner are made with those
rationales with which are made the Doric doors. Besides this, the courses or fasciae
under the little cymae go around the jambs must be compartitioned in this way:
that in the jambs and antepagmenta, excluding the cymae, of seven parts they shall
have two.
314 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Here then is the measure of the doors—that is, of those parts
that are fixed and are in the wall. This is the third manner of doors. The
ornaments follow, and he says:
(Vitruvius) [IV.VI.6 cont.] And the ornaments of those doors are not made
of shutters or in two pieces, but are valved and have the openings in the exterior
parts.
(Barbaro) I have the authority of two texts regarding this that say, not
cerostata, but clatrata.48 Clatra is a work made with shutters. There are doors
made in such a way that it is possible to see into the interior parts of the
building; they are as though made with a grating. However, I don’t like this
reading because, Vitruvius having said that Attic doors are not made with
shutters, it would appear that the other doors were made with them, but
this is not indicated by their compartitions. And just as the text does not say
cerostrata, likewise it does not say that the other doors are worked with intar-
sia, which is how I would interpret that word cerostrata as ‘intarsia with horn
of various colours’, as hyalostroton refers to glass mosaic, lithostroton, mosaic
with small stones, xilostroton, inlaid wood. But perhaps it would not be bad
to understand that the other doors already described have their ornaments
in intarsia, which would be found in the panels, mouldings, cymae and other
ornaments. So I leave everyone free to interpret this passage.
(Vitruvius) [IV.VI.6 cont.] I have expounded as best as I was able, how and
with what rationales temples are made in the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian man-
ners, and how from legitimate usages they have been derived. Now I will speak of
the Tuscan dispositions, how they must be ordered.
(Barbaro) He sums up all that he has said up to now. Here below we
place the figures of the two other manners of doors and the profiles of all
three manners, with lettered legends so that what we have understood of
Vitruvius’s intention may be better comprehended.49

Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 41r), cerostrota; but Cesariano (1521, p. LXIXv), clathrate.
48 

In this present edition, the figures have been placed as closely as possible to where they
49 

are described in the text, and thus this paragraph no longer makes sense. The Corinthian
doorway is shown in Figs. 4.6.5–6.
 315

Fig. 4.6.5. [The Corinthian doorway] Image [p. 191], legend [p. 192]:
Left) Profile/section of the cornice elements [also shown in Fig. 4.6.6]:
A, corona; O, Lesbian cyma; P, Doric cyma; Q , hyperthyron, or frieze;
R, cymatium of the pilastered face, or antae, or planking; S, astragal,
or fusaiolo; T, first fascia; S, second fascia; F, third fascia. Right) Profile
through the door: XX, stile; Y, cyma; Z, replum, or frieze between the
two cymae KK; I, panel; KK, cymae
316 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 4.6.6. [The Corinthian profile, also shown in Fig. 4.6.5] Image
[p. 190], legend [p. 190]: A, corona; O, Lesbian cyma; P, Doric cyma;
Q , hyperthyron, or frieze; R, cymatium of the pilastered face, or antae;
S, astragal, or fusaiolo; T, first fascia; S, astragal; V, second fascia
p. 192 317

Chapter VII
On the Tuscan rationales of sacred temples

[p. 192] (Vitruvius) [IV.VII.1] The place in which the temple must be built, when
it will have six parts of length, taking away one, the rest is given to the width. But
the length shall be divided into two parts, and the inner part drawn for the spaces
of the cellae. But that near the front shall be left for placing in an ordered way the
columns. [IV.VII.2] Likewise you will divide the width into ten parts. Of these you
will give three to the space of the smaller cellae that are on the right and the left,
that is, you will leave them where the wings must be. The other four shall be given
to the middle of the temple. The space in front of the cellae in the ante-temple will
be so drawn by the columns, that those of the corners will be opposite the pilasters
in the end parts of the walls. But the two in the middle, which are opposite the
walls that are between the pilasters and the middle of the temple, shall be so dis-
tributed that between the pilasters and the first columns in the middle of the same
row shall be set others, and they shall be at the feet the seventh part of their height,
but the height is the third part of the width of the temple. And the column shall be
narrowed above by a fourth of the width at the feet. [IV.VII.3] The bases shall be
as high as the half of the thickness, and they shall have their plinth made a sixth as
high as the half of their thickness. The torus with the apophyge and cimbia will be
as thick as the plinth. The height of the capital is half of the thickness, the width of
the abacus equal to the thickness at the feet of the column. Divide then the height of
the capital into three parts. One shall be given to the plinth, which is in place of the
abacus, the other to the echinus, the third to the collar with its astragal and cimbia.
[IV.VII.4] On top of the columns must be placed the beams conjoined and concate-
nated in pairs, that refer in their height to those modules that will be required by the
size of the work. And these beams which are to be tied together shall be of the same
thickness as the neck of the column at the top. They shall be joined together with
tenons and mortised crosspieces, so that the mortising keeps the beams apart by the
space of two fingers, because if touching each other and not receiving any spiracle
of wind, they will heat up together and will soon break. [IV.VII.5] Over the top
of the beams and the top of the walls shall pass the mutules that project out by a
quarter of the thickness of the column. On their faces in front shall be affixed the
ornaments, which are called antepagmenta, and on top of those the tympanum of
the pediment, which is of masonry or wood. But over that pediment must be placed
the ridge board and rafters and the purlins such that the gutter corresponds to the
roof framing of the roof perfectly.
318 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Having explicated the building and manners of the Greeks,

Vitruvius now turns to Tuscan works. Here we must recall to memory things
already said.50 First, that Doric work is more suitable for supporting weight
than the Tuscan. Over the Doric, in the second order, goes the Ionic, and in
the third order the Corinthian, as the most ornate and delicate, in imitation
of trees made by nature that are rough [p. 193] and thick, become more
slender as they ascend, and at the top are more adorned. So we see in many
edifices that are high and elevated that the lowest order is Doric, the middle
Ionic, and the highest Corinthian. This aside, we mustn’t marvel if Vitruvi-
us, treating all the rationales of the manners of building, also treats the Tus-
can, since architecture, like a guest, had its first lodgings in Etruria—that is,
in Tuscany; we read too of the ancient kings who had many monuments and
many generous buildings there. Now Vitruvius says that the length of the
temple must be divided into six parts, and five of these must be given to the
width in such a way that the ratio of the width to length of the temple will
be a sesquiquintan [i.e., 6:5]. In addition to this he wants the entire length to
be divided into halves, one of which is given to include the cellae, the other
left to the ante-temple. This done, he wants the width to be divided into ten
parts, of which three are to be left to the right and three to the left, for the
compartition of the small cellae. These are to be made either at the head or
on the sides, as Vitruvius mentions, and either enclosed by parapets or open,
according to the custom of the sacrifices. This leaves four parts free in the
middle of the temple. Therefore the ratio from the middle of each side will
be a sesquitertian [i.e., 4:3] ratio, and in this way we have the distribution of
the interior part. Now as regards the colonnade in front, you will know that
centred on the corners of the walls of the temple are the antae, or pilasters.
Centred on and opposite these are to be placed the columns which mark the
terminations of the length of the temple. So, because in the araeostyle ap-
pearance—that is, of spacious intercolumniations51 —there is a great distance
between one corner and the other, Vitruvius would have it that between the
corner columns two more columns are placed so that the front will have four
columns and three spaces. Now there is a large space between the pilaster
and the corner column, and so too between the wall and the columns in the

50 
Barbaro mentioned in Book III (p. 141) that he felt the material was badly in need of being
set in order, and so he discussed the Tuscan manner in that place, illustrating it in Fig. 3.3.6.
51 
See Barbaro, p. 128.
pp. 193-196 319

middle, so Vitruvius orders that another row of columns is to be placed in the

middle, which are to be set aligned with the first underneath the portico of
the ante-temple. The length, or rather height, of these interior columns will
be greater than that of those on the front, as required by the height of the ar-
chitrave in front. It appears that for this reason Vitruvius wants these columns
to be seven diameters high, and the height to be taken from the width of the
temple, which is divided into three parts, one of which is taken for the height
of the columns. This height is divided into seven parts, of which one is given
to the thickness of the column at the foot. This diameter is then divided into
four parts, which will show how much the column must be narrowed at the
top. To me it appears that something is missing in Vitruvius’s text. Indeed, I
say that just a single letter is wanted, so that if, where he says Qui inter antas,
& mediam ædem fuerint, he were to say quæ inter antas, the lesson would be
remedied. Spatium, quod erit ante cellas in pronao, ita columnis designetur, ut
angulares contra antas parietum extremorum è regione collocentur. Here there is
a full stop, and then we should read, Quæ inter antas, & media ædem fuerint
ita distribuantur.52 Vitruvius shows how the corner columns are to be placed,
along with those in the middle of the front and those underneath or inside
the pronaos. This being so eliminates the doubts of Philander53 and Serlio54
regarding the height of the columns. A similar understanding has been seen
above as well. So we shouldn’t marvel that the Tuscan columns are of seven
diameters, thanks to this explanation. The measures of the bases, the capi-
tals and the remaining elements were explained by us in the third book. It
remains for us to clarify what Vitruvius means when he says ‘between the top
of the beams and the top of the walls shall pass the mutules that project [p. 195]
out by a quarter of the thickness of the column’. This means that it is necessary
for the ends of the beams to continue out beyond the wall by a quarter of
the height of the columns. This creates a large eave and is similar to what he
will say about the Tuscan courtyard in the sixth book.55 It conforms to what
[p. 196] he said in the third book: that these Tuscan and araeostyle manners
are humble, low, and wide.56 The ends of these rafters must be covered with
their affixed ornaments, which Vitruvius calls antepagmenta, or perhaps he

52 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 41v).
53 
See Philander (1544, pp. 140-141).
54 
See Serlio (1537, p. VIIIr); see also Scamozzi (1584, p. 129r).
55 
See Barbaro, pp. 283-288; Vitruvius VI.III.1-2.
56 
See Barbaro, p. 129; Vitruvius III.III.5.
320 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

means the adornments of the pediments of the temples, which is the best
interpretation. So he says: ‘On their faces in front shall be affixed the ornaments,
which are called antepagmenta, and over those of the tympanum of the pediment,
which is of struttura or wood…’—that is, of masonry or work in wood—‘But
over that pediment must be placed the ridge board and rafters or costali and the
purlins such that the gutter corresponds to the tertiarium of the roof perfectly’. By
tertiarium, which refers to the roof, Vitruvius means all of that fastening
and contignation that, starting from the ridge, splays into a triangular shape
and is contained by mortises and crossties, and renders the form of the roof
solid and whole.57 Fig. 4.7.1 shows the tertiarium and Fig. 4.7.2 shows many
kinds of scarf joints, dovetails, and mortise-joints of beams. The plan and the
elevation of the Tuscan manner is shown in Figs. 4.7.3 and 4.7.4.

Fig. 4.7.1. Image and caption [p. 193]: Tertiarium

57 
See the earlier discussion of roof framing on Barbaro, p. 167 and Fig. 4.2.1.
 321

Fig. 4.7.2. [Scarf joints, dovetails and mortised joints for joining wooden
beams] Image [p. 194]
322 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 4.7.3. [Plan of the Tuscan manner of temple] Image [p. 195]

Fig. 4.7.4. [Elevation of the Tuscan manner of temple] Image [p. 196]
pp. 196-197 323

(Vitruvius) [IV.VIII.1] Round temples are also made, of which some are of
a single wing without a cella, colonnaded, others are called peripteri. Those that
are made without a cella have the tribunal and the steps that are the third part of
its diameter. On top of the pedestals go the columns as high as the diameter of the
outer walls of the pedestals, but they shall be as thick as the tenth part of their height
including the capitals and the bases. The architrave is as high as half the thickness
of the column. The frieze and the other parts that go on top shall be as we have said
in the third book about the measures and compartitions.
[p. 197] (Barbaro) Here Vitruvius reasons as to round temples, and
makes them in two manners. He says that some are of a single wing, calling
this monopteros. Others are winged all around, and he calls them peripteros.
He leaves it to us to conjecture as to how the first manner of a single wing
and no cella was made. It appears that he distinguishes the monopteros from
the peripteros. I will say, by dint of the experience that I have with Vitruvius,
whose brevity gives his readers no repose, how I understand it. So then, I
make a circle as large as I wish, and that will be the temple. I find its diam-
eter ab, and divide this into three parts, at 1, 2 and 3 (Fig. 4.7.5).

Fig. 4.7.5. [Plan of the round temple] Image [p. 197]

324 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

I open the compass to the length of one of those parts, and placing
the foot in the centre, I make a circle inside the first; that circle has its ter-
minations at points c and e. All of the space between c and a I leave to the
steps that ascend to the raised floor of the temple, which is what Vitruvius
means by ‘tribunal’, if I am not mistaken. I then divide the circumference
of the smaller circle into twelve parts, in order to place twelve columns for
the twelve signs of the zodiac, because I believe that that temple without
walls signifies something about the heavens, the effects of which are in the
open. I erect pedestals all around, one for each column, and divide the entire
distance comprised by the diameter into ten parts, one of which I take to be
the thickness of the columns at the feet. The column will be ten diameters
high, including the capitals and bases. The architrave is as high as half of the
thickness of the column. The rest follows the measures given in the third
book. In this way it seems to me that the temple is handsomely proportioned
and saves all that Vitruvius has said. The plan of this temple is shown in
Fig. 4.7.5. The elevation can be ordered in the following manner, of which
Vitruvius says:
[p. 199] (Vitruvius) [IV.VIII.2] But if the temple will have wings all
around, there shall be made two steps and the pedestals on the lower part, after
which is placed the wall of the cella set back from the pedestal circa the fifth part
of the width. In the middle of the doors shall be left the place of the entrances. The
cella shall have as much diameter excluding the walls and the circuit as the height
of the columns above the pedestals. The columns around the cella are disposed with
the same proportions and compartitions. [IV.VIII.3] In the middle it will have the
rationale of the covering in this way, that as much as is the diameter of the entire
work, half of that shall be the height of the tholos, excluding the flower, but the
flower shall have as much size as the capital on top of the column has, excluding
the pyramid. The rest will be made with the same proportions and compartitions
as has been written above.
(Barbaro) The other manner of temple is called peripteros; it has wings
all around. It has the walls and the circumference of the cella; it has the
tribunal and that which goes above the tribunal. Its rationales are first that
there are two steps that go all around, and on top of those are the individual
pedestals, on which are placed the columns. Reason thus requires first that
there are only two steps, which make as much in height as the steps and
tribunal of the previous manner. After this, there is a covered colonnade that
goes all around and dictates the size given to the columns with the pedes-
p. 199 325

tals. Having thus the disposition of the two steps and the row of the equal-
ly-spaced pedestals according to suitable intercolumniations, the fifth part
of the diameter is taken, and setting back by that measure the circumference
of the cella is drawn; one part of it is left open to provide a place for the
entrance. The cella must actually have a diameter equal to that of the height
of the whole column above the pedestal, excluding from that circumference
of the cella the thickness of the wall that goes around it. The columns of the
wings shall be formed according to the measures given above—that is, with
the diameter a tenth of their height. We must be careful about the roof, be-
cause since we have placed on top of the columns the architrave, frieze, and
the cornice, we must make it so that the height of the lantern, called tholos by
Vitruvius and which is above the cupola (cuba58) and tribunal, is equal to half
of the diameter of the whole work. Thus taking the diameter of the entire
perimeter of the first step and dividing it into two equal halves, by one of
those we will raise the cupola above the architrave, frieze, and cornice, and
with that rationale, rotating it, we will leave a place to make the flower. This
flower (I believe) would have been made like an upside-down rose and would
have embraced the summit in the middle of the cupola on the inside, and on
it would have hung the things that were brought into the temple as votive of-
ferings. It would have been as high as the capital, and terminated in a pyra-
mid as can be seen in some of Nero’s medallions, which show a pyramid over
the round temple. If you want to know the terminations of that pyramid, you
should make a triangle with equal sides (as shown in Fig. 4.7.6), the base of
which is as large as the floor inside the thickness of the wall, and begin the
lantern above the floor according to the size of that.

58 
Cuba, a term for ‘cupola’. See Palladio (1997, p. 391, s.v. ‘Cuba’).
326 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 4.7.6. Image and caption [p. 198]: Round temple called peripteros
pp. 199-201 327

(Vitruvius) [IV.VIII.4] There are also other manners of temples ordered by

the same compartitions but disposed in another way, such as the Temple of Castor
in the Circus Flaminius, and in the Temple of Great Jupiter between the two
sacred groves, and more cleverly in the grove of Diana, there being added columns
on the right and the left shoulders of the ante-temple. In this manner was first
made the temple, such as that of Castor in the Circus, of Minerva in Athens in the
fortress, and of Pallas in Sounion in Attica. Of those there are no other propor-
tions, but the same ones. The lengths of the cella are double the width. And like the
other equal parts, those that usually are on the fronts are carried over to the sides.
[IV.VIII.5] There are some that, taking the dispositions of the columns from the
Tuscan manner, transfer those to the other orders of Corinthian and Ionic works,
so that where the antae project out from the ante-temple, in that place opposite the
cella of the walls, placing two columns they join the rationales of the Tuscan and
Greek works. [IV.VIII.6] Still others removing the walls of the temple, and apply-
ing to the intercolumniations of the wing, make the cella wider with the space of
the walls removed, and taking care of the other things with the same proportions
and [p. 200] compartitions, it appears that they have created another manner of
figure and name of a false winged. But those manners according to the usages of the
sacrifices have been altered, because the same rationales are not used in the temples
for all the gods, since some with other varieties of religion have their effects.
(Barbaro) Having expedited the forms of round temples, so that noth-
ing remains unsaid Vitruvius proposes to us other manners of temples that
are composites and mixtures of the Greek and Tuscan manners, to do away
with the superstitions held by some that they should always be made in the
same way. Some added three columns on each side to the shoulders of the
ante-temple. Others carried on with the same row of columns around the
sides of the temples. Others widened the cella and derived the greater width
by making the walls closer to the columns, according to the needs and con-
veniences of the sacrifices, of which (as I have said) there were many kinds,
adjusting the dispositions of the temples as needed. This allows us to under-
stand that we too can accommodate the dispositions of churches to suit the
usages of our religion, where we make the [p. 201] true sacrifice, and preach,
and celebrate the sacred offices, singing divine praises and taking care of the
sacrosanct relics of the soldiers of our Lord (Fig. 4.7.7).
328 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 4.7.7. Image and caption [p. 200]: Disposition of the Tuscan temple

(Vitruvius) [IV.VIII.7] I have set forth all the rationales of the sacred houses
of the gods as they have been left to me. I have distinguished with their compar-
titions the orders and measures, and I have exerted myself to describe as much as I
could those which are of different figures and with what differences they are sepa-
rated from each other. Now I will tell about the altars of the immortal gods, so that
they can be suitably ordered for the disposition of the sacrifices.
p. 201 329

Chapter VIII
On ordering the altars of the gods

[p. 201] (Vitruvius) [IV.IX] The altars face east, and shall always be placed lower
than the simulacra that are in the temple, so that the supplicants and priests look
upwards when admiring the divinity. They are composed with unequal heights
according to the dignity of each of their gods. The heights of the altars must be such
that those which are built to Jupiter and to all the heavenly gods must be the high-
est. To the goddess Vesta, to the Sea, and to the Earth they are made low, and thus
the forms of the altars in the middle of the temples are disposed suitably. Since in
this book we have treated the buildings of the sacred places, in the following will be
said by us clearly of the distributions of the common places.
(Barbaro) The conclusion of this last chapter is how altars are to be
erected to suitably serve the decorum proper to the strength and power of
each divinity. Would God that those of our day would have as much respect
for the true sacrifice, and as much reverence for the saints as those deceived
people had for their false superstitions. All altars have this in common: that
they must face east, as was said earlier.59 Alberti would have it that the an-
cients made the altar six feet high and twelve wide, on top of which was
placed the simulacrum, 60 but Vitruvius doesn’t prescribe a height. Nor do I
believe that the simulacrum was placed on top of the altar, because Vitruvius
would not have said that the altars are always placed lower than the simu-
lacra; for example, in the fifth chapter of this book, where he said that the
simulacrum, which is in the cella, must face towards the west, he didn’t say
‘the simulacrum that is on top of the altar’. Likewise he proposed to speak
about the altars of the immortal gods so that each could be suitably ordered
for the disposition of the sacrifices. Thus the simulacrum was in a different,
more eminent place than the altar. The holy decrees of our Pontiffs do not
want our altars be made of anything other than stone, and on top of that
they want a consecrated stone. On top of our altars we lay very beautiful
tablecloths, and on the front of them place extremely ornate fabrics, nor is
there a lack of candelabra and lamps before the most holy body of our Lord,
to whom in every church an altar must be consecrated, placed in an excel-
lently worked tabernacle. We also use to place on top of the altars the relics

59 
See Barbaro, p. 182.
60 
See Alberti (1485), 7.13; (1988), p. 228.
330 Book IV of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of the saints, in ornate repositories, with great veneration. In addition to

this our churches usually have a separate place where the priestly vestments,
sacred tomes, and the other things necessary for the sacrifices and the divine
cult are kept, and where the priests make their preparations. I would make
these places where the ancients made the posticum. They also have a choir
where the divine praises are sung, with suitable seating and walls separating
it from the rest of the church.
They have the towers where they hang the bells, which Christians but
no others use to call the people to church at the proper times. These towers
must be built in proportion to the size of the church. Whether square or
polygonal, these rise straight up to the place where the bells are hung. In
that place the cornices go all around and open with colonnades, so that the
sound can go out and be heard from far away. They are reached by stairs that
are either straight or circular, or by other kinds of stairs according to the ar-
chitect’s inventiveness and refinement. Above the cornices and the openings
goes the pyramid—that is, the cuba. The height of the pyramid is either in
the sesquialteran ratio to its base, or is of equal sides. The cuba, cupola, and
lantern are built according to the rationales of the work. In these towers
[p. 202] there are also clocks with counterweights, which were unknown
to the ancients. These show on the outside, by means of a hand turned by a
wheel on the inside, the natural hour, the signs and degrees through which
the sun goes, the days and the aspects of the moon, the quantity of days and
nights, and other things according to the architect’s judgement and desire. 61
Either behind or on one side of the church is the cemetery, meaning
the dormitory where the deceased are buried; because these will awaken at
the time of the Resurrection, in the sacred texts dying is called sleeping. In
these places are laid to rest the bones and ashes of the faithful; this is where
our mother, which is the holy church, shows her natural and ordained mercy
in burying her dead. God would that in our days such offices were not made
more readily as pomp for the living than as consolation for the dead. It is not
a praiseworthy thing that sepulchres are placed in churches, yet it is usual
to make such sepulchres in chapels appropriated for this purpose. In more
eminent places sepulchres are placed in the sacred altars, and are adorned
with memorials, plaques, epigrams, trophies, and the insignia of the ances-
tors, where lifelike effigies in marble are seen, and glorious gestures in metal

61 
Such clocks are described in detail in Book IX; see Barbaro, pp. 430-437 and Figs. 9.9.1–5.
p. 202 331

letters are read. Such things are better placed in the forum and the piazza
than in a church, because in placing them in a church there is none of the
decorum that is described in the first book. Though it be customary, it is not
praiseworthy.62 Let us thus remember to observe decorum in all things, and
especially in the honour of God, his holy friends the saints, and the sacro-
sanct servants devoted to their worship and enclosed within monasteries, for
whom it is proper that they are provided with comfortable habitations, the
spaces of the cloisters, fine gardens. Especially the sacred places of the holy
virgins should be secure, high, and far removed from the din and sight of
the people. For this the architect will consider the purpose of each building
and see to its requirements. Let this be the end of the fourth book, and the
material pertaining to religion.

The end of Book IV.

Barbaro’s own burial shows that he was true to this principle. His father and brother are
62 

buried in a chapel of San Francesco della Vigna in Venice, but Daniele himself was buried
in an unmarked grave behind the church.
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book V

[p. 203]

aving completed the part that was dedicated to religion,

there follows that devoted to what is convenient and oppor-
tune for citizens, in which will be shown the arrangement
of the forum, the basilica, the aerarium, the curia, the prison, the theatre,
and the things that appertain to the theatre such as stage sets, porticoes,
and tiers, the baths, the gymnasium and places for exercise, and finally, the
harbours. All of these things appertain to the use of many and can be called
neither public nor private, but are common. By public things I mean walls
and defences that refer equally to all; common, those that are used by and
give pleasure to many; and private, those which are built for a single kind
of person. Vitruvius provides a preface to this treatment that is worthy of
consideration, in that he responds to many questions that are usually asked
by the many who talk (to put it nicely and not say jabber) about Vitruvius
every day but have neither read nor carefully thought about what is found in
this author. We will see clearly that Vitruvius not only carefully considered

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 333

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_6
334 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and examined the things about which he had to give many instructions, but
further set his mind to explicate and expound its doctrine in a fine, rational
manner that is appropriate to the treatment of an art. Who has not seen the
marvellous order of his precepts? Who has not admired his choice of beau-
tiful things? What division or part that we need is not excellently collocated
in its place? Who would take away or add anything that could fit as well in
his document? And if he has not spoken like Democritus, Aristoxenus, Hip-
pocrates, or anyone else who is perfect in their profession, he has certainly
spoken like an architect, and has used those voices that were admitted and
accepted in his time, and the way of saying things that was required by those
who wished to teach. Because this is not my imagination, it is important to
me that the reader read the preface to this present book, to which I alerted
the reader in my first discourse,1 where, reading Vitruvius in this part, we
will find that Vitruvius truly has done, with deliberation and rational coun-
sel, what I say he has. This shows what a difference there is between writing
histories or poems and writing a treatise on an art, proves the difficulty of
teaching, and leaves us nothing to desire in the way of writing the precepts
of an art. And so he says:

Preface
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.1] Those who have with large volumes exposed the thoughts
of their minds and the precepts of the things have surely added the greatest and
most admirable reputation to their writings. This is what, please God O Emperor,
would happen to our studies, so that our precepts with like amplitude of saying
would derive authority. But this is not, as some believe, expeditious because archi-
tecture is not written about as histories or poems are written.
(Barbaro) The meaning of these words is this: ‘the power to write at ease
and explicate at length what takes place in the mind, without being obliged
to brevity of expression, usually gives authority and credibility to writers
because each, as far as he is able, writing at length, can expand, adorn, and
bedeck his writings so that they can please and delight, especially when the
things [p. 204] are such that they keep the readers ever desirous of knowing

1 
See Barbaro, p. 2.
p. 204 335

more. But such length and liberty is not an easy thing in all treatments,
because if things were like that, I have no doubt that I could advantageously
give my writings authority and reputation. This cannot be done, yet I remain
with a great desire to do so’. As to why it cannot be done, he says, ‘because
architecture is not written about as histories or poems are written’. Poems are
thoughts of the mind and histories are examples of actions, so when he says
‘thoughts of their minds and the precepts of things’ he means poems and histories.
He then goes on to show the difference that there is between writing histo-
ries and poems and treating architecture.
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.1 cont.] Histories in themselves keep the readers because
they have various expectations of new things. And the measures and feet of the
poems and chosen disposition of words and sentences among the personages, and
the distinct pronouncement of the verses alluringly conduct the sentiments of those
who read them, without offense, to the very end of the writings. [V.Pref.2] But this
cannot be done when writing about architecture.
(Barbaro) History pleases because it always yields new things, which
our mind is always desirous of, variety being pleasurable. It is necessary that
the reader be left wanting more so that in order to satisfy his desire he con-
tinues to read and is unhappy to stop; indeed he is unable to stop, wanting
as he does to see how the actions end. Even more delightful are poems,
both because they contain novelty and because they delight our ear with
sweetness and gentleness of numbers and words so that the reader, lured
by the double pleasure, allows himself be conducted—is indeed drawn—to
the end of the writings. Here it must be observed how Vitruvius, reasoning
about poems with just a few, efficacious words, has explained what is proper
to the poem: words sweetly tied together; sentences said with decorum; the
pronouncement graciously made. But in the treatment of an art, because the
words are born of necessity and the matters are obscure, the mind of the one
who reads can’t be seduced, confused as it is by the strangeness of the words
and the difficulty of the things. This is especially true in architecture, whose
treatment is by its nature more difficult than other things. So Vitruvius does
well to say that this cannot be done in writing about architecture—that is,
the mind cannot be conducted to the end by various expectations of new
things and with sweetness of word. He gives the cause of this, saying:
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.2 cont.] Because the terms born from the necessity proper
to the art through unusual speech obscure the understanding, since they are not
manifest in themselves, and their names are not explained and made clear through
336 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

customary practice and usage. Furthermore, rambling greatly, if the writings of

the precepts, unrestrained, are not clarified with few and accessible sentences, the
multitude and the frequency of speech, posing an impediment to understanding,
render doubtful the minds of the readers.
(Barbaro) Every art has its own terms, which are born of the necessity
of the things. Thus is it first necessary to know distinctly how things are
called, or as the philosophers say, the quid nominis.2 This property of the
terms hinders the understanding of the reader. There is also another difficul-
ty here, which is born from the manner of speaking, because in teaching an
art it is not permissible to go on at length and talk in circles since it would
never end; drawing the thing out does not help the memory, which is aided
by brevity and order. Thus in teaching it is necessary to be brief. Whereupon
Vitruvius says excellently that ‘if the writings of precepts—that is, the giv-
ing of precepts and teachings in writing—unrestrained—that is, if it is not
given with brevity and with sentences that are few and accessible—are not
clarified—here is clarity—the frequency posing an impediment—that is, an in-
culcation whereby the intellect is obscured—and the multitude—that is, the
length and breadth that offend the memory—render doubtful the cogitation3
of the readers’. By ‘cogitation’, it appears that Vitruvius means the innermost
virtues of the mind, which are memory and intellect. Thus what has been
said being extremely true, he concludes by saying:
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.2 cont.] In pronouncing the unexplained names and di-
visions of the members of the works, [p. 205] I will explain myself briefly so that
they are consigned to memory, because in that way the mind can receive them with
greater ease.
(Barbaro) That is, the mind can recognise and understand them, be-
cause our understanding is nothing other than a certain reception. It is thus
for these reasons that Vitruvius wants to be brief—that is, as brief as the
treatment of a difficult thing allows him to be. Further, he advances another
reason, saying:
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.3] Similarly, having observed that the city is occupied in
public and private affairs, I have judged that it is necessary to write with brevity
so that, in the little leisure there is, those who read can quickly understand.

2 
That is, the meaning of the term.
3 
Note that above Vitruvius’s cogitatione was translated as menti, minds.
p. 205 337

(Barbaro) Vitruvius means to say: ‘in my writings what cannot be done

by the number and beauty of verses, the convenience of expanding one-
self, and the novelty of the succession of things will be done by the brevity
and the clarity of teaching, which also invite those who are busy and occu-
pied with other things to read’. Now the usefulness that brevity brings to
teaching is shown by a habit of that most excellent philosopher Pythagoras,
who, desirous that his precepts would remain in the minds of those who
listened, was not only brief in giving a precept but also the sum of all of his
precepts together were encompassed in a certain and determined number,
which, mysteriously (he said) resembling an established and immoveable
thing, could remain in the mind with the utmost stability and firmness.
So Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.3 cont.] It also pleased Pythagoras and his followers, in
their volumes, to write the precepts that they gave using cubic rationales; they made
the cube of two hundred and sixteen verses, and decided that there should not be
more than three in a treatise. [V.Pref.4] The cube is a squared body of six sides, of
equal width of plane; this when thrown, unless touched, maintains an immoveable
stability on the side on which it rests, as do the dice that are thrown by players on
game boards.
(Barbaro) The precepts of the Pythagoreans were brief and embodied
in little verses, such as these:4 Don’t stir the fire with a knife. Wash the left
foot first, and put a shoe on the right first. Plant mallow without eating it.
Don’t let swallows into your house. Eat neither heart nor brain. Neither uri-
nate nor speak in the face of the sun. The mirror of the lamp does not watch.
Shun the royal road, follow the path. Spit on your nails and on your hair.
They formed many other precepts similarly expressed with the utmost brev-
ity, to which they gave meanings other than those indicated by the words.
Wishing to treat a single thing and stay on one subject, they gathered those
little verses into a certain and determined sum taken from the cube number.
That which is called a cube is that solid which has six sides, six squares, and
equal faces like a die, thus ‘cube’ is the name given to that number made of
the six plane numbers that have equal dimensions on every side. The cubes

The precepts to which Barbaro refers are more commonly known as acusmata or symbola.
4 

These are taboos of various sorts that are generally thought to go back to the time of
Pythagoras. The classic treatment of these can be found in Burkert (1972, pp. 166-192).
They are not the Pythagorean precepts written about by Aristoxenus of Tarentum; for those
see Aristoxenus (2019). I am grateful to Carl Huffman for discussions about this.
338 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

after unity are born by compounding the odd numbers, which are naturally
disposed, first putting together the first two odd numbers, then the next
three, then the four after that, and so forth. Here is the example. Leave unity
aside, and take the first two odd numbers, which are 3 and 5. These added
together make 8, which is the first cube. Take the next three odd numbers,
7, 9 and 11, and add them; these make 27, which is the second cube. And
so you go on with the odd numbers that follow, 13, 15, 17, 19, which put
together make 64, which is the third cube. It thus being that when the point
is moved it makes a line, and when the line is moved it generates the surface,
and when the surface is moved it makes the solid, this is not far dissimilar
from our taking unity and continuing it to produce a linear number, which,
when continued in its turn makes a plane number, which moved in its turn
makes the solid, which is similar to the figure named cube. Thus when unity
is added to unity, the number born, which is two, will show a certain sim-
ilarity to length, which is proper to the line. When the two is moved, like
the line, width is then added to length, and four is made, which is a plane
number, and corresponds to the square. This, multiplied by two, which is one
of its sides, as if it moved, generates the solid, similar to the cube shape just
named. However, this is not to say that if there are six sides there must be
six unities. Thus Vitruvius says that the Pythagoreans, using cubic rationales
[p. 206] of verses, imparted their precepts, and that they put no more than
three cubes in a treatment. However, they formed one large cube of two
hundred and sixteen verses in the following way. They multiplied the three by
itself and made its square, which is nine. This nine they multiplied by three,
which is the side of the square, making twenty-seven, which is the solid and
cube of that square. Similarly, another cube is made of a linear number of
four unities in continuation. This, multiplied by itself, as if the line moved,
will make a square surface of sixteen. That, multiplied by its side, which
was four, will make the sum of sixty-four, corresponding to a cubic solid,
which when added to the first cube, which was twenty-seven, makes the sum
of ninety-one. The third cube, born from the linear number of five unities
and a plane number of twenty-five, is one hundred and twenty-five, which
added to the number ninety-one, gives the sum of two hundred and sixteen.
This was therefore the number at which the Pythagorean precepts arrived,
which, by dint of having a similar quantity of verses—that is, being collected
according to the rationale of the cube—were to have had that stability in
the mind that a die customarily has when it is rolled on the table. One may
p. 206 339

ask why the Pythagoreans did not take the first cube, which is eight, then
the second, which is twenty-seven, and then the third, which is sixty-four,
and find the sum of ninety-nine of these three cubes more quickly than by
beginning with nine. Perhaps they divided their treatment into cubes and, if
the sentiment of their precepts about a subject could not be comprised in the
first cube, they added a second one; if this was not sufficient, they added the
third, which was capable of all sums. Because the first cube, which is eight,
was too small to comprise a subject, I believe that they went to the second
cube, which is twenty-seven, caused by three, which is the number that
was privileged by the Pythagoreans. And so they added cubes one by one
as need required and did not impose upon themselves the need of enclosing
all of their treatments in two hundred and sixteen verses; rather, some were
comprised in twenty-seven, others in sixty-four, others in two hundred and
sixteen. Nor did they wish to go further, judging too long a treatment of
four hundred and thirty-two verses, which come from the cube born of the
six, and added to the previous sum. Until a better way is found, this is how
I explain the mind of Pythagoras.
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.4 cont.] The Greeks, composers of the comedies, interpos-
ing the songs of the choir, divided the space of the fable so that, making the parts
with cubic rationales, with the interludes eased the recitals of the actors.
(Barbaro) I have not yet discovered how the Greeks made the parts,
which I would call acts, according to cubic rationales; no fables have been
discovered that are capable of being divided in that way today. This would
require that there be either eight acts or eight scenes per act, or that the
number of verses in a scene or in an act be cubic. It appears that Vitruvius
means that the interludes of a fable were made of a cubic number for the ease
of those reciting, unless perhaps we want to say that the interludes were so
the actors could rest, as the cast die or cube rests, and that no comparison
is being made with the cubic number but rather with the effect of the cubic
body, which, after being thrown, stops and moves no more. This seems to me
to be a good explanation. I do not recall having read any precept of poetry
that demands the cubic number in the acts, scenes, or number of verses.
(Vitruvius) [V.Pref.5] Such things being therefore observed with natural
measure by our elders, and seeing that I must write of things that are unusual and
obscure to many, I have decided to produce brief volumes so that they more easily
arrive to the senses of the readers because in this way they will understand easily.
And I have ordered them so that they will not be grasped separately by those who
340 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

seek them but will form a complete body, and in each volume with their proper
genres will be explained. Thus, O Caesar, in the third and in the fourth books I
have set forth the rationales of temples, and in this I will address the dispositions
of the public places. Firstly I will say how the forum is to be set out, because in the
forum the magistrates govern and rule about what reasonably appertains to the
public and to the private.

Chapter I
On the forum

[p. 207] (Vitruvius) [V.I.1] The Greeks make the forum in a square place with
extremely wide and double porticoes, and adorn them with thick columns and ar-
chitraves of stone or marble. Above on wooden floors they make places for strolling.
But in the cities in Italy the forum should not be made with the same rationales, be-
cause in the largest there has been left the custom of awarding the prizes to the glad-
iators in the forum. [V.I.2] Thus around the spectacles it is necessary to distribute
more spacious and large intervals between the columns. Around the porticoes are to
be the workshops of the goldsmiths and on the flooring above are built the balconies,
which things shall be directly disposed for the use and for the public entrances.
(Barbaro) It is necessary, beautiful, and comfortable in the city that, in
addition to the streets and byways, there be squares and campi (as they are
called in Venice). In addition to the ornament that a beautiful large place
makes when the front of a handsome temple is seen at the end of a street, it
also has these conveniences: there gather the people who are strolling; there
are sold the things that are necessary and useful for the common folk; and
there is a place for many spectacles. It is good when there are many squares
throughout the city, and it is that much more necessary as well as great and
honourable that there be one that is by far the main one. This one can truly
be called public, and is where there are places for civil cases to be tried, the
tribunals of the judges, the courts, the senates; where matters of state are
conducted; and where spectacles are held for either pleasure or devotion.
Vitruvius therefore treats the disposition of the main forum.
In order to do my part regarding the squares that are scattered through-
out the city, I say that the ancients called them trivia. Although trivia and
quadruvia are places where three or four roads begin, they also gave the name
p. 207 341

trivium to those open and spacious places where many people of a neigh-
bourhood gather, whereupon it can be said that a trivium is a small square.
Should one want to embellish this to give it the form of the main square, two
things should be done: first, it should be surrounded by porticoes, at least
simple ones if not double; then, it should be entered through arches placed
at the ends of streets. The portico by its very nature is grand, and then to see
a triumphal arch at the head of a handsome street is a thing both delightful
and honourable. To cite a vivid example one can look at the city of Rome.
So, the front of an arch at the beginning of a street makes it appear more
beautiful, and entering a square through an arch makes the square seem
larger. Ordinarily an arch was made in three parts: the victor and the soldier
passed through the middle one, while those who went to meet them or who
merrily accompanied the procession passed through the others. The measure
of the arches depends on the knowledge of the architect and can be derived
from the ancient arches and from the eighth book of Leon Battista Alberti.5
There are many examples of arches to be had in Rome opposite the church of
Santa Maria in Aracoeli at the base of the Capitoline Hill. Among the most
beautiful of those built is the Arch of Septimius Severius, where winged vic-
tories with trophies have been sculpted along with depictions of the battles
on land and sea, with the glorious titles of the campaigns. It appears that
earlier there were arches, such as the one called ‘Camillo’ found between the
Via Lata and the Minerva, thought to have been built not to commemorate
victories but to place some statues.6 Moreover I read in the sacred scriptures
that Saul, after a victory, had an arch erected for him to pass through.7 In
front of the Arch of Septimius there was a column called the Golden Mile-
stone [i.e., Milliarium Aureum] from which, like a terminus, all the streets
of Rome began.8 There is the Arch of Constantine with its ornaments less
ruined; it is at the end of the Palatine Hill, which faces the Colosseum. In
front of this is seen an ancient meta9 of brick, which the ancients called the
‘sweating meta’ [i.e., Meta Sudans] because from it flowed great quantities of
5 
See Alberti (1485, 8.6); (1988, pp. 265-268).
6 
Mention is made of the ‘Arcu Camilli’ in Marliani (1534, pp. 249-250); (1622, p. 228). It
is now identified as the Arco di Camigliano, which stood at the entrance to the Piazza del
Collegio Romano and was gradually demolished starting in 1595.
7 
I Samuel 15:12.
8 
See Marliani (1622, p. 111).
9 
A meta (pl. metae) was a conical structure that served as a marker; in the circus it served as
a turning point. Barbaro will refer to the metae of the circus below on p. 223.
342 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

water [p. 208] to quench the thirst of those who entered the amphitheatre
of Titus, which was nearby.10 The Arch of Domitian is on Via Flaminia at
the end of the Campo di Marte, towards the Capitoline. This arch is today
called the Arch of Tripoli.11 It was erected by Domitian, and here its actual
shape conforms to that seen in the medals. The arch today called the Arch
of San Vito—that is, the one that was the Arch of Emperor Gallienus and is
found going back down the Via Tiburtina—is believed to have been erected
earlier for some illustrious blessing rather than for a victory. But of all the
arches dedicated to the eternal memory of the revenge that God took on the
Judeans by means of Titus, the Arch of Titus is the most ornamented by
plaques and spoils. On its face we read:

SENATVS
POPVLVSQVE·ROMANVS
DIVO·TITO·DIVI·VESPASIANI·F(ILIO)
VESPASIANO·AVGVSTO

On one side is sculpted the chariot of the triumphator—that is, the ark
of the treaty with the twelve consular fasces in the front. On the other side is
seen the display of the victory with the spoils: there was a candelabrum with
seven arms [i.e., a menorah]; there were two marble tablets on which were
written the laws of Moses; there were the temple vases, the golden Table
of Shewbread, and other spoils. But now I will leave this digression about
arches, which was not out of turn because this discourse sheds light for those
who wish today to erect arches to princes, kings and emperors.
Now, going back to the forum, I say that according to Vitruvius the
main forum had a square shape. Around it were extremely wide double por-
ticoes, thick columns and the architraves of stone or marble. Above the col-
onnades they made places to walk. But the Romans and the Italians, because
they presented prizes to the gladiators in the forum, did not look to the
Greek forum but rather made its length greater than its width such that the
length was divided into three parts, two of which were given to the width,
thus making the sesquialteran ratio. The spaces between the columns were
wider, and around the porticoes were disposed the places of the bankers and

10 
See Marliani (1622, p. 192).
11 
Today referred to as the Arch of Portugal.
p. 208 343

those who changed silver, if we don’t want to say the goldsmiths’ workshops.
Above those were the stands so that the people could comfortably watch the
spectacles. They therefore disposed the forum with a view to its purpose and
uses so that if there were many people the square would not be too small,
but if there were only a few people it would not appear empty. Vitruvius
says, ‘The Greeks make their forum in a square place with extremely wide double
porticoes’: double may mean either that it was open on two sides, inside and
outside, and looked both into and out of the forum, or that it had double row
of columns inside the forum. This last is better, because Vitruvius also uses
this word duplices in this sense in the third book.12 ‘And with thick columns’: I
believe that here Vitruvius means the pycnostyle, as he described in the third
book the space of thick columns measuring a diameter and a half.13 That this
is true is shown by the words below, when he says that in the cities of Italy
the forum is not made in the Greek way because the forum is used one way
in Italy and another way in Greece; since in Italy the prizes were awarded
to the gladiators in the forum, and since people had to be able to watch, it
was necessary to give large intercolumniations around the spectacles. You
see that he contrasts these words to those that he said above ‘with thick col-
umns’. He also says maeniana, which we translate as ‘balconies’. It is said that
Maenius sold his house overlooking the square to Cato and kept only one
column, on top of which he made a flat place or platform where he could stay
and watch the games and festivals, and that he wanted those who came after
him to be able to enjoy this privilege. And from this was born that balconies
or covered pergolas that project out are called maeniana, after the Columna
Maenia. These maeniana were comfortable for use because there one could
stay to watch the games; there also were stored things that were bought and
sold, as in the pointed attics in Antwerp and the vaults in Rialto in Venice.
(Vitruvius) [V.I.2 cont.] The size of the forum must be determined according
to the number of men, so that there is not too little space to be comfortable nor does
the forum appear uninhabited when there is a small number of people. The width
is determined such that, dividing the length in three parts, two of those are given
to the width, and thus the shape will be longer than it is wide.
(Barbaro) It pleases Leon Battista Alberti that the length be of two
squares, and he adds another fine consideration, which is this: that the

12 
See Barbaro, p. 120; Vitruvius III.II.7.
13 
See Barbaro, p. 123; Vitruvius III.III.2.
344 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

edifices around the square are to be proportioned [p. 209] so that they don’t
make the square appear small by being very tall or make it appear too large
by being too low and squat. Rather he would have the buildings be as high as
the third part of the length of the forum.14 What Vitruvius has said must be
taken into consideration. The disposition will be useful for the spectacles, for
the reason that the shape longer than wide is better suited than the perfect
square. Note that the round shape is more capacious than the square; if we
look at the capacity, there is no doubt that the square is not the most capa-
cious. If we look at the suitability for the gladiators, it is certain that they
are more comfortable in the longer shape, just as the greater length is more
suitable for the jousts and for the horse races. If we consider the rationale of
perspective, then the square is better suited because all sides are equally close
to the centre and the spectators can see everything more equally. But I leave
this consideration to the reader.
It is however necessary to make the forum according to the number
of people, and it doesn’t behove us to do what Augustus did. He ordered a
forum built near two that were for a multitude of men and litigants, and he
had it made small in order not to bother the owners of the houses nearby.
This forum was where today there are the gardens behind Marphurius and
the church of Santa Martina. It was built in a great hurry. It was ordered that
the public judges would negotiate there, the judges would be chosen there,
the senate would meet there to consult about the wars and triumphs, and the
captains would lay there the spoils of their victories. This forum had two very
beautiful porticoes and was ornamented with the rarest of things. But what
isn’t ruined by time?15 What isn’t destroyed by war? What isn’t changed by
people? This, and other forums, like so many other beautiful things, either
fell down by itself, was dashed to the earth by the enemy, or was transformed
into other buildings.
They made the porticoes very rich and grand, and with several orders of
columns, the use of which was to get out of the rain, and walk, and to escape
all discomforts of the heaviness of the air and the sun. These were named for
their lengths—miliariae or stadiatae 16 —and for their styles—Doric, Ionic,
14 
Alberti (1485, 8.6); (1988, pp. 263-265).
15 
See the similar discourse on the injuries of time on Barbaro, p. 128.
16 
Suetonius describes the Porticus Miliariae in Nero’s Domus Aurea; see Suetonius, Life of
Nero 31.1. Josephus states that the Royal Portico built by Herod on the Temple Mount was a
stade in length; see Josephus Flavius, Antiquities of the Jews 15.4.15. The porticos of xysti are
also called stadiatae; see Barbaro, p. 265; Vitruvius V.XI.III.
pp. 209-214 345

Corinthian, Tuscan, or underground.17 Some were consecrated to the gods.

They were in short marvellous ornaments to the squares.
[p. 214] (Vitruvius) [V.I.3] The columns above shall be a quarter part small-
er than the columns below because lower things, with respect to the weight that they
carry, must be firmer than those above. This is also because they must imitate the
nature of growing things, as in the round trees such as the fir, the cypress, the pine,
all of which are larger at the root, but then, growing, with natural narrowing lit-
tle by little arrive to the top. If then the nature of growing things requires this, then
it is directly ordered that the upper parts be in width and thickness more restricted
than the lower parts.
(Barbaro) A fine observation, this of Vitruvius, in this present place.
He would have it that if we want to place other columns atop the columns
of the portico and raise the building with several orders of floors or attics,
care be taken to make the columns above thinner by the fourth part than
the columns below. He takes as an example trees, which are larger at the
foot and likewise grow smaller towards the top. We must carefully observe
that the first order was Doric, the second Ionic, the third Corinthian, and
that it does not follow that if the columns below are the fourth part thicker
than the columns above, then they are also the fourth part taller. Because if
the Doric column below is four feet in diameter, then being Doric it will be
twenty-eight feet high. The one above, which is Ionic, if it is truly a fourth
slenderer than the Doric—that is, three feet—will not be a quarter smaller
in height than the column below because it will be eight and a half diam-
eters, which are twenty-four [recte twenty-five] and a half feet . Even if all
the columns in all the orders are of the same manner, it is necessary that the
columns below [recte above] not be larger at the foot than the column below
is at the head where the contraction is made, so that the column above rests
squarely on the one below. It is also fine if the smaller column is less high,
but not by the quarter part. So it is necessary to attend to what Vitruvius
says. In Fig. 5.1.1 I give the plan of the Latin forum, leaving it to the judge-
ment and pleasure of others to consider and draw the forum of the Greeks.

The underground portico probably refers to the cryptoporticus described by Pliny the
17 

Younger in Epistles 2.17.16.

346 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 5.1.1. [Plan of the Latin forum] Image [p. 210], legend [pp. 209-
210]: A, the wings of the palace. In the middle is the forum, and the
shops are around it; B, curia; C, square in front of the prison; D, square
in front of the mint; G, basilica
This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

(Vitruvius) [V.I.4] The basilicas should be conjoined to the forum on the

warmest sides so that the negotiators in the winter can move there without being
molested by bad weather. The width of those shall not be less than the third part
nor greater than half of the length, if the nature of the place does not impede this or
make it necessary to alter the measure of the compartition. If the place is greater in
length, let there be at the ends the chalcidica, as in the Julia Aquiliana.
pp. 214-215 347

(Barbaro) We must observe that with the forum Vitruvius embraces

the basilica, the aerarium, the prisons, and the curia, since Vitruvius, having
treated the basilica, the aerarium, the prisons, and the curia, says at the be-
ginning of the third chapter, ‘Having furnished the forum it is necessary to select
a very healthy place for the spectacles’.18 Seeing that the forum embraces these
aforementioned things, it appears to me that it is obligatory to represent the
forum with the basilica, the aerarium, the curia and the prison in a single
plan (Fig. 5.1.1).
If we were to interpret the name ‘basilica’, it sounds like a royal house.
There they used to hold council in a covered space and deal with great and
important negotiations. Plutarch writes that Paulus Aemilius spent nine-
ty thousand scudos by all reckonings in a basilica that was in the middle
of the forum.19 Some believe that that basilica was between the church
of Sant’Adriano al Foro and the handsome Temple of Faustina. Vitruvius
would have basilicas located in the warmest places, and by warmest plac-
es he means those which are turned away from the Aquilo and Septentrio
winds, as he shows in the tenth chapter of this present book. 20 He also wants
the basilica to be somehow related to the temple but not of the same size,
because the temple is a much worthier thing than the basilica. Thus inas-
much as the basilica has a certain agreement with the temple, it usurps many
rationales of the temple. Vitruvius will say here shortly that the rationales
of the architrave, friezes, and coronae are taken from the symmetry of the
column, as he declared in the third book. Thus the basilica more closely
imitates than equals the temple. Alberti would have the basilica, on account
of the crowds of litigants, notaries and scribes, much freer, much more open
and well-lighted so that the solicitors and clients, seeking one another, can
see each other at a glance.21 [p. 215] The ancients added one or two tribunals
and one or two porticoes to the basilica. Let then the width to the length be
in either the subsesquialteran ratio or the subduple when there is no imped-
iment due to the nature and site of the place (Figs. 5.1.2–4).

18 
Here Barbaro says ‘place for the spectacles’, but where he translates it below on p. 223, he
says ‘place for the theatres’.
19 
Plutarch, Life of Caesar 29.3.
20 
See Barbaro, p. 262.
21 
Alberti (1485, 7.14); (1988, p. 230).
348 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 5.1.2. Images and caption [pp. 212–213]. The interior of the basilica.
 349

[The letter B of this figure is conjoined to the letter A in Fig. 5.1.4]

350 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 5.1.3. Image and caption [p. 211]: Plan of the basilica
 351

Fig. 5.1.4. Image and caption [p. 216]. The side of the basilica. The letter
A of this figure is conjoined to the letter B in Fig. 5.1.2
352 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

In the case where the place is longer Vitruvius wants chalcidica to be put
at the ends. Alberti reads ‘causidiciary’ and by that means an addition to the
length of the basilica in the shape of the letter T crosswise at the ends where
the solicitors and those bringing suit stayed.22 It happens that chalcidicum
was the name of a sort of edifice in the city of Chalcis, where it was usual
and was large and spacious. Perhaps Vitruvius means that it is added to the
basilica when the place is longer than the prescribed proportion of the width
to the length. Others understand it as ‘mint’, never mentioned anywhere by
Vitruvius. This is where coins are made, and perhaps I would like this expla-
nation if the mint did not make so much noise that it would impede those
who defend and try the cases in the basilica. Philander produced authorities
who confirmed that chalcidica were large edifices so I accept his opinion.23
Regarding the example that Vitruvius gives of how it was in the Julia Aq-
uiliana, I believe he means a basilica built in Friuli where Caesar wintered,
because some texts have ‘Villa Aquiliana’ and there is a marble memento of
Aquilius found in Friuli, which I have seen, and there are found vestiges of
some baths.
(Vitruvius) [V.I.5] The columns of the basilica are to be as high as the porticoes
are wide, but the portico is to be terminated by a third of that which the middle
space must be.
(Barbaro) If the width of the portico is ten feet, the columns shall be ten
feet, I say for example. By the width of the portico is meant the space from
the column to the wall. Then he would have the portico be as wide as a third
of the middle width—that is, take a third of the body of the basilica minus
the walls and make that the width of the portico.
(Vitruvius) [V.I.5 cont.] The columns above shall be smaller than those below,
according to what we have said above. It similarly appears that the parapet that
is between the upper and lower columns must be a quarter part smaller than the
upper columns, so that those who walk above in the balcony of the basilica are not
seen by the negotiators. The architraves, friezes, and coronae are taken from the
symmetry of the columns, as we have said in the third book. [p. 216] [V.I.6] Nor
less dignity and beauty can have the compartition of basilicas if that manner is
followed that I set forth and was careful to have carried out in the Julian colony of
Fano, the proportions and measures of which are in this way: the roof between the

22 
Alberti (1485, 7.14); (1988, p. 232).
23 
Philander (1544, p. 148).
pp. 216-217 353

columns [p. 217] is one hundred and twenty feet long and sixty wide; the portico
which surrounds the roof, that is, between the walls and the columns, is twenty
feet wide.
(Barbaro) The columns were on the inside part and supported the roof,
but the portico was around the outside and was closed in by walls, as will
be seen.
(Vitruvius) [V.I.6 cont.] The columns, of continuous height with the capitals,
were fifty feet high and five thick, having behind them pilasters that were twenty
feet high, two and a half feet wide, and one and a half thick; these received the beams
that supported the rafters and the coverings of the porticos, which were placed be-
low those of the roof. [V.I.7] The other spaces between the beams of the pilasters and
the columns in the intervals between the columns are left open. Four columns are
placed in the width of the roof, placing them with those of the corner columns of the
right and the left. However, in the length that is next to the forum there are eight
including those of the corners, while on the other side there are six including those
of the corner. The middle two on that side are placed so that they do not block the
view of the ante-temple of the Temple of Augustus, which is located in the middle of
the wall of the basilica and faces the middle of the forum and the Temple of Jupiter.
(Barbaro) When Vitruvius says ‘the other spaces between the beams of the
pilasters and the columns in the intervals between the columns are left open’, he
means the spaces that are between the covering of the portico and the roof.
The fifty-foot-high columns were Corinthian.
(Vitruvius) [V.I.8] The tribunal in that temple also has a shape that is less
than semi-circular. The space in the front of that is forty-six feet, and the curvature
behind is fifteen feet, so that those who stand before the magistrates do not block the
negotiators in the basilica. Above the columns all around are architraves that are
made of three pieces of two feet each, joined together. Those of the third columns,
which are in the part around the pilasters, come out of the ante-temple and touch
the right and the left of the semicircle.
(Barbaro) By ‘third columns’ he means those between which the two
middle ones were removed in order to give a view to the ante-temple of the
Temple of Augustus, 24 because they are the third ones counting from the
corner columns.
(Vitruvius) [V.I.9] Above the beams that go around in line with the capitals
are some small piers like pedestals, disposed to support weights, three feet high and

24 
The Temple of Divus Augustus, known from images on coins.
354 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

four feet wide on all sides. Above these are the composite beams, well compounded,
of three pieces mortised together, of two feet each.
(Barbaro) The little piers are located in place of the frieze. The ever-
ganee, 25 well mortised beams, are located in place of the cornices. We can
also say that these beams work well when they are put in place and perform
their function.
(Vitruvius) [V.I.9 cont.] Above the beams are the rafters with the struts that
meet with the friezes of the columns, the antae, and the walls of the ante-temple,
which support a continuous ridge over the basilica and another in the middle above
the ante-temple. [V.I.10] This double disposition of roofs, one on the outside of the
roof and the other of the interior roof, forms an aspect that is fine and gracious.
Similarly, doing away with the ornaments of the architraves and the distribution
of the parapets and the upper columns removes a tiresome burden and reduces by
a good measure the total expense. The columns that rise all the way to the beam
structure of the roof add to the appearance of the magnificence of the expense and
the dignity of the work.
(Barbaro) Some parts were done away with—that is, the friezes, archi-
traves, cornices, and ornaments—and in their place were everganee beams,
piers and wooden beams, this being necessary because there was a large space
from column to column. It was, in my opinion, a well-disposed basilica, and
must have been grand. Now there are no vestiges of it to be seen. [p. 218]
The plan and elevation of the basilica and the temple (Figs. 5.1.5–6) show
the whole with its individual parts.

Barbaro Italianises the term trabes everganeae as everganee. These are discussed in Philander
25 

(1544, p. 149). Later such beams were defined as ‘bound together with ligatures of iron’; see
Scamozzi (1615, Parte II, p. 343).
 355

Fig. 5.1.5. Image [p. 219] and legend [p. 218]: A, plan of the basilica; B,
plan of the Temple of Augustus; C, ante-temple; D, tribunal; E- F-G-H,
the walls of the basilica that enclose the porticoes; I-K-L-M, the walls of
the temple that continue with the wings of the ante-temple to meet the
wall of the basilica
356 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
 357

Fig. 5.1.6. [Profile and elevation of the basilica and temple] Images
[p. 220-221], legend [p. 218]: 1, columns; 2, twenty-foot pilasters; 3,
lower beams of the portico; 4, upper eighteen-foot piers; 5, beams that
support the rafters of the body of the portico, which is lower than the
roof of the basilica; 6, the columns were Corinthian; the three-piece
beams of two feet each, in place of the architrave; 7, the little three-foot
piers, which took the place of the frieze; 8, other beams, conjoined and
mortised, that tie the building all around and serve as cornices, composed
of pieces that are two feet each; the roof is seen with its framing above
the ante-temple of the temple; 9, wall of the portico around the basilica;
10, open spaces, marked o
358 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter II
On the aerarium, prison and curia:
how they are to be ordered

[p. 220] (Vitruvius) [V.II.1] The aerarium, the prison, and the curia must be
conjoined to the forum in such a way that the measure of the compartition of those
correspond to the forum. Especially the curia must be made in accordance with the
dignity of the inhabitants and the cities. If it is to be square, then take the width
and add to it the half, and that will be the height. But if the shape is longer than
wide, it is necessary to put together the length and the width, take half of that sum,
and give it to the height below the beams. [V.II.2] In addition to this, the walls in
the middle must be surrounded on all sides by cornices in either woodwork or stuc-
co. If this is not done, it will happen that the voices of those disputing, even when
raised, cannot be heard by those hearing the cases. But when cornices are made
around the walls the voice, being retarded by those before it is dissipated in the air,
will arrive to the ears of the auditors.
[p. 221] (Barbaro) The aerarium is the place where the treasury and
public money are kept. The Romans conserved in the aerarium all the public
acts and decrees of the senate, and the Elephantine books, in which were de-
scribed the thirty-five tribes of Judah. Suetonius says that Caesar Augustus
burned the books of debts that he found in the aerarium in order to remove
any occasion for hate.26 Vitruvius does not say how the aerarium and the
prison are to be made because they are part of the forum and have their own
requirements, which are subject to the judgement of the architect. Like-
wise, of the public granaries, the aerarium, the dockyard, the warehouse,
and the mint he says no more. These things must be located in places that
are extremely secure and excellently prepared, surrounded by high walls, and
protected from the forces and perils of seditious citizens. In Venice we have
the granaries and the mint conjoined to the square [i.e., Piazza San Marco].
The armoury is in a palace of its own; the Arsenale is as safely guarded and
furnished as any that there are, or ever have been, in the world. The mint
above the square, the work of Sansovino, 27 is where gold and silver are beaten
and formed, and deposits are housed there. Some magistrates are appointed

Suetonius, Life of Caesar Augustus 32.2.

26 

Jacopo d’Antonio Sansovino built the rusticated Zecca across from the Doge’s Palace in
27 

Venice (1537-1547); it now houses the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana where Barbaro’s own
manuscripts (ms. Marc. It. IV, 37, 5133 and ms. Marc. It. IV, 152, 5106) are conserved.
pp. 221-222 359

to the mint, both for the care of coins and for the deposits, and both amount
to a tremendous sum of scudi.
Similarly, the prisons are beneath the palace conjoined to the richest and
best-loved church [i.e., the Doge’s Palace, conjoined to the Basilica of San
Marco] at the head of the spacious square. In ancient times there were three
sorts of prisons. One was for those who were misguided and immodest, who
were kept there until they were educated. Now this one is given [p. 222] to
the insane. Another was for the debtors, and this too is used among us. The
third was where the perfidious and criminal men stayed who were either
already condemned or were awaiting sentence. These sorts are sufficient for
the crimes and failings of men born of either immodesty, or contumacy,
or perversity. To immodesty is given the first sort of prison; to contumacy,
the second; to perversity the third. I don’t wish here to describe the prisons
where the martyrs were put, or those built by the cruellest of tyrants, such
as Ezzellino da Romano28 and others who wanted to torment the miserable
citizens, but I will mention only the heights and the thicknesses of the walls
and the strength and the lowness of the doors that are required by prisons so
that there is no means of escape. Some make the doors double and of iron,
the vaults extremely high, the walls of hard, large stones. What matters most
is that extremely vigilant, faithful guards are appointed and that the prisons
are kept (I would put it this way) in the heart of the city. Alberti would have
the first kind of prisons be the most spacious; the second more restricted;
and the third—that of the criminals—the most restricted of all, according to
the degree of the crimes.29 Here, in many places in our city we have prisons
called cassoni, in which are placed those who have been taken in the night for
bearing arms or for some other less than honest deed. Different magistrates
also have their prisons. Ancus Martius built the prison in the middle of the
forum; to this Servius Tullius later added a deep cave called the Tulliana.
This was like the latomie30 of Syracuse into which you went down for a dis-
tance of twenty feet. It was walled on all sides by extremely high and strong
walls, dark, horrible, and smelly. Also in Rome, where the Theatre of Mar-
cellus is, was the prison of plebeians built by the decemvir Appius Claudius,31

28 
Ezzelino III da Romano (1194–1259), feudal lord in the March of Treviso.
29 
Alberti (1485, 5.13); (1988, pp. 139-140).
30 
A latomia (pl. latomie) was a cave carved out of rock or stone used as a prison.
31 
This is recounted by Livy, Ab urbe condita (The History of Rome, vol. I) 3.58.
360 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

who, condemned to remain there for life, killed himself. There are vestiges of
that prison near the church of San Nicola in Carcere.
The forum was for the litigants; the curia was for the senators; the
comitium was where the magistrates were appointed, from which the days
designated for this were called dies comitiales. The comitium was first without
a roof, was then roofed the year when Hannibal entered Italy, and was then
rebuilt by Julius Caesar. This was the place of the wild fig tree32 near the
base of the Palatine Hill, and the comitium was a large part of the forum.
In our city we give the name ‘Great Council’ to that place where numerous
members of the nobility gather to appoint magistrates.
Let us come to the curia, which we call the senate; the senators were the
pregadi—that is, ‘the requested’—because in ancient times messengers were
sent to the homes of the nobles to request them to come to consult on matters
of state. The ancients used to meet to deliberate in the temples, and this was
the origin of the names of the Temple of Juno Moneta, the senatulum and the
curia. Curia was also the name of the place where the priests negotiated and
procured the things needed for religion, such as the old curia. But the curia
where the senate met was different, like the Curia Hostilia built by Tullius
Hostilius over the old curia built by Romulus. The curia built by Pompey was
in front of his theatre, where Julius Caesar was killed by the conspirators.
But let us come to Vitruvius, who has the symmetry of the curia more
at heart than the rest. He would have it that if the curia is to be square, then
the height will be a square and a half. This sesquialteran ratio is much com-
mended by Vitruvius, but more in comparing the width to the length than
comparing the height to the length. If the shape is longer than it is wide,
then he would have us take the sum of the width and length together and of
the half of that make the height. But he does not say how much the width
and length should be, because he said that this depends on the dignity of the
city and its inhabitants. For now ‘cities’ is how I want to interpret that word
municipia, about which I said enough in the first book.33 If many must enter
the curia because the city is large and populous, the curia must be made large
and capacious. Because during consulting controversies arise, and it is neces-
sary that men rise to express their opinions and dispute the matters, Vitruvius
gives us a good recommendation so that the voice can be heard: he would
32 
The ficus ruminalis, a wild fig tree whose symbolism is related to the Roman myth of
Romulus, Remus, and the she-wolf.
33 
See Barbaro, p. 44.
pp. 222-223 361

have it that at mid-height there be cornices all the way around that project
out so that the voice is not lost in the heights of the curia. What carpentry34
and marmorino35 are, we will say in the seventh book. This concludes the
forum with all those bodies of buildings which are close to and conjoined
with it. Read Alberti in the eighth book at the ninth chapter, where you will
find more extensive material.

Chapter III
On the theatre

[p. 223] (Vitruvius) [V.III.1] Having furnished the forum it is necessary to select
a very healthy place for the theatre where, on the days that are consecrated to the
gods, the games are held. The rationale of healthy places is explained in the first
book, when we dealt with the making of the walls around the city. Since those who
come to see the games with their wives and children stay there for pleasure and
delight, their bodies not moving, their veins are open and the winds enter them,
which coming from places that are marshy or otherwise infected, with their spirits
they cause great damage. So it is necessary to be diligent in finding places for the the-
atre that avoid all defects. [V.III.2] In addition to this, it is necessary to ensure that
the theatre is not exposed to the noonday rays since when the sun fills the roundness
of the theatre, the air in the curvature cannot escape; circling around, it heats up
and, inflamed, cooks and reduces the humours of the bodies. This is why it is very
important to avoid harmful places and select those that are healthy and good.
(Barbaro) Just as the treatment of the forum embraced the basilica, the
aerarium, the prison, and the curia, so too the treatment of the theatre em-
braces many things, about which Vitruvius reasons in this and other chap-
ters. This is worthy of observation because there are many fine and difficult
practices and subtle considerations, as will be seen distinctly in their proper
place. Following then the usual divisions, we will say that some spectacles
are for the delight of times of peace and leisure; others are aimed at the study
of war and negotiations. The former reawakens the vigour of the intellect

34 
In Book II Barbaro translates Vitruvius’s intestina opera as opere di legname, carpentry
work; see Barbaro, p. 90; Vitruvius II.IX.7; it is not mentioned in Book VII.
35 
Vitruvius’s albariis operibus is translated as biancheggiamento, marmorino; see Barbaro, pp.
313-314; Vitruvius VII.II.
362 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and the mind and the latter excites the vitality of force and courage, but both
have the same intention—that is, everything about them is aimed at the or-
nament and wellbeing of the nation—so it is of the highest importance that
nothing dishonest or lascivious be introduced into the games and spectacles.
Now we will describe both manners of spectacles. In the first, which is for
the delight of peaceful times, are introduced the poets, musicians, and ac-
tors. In the second, which regard the studies of war, are performed different
kinds of duels and contests having to do with bodily strength and dexterity.
To the former is dedicated the theatre, a name which means both ‘specta-
cle’ and ‘a place to watch’. To the latter, which are spectacles of agility and
dexterity such as running or jumping, is dedicated the circus. To events such
as assaults and fights against animals or men is dedicated the amphitheatre.
There are some things that are proper to all of these spectacles: first, that
they are horn-shaped and curved; next, that they have an open space in the
middle; and finally, that they have steps all around and raised places where
people can sit and watch. They are different in design, because the theatre
is like a waning moon while the circus is curved into a very long, extended
shape that is comfortable for chariots and running horses. It was also the
custom to fill it with water and have naval battles there. It is true that the
circus by nature does not have porticoes. They say that the circus was made
in imitation of heavenly things; thus it had twelve entrances for the twelve
signs of the zodiac and seven metae for the seven planets, which were dis-
tributed in the middle of the length of the plane from east to west at some
distance from each other, where the two- and four-wheeled chariots raced
in the middle of the spaces of the circus, running as the sun and the moon
run through the zodiac. They used no more than twenty-four spears, because
twenty-four hours is the revolution of the heavens. Some were divided into
four lanes: one green, symbolising spring; another pink, symbolising sum-
mer; the third white, symbolising autumn; and the last dark grey, symbol-
ising winter. The place where the races began was called the carcere; we call
it the starting post. Some do not distinguish between the circus, the hip-
podrome, and the catodrome. The amphitheatre was made of two theatres
joined together at their faces. These forms were all taken from the use of the
things that were performed there.
So, to treat [p. 224] the theatre distinctly and in detail, I will tell to
what purpose all of its distribution is intended, leaving aside the part of
things that are common to all buildings, which are the healthiness of the
p. 224 363

place, the foundations, the open place, and other things that ought to be
considered in all edifices built for watching. We must consider the people
who go there and the games that are held. So, with regard to the people, we
find first of all a great crowd composed of nobility and commoners who all
arrive at the same time, remain there, and perhaps all leave at the same time,
so that what is required are many entrances, many steps up, and many exits.
In addition to this, because the time spent seated and watching is long, it is
necessary that there be comfortable seats, and that there be one place for the
nobility to sit and another place for the commoners. The nobility will have
their seats on the lower part so that they are not offended by the stench that
rises with the air caused by the crowd assembled there. The commoners will
sit high up, and all will be seated so that they can see and hear comfortably.
The people who recite must have places where they dress and prepare to re-
cite, and places where they recite, and so in theatres it is necessary to provide
such places. Then, regarding the games, we come to the consideration of the
overall shape. In theatres poems are recited and music played, and it is nec-
essary to give a shape to the theatre such that everyone can clearly hear the
sounds and stories. For this it is useful to know the movement of the voice:
how it rises and falls, how it slows down, how it is left free so that it can
arrive to the ears of the listeners equally. From this is born the consideration
of harmony, of which we will speak in its place. Led by this consideration,
Vitruvius has with the greatest of diligence described the distribution of the
theatre, beginning with the foundations and arriving at the very top. So,
first select a healthy place and build the theatre inside the city and the circus
outside. The healthy place to be selected is turned away from the heat of the
sun and from the harmful winds, for the reason that Vitruvius says. It is
necessary to build good foundations, so Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [V.III.3] It is easier to build in the hills but if the foundations are
built in a flat or marshy place by necessity, then it is necessary that these be below
ground, and that the piles and substructures be built as was described above in the
third book for the foundations of temples.
(Barbaro) He did well to say ‘in a flat or marshy place by necessity’ because
he advised us above that we must not build the theatre in an unhealthy place.
But necessity has no rules, so why can’t it be in a place that is marshy and
healthy? It is said that the marshes of Altino and Aquileia are healthy, as are
today those of Venice, where in the lagoons all kinds of great buildings are
built with admirable skill.
364 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) (V.III.3 cont.) Above the foundations are to be built, from the
ground, the steps of stone or marble.
(Barbaro) ‘From the ground ’: that is, immediately on top of the founda-
tions. ‘The steps’: you see, the first consideration after the healthiness of the
place is to accommodate the people. Thus the gradations must be built right
on the ground, in stone or in marble. This pomp in building was very far
from the roughness of antiquity. As Ovid says:

You first the games, O Romulus, did attain

When to assist your ladies fair,
From the Sabines the Virgins you did retain.
Then were lifted no brushes of paint where
The veils were hung; nor did you ordain,
To make the theatre, marbles of veins rare
From some mountain; nor were you so vain
That you painted the pulpita, but left them bare.
Upon tussocks did the company settle.
Simply was the scene confected.
In the dense woods, adorned with nettle,
The shaggy heads of the people collected
Were protected from the sun’s fierce fettle.36

The country people used to gather on holidays in the villages to make

various sacrifices and hold rustic games. This custom was so pleasing to the
Athenians that they were the first to introduce them in the city. They gave
the name ‘theatre’ to that place where those games were held. Later the
Romans amused themselves with similar customs and they too wanted the-
atres in the city. At first they didn’t make them magnificent, tall and of
stone, but rather of wood; even though on some occasions they spent a lot,
[p. 225] they were still built of wood. We read37 that the aedile M. Scaurus
once built a theatre of wood for just one month, which could hold eighty
thousand people, had a scaena three orders high, and had three hundred

36 
This is Barbaro’s own, rather loose translation of lines from Ovid’s Ars Amatoria, or The Art
of Love (Book I, lines 101-109, Primus sollicitos fecisti, Romule, ludos / Cum iuvit viduos rapta
Sabina viros/...). My English translation here is aimed at preserving the meter, the rhyme
scheme, and the meaning of his translation.
37 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.2.
p. 225 365

and sixty marble columns. Those of the first, lowest level were thirty-eight
feet high. The lower part of the scaena was marble; the middle part, glass;
the highest, gilded; and between the columns, for adornment, there were
three thousand metal figures. This theatre was the largest that had ever been
built, so that Curio, who wanted to have one built for the exequies of his
father, being able to add nothing in size, turned for assistance to industry,
making two theatres, both of which were on pivots that were balanced and
suspended so that they could be easily turned. Under those theatres were
the houses and covered spaces for the men who turned those great machines
of the theatres with pulleys and wheels. It was a marvellous thing and (as
Pliny says38) those people, who were the conquerors of the world, applauded
a little at their own risk because if one of the beams of that machine had
broken, the whole building could have been ruined with results that rivalled
those of the Battle of Cannae. These theatres turned their curvatures one
against the other, so that the voices of the recitals would not mix together.
With the people still sitting in them, their open ends then turned and joined
together to make a complete amphitheatre, used after midday for the fights
of the gladiators. As I was considering the way Pliny would have it—that
each of those theatres moved on a pivot, and that an amphitheatre was made
of the two together—and seeing no less daring than ingeniousness in this
fabrication, and having communicated the difficulties that I had with it to
Mr Francesco Marcolini, an ingenious investigator of fine machines, I re-
ceived from him with admirable industriousness the invention of two points
in which the pivots could be placed, making it so that the theatres, in turn-
ing, did not touch each other. To state it briefly, these points were the ends
of the diameters of the orchestra. It is true that good-sized bronze wheels
had to be located at several points so that the theatres could be supported on
and carried by them. Cardano, in the book of subtleties, proposes another
way to move those theatres, to which I refer the reader.39 Then Pompey was
next in wanting to make one that would last for a longer time.40 He built it
of stone and ornamented it magnificently, and it was very famous. Besides
that, one was built in Lyon by Marcellus, the son of Octavia, the sister of
Augustus, capable of holding eighty thousand people. Another one was built

38 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.24.
39 
Cardano (1550, pp. 273v-274r).
40 
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (Pompey the Great), who dedicated his theatre in 55 B.C.
366 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

by Cornelius Balbus, again at the request of Augustus, who was desirous of

seeing the city finely adorned with buildings and edifices, as Vitruvius says
in the epistle.41 But let us return to Vitruvius.
(Vitruvius) [V.III.3 cont.] Over the foundations must be raised from the
ground the steps of stone or marble. [V.III.4] The belts should be in proportion to the
height of the theatre, no higher than that which is the width of the belt along which
one walks around. For if these are made higher they will send the voice to the upper
part, and make it so that the words cannot be entirely understood and determined
with their meanings by those who are sitting in the seats that are above the belts. In
sum it is thus necessary that we govern ourselves such that by drawing a line from
the lowest to the highest step, all of the ends of the steps and all the corners will be
touched by that line, and thus the voice will not be blocked.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius says here about the gradations where the
spectators sit must be carefully heeded. Even though I have said ‘steps’, what
I mean is what is meant by Vitruvius with the name that he uses, grada-
tiones—that is, the entire structure and building of the inclined part. I say
that the praecinctiones, which I have called ‘belts’, are simply the divisions in
the steps by surfaces on which we walk. Vitruvius would have these made
as high as the surface where we walk is wide. Vitruvius calls these surfaces
itinera, and provides the rationale why these belts should be that high.
If the belt is higher than its surface is wide, then it is certain that the
voice will strike it, because it cannot end on the straight line on the upper
part, being bounced off and broken by the height of the belt. So Vitruvius
gives us a remedy, which is that a line—that is, a cord, line or iron wire— is
drawn which, going from the bottom up to the top, touches all of the corners
of the steps, since [p. 226] as the cord is not blocked by one step that is high-
er than another, so neither will the voice be blocked, but will rise equally
from low to high, and along with the sound the meaning of the words will
be clear as well. Vitruvius does not give us a rule here for the height of the
theatre in proportion. So we must observe that theatres were made by some
so that they were as high as the middle plane, because they say that the voice
was lost in theatres that were lower, and it was difficult to hear in those that
were higher. But this will be more quickly done according to the site, the
drawing, and the rules that we will give below. Here is another rule that
regards the people who attend. He says:

41 
A reference to the Preface to Book I, Barbaro, p. 6; Vitruvius I.Pref.2.
p. 226 367

(Vitruvius) [V.III.5] It is necessary to provide many and spacious entrances,

and make them such that those above do not meet those below, but that each part
is straight and continuous without curves or winding, in order that people, in
leaving the performances, are not pushed and shoved but can exit in all directions
without impediments.
(Barbaro) This rationale regarding the exits also applies to the entranc-
es. The people went up by covered steps that opened out onto the surfaces of
the belts mentioned earlier. These were on either side of the stairs, some large
and open, others straighter and covered—the former used by the slower and
more mature, and the latter used by those who were more curious and quick-
er—such that they were provided for all ages and all tastes.
(Vitruvius) [V.III.5 cont.] It must be diligently observed that the place is not
muffled, so that the voice can freely, clearly, and quickly wander, and this can be done
if a place is selected where resonance is unimpeded. [V.III.6] Voice is spirit which
flows and strikes the air sensitive to hearing. This moves with infinite revolutions,
not unlike when in still water, a stone being thrown into it, are born innumerable
circles of waves, growing larger little by little as they move away from the centre, as
far as they can if they are not interrupted by the narrowness of the place or by some
obstacle that does not permit those turns of water to extend as far as they are able.
(Barbaro) The voice is sound caused by the percussion of the air, which
is the spirit sent out differently by natural instruments of man.42 The move-
ment of the air, struck by the spirit, is circular, like that of water when a
stone is thrown into it. But it differs in this: that the turns made in the water
are more readily called circles in the plane of the water, and those of the air,
because in the air they can turn in all directions, can be called spheres. They
are like those in water, however, because in both cases, if they are unimped-
ed, the second is born of the first, the third of the second, the fourth from
the third and so on as long as they continue to enlarge and become thinner
until they arrive to the end. They thus go from the first to the last, growing
increasingly larger, because the part that is struck moves the next, and widens.
This is what Vitruvius means when he says:

‘Spirit’ is forced air; it differs from still air and wind. This sentence has undergone various
42 

revisions. Cfr. Barbaro (1556, p. 139): La voce è spirito, che scorre, & percossa dello aere, che
perviene al senso dell’udito (‘Voice is spirit that flows and strikes the air, which arrives to the
sense of hearing’); Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 171, line 57): Vox est sonus exictu aeris proveniens,
quatenu ab humanis organis diversis modis spirtus extra mittitur (‘Voice is sound produced
by the striking of the air coming forth, which spirit by the human organs is sent out in a
variety of ways’).
368 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [V.III.6 cont.] Thus when they are restricted by some obstacle, the
first ones, in doubling back, perturb the designations of those that follow. [V.III.7]
The voice moves by the same rationale and turnings, but in water the turns move
in width on the same plane, while the voice in the air expands in both width and
in height, and rises up little by little. Therefore as in water with the designations of
the waves, so to in the voice; when there is no obstacle, the first does not perturb the
second nor those that follow but all in their resonance arrive to the ears, both those
that are low and those that are high. [V.III.8] So the ancient architects, following
the footprints of nature in seeking the rationale of the voice, made the steps of the
theatres in such a way that they went up in an orderly fashion, and attempted, by
means of regulated mathematics and musical rationale, to make it so that each voice
that came out of the scaena would arrive clearly and sweetly to the spectators’ ears.
(Barbaro) If then the voice moves in a circular fashion through the air,
who can doubt that the round, circular shape is best for the theatre? If the
theatre were of an angular shape the voice would not arrive equally to the
ears; some would hear better because they were closer, while others would
hear badly because far away. So here, then, is how the architect must know
both music and nature, [p. 227] but much more so because of what follows,
as we will see below. Vitruvius thus says that the ancient architects used
the regulated rationale of the mathematicians, saying ‘regulated mathematics
and musical rationale’, intending by canonical or regulated ‘according to the
rationales of number’, which expert musicians are accustomed to using and
which comprises speculation and practice. In order that the place be more
resonant, in addition to the circular shape of the theatre, in addition to the
correct ascension of the steps whose corners are all touched by the same line,
they made above the last of these, on the highest steps, a portico around
the theatre with ample openings in the front but closed behind, so that the
voice, being drawn into those wide spaces, resounded under those vaults as it
resounds in caverns and in instruments that have a large body. Vitruvius will
talk about these porticoes in their proper place,43 so we will observe what he
has to say.
(Vitruvius) [V.III.8 cont.] Just as the organs in their plates of brass or horn
are made perfect with the diesis to the clarity of the sounds of the strings, so too the
rationales of the theatres have been ordered according to harmonic rationales by the
ancients for the increase of the voice.

43 
See Barbaro, p. 252.
p. 227 369

(Barbaro) That is, as according to the rationales of the strings and their
sounds all the instruments of reeds and organs are tuned, so too, using the
harmonic rationale of the augmentation of voice the ancients ordered the
rationales of the theatres. That is to say that the diesis, which is the smallest
voice and the first element of the tuning of instruments, dictated the rule
for tuning pipe instruments. In saying this, Vitruvius begins to reason about
harmony. He defines it and gives its figures and descriptions interpreting
the ideas of Aristoxenus, about which we need not overly concern ourselves
because Aristoxenus attributed all to the ears, conceding nothing to reason.
He divided the tone into two equal parts, something that was not approved
by the good experts in harmony; finally he is a licentious and dubious author.
Vitruvius thus says:

Chapter IV
On harmony

[p. 227] (Vitruvius) [V.IV.1] Harmony is music literature, obscure and difficult,
and especially for those who have no knowledge of Greek letters, since if we want
to explain harmony it is also necessary to use Greek words, because some elements
of it do not have Latin names. So, as far as I am able, I will in the most open way
possible interpret from the writings of Aristoxenus, and subscribe to his description
and draw the terms of tones, so that those who listen with diligence can more easily
understand.
(Barbaro) To music appertains both consideration of and working with
those numbers that refer to others when sound is added. Thus we divide mu-
sic into two principal parts. One of these resides entirely in the judgement of
reason—and of that Aristoxenus says little44 —such as that which considers
the nature, the difference, and the properties of all proportion and all con-
sonance and makes distinctions between those things which, due to their
subtlety, cannot be judged by the senses. The other consists in the operations
and practicing in various ways both with the voice and with instruments,
and compositions that will delight the wearied intellect of men and supply

44 
The work referred to is Aristoxenus’s Harmonics, which was translated into Latin as
Harmonicorum elementorum (Aristoxenus 1562).
370 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

gentle instruction for life (as can be seen in poetry), which is a part of that
music of the principles.45 Music, therefore, is reason and exercise of the har-
monic nature. Harmonic nature is that which can be adapted together with
sounds. Reason does not operate—that is, it does not discourse—without
the occasion of the sense of hearing because it does not make a judgement
of things that it does not first know. It is thus necessary to conjoin the two
parts such that first the sense of hearing is used, and then the intellect fol-
lows. Hence Boethius rightly says that it is a fine thing to know how, by
what means, what a thing it is, and what thing is produced by that which
is common to all living beings.46 The layman entertains no thoughts about
these things; the learned argue over them; the connoisseurs take delight in
them. So [p. 228] music, which delights the mind and the ears, is conjoined
to morality and to speculation.47 Thus, in order for sound to arrive sweetly
accompanied to the ears, in order that those turns that voices make in the
air do not impede each other with disproportionate movements but sweetly
accompany and help each other, and in order for the mind, led by the sweet-
ness of the sound, to consider the cause of such sweetness it is first necessary
to consider the principle from which the voice takes its attitude of being reg-
ulated and falling into harmony; with what movements it moves; and how to
arrive at the perfect composition. To do this it was first necessary to say what
a voice is, and how it moves in the air. Vitruvius has shown that to us above,
and the rest is here below.
(Vitruvius) [V.IV.2] The voice, when it bends with mutations, sometimes
becomes low-pitched and sometimes high-pitched. It moves in two ways, one of
which has continuous effects, and the other distinct. The continuous does not stop
at either the terminations or any other place, and does not make its terminations
apparent or the intermediate intervals manifest, as when in speaking we say

45 
The ‘music of the principles’ should be understood as referring to the principles of music as
conceived by the Greeks. I am grateful to Maurizio D’Alessandro for discussions about this.
46 
‘That which is common to all living beings’ is the ability to perceive via the senses.
See Boethius, De institutione musica 1.1: Ominum quidem perception sensuum ita sponte ac
naturaliter quibusdam viventibus adest, ut sine his animal non possit intelligi. Eng. trans. Bower
(1967, p. 31): ‘An ability to perceive through the senses is so spontaneously and naturally
present in certain living creatures that an animal without senses cannot be imagined’.
47 
This too comes from Boethius, De institutione musica 1.1: musica vero on modo speculation
verum etiam moraitati coniuncta sit. Eng. trans. Bower (1967, p. 32): ‘music is related not only
to speculation but to morality as well’.
p. 228 371

‘Sol – Fior – Mar – Ben’.48 So in that way it is not known either where a sound
begins or where it ends; nor does the fact that the high has become low and the low
high appear to the ear. The contrary happens when the voice moves with distance,
because when the voice, in mutating, bends, it comes to stop at the termination of
some sound and then mutates into another, and doing this often times here and
there it appears inconstant to the senses, as happens in songs in which, by bending
the voices, we make the song vary. So when the voice is turned with intervals,
where it begins and where it ends appears in manifest terminations of sounds.
(Barbaro) This definition is made (as Aristoxenus says49) to separate the
voice that is aimed at entering into harmony from that which is not. The
voice therefore moves in two ways. First, it appears to the ear (as it in fact
is) continuous, and never stops at any form of termination.50 This, due to
its effect, is called ‘rational’, because it is with that movement of the voice
that we usually speak and reason, without altering the voice. Then the voice
moves such that it appears distinct, and moves from one degree of height and
arrives to another, and mutates into various terminations of sounds. Hence
from this effect is it called ‘distinct’; it is of melodic use—that is, it is used
by those who sing or recite verse. So when we sing or recite verse, we raise
and lower the voice distinctly, stopping it and taking it up again so that the
sense of hearing knows it as distinct. However, Boethius would have it that
in reciting verses a middle voice is used, a mixture of continuous and dis-
tinct.51 The voice that is continuous and of a single pitch does not fall under
the consideration of music, because where there is no high and low there is
no consonance, but the distinct voice is subject to the consideration of music.
However, distinct sound is not suitable for consonance unless it first arrives

48 
From the point of view of translation, Barbaro’s rendition of Vitruvius’s four sounds here
is interesting. The four Latin words are sol, lux, flos and vox, literally translated into Italian
as sole, luce, fiore and voce (sun, light, flower and voice), but all of these are multisyllabic
where Vitruvius’s are monosyllabic. To get around this difficulty, Barbaro has adapted two
of the terms, fior and sol, using forms of them common to verse; the other two he has simply
replaced with monosyllabic sounds.
49 
See Aristoxenus, Harmonics 1.18; Macran (1902, p. 177).
50 
A ‘termination’ of sound is a determined stopping place; essentially it is a note, but ‘note’
as such is only defined below, on Barbaro, p. 235.
51 
Boethius, De institutions musica 1.12 defines three categories of voice: vox continua
(speaking voice), vox dicitur cum intervallo suspensa (the voice used for plainsong), and the
tertia differentia, the voice referred to here by Barbaro, that used by those reciting heroic
poetry.
372 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

to a certain place,52 as happens to many bodies that do not fall within the
rationale of weight unless they have a certain quantity and size, or are the
subject of perspective unless they have that certain amount which enables
them to be seen and is the beginning of being seen. Nature does not allow
for minimal differences to be subject to the senses of men. Thus, sound that
is distinct and reduced to a certain and sensible quantity is the beginning of
harmony, as unity is the beginning of number; the point the beginning of the
line; the instant the beginning of time. Nature has defined the voices of man
such that the first place of the voice is the lowest and the most low-pitched
that anyone could have. If the voice made only one sound, and remained
there, there would be no harmony; voices must mutate, ascend, and bend to
various terminations such that the lowest corresponds to the highest accord-
ing to proportion. Therefore the way of ascending, or rather, the ascent, is
referred to as ‘space’, ‘distinction’, or ‘interval’. With respect to the notes, the
comparison differs according to the interval: when the voice ascends from
low to high we say that it has become more intense, more acute, and higher,
but when it goes from high to low we say that it has gone back, gone down,
and become lower. Since nature has given the beginning of the voice to the
lowest part [p. 229] that music makes use of, then by ascending, as though
by degrees, we find the greatest degree to which the voice can naturally and
comfortably rise. What nature intends for the highest is not taken from art;
rather, that sound of the voice that is the highest and can correspond to
the first [i.e., the lowest] in the most perfect consonance [i.e., by octaves]
is found below that, in such a way that if the voice ascends beyond that, it
becomes strident and does not arrive at any other consonance.53 Just as we
do not arrive from the first to the last—that is, from the lowest to the high-
est—without intermediates, so the voice, rising from the first, lowest place
to the highest that can be regulated, necessarily touches various degrees, and
those are made distinct with proportionate intervals. The order of the rising
of the voices from the lowest to the highest is called ‘system’ by the Greeks
and ‘scale’ by our scholars. However, because in practicing it is laid out over

52 
Cfr. Aristoxenus Harmonics 1.14; Macran (1902, p. 175): ‘What the voice cannot produce
and the ear cannot discriminate must be excluded from the available and practically possible
range of musical sound’.
53 
In other words, the high sounds created by instruments are above those made by the
human voice, but instrumental sounds do not set the standards; rather the standard is set by
natural voice.
p. 229 373

the hand, so it is called ‘the hand’;54 the Greeks wanted to say ‘ordered com-
position’ and our scholars ‘convenient and well composed ascent’. This ascent
is understood by means of lines and intervals that we call ‘lines’ and ‘spaces’.
Hence the scale [i.e., the musical staff] is a composition of lines and spaces
that are straight and parallel, on which are seen the notes of all songs. The
use of lines and spaces allows the distance of the ascent and descent of notes
to be known distinctly. These are simply symbols for how to send the voice
forth and the time that it must keep.
We have thus, up to now, discussed the voice suitable for melody. Vit-
ruvius, leaving out many things that Aristoxenus says along the way, arrives
at the definition of melody and says:
(Vitruvius) [V.IV.3] The manners of songs are three. The one is called harmo-
niam by the Greeks, the other chroma, the third diatonon. The enharmonic song
is conceived by art, and for that reason its singing requires gravity and no little
authority. The chromatic, adorned by subtle acuteness and frequency of modules,
makes for sweeter delight. But the diatonic, by being natural, is the easiest for the
distance of the intervals.
(Barbaro) If I were having to treat music, I would order it differently,
but I intend to follow the way proposed by Vitruvius. Manner, or genus, is a
certain compartition of the intervals and systems of the scale, which repre-
sent different ideas of harmony. We will discuss this in detail below, making
clear that which appears obscure and difficult. So, there are three genera of
melody: chromatic, diatonic, enharmonic. These take their names from how
close or how far apart the intervals are in the scales and the systems. En-
harmonic is that whose system abounds in very close, extremely small inter-
vals, and in extremely short ascents of voice; its name means something like
‘adapted and concerted’. Diatonic is so called because it abounds in intervals
that are distant in tones; its name means something like ‘going by tones’ and
in it the voice extends far. Chromatic is that which has the greatest abun-
dance of semitones in its compartition. Chroma means colour and since this
genus, like colour, mutates from the first instance, it is named for that. Of
these three genera, the closest to nature is the diatonic, because it occurs
almost by itself to everyone who sings without training. The most artful one
is the chromatic; it is the one practiced only by those who are trained, so the

54 
The mano armonica or Guidonian hand was a mnemonic device for remembering the
intervals by associating them with a position on the hand.
374 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

majority of musicians have exerted themselves in this genus, wishing always

to sweeten and soothe the soul. The enharmonic is the most efficacious, is
used only by those who excel in music, and is the most excellent of all accom-
paniments. Many do not admit this because of their deficiencies, because it
is not so easily put into use. The diatonic is severe, firm, and constant, and
demonstrates masculine customs and habits. The chromatic is soft and plain-
tive. So, when it happens that we want to make a system—that is, a scale,
which amounts to tuning an instrument—it is necessary that we know which
of the three genera we want to compartition. If the material is sweet and
mournful, the chromatic is desired; for the great and heroic, the diatonic; and
so forth with other materials to other genera or to mixtures of them. Each
of the aforementioned genera can belong to more than one special mode;
[p. 230] the particular compartitions of each genus give it a certain aspect and
different form—rather similar to the way painters use colour—so that they
can be heard according to the ideas that are wanted, and so that the imitation
of things—whether large, constant, soft, mutable, tempered, and in-between
according to their nature—is not done randomly. All beautiful effects of har-
mony consist in this. Harmony is therefore a thing that merits consideration,
although in our present day it receives but little attention. Many think that
the diatonic genus can satisfy all qualities of things; they are obstinate and
don’t want to hear any rationale, either because they think they will lose what
they have learned, or that it is impossible to observe these rules, or because
they are truly ignorant and scorn what they don’t know. I wish that this were
the place to expound the ideas and colours that are suitable for all qualities
of things according to their genera, because with a living experience of the
ear confirmed by invincible rationales, I would make such people confess
their error. But this requires too much time and greater incentive. I will only
emphasise that if they think that the diatonic genus alone can represent all
human emotions, they fool themselves greatly. So, Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [V.IV.3 cont.] These three manners are dissimilar in the disposi-
tions of the tetrachord because the tetrachords of the enharmonic genus have two
tones and two dieses. A diesis is the quarter part of the tone, and thus in a semitone
there are two dieses. In the chromatic are placed in a row two semitones, but the
third space is of three semitones. The diatonic goes with two continuous tones and
with the third space of a semitone completes the measure of its tetrachord. In this
way the tetrachords in the three genera are equalised and evened in having two
tones and a semitone.
pp. 230-231 375

(Barbaro) In all the tetrachords of every genus there are four notes,
or sounds, or degrees, however you prefer to call them. All jump to a sum
in three jumps, but differently. Thus the enharmonic rises from half of a
semitone, which is called a ‘diesis’, and this is the first degree or interval.
The second step is a rise of another half of a semitone, and then there is the
interval of one ditone. The chromatic has the first interval of a semitone, and
likewise the second, but then rises to the trisemitone. Finally the diatonic
has the first interval of a tone, the second of a tone, the third of a semitone.
Thus in every genus the tetrachord is composed of two tones and a semitone
(Fig. 5.4.1). This is what Vitruvius says: that the tetrachords are equivalent
and made equal to two tones and a semitone. So that Vitruvius is better
understood, I will explain what a tetrachord is and what an interval is, and
I will define the other terms used by him as far as I think that it satisfies the
present need, with as much brevity and clarity as possible in material that is
so difficult, obscure, and foreign to our language.

Fig. 5.4.1. [Divisions of the tetrachord] Image [p. 230]

Of scales and systems, perfect is that which, with the degrees of the
lowest and of the highest voice, contains that consonance that they all em-
brace. [p. 231] This cannot be done unless the system of the scale contains
fifteen degrees of voice and fourteen intervals. By ‘degree’ I mean the place
of the voice, be it high or low. Just as man, at the beginning in the world,
did not make the things of art perfect, but rather the sciences and doctrines
grew little by little with the additions of successors, so too the whole scale
376 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and order of voices was not discovered at the beginning and all the degrees
were formed much later.
In making musical instruments, strings and nerves of animals were
used, and these rendered the sounds proportionate. Even without any mu-
sic, a rationale was applied to a single string, dividing it numerically so that
touching that note and then a determined space above it rendered the de-
sired consonance. This form was called ‘monochord’ because it used only one
string (Fig. 5.4.2).

Fig. 5.4.2. Image and caption [p. 233]. Example of the monochord

The ancients, wanting to practise music, made instruments with more

than one string, and the instruments took their names from the number of
strings. Hence they called an instrument with four strings a ‘tetrachord’,
that with five strings a ‘pentachord’, and so on with the rest, up to the instru-
ment called the ‘pentadecachord’, which corresponds to fifteen strings and
fifteen degrees of voice, which make fourteen spaces, or intervals. Space, or
interval, is simply (as I said) the quantity of voice between two notes. This is
derived from Aristoxenus, who locates the lowness and highness of the voice
in quality of sound and not in quantity of magnitude.55 From what has been
55 
Here, in comparing quality of perceived sound to quantity of calculated ratios, Barbaro
is tacitly criticising Aristoxenus’s preference for sense perception over calculation; he will
make this criticism explicit below. Vincenzo Galilei commented on Barbaro’s assertion,
writing: si può veramente divider ciascuno intervallo musico in quante parti uguali si voglia, non
altrimenti che con il mezzo del Monocordo, perché in quel atto è considerato dal Musico il suono,
come qualitativo, & non come quantitativo, se bene Daniel Barbaro sopra Vitruvio la intende
per l’opposito (‘actually each musical interval can be divided into as many equal parts as you
like, just as in the monochord, because in that act the musician considers the sound to be
qualitative, and not quantitative, even though Daniel Barbaro commenting on Vitruvius
understands the opposite to be true’); see Galilei (1581, p. 53), my Eng. trans.
p. 231 377

said it follows that some systems are larger and some smaller; the larger ones
are those that have more degrees, and the smaller one those that have fewer.
The largest are those of the ancients, which have fifteen degrees. I say ‘of the
ancients’ because others were added later, since nothing forbids us from con-
tinuing on according to the rationale, and especially from making musical
instruments that can go higher than the human voice, which is contained
temperately within those fifteen degrees. If the human voice were to exceed
this limit, the result would be strident and structurally unsuitable, but this is
not the case in many instruments.
We have defined what an interval is and what the tetrachord is. It re-
mains to us to explain some other names in order to make comprehension
of Vitruvius smoother. These are: diesis, tone, semitone, trisemitone, and
ditone, which are the names of the intervals.
The tone is the beginning of consonance—that is, the first term and
foundation of consonance—born from the sesquioctave [i.e., 9:8] ratio. Con-
sonance is a mixture of low and high notes in proportion that arrive delight-
fully to the ears. I have said in the third book what the sesquioctave ratio
is56 —that is, when the greater contains the lesser one time plus an eighth
part of it, as nine contains eight. So, if one wants to make the notes propor-
tional, it is necessary to make the intervals proportional; and if one wants to
make the intervals proportional, numbers and their rationales must be used.
The ratio between space and space will be the same as that between note and
note. So, where the space is divided in the sesquioctave or any other numeric
ratio, the sound will have the same comparison. Thus, wanting to make a
string correspond to a tone, you will divide its length in nine parts and set
the fret under the eighth, leaving one part outside, and thus having touched
the first string, whole and unfretted, then touching next that space of the
fret, which is eight parts long, you will find that it makes you a tone. Let
the string AB be stretched over a plane and let a line underneath it on the
plane be divided, according to the length of the string, into nine parts (see
Fig. 5.4.2). I say that the part CB that leaves out one of the nine parts and
embraces eight, with the whole string, will play a tone.

56 
See Barbaro, p. 103.
378 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 5.4.3. [Examples of intervals] Image [p. 233]

Before the tone we have the unison, which is the same perpetual pitch
of voice without any ascent or descent, such as all notes have that are on the
same line or in the same space. Thus unison is not a space but is the founda-
tion of the spaces: like ut ut on the same line or re re within the same space
(Fig. 5.4.3, top).57 The tone is noted with the distance that there is between
a line and the space that follows it, or in the opposite direction, as rising
from ut to re or descending from re to ut (Fig. 5.4.3, middle). This too is
taken from Aristoxenus, who does not use number in denoting the voices to
establish the ratios but rather takes their mean difference. Thus he situates
speculation not in the voices but in their differences; this is something that is
not well thought out, because while he believes that he knows the difference
of those voices, he neither measures them nor establishes their magnitudes,
leaving all judgement to the ears.58 [p. 232] He divides the tone into two

57 
The first note of the scale, ut, was so named in the eleventh century by Guido di Arezzo,
who based the note names ut, re, mi, fa, sol, and la—known as the Aretinian syllables—on
the first syllables of the lines of the Latin hymn ‘Ut queant laxis’. Its replacement by do in
the 1600s was suggested by music theorist Giovanni Battista Doni.
58 
Barbaro is reacting to Aristoxenus’s reliance on the judgement of the ear rather than
calculated ratios. See Aristoxenus, Harmonics 2.32-33; Macran (1902, pp. 188-189): ‘Some
of [our predecessors] introduced extraneous reasoning, and rejecting the senses as inaccurate
fabricated irrational principles, asserting that height and depth of pitch consist in certain
numerical ratios and relative rates of vibration—a theory utterly extraneous to the subject
and quite at variance to the phenomena … For the student of musical science the accuracy
of sense-perception is a fundamental requirement’. Further (ibid., p. 193): ‘The apprehension
of music depends on these two faculties: sense-perception and memory’.
p. 232 379

equal parts, calling them semitones,59 and does not see that no superpartient
ratio—like the one in which the tone consists—can be divided into two
equal parts. Thus since the tone cannot be divided equally, it is divided into
two unequal parts, one of which is called the ‘minor semitone’ and the other
the ‘major semitone’ or ‘apotome’. The minor semitone is that part of the
tone by which the sesquitertian ratio exceeds two tones—that is, two sesqui-
octaves. Here is the example. You will divide the space of the length of the
string into four parts and at the end of the first place the fret; three parts of
the whole string will play a sesquitertian, because that is the way the space is
divided, from whose proportion (as I have said) the proportion of the sound
derives. If then you place over said string two tones in succession, dividing
it as said above, I say that the space between the fret where the second tone
is marked and the fret where the sesquitertian is marked will play the minor
semitone, which is the space as between mi and fa. Thus you will have four
terms, ut, re, mi and fa, and three spaces, one which is the space between ut
and re, which is a tone, the other from re to mi, which is the second tone,
and the third from mi to fa, which is a minor semitone or diesis. This is
the tetrachord of the diatonic genus, which closes the consonance born of
the sesquitertian ratio, which our scholars call a fourth, and which goes up
from ut to fa in two tones and a minor semitone. The major semitone is the
remainder of the tone—that is, that by which three tones exceed the sesquit-
ertian. So you will place over the string three tones in succession, leaving
the sesquitertian in its place, and you will have, from the sesquitertian to the
remainder of the tone, the major semitone. Therefore, this name ‘semitone’
does not mean precisely half a tone, just as a semivowel60 doesn’t divide a
word’s sound precisely in two, but is something less and does not arrive at
being a vowel and have a voice of its own, as vowels do. We discussed this
in the fourth book, in speaking of half-metopes and half-triglyphs.61 I say
then that the tone and semitone, although they do not make harmony and
consonance, must nonetheless both be considered because they distinguish

59 
See Aristoxenus, Harmonics 2.57; Macran (1902, pp. 207-208): ‘Now as the excess of the
latter interval [i.e., a fifth] over the former [i.e., a fourth] is a tone, and as it is here divided
into two equal parts; and as each of these equal parts which is thus proved to be a semitone
is at the same time the excess of the Fourth over a ditone’.
60 
A semivowel is a kind of approximant used in phonetics to describe sounds that are not
quite distinctly divided.
61 
See Barbaro, p. 173.
380 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the intervals of the consonance and measure the musical means, because the
solid consonances are tied together by both of them, and finally because to
both are attributed the force of moving the emotions. The numbers of a tone
are 8 and 9;62 of two tones, 81, 72, and 64, which are made by multiplying
8 by itself, 9 by itself, and 8 by 9. The numbers of three tones are 729, 648,
576, and 512, made by multiplying 81, 72, and 64 by 9 and 64 by 8. In this
way the tones go forward with the numbers, in which the proportion of the
greater to the lesser is always a sesquioctave. Tone therefore is as from ut to
re, from line to space. Ditone is as going up from ut to mi and going down
from mi to ut, from the line to the second space [recte line63], as long as there
is not a semitone in between (Fig. 5.4.3, bottom). This delights the ears,
though it is not a consonance, and is called a major third. Trisemitone is
as from re to fa going up; it is also called sesquitone and is the interval that
embraces a tone and a minor semitone. It is not a consonance because con-
sonances are not in a superpartient ratio and the sesquitone (as we shall say
later) is a superpartient ratio. Our scholars call this a minor third and it is the
space between one line and the next, in between which there is a semitone.
The major semitone (as I have said) is what remains of three sesquioctaves
when the sesquitertian is taken away and was called ‘apotome’ by the Greeks.
It is alien to the diatonic genus because it is not admitted in compounding,
nor does it have a place between the strings because it cannot correspond to
any string to make any consonance.
All of the aforementioned intervals agree in this: that they all serve
music. The tone and the semitone serve as foundations for the binding of
tetrachords; the trisemitone and the ditone serve because they are used in
the compartition of the genera and because they are delightful to hear. Many
sounds that are not consonances are delightful, such as the major third and
the minor third, and the minor sixth made from the semitone with the dia-
pente—that is, the addition of a semitone to the sesquialteran. This is made
going from any line to the third space and comprises two minor semitones
and three tones, as from mi to fa [recte do], six steps. There is also the tone
with the diapente, which goes from any line to the third space and comprises
only one semitone and four tones, as from ut to la, six steps; this is called

62 
The text shows numbers as numerals and written out, for the sake of consistency and to
facilitate understanding, in what follows only numerals are used.
63 
That is, from ut to mi, or sol to si (not from mi to sol, because the semitone between mi and
fa is between them).
pp. 232-233 381

major sixth. There is also the minor seventh, which embraces [p. 233] two
minor semitones and four tones, as from ut to mi,64 from one space to the
fourth space, or from one line to the fourth line. There are many other spac-
es that are more easily collocated in practice than in the rules, such as the
ninth, the tenth, the eleventh and the twelfth, but we shall leave this to the
care of someone else. We will discuss consonances below.
Having laid sound foundations, we will explain Vitruvius. He says that
there are different layouts of the tetrachords and the compartitions in the
three genera, and the reason why is this: they are applied to different inten-
tions and ideas according to whether the things are low or great or in-be-
tween. He then defines the layout of each. He says that the layout of the
tetrachord in the enharmonic genus, in keeping with the demands of har-
mony, contains two dieses and two tones. What he means is that the ascent
from the low to the high is done by going from one half of a semitone, which
makes the first interval, to the other half, which makes the second, and from
this you go up to the interval of a ditone. Thus this tetrachord comprises the
consonance called a ‘diatessaron’, which we call a ‘fourth’.

Fig. 5.4.4. [Divisions of the tetrachord] Image [p. 235]

Barbaro’s mi here is not an error, since the syllable si (or ti in English—‘a drink with jam
64 

and bread’) to denote the seventh was adopted only after his time.
382 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Therefore, the ordering of the enharmonic tetrachord established that

the first voice from the low part goes from the ratio sesquiquadragesima
quinta [i.e., 46:4565] to the sesquivigesima tertia [i.e., 24:23] and then to the
sesquiquartan [i.e., 5:4] and goes back by the same degrees, comprising the
first tetrachord (Fig. 5.4.4, top row, left). This procession goes up from diesis
to diesis and then to the ditone in its intervals, the diesis being half of the
minor semitone, which proceeds from dividing the difference between the
terms of its relationship such that the major semitone is located in the high
part and the minor semitone in the lower. In Greek the diesis is also called
tetartemorion, so Vitruvius says that the diesis is the quarter part of the tone
and that there are two dieses in the semitone. Thus the relationship of the
terms of the minor semitone is 13 because the minor semitone consists in
the ratio that these two numbers have: 256 and 243, the difference between
which is 13 (Fig. 5.4.5).

Fig. 5.4.5. Image [p. 233]

This is divided into two parts, a larger one which is 7 and the other,
smaller one, which is 6. The larger one is put on the high side, the smaller on
the low side. You can thus see how small are the intervals of the enharmonic
melody, which is barely capable of being regulated by reason since it is not
comprehended by the senses. Thus, no other colour or compartition of this
genus is found except the one described, by reason of the minimal intervals.
Now, we might ask why we take the diesis to mean the half of the minor

65 
Unwieldy to us today, these Latin names were unwieldy to our predecessors as well. They
were sometimes abbreviated with numbers to make them easier to understand. Zarlino, for
example, abbreviates sesquiquadregisma quinta as sesqui 45. See Zarlino (1562, figure on p.
117).
pp. 233-234 383

semitone and not half of the major semitone. I say because the consonance
rendered by the tetrachord is the diatessaron—that is, the fourth—which
comprises two tones and a minor semitone.
The chromatic tetrachord [p. 234] is compounded of intervals that con-
tain the minor semitone and a sesquitone or trisemitone. Because it has larg-
er and more comfortable distances and intervals than the enharmonic genus,
it can stand having two colours. [So, in the first, which is given to the chro-
matic, it has two.66] In the first, which is given to the soft chromatic, it goes
up from the sesquivigesima septima [i.e., 27:26] through the sesquiquarta
decima [i.e., 15:14] to the sesquiquintan [i.e., 6:5], and goes back down in
the opposite way (Fig. 5.4.4, top row, second from left). In any case the
extremes of the tetrachord give the fourth, nor can it render any other con-
sonance passing though these intervals, as can be seen by the rules that we
have given in the third book dealing with ratios. The tetrachord composed
in this way is called ‘moveable’ because it is mutable, plaintive, and emotion-
al. In the second colour of this so-called chromatic genus, the highest part
is that which from the sesquiventesima una [i.e., 20:21] goes through the
sesquiundecima [i.e., 12:11] to the sesquisesta [i.e., 7:6] (Fig. 5.4.4, top row,
second from right); with this colour, which is called ‘syntonic’, the afore-
mentioned consonance is concluded in the same way. It is called syntonic
in contrast to the soft because it is less mutable than the soft one, and less
plaintive and emotional. Here we must consider how necessary it is to bring
into concert the systems and scales according to the intention, in order to
endow music with that excellence for which the ancients are so well known.
This is followed by the tetrachord of the diatonic genus, which, because
it has greater intervals, can be coloured in several ways; in fact, it has five
colours: soft, more intense, equable, syntonic, and diatonic. The first, which
is the softest and most subdued, goes from the lowest part, a sesquiseptima
[i.e., 8:7], through a sesquinona [i.e., 10:9] to a sesquiventesima [i.e., 21:20]
(Fig. 5.4.4, top row, right). It is called ‘soft’ and ‘subdued’ because among the
colours of this genus it renders a habit and maintains an idea that is more
temperate than the others. The second colour, which is more intense but
not yet very vigorous, begins from the sesquivigesima septima [i.e., 28:27],
passes through the sesquiseptima [i.e., 8:7], and must perforce, in order to
66 
This sentence appears to be an error that slipped in between the 1556 and the 1567 editions.
Cfr. Barbaro (1556, p. 143): questo perche ha gli spatij alquanto piu larghi, & accommodati, riceve
diversi colori, & però ne ha due. Nel primo, che si da al Chromatico più molle.
384 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

be consonant, go a sesquioctave [i.e., 9:8] (Fig. 5.4.4, bottom row, left). It is

called ‘intense soft’ because it is a middle road between the previous soft and
that which follows, which is the third one, the equable. This ‘equable’ is when
the voice, already in its first place with the lowest determined note, rises to
the second in sesquiundecima [i.e., 12:11] ratio, then goes up a sesquidecima
ratio [i.e., 11:10] and stops at the note of a sesquinona [i.e., 10:9]; nor can it
do otherwise if it is to have consonance. Everyone can see how regulated the
degrees and ascent of this scale are, rising through three ratios in succession
[i.e., 12:11, 11:10, 10:9] (Fig. 5.4.4, bottom row, second from left) so it is
called ‘regulated’—or better, ‘equable’—diatonic. The fourth colour draws
and colours this genus beginning from a sesquidecima quinta [i.e., 16:15],
forming in the middle interval a sesquioctave [i.e., 9:8], terminating with a
sesquinona [i.e., 10:9]. This is sure and strong, and denotes a habit that is
masculine and very strong, so it is called ‘syntonic’. Finally, the fifth colour,
because it abounds in tones, is called ‘diatonic’: it comprises two tones—that
is, two sesquioctaves and a diesis. This is still more robust and vigorous than
the others. This division concludes the colours of the genera, which vary in
accordance with the composers’ intentions. This must be given serious atten-
tion. In every colour the order of the tetrachord will be the diatessaron—that
is the fourth, with two tones and a diesis. And this is what Vitruvius says:
‘the tetrachords in the three genera are equalised and evened in having two tones
and a semitone’. Fig. 5.4.4 shows what has been said, with each described
with its numbers.
(Vitruvius) [V.IV.3 cont.] But when the tetrachords are considered separately
with the terms of each genus, they have dissimilar designations of the distances.
(Barbaro) That is, the sum of the tetrachords is always the same because
in each genus the diatessaron consonance is comprised in the tetrachord, but
in each genus there is a different way of ascending to the diatessaron, as was
described above. He thus concludes by saying:
(Vitruvius) [V.IV.4] Nature therefore has divided in the voice the distances of
the tones and semitones and tetrachords, has defined the terminations of those with
measures, with the quantity of the spaces, and with modes of certain distances has
ordered the quantities that the instrument makers also use to make instruments ac-
cording to the way nature has made things, arranging their perfections in suitable
concerts of harmony.
(Barbaro) Art, observing nature, has discovered the consonances, and
the instrument makers, following art, make [p. 235] their instruments.
pp. 235-236 385

Nature has supplied the power to make a tone and a semitone, but art has
discovered what ratios are in both. Nature, according to the emotions, spon-
taneously moves men and voice, but art has understood the rational ways and
quantities and qualities of sounds, and has mixed the genera, discovered the
ideas, and applied the forms to the nature of things. This is what Vitruvius
wanted to say. He then goes on and defines the notes and their names and
other things pertinent for our purposes.
(Vitruvius) [V.IV.5] The sounds, which the Greeks call phtongi, are eighteen,
of which eight are always fixed in the three genera. But the other ten, when com-
monly sung, are unfixed and wandering. The ones that are distinct and fixed are
those which, placed between the moveable ones, contain the junction of the tetra-
chord, and due to the difference of the genera remain permanently in their terms.
They are called in this way: assumed; first of the first ones; first of the middle ones;
middle; last of the conjunct ones; next to the middle; last of the disjunct ones; last of
the highest. [V.IV.6] The moveable ones are those which are disposed in the genera
between the fixed ones in the tetrachord, and in places make mutations. They are
called in this way: next to the first of the first ones; index of the first ones; next to the
first of the middle ones; index of the middle ones; third of the conjunct ones; next to
the last of the conjunct ones; third of the disjunct ones; next to the last of the disjunct
ones; third of the highest ones; next to the last of the highest ones.
(Barbaro) It seems to me that Vitruvius could have ordered this discus-
sion of his in a better way because he sets out many things before they need
to be explained ahead of others that he discusses later. So we shall proceed
in an orderly fashion. One sure thing is that each order—or scale or system,
as they are called—in music is composed of notes. A note is a falling or
indivisible quality of the voice whose quantity or magnitude is certain and
determined; it is the beginning of melody. In that, as in its proper element,
every [p. 236] concord is resolved. Of notes, some are on the ends and others
in the middle of systems. Of those on the ends, some are extremely low,
below which there are none lower; others extremely high, above which no
others ascend in the perfect systems. Of those in the middle, it can be said
that some are low and others high; low with respect to the higher ones, and
high with respect to the lower ones. They are therefore called comparatively
low and high, as among the elements water is light with respect to earth and
heavy with respect to air; likewise, air compared to water is light and com-
pared to fire is heavy. But earth is the heaviest and fire the lightest, because
nothing is heavier than earth nor lighter than fire. Perhaps it is from this
386 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

similarity that the consideration of the first four voices, or tones, that make
up the tetrachord is sometimes drawn. The high notes are born of fast and
frequent movements, the low of slow and infrequent ones, as can be proven
by experiments that show that a tauter string is faster and a laxer one slow-
er; likewise, a taut string moves with more frequent movements than a lax
one. Even though there appears to be only one movement, it should not be
believed that there is only one; rather, there are many that appear to be one,
due to the great frequency of movements, as when we seem to see a continu-
ous ring of fire when a stick lit on one end is spun around with great speed.
Now, I say that there are fifteen notes, which we call ‘voices’, as when we
say ‘four higher voices’, ‘six lower voices’, ‘take the voice’, ‘give voice to’, and
so forth. The Greeks called them phthongi, the Latins sonitus, ‘sounds’. I say,
then, that there are fifteen of these in the perfect system, even though there
are more, as is seen in the harmonic hand that goes through twenty notes;
Vitruvius himself sets them at eighteen, but later I shall say how he does this.
They began with four voices, or notes, and they made (I would say it that
way67) a tetrachord. The first voice, which is the lowest, they called hypatē
in accordance with its nature—that is, the first; the second, parhypatē—that
is, next to the first; the third, paranētē— that is, next to the last; and the
fourth, nētē—the last. You see the ease with which, without using the names
in a foreign tongue, reason—or better, nature—teaches us to find the names
of things, although we are obliged to the ancients for the effort they have
made on our behalf to discover and augment the arts and sciences. Using
their obscure words we can see their inventiveness and that of their succes-
sors up to our own day. So, the four voices of the tetrachord can be called
in everyday language in this way: ‘first’, ‘next to first’, ‘next to last’ and ‘last’.
However, the ancients did not stop at the tetrachord but added more notes,
going on with the nature of things, and so for the different comparison of
those they formed different names for the notes. They later found and put
together two, three, and four tetrachords, and made a scale and a perfect
system. So, in the perfect system they called the first note, the lowest voice,
proslambanomenos—that is, assumed, given, or added alongside the others—
because it does not have any commonality with any of the tetrachords but is

67 
He might have said ‘constructed’, ‘devised’ or ‘composed’.
pp. 236-237 387

taken from outside; it corresponds with the middle voice68 of the system, and
is set by our scholars as a re.69 But because they have also assumed another
on the lower side, they called that one gamma ut,70 marking it with a Greek
letter in order to denote that that voice and note was added by them to the
harmonic hand, and they did not use the letter gamma in the other voices of
their system. Had the Greeks called it by a name of their own, they would
have called it epiproslambanomenos, or hypoprolambanomenos—that is, ‘below
the assumed’. The second note is called hypatōn. We should know that if we
consider and order the tetrachords separately, each on its own and not with-
in the perfect system and completed scale, the first, lowest string is always
called hypatē (as I have said)—that is, the beginning or first—but if several
tetrachords are put together, the first string maintains the name hypatē, but
another name is added—that is, hypatōn—to differentiate between the first
and successive tetrachords, and so it is called hypatē hypatōn—that is, ‘first
of the first ones’. The second string is called parhypatē hypatōn—that is, ‘next
to the first of the first ones’. The third string is called hyperparhypatē—that
is, ‘above the next to the hypatē’—since the note of the third string is higher
than the parhypatē. It is also called lichanos—that is, index finger. Just as
the index finger is sometimes at a greater distance from the thumb and at a
smaller one [p. 237] from the other fingers, so too the fourth string, which
is the third note of the tetrachords with the proslambanomenos set as the first,
has an interval that is sometimes larger and sometimes smaller according
to the diversity of harmonies (as will be seen later); it is thus called lichanos.
This, in individual tetrachords, would be called ‘next to the last’, but in this
system of several tetrachords, it is named after the place that it holds. The
fifth string is called hypatē mesōn—that is, ‘first of the middle ones’. It is
called ‘first’ because it is the first of the second tetrachord; it is called ‘of the
middle ones’ because the second tetrachord is called ‘the middle one’ since
it is between two tetrachords: the one called ‘of the first ones’, which is the
one on the lowest side—the one of which up to now we have identified the
strings—and the one called ‘of conjunct ones’ (as we will explain), which is
in the higher part.

68 
In other words, the first note of the tetrachord is a given and is not in ratio to a previous
tone; it corresponds to the mesē, or octave, above it (called ‘middle’ in the sense that it is both
the end of the first octave and the beginning of the second).
69 
The voice a re was located between the joints of the thumb on the Guidonian hand.
70 
Gamma ut (or gamut) was located on the tip of the thumb on the Guidonian hand.
388 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

But why isn’t this fifth string called nētē—that is, ‘last’—since it is the
last of the first tetrachord, or hypatē—that is, ‘first’—since it is the first of
the second tetrachord? I say that if this tetrachord were to be considered on
its own, and not within the perfect system, then it would have to be called
‘last’ but considering it together with the others, it isn’t the last but is in fact
the first with respect to the tetrachord of the middle ones. It was therefore
necessary, because the addition of the other tetrachords gave rise to new
relations and new considerations, to change the name of the first ones. In
truth it appears that nature formed these names, nor would even those who
are less expert in music give any other names to the aforementioned strings
than those of their locations and the order in which they appear. I say this
so that no one will puzzle over and believe to be difficult the imposition of
the ancient names.
So then, the aforementioned tetrachords are united in a system, and as
the comparison of the notes and the strings are different, so other names (as
I have said) are given to those united tetrachords than those which would be
given if they were set by themselves. There are two octachords in the perfect
system—one on the lower part, and the other on the higher—and both are
composed of two tetrachords; the name hypatē is distributed to the lower
parts and the name of nētē is given to the higher parts, so to both the first
tetrachords of the lower part are given names taken from the hypatē. Hence
the first, lowest tetrachord is called the tetrachord of the hypatē—that is ‘first
of the first ones’—and in the second one, called the ‘tetrachord of the middle
ones’, the first string is called hypatē mesōn—that is, ‘first of the middle ones’.
This remark makes the rest easy.
So, the sixth string is called parhypatē mesōn—that is, ‘next to the first
of the middle ones’—which is the second of the second tetrachord. The sev-
enth is called hyperparhypatē, as in ‘above the next to the first of the middle
ones’. The eighth is called mesē—that is, ‘middle’—because it truly is in the
middle of the tetrachords. If this went no farther and the voices closed in
an octachord, it would be called nētē—that is, ‘last’—but since it is the end
of the lowest octachord and the beginning of the higher octachord and is
the lowest of that which ties the two together, it is called ‘middle’, as a term
common to two octachords, as a ligature, and as that which is in equal ratios
to the extremes. The ninth, from its position, is called paramesē, ‘next to
the middle’, and it is the second string of the third tetrachord. The tenth is
called tritē diezeugmenōn—that is, ‘third of the disjunct ones’. In the ancient
pp. 237-238 389

instrument with seven strings, it was the third in order from the last, and
was called the paramesē, ‘next to the middle’, of the third tetrachord, or the
second octachord. Even though this string is conjunct with respect to the
octachord of the higher part and disjunct with respect to the octachord of
the lower part—that is, it has connections with both—it is still called ‘of
the disjunct ones’, as will be explained later. The eleventh is called paranētē
diezeugmenōn—that is, ‘next to the last of the disjunct ones’; it is the last of
the third tetrachord called ‘of the disjunct ones’ and the first of the fourth
tetrachord, called ‘of the highest’, ‘soprano’, and ‘most excellent’, because it
belongs to the highest part. The twelfth is called nētē dietzeugmenōn—that
is, ‘last of the disjunct ones’—because it is the fourth string of the third
tetrachord. The thirteenth is called tritē hyperbolaiōn—that is, ‘third of the
highest ones’—because it is the third from the last place in the highest part.
It is called ‘third’ because of its location and ‘of the highest’ because it belongs
to the fourth tetrachord, which is called ‘of the most excellent and highest
voices’ and is the last in the perfect system. The fourteenth is called paranētē
hyperbolaiōn—that is, ‘next to the last [p. 238] of the highest’—because that
is where it is located. The fifteenth is called nētē hyperbolaiōn—that is, ‘last
of the highest’—above which, in the perfect system, nothing in the rise of
the voices ascends.
The moderns (as I have said) call this system the ‘scale’ and order the
voices by degrees with some syllables and some letters, and say Γ ut, A re, B
mi, and so forth, dividing their scale into four parts, giving the first to the
bass, the second to the tenor, the third to the alto, the last to the soprano.
They do not appear to differ from the ancients if only the tetrachord of the
first ones were called the bass, the tetrachord of the middle ones the tenor,
the tetrachord of the disjunct the alto, and the tetrachord of the highest
the soprano. It is quite true that the moderns do not express this intention
so clearly, since they divide the scale into three orders and give them more
degrees, and call the first ones of these ‘keys’, like material keys, as the ones
that open certain and determined melodies, and thus make manifest the
whole system of the scale, just as real keys, turned in keyholes, open treasure
chests and show what is hidden inside. The moderns also called the notes
by the name of keys, with these letters: a b c d e f g. They say that some
keys are low, others intermediate, and others high. The low ones are those
that, sung with a low and deep voice, are called ‘bass’; they are eight and
are marked with the upper-case letters A B C D E F G and the G of Γ ut.
390 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The intermediate ones are so called because they have a voice between the
low and the high that is given to the tenor and the alto; these seven are
marked with the lower-case letters a b c d e f g. The high ones are those sung
with a high-pitched voice; they are five, denoted by the double lower-case
letters aa bb cc dd ee. This is said so that it is known that names and orders
are formed according to different intentions. The ancients went up to fifteen
voices because precisely with those they closed the consonance called diapa-
son. The moderns go up to twenty-two in keeping with instruments, which
can go higher than the human voice. Vitruvius sets out eighteen with respect
to the composition of the tetrachords, of which he will speak later. He di-
vided the notes into fixed and moveable, and stated what these are and how
both are called. In each genus it is possible to make the system of these notes.
The fixed notes are those which, among the fifteen in each musical system,
regardless of genus or colour, remain fixed in its pitch and degree as terms
of the consonances, since the consonances are the same in every genus. So
Vitruvius should have treated notes before intervals, genera, and consonanc-
es that touch on these things. Moveable or mutable notes are those which,
according to different genera and different colours, mutate in their intervals,
making them larger or smaller according to the genus or colour. So, in the
tetrachord of the chromatic genus as well as the others, the extremes are
fixed, because they correspond in diatessaron consonance, but the voices and
notes of the middle mutate according to genus, because the enharmonic goes
from diesis to diesis, the chromatic from semitone to semitone, the diatonic
from tone to tone.
[p. 239] (Vitruvius) [V.IV.6 cont.] The moveable sounds customarily receive
other virtues, because they have increasing spaces and distances. Therefore, the one
that is next to the first, called parhypatē, which in the enharmonic is a diesis away
from the first, in the chromatic is a semitone away, and in the diatonic is three
semitones away from the first. With the ten voices, through their moving in the
genera, they make a variety of singing in the three manners.
 Guidonian

71 
String Note name Meaning Condition Enharmonic Chromatic Diatonic
Hand
p. 239

1 Proslambanomenos Assumed A re Fixed

Tone Tone Tone

goes on:
2 Hypatē hypatōn First of the first ones B mi Fixed
Diesis Semitone Semitone
Next to the first of the
3 Parhypatē hypatōn C fa ut Moveable
first ones
Diesis Semitone Tone
Above the next to the first
4 Lichanos hypatōn D sol re Moveable
of the first ones
Ditone Trihemitone Tone
5 Hypatē mesōn First of the middle ones E la mi Fixed
Diesis Semitone Semitone
Next to the first of the
6 Parhypatē mesōn F fa ut Moveable
middle ones
Diesis Semitone Tone
Above the next to the first
7 Lichanos mesōn G sol re ut Moveable
of the middle ones
Ditone Trihemitone Tone
8 Mesē Middle a la mi re Fixed
Diesis Semitone Semitone
9a Tritē synēmmenōn Third of the conjunct ones b fa b mi Moveable
Diesis Semitone Tone
Paranētē Next to the last of the
10a c sol fa ut Moveable
synēmmenōn conjunct ones
Ditone Trihemitone Tone
11a Nētē synēmmenōn Last of the conjunct ones d la sol re Fixed
Tone Tone Tone

diezeugmenōn. The use of the synemmenōn is explained below.

9 Paramesē Next to the middle b fa b mi Fixed
Diesis Semitone Semitone
10 Tritē diezeugmenōn Third of the disjunct ones c sol fa ut Moveable
Diesis Semitone Tone
Paranētē Next to the last of the
11 d la sol re Moveable
diezeugmenōn disjunct ones
Ditone Trihemitone Tone
12 Nētē diezeugmenōn Last of the disjunct ones e la mi Fixed
Diesis Semitone Semitone
13 Tritē hyperbolaiōn Third of the highest ones f fa ut Moveable
Diesis Semitone Tone
Paranētē Next to the last of the
14 g sol re ut Moveable
hyperbolaiōn highest ones

Table 1. [Note names and values of the perfect system, adapted from p. 239]
Ditone Trihemitone Tone

(Barbaro) The example is clear, and Table 171 makes it clearer. He thus

suffixes a, b, c to indicate their identity with the paramesē, tritē diezeugmenon, and paranētē
how Barbaro numbers them in the text, and I have noted those of the synēmmenōn with
391

Cfr. Philander (1544, p. 156). In the table I have numbered the notes according to
15 Nētē hyperbolaiōn Last of the highest ones aa la mi re Fixed
392 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [V.IV.7] The tetrachords are five. The first, lowest one, called
hypatōn by the Greeks. The second, middle one, which is called mesē. The third,
conjunct, called synēmmenōn. The fourth, disjunct, called diezeugmenōn. The
fifth, which is the highest, called hyperbolaiōn.
[p. 240] (Barbaro) The tetrachord of the first ones, called hypatōn, on
the lowest side, is:

Hypatē hypatōn
Parhypatē hypatōn
Lichanos hypatōn
Hypatē mesōn

The tetrachord of the middle ones, called mesōn, is this:

Hypatē mesōn
Parhypatē mesōn
Lichanos mesōn
Mesē

The tetrachord of the conjunct ones, called synēmmenōn, is this:

Mesē
Tritē synēmmenōn
Paranētē synēmmenōn
Nētē synēmmenōn

The tetrachord of the disjunct ones, called diezeugmenōn, is this:

Paramesē
Tritē diezeugmenōn
Paranētē diezeugmenōn
Nētē diezeugmenōn

The tetrachord of the most excellent and highest, called hyperbolaiōn, is this:
Nētē diezeugmenōn
Tritē hyperbolaiōn
Paranētē hyperbolaiōn
Nētē hyperbolaiōn
p. 240 393

Conjunction is when one note is common to two tetrachords that are

in succession and similarly formed. Disjunction is when a tone is placed
between two tetrachords that are in succession and similarly formed. I do
not deny, however, that it is possible to find some common systems that are
sometimes made according to conjunction, and other times according to dis-
junction. All the conjunctions in the fixed system are of two kinds: low and
high. The low one is the tetrachords of the first ones and the middle ones;
the high one is in the tetrachords of the disjunct ones and the highest. In the
low one, the hypatē mesōn or ‘first of the middle ones’ is the pitch, or common
note, of the conjunction, like this:

}
Hypatē hypatōn
Parhypatē hypatōn
tetrachord
Lichanos hypatōn

}
Hypatē mesōn conjunction
Parhypatē mesōn
tetrachord
Lichanos mesōn
Mesē

The disjunction is one made by a tone comprising the middle one [i.e., mesē]
and the one next to the middle one [i.e., paramesē]:

}
Hypatē mesōn
Parhypatē mesōn tetrachord
Lychanos mesōn
Mesē

}
disjunction
Paramesōn
Tritē diezeugmenōn
tetrachord
Paranētē diezeugmenōn
Nētē diezeugmenōn
394 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

In the high ones it is the nētē of the disjunct ones [i.e., nētē synēmmenōn]
which in this case changes names. For this reason there are, beyond the
fifteen, those three notes that make eighteen, which are tritē synēmmenōn,
paranētē synēmmenōn, and nētē synēmmenōn.72
(Vitruvius) [V.IV.7 cont.] The consonances which man can sing naturally and
which in Greek are called symphoniae are six: diatessaron, diapente, diapason,
diapason with diatessaron, diapason with diapente, disdiapason.
(Barbaro) Consonance is a tempered mixture of high and low notes
which arrives sweetly to the ears, born of a ratio that is either multiple or
superparticular. Consonance is understood in two ways. One way is with
respect to two sounds that are individually pleasing and do not arrive at the
perfection of the consonance, as already said. Such sounds are called em-
meli in Greek—that is, suitable for melody; the opposite of those are called
ecmeli—that is, outside of melody—and are not carried sweetly to the ears.
The other way is with respect to the greater consonance, which contains all
the others. The true consonances are either simple or compound. There are
three simple ones: the diatessaron, placed in sesquitertian ratio [i.e., 4:3];
the diapente, placed in sesquialteran ratio [i.e., 3:2]; the diapason, placed
in duple ratio [i.e., 2:1]. However, it is not necessarily so that simple conso-
nances come from all the simple ratios, inasmuch as no consonances come
from the superpartient ratios. The compound consonances are diapason with
diapente, diapason with diatessaron, disdiapason. Now we shall set out each
of these.

Mathematician John Wallis explained the perfect system in the following way: a conjunct
72 

system is two conjoined pairs of tetrachords (hypatōn-mesōn and diezeugmenōn-hyperbolaiōn);

a disjunct system is three conjoined tetrachords (hypatōn-mesōn-synēmmenōn) and one
separate tetrachord (hyperbolaiōn). In other words, synēmmenōn and diezeugmenōn are related
and never used at the same time. See Cram and Wardhaugh (2016, esp. pp. 101-102).
 395

Fig. 5.4.6a. [Simple and compound consonances] Image [p. 243]

Fig. 5.4.6b. Corrected image. The flat sign in the semiditono con diapente
[i.e., minor seventh] appears in the figure in the 1567 Latin edition (p.
183) but that of the semituono con diapente [i.e., minor sixth] is missing in
both (drawing by Kim Williams)
396 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The diatessaron, which [p. 241] is called the ‘fourth’, embraces (as we
said) two tones and a minor semitone, and jumps from any given line to the
second space, or from any given space to the second line (Fig. 5.4.6, top row,
left), embracing four degrees of voice and set in the sesquitertian ratio [i.e.,
4:3], as I said.
The diapente is called ‘fifth’ and rises from any given line to the third
line, and from any given space to the third space (Fig. 5.4.6, top row, right)
for five degrees of voice; it is set in the sesquialteran ratio [i.e., 3:2]. Just as
the fourth is determined on the strings by dividing them into four spaces
and leaving one out, so too the fifth is determined by dividing the string into
three spaces and leaving one out.
Finally, in everything that can make sound, be it nerve or pipe or any
other material, when it happens that we want to make it render some con-
sonance, it is necessary to proportion the sizes or distances into the cor-
respondence required by the consonance we are seeking. If they were to
abide by those rules, those who make organs would not work by trial and
error—as do most of those who make instruments—but rather, knowing
how to find the lines in proportion, they would more quickly find the size of
their pipes and would not go by ear or use the measures or templates made
by others.
Now, to our purpose. Since the fourth is less than three tones [i.e., by
the space of a major semitone], is greater than a ditone by the space of a
minor semitone, is greater than a sesquitone by the space of a whole tone,
and occupies six dieses and two commas, then the fifth is three tones and a
minor semitone. If a tone is taken away from the fifth, what remains is the
fourth; taking away the fourth from the fifth, there remains a tone. Things
being in this way, we can discourse and find that the diapente, or fifth, is less
than eight minor semitones, that it is made of a ditone and a sesquitone, and
that the difference that there is between the diapente and the diatessaron
is none other than a tone. The two aforementioned consonances are found
among the large superparticular ratios, which are the sesquialteran and the
sesquitertian. Further, neither two diatessarons nor two diapentes can make
consonance, because these are not in multiple or superparticular ratio, where
we said the consonances are found.73 The reason is this. The consonances

4 4 16
Adding ratios means multiplying them termwise, so two diatesserons would be 3 × 3 = 9
73 

and two diapentes would be 3 × 3 = 9 , neither of which is multiple or superparticular.

2 2 4
p. 241 397

are found in those comparisons of the highness and lowness of voice that
show themselves to have a common measure. Among the multiples, in the
duple the measure is the part that is set between two terms as the difference:
between 2 and 4, 2 measures both.74 Between 9 and 8 the measure is unity.
Among the superparticular ratios, in the sesquialteran ratio between 4 and
6, 2 is common and shows itself to measure both, as it also does in the ratio
between 6 and 8, which are in the sesquitertian ratio. This does not occur in
the superpartient ratios, as between 5 and 3: the 2, which is their difference,
does not measure either one or the other, because if it is taken once, 2 does
not arrive at 3, if taken twice it surpasses 3 but does not arrive at 5, and if
taken three times it surpasses 5. A similar thing is seen in the other super-
partient ratios.
The diapason, called ‘octave’ by the moderns, is determined by the duple
ratio, so that half of the entire string plays the octave. It goes up from one
line to the fourth space or from a space to the fourth line (Fig. 5.4.6, bottom
row, right). It is called ‘diapason’—that is, ‘for all’—inasmuch as it embraces
all of the spaces comprised by the consonances. It is the termination of the
simple consonances. If we continue on five tones above the string, we will
not reach the half; if we determine six, we will pass the halfway point. So
the diapason is more than five and less than six tones. It is born of the ses-
quialteran and the sesquitertian, as we said in the third book.75 The octave
is thus five tones and two minor semitones. It falls short of six tones by
a comma, which is that amount by which the major semitone exceeds the
minor. Removing the diatessaron from this octave leaves the diapente, just
as removing the diapente leaves the diatessaron; removing a tone and a dia-
pente leaves a sesquitone.
We should know that no simple consonance can be divided into two
equal parts that are a certain and determined [i.e., rational] number. This
is clear in the diapente and the diatessaron since they are in superparticu-
lar ratios, which cannot be divided equally. A similar ascertainment will
be made regarding the diapason because the two smallest numbers of this
consonance are one and two, and the two not being a square, it follows
that the diapason—which consists in the ratio of 2 to 1—cannot be equally

74
The duple is unique among the multiples for this characteristic.
75
This is demonstrated on p. 101 in Barbaro’s comment on the preface to Book III; the result
is repeated on p. 102.
398 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

divided, not even by 2. It has been proved in the Arithmetica76 that between
two square numbers [p. 242] a geometric mean falls proportionally and
elsewhere it has been said that those ratios that cannot be drawn with a
certain and determined [i.e., rational] number are unknown and irrational.
Therefore, as stated in the Arithmetica, from multiplying a non-square num-
ber by one that is square, the product is not a square, and where the product
is not square, it is not possible to find a mean proportional between those
two numbers. Whence it follows that no ratio is found halfway between the
multiples. It is clear in the Arithmetica that the quality of being mean is sim-
ply a relationship between the extremes by comparison of each to the middle.
The diatessaron and the diapente [recte diapason] is a compound conso-
nance, is one and not two consonances, and is called the eleventh [i.e., 8:3].
Some would have it that it is not a consonance, even though it is extremely
sweet to the ears. It being the case that every consonance is in either multi-
ple or superparticular ratio, and the eleventh not being found in any species
of those, it is not a consonance. Let a stand for 1 and b for 2, the smallest
numbers of the diapason. Let c stand for 4 and d for 3, the smallest numbers
of the diatessaron. I multiply c by e [recte b]—that is, 4 by 2—which gives 8,
and let this be e. I multiply b [recte a] by d—that is, 3 by 1—the product is 3,
and let this be f. It is certain d [recte e] to f contains a duple and a sesquiter-
tian.77 For if one ratio is added onto a second one and a third onto a fourth,
it will arise that the compound of the first and fourth will be equal to the
compound of the others. Let it be that the compound of the ratio between
1 and 2 and the ratio between 3 and 4 is equal to compound of that of the
ratio between 2 and 4 and the ratio that is between 8 and 6 [recte 6 and 8]. I
say that the compound ratio of 1 to 2 and of 6 to 8 will be equal to the ratio
of the others—that is, of the 3 and 4 and of the 2 and 4— compounded to-
gether as is proved in the Arithmetica.78 Now I say due to this, e, which is 8,
is not a multiple of f, which is 3, nor is it superparticular, as can be seen. Thus
the diapason79 with the diatessaron is not a consonance.

76
Most likely a reference to Boethius, but this is not certain.
4
77
Barbaro is demonstrating here the compound of ratios 21 and 3 , accomplished through
multiplication termwise, by which 21 × 43 = 83 ; in algebraic terms, ba × cd = ef (the literals are
somewhat confused but the substance is correct). He discusses operations of compounding
in Book III.
78
In numerical terms, 12 × 34 = 3 , and 12 × 68 = 16
6 3
= .
8 8
79
Note that the error above is not repeated here.
pp. 242-243 399

Next comes the diatessaron [recte diapason] with the diapente, called a
twelfth [i.e., 3:1]. It is the sole consonance set in triple proportion, and it is
born from a duple and a sesquialteran. The diapason diapente is a tone above
the aforementioned consonance [i.e., diapason diatessaron], which, as said,
that one not being among those ratios that make the consonances, it cannot
be called a consonance but it is however delightful to the sense of hearing
because it arrives sweetly to the ears.
Finally, the disdiapason is the fifteenth, set in quadruple ratio made of
two duples, at which the ancients located the end of the perfect system and
the last degree of voice.
Since we have found all the consonances, let us see how they can be set
on a given string in an orderly manner. Let string ab be divided into four
equal spaces. Mark the fourth space c and from that, moving towards b,
find the third place of the string and let that place be d. Then, still moving
towards b, find the middle of the string and mark e. Then at two-thirds mark
f and at three-quarters mark g. I say that you will have divided the string
according to the aforesaid consonances: ab and cb will play the diatessaron;
ab and db the diapente; ab and eb the diapason; ab and fb the diapason
diapente; ab and gb the disdiapason.80 And if you want to demonstrate this
division with numbers, you will divide the string into twenty-four spaces,
placing the numbers 6, 8, 12, 16, 18 in their places, and you will find these
consonances as Fig. 5.4.6 shows, where the letters are replaced by numbers:
6 in place of c; 8 in place of d; 12 in place of c [recte e]; 16 in place of f; 18 in
place of g, and the ends in place of a and b.
[p. 243] (Vitruvius) [V.IV.8] So from number they have taken the names of
these so that when the voice stops in a termination of sounds, bending from that it
mutates and arrives at the fourth termination, the consonance called diatessaron;
terminating in the fifth, diapente; in the eighth, diapason; in the eight and a half,
diapason and diatessaron; in the nine and a half, diapason and diapente; in the
fifteenth, disdiapason. [V.IV.9] A consonance cannot be made when between two
spaces, or in the third, or in the sixth, or in the seventh, the sound of the strings or
the song of the voice is formed. As we have written above, the diatessaron and the
diapente have their suitable terms by the nature of the voice in conformance to the

The literals here are quite confused. Using the markings indicated by Barbaro shown in the
80 

corrected figure 5.4.7, the intervals are: ae and eb diapason; bg and ac diatessaron; ad and
bf diapente; af and bd diapason diatessaron; ag and bc diapason diapente; ab disdiapason.
400 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

order of the disdiapason and the concords are born of the conjunctions of the sounds,
called by the Greeks phthongi.
(Barbaro) The system of the disdiapason, which is the interval of the
fifteenth and the perfect consonance, being that which embraces all the oth-
ers in its spaces and contains them within itself, makes it so that the terms
of the diatessaron and the diapente are set where they are. Finally, all the
degrees are established with the intention to arrive at the fifteenth. Here is
as much of the treatment of music that is useful for understanding Vitruvius.
Nor do we want to reprise in other matters Aristoxenus, who perhaps had
other intentions which are not well understood, and for this reason appears
imperfect to some.

Fig. 5.4.7a. [Division of a string into intervals] Image [p. 242]

b g f e d c a

Fig. 5.4.7b. Corrected image (drawing by Kim Williams)

pp. 243-244 401

Chapter V
On the vases of the theatre

[p. 243] (Vitruvius) [V.V.1] Thus from similar investigations with mathematical
discourses are made the copper vases according to the size of the theatre. These are
made such that when they are touched they can, between themselves, render the
diatessaron and the diapente, ordered to the disdiapason.81 Then, among the seats of
the theatre, according to the rationale of music, they must be collocated in the spaces
prepared to this end, but in such a way that they do not touch any walls and that
they have an empty space around them. Also, they must have space over their tops,
be turned downwards, and have, on the sides that face the theatre, wedges placed
under them. Those wedges should be of iron and no less than half a foot high. In
front of the openings of those spaces let there be an aperture in the beds of the lower
steps two feet long and a half high.
(Barbaro) Since we know the ratio in which each consonance consists,
and wishing to prepare those copper vases that the ancients used to place
in their theatres so that the voice could be heard more clearly [p. 244] and
sweetly, Vitruvius first says that they must correspond in consonance to each
other, and then how they are to be placed and what effect they have. Then,
regarding their tuning, he says that it is necessary to make them such that
when they are touched, either by the voice or by something else, they make
among themselves said consonances—diatessaron and diapente—on this
condition: that both are ordered to the disdiapason. But he does not say
how the vases are to be proportioned so that they render these consonances.
Hence it is necessary to make good on this and to know the proportions of
the bodies—that is, to know that one body with respect to another is either
in duple, in sesquialteran, or in sesquitertian ratio. As I have said more than
once, the ratio that is between space and space or between body and body is
also between sound and sound,82 when it happens that those spaces or those
bodies can render sound. This practice depends on knowing how to find, be-

81 
This is clearly different notion than what is indicated in the two most recent translations
of Vitruvius: Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 67: ‘they can produce among themselves the
diatessaron, diapente, and so on, up to the disdiapason’) and Schofield (2009, p. 135: ‘they
are capable of emitting, collectively, sounds including a diatessaron, diapente and so on up to
the disdiapason’). But this present translation by Barbaro is justified by his comment below:
‘On this condition, that both are ordered to the disdiapason’.
82 
Barbaro first states this in Book I (p. 19), again in Book V (p. 231), and again in Book X
(p. 476).
402 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

tween two lines, two other lines in mean proportion; we will provide ample
demonstration of how this is done in the ninth book.83 Once the bodies of
those vases are proportioned, it is necessary to prepare the place where they
are to stay; Vitruvius calls these ‘cells’. The vases must be of copper,84 because
it is a material that has more air in it and it resounds well. In order that the
sound arrive to us more clearly, it is necessary that these vases not touch any
part of a wall or anything else that might impede the sound; that they be
empty; that there be space over the tops of them so that the voice can enter
them more easily; and that they be turned with their mouths facing down.
But so that the voice can enter them, I say that they must be turned so that
they are lying down. These must be supported in some way, not being able
to remain suspended in the air like Mahomet’s coffin,85 so that part which
faces the theatres should have a wedge placed under it. Thus, they are not
suspended like bells, but rest on iron wedges that are not less than half a foot
high, to provide space under the vases so that they don’t touch anywhere.
In front of the opening of those cells inside which the vases must stay there
should be apertures two feet long and half a foot high in the beds of the
lower steps. This, I believe, is in order to provide a place for the mouths of
the vases turned towards the theatre. Those wedges should be close to the
mouth so that they don’t touch the body of the vase.
(Vitruvius) [V.V.2] In what place the cells must be designed, it is thus neces-
sary to declare. If the theatre is not very ample and large, let there be designed the
middle height crosswise, and in that let there be made thirteen cells, distant from
one another by the twelve equal spaces, such that those notes that were described
above, sounding at the last of the highest notes called nētē hyperbolaiōn, will be
placed in the first cells that are in the extreme ends of the horn-shape on both sides.
(Barbaro) That is, divide the middle part of the height of the theatre
into twelve equal spaces with thirteen cells. The cells that are at the ends
of the horn-shape of the belt—one on each end, which Vitruvius calls the

83 
In Book IX, Barbaro, pp. 354-365.
84 
Vitruvius’s vasa aerea is routinely translated as ‘bronze vase’; see Morgan (1914, p. 143);
Granger (1931, p. 277); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 67); and Schofield (2009, p. 135). But
the Latin aes, aeris mean both copper and bronze, and Barbaro is quite clear in explaining
why the vases must be copper: because copper has more air (Latin aër).
85 
Legend had it that Mohammed’s coffin hung suspended in the air. Gibbon (1820, vol. 9, p.
320), citing Pierre Bayle’s Dictionnaire historique et critique, attributes ‘this vulgar and ridiculous
story’ to Laonikos Chalkokondyles, De Rebus Turcicis 1.3.
pp. 244-245 403

first cells—will have the vases proportioned to the highest note or high-
est-pitched voice, as the case may be, called nētē hyperbolaiōn. Between
themselves they will make unisons, and be a smaller size than the others.
The middle cell will contain that vase which will hold the place and note of
the middle; the second vases close to those placed at the ends will play the
diatessaron to the last of the disjunct ones, and will be in unison with each
other. So Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [V.V.2 cont.] The second ones from the end will play the diates-
saron to the last of the disjunct ones. The third vases on either side will play the
diatessaron to the next to the middle.
(Barbaro) You see, Vitruvius goes from tetrachord to tetrachord taking
only the end [i.e., fixed] terms—that is, those which make the consonance—
leaving the notes in the middle to play to the last of the conjunct ones. This
is one tone away from the one above, called paramesē, ‘next to the middle’, to
enclose the octachord with the last of the highest ones. It should be noted
that the vases given to the lower notes have larger bodies and should go with
decreasing ratio.
(Vitruvius) [V.V.2 cont.] The fourth vases will play the diatessaron to the last
of the conjunct ones. The fifth vases will play the diatessaron to the middle. The sixth
vases will play the fourth to the first of the middle ones, and in the middle is a single
vase, which will play the diatessaron to the first of the first ones. [V.V.3] And so
with this discourse, the voice, departing from the scaena as though from a centre and
turning around and touching the [p. 245] concavities of each of those vases, will re-
awaken a clarity of augmented sound and will make a suitable consonance resound.
(Barbaro) These vases, therefore, not only make the voice clearer, but
also render consonance and melody. It is necessary to give careful consid-
eration to how they were touched in order to make them sound. I do not
know how the voice of those reciting could make that effect, and even if
it were to do so, how those vases would respond, unless perhaps the voice
was in consonance with those vases, as the string of a lute is wont to move
when a chord of the same consonance of another lute is touched. In smaller
theatres a single row of those vases was placed at mid-height of the theatre,
disposed in their cells around the belt of the steps, and tuned according to
whatever genus the one who was arranging them wished. I believe that they
were ordered according to the enharmonic genus, because Vitruvius says so
in the next lines.
404 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [V.V.3 cont.] If the size of the theatre is larger, then the height
will be divided into four parts so that there are three spaces of cells going across. Of
these parts, one will be given to the enharmonic genus, another to the chromatic,
the third to the diatonic. Starting at the lowest part, the first region will be given
to the enharmonic structure as we have said above for smaller theatres. [V.V.4] In
the first part of the middle row, the vases to be placed in the ends of the horn-shape
are those that correspond to the highest voices of the chromatic genus; in the second
cells, the diatessaron to the chromatic of the disjunct ones; in the third cells, the dia-
pente to the chromatic of the conjunct ones; in the fourth cells, the diatessaron to the
chromatic of the middle ones; in the fifth cells, the diatessaron to the chromatic of
the first ones; in the sixth cells, the next to the middle ones, which note has a corre-
spondence of consonance as both the diapente with the chromatic of the highest, and
the diatessaron with the chromatic of the conjunct ones.86 [V.V.5] In the middle no
vase must be placed, because in the chromatic genus no other quality of sound can
have symphonic consonance.
(Barbaro) It must be observed that when Vitruvius says that in the first
part of the middle order must be put those vases that correspond to the
highest of the chromatic genus, he does not take the nētē hyperbolaiōn but an-
other hyperbolaiōn, that is, the tritē hyperbolaiōn. Thus below, in the diatonic
genus, he takes the nētē hyperbolaiōn for the first of the cells in the end of the
horn-shape. Otherwise, if he were to take in all three genera for first the nētē
hyperbolaiōn, there would be no difference between one genus and another,
because all the terms of the tetrachords would be the same, since those notes
are fixed as terms of the consonance. From these principles we have the other
notes, as Fig. 5.5.1 shows.

Barbaro allows this incorrect statement to stand without comment. The first part is correct:
86 

the paramesē is in a diapente relation to the tritē hyperbolaiōn. The second part is wrong: the
paramesē is the same note value as the tritē synēmmenōn and thus cannot be in the diatessaron
relation to it. It is in that relation to either the nētē diezeugmenōn above it or the parhypatē
mesōn below it. Only Morgan (1914, p. 144) has remarked this.
 405

Fig. 5.5.1a. [Placement of the vases in the theatre] Image [p. 246]
406 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 5.5.1b. Corrected image, with notes numbered as per Table 1 and
identified according to the Guidonian (drawing by Kim Williams)

(Vitruvius) [V.V.5 cont.] In the division of the upper part or region of the cells,
in the first cells of the horn-shape must be placed the vases playing the diatonic of
the highest; in the second cells the diatessaron to the diatonic of the disjunct ones; in
the third the diapente to the diatonic of the conjunct; in the fourth the diatessaron
to the diatonic of the middle ones; in the fifth the diatessaron to the diatonic of the
first ones; in the sixth the diatessaron to the proslambanomenon. In the middle vase
pp. 245-247 407

the mesē, since that corresponds to the diapason to the proslambanomenon and the
diapente to the diatonic of the first ones.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius has said up to here will be shown in Fig.
5.5.1. He says:
(Vitruvius) [V.V.6] He who wishes to reduce easily to perfection these des-
ignations will note the figure drawn at the end of the book according to the ratio-
nale of music, which Aristoxenus with great energy and industry, dividing songs
according to genus, allowed to be made. From that drawing (for those who put
their mind to it) it is possible with these discourses to order and reduce to perfection
theatres, both for the nature of the voices and for the delight of the listeners.
(Barbaro) Since we have neither the example nor any memory of it any-
where, it is necessary for us to believe Vitruvius. So we will say nothing
beyond this because (as Leon Battista Alberti says87) this thing is easy to say
but how easily it can be carried out in practice only the experts know. We see
that the Romans did not use these vases.
(Vitruvius) [V.V.7] Some would perhaps say that there were many theatres
built in Rome but [p. 247] that in none of those was any consideration given to
these things. But those who doubt err in this since all of the public theatres that were
built of wood have many wooden floors that must necessarily render the sound.
This can be observed by the players of the cithara who, when they want to sing
with a higher tone, turn to face the doors of the scaenae and thus with the help of
those receive consonance of voice. When theatres are built of solid material—that
is, stone, cement or marble, which are things that cannot resonate—then it is nec-
essary to explicate the rationale from that which we have said. [V.V.8] But should
it be sought in which theatre in Rome those vases are found, to be sure it cannot be
demonstrated, although it can be in parts of Italy and in many cities of the Greeks.
Besides, we have as leader and authority Lucius Mummius, who, after destroying
the theatre of the Corinthians, brought to Rome the copper vases of that theatre,
dedicating the spoils to the Temple of Luna. Also, many quick-witted architects
who built theatres in small cities, due to poverty, chose to use clay pots that were
similarly resonant, and with this rationale created effects of the greatest utility.

87 
Alberti (1485, 8.7); (1988, p. 276): ‘an effect that is easy enough to describe, but that only
those who have experience can say how it is done’.
408 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter VI
On the conformation of the theatre

[p. 247] (Vitruvius) [V.VI.1] The conformation of the theatre must be made in this
way. First is seen how large the circumference of the plan has to be and, having
located in the middle the centre, a circle is drawn in which four triangles of equal
area and sides are made so that they touch the outermost line of the circumference.
These resemble those that the astrologers, in the description of the twelve heavenly
signs, from a musical agreement that stars have among themselves, are used to de-
riving as they discourse. Of these triangles, the one whose side is next to the scaena
on the side where it intersects the curvature of the circle, there make the front of
the scaena, and from that place through the centre draw a parallel line which will
divide the pulpitum of the proscenium and the space of the orchestra. [V.VI.2] With
this rationale, the pulpitum will be wider than that of the Greeks, so that all the
actors can perform their works on the scaena. In the orchestra are located the places
of the seats of the senators.
(Barbaro) The scaena is the front of the theatre, to which a parallel line
is drawn that passes through the centre, which will separate the pulpitum
(that is, the highest place, which is in front of the scaena, from which fables
are recited) from the part of the orchestra. The orchestra was the place in the
middle of the theatre on the level where the seats of the senators were located
in the Roman theatres. Otherwise the orchestra was for the chorus and the
musicians, and the scaena for the actors. So, when in a circle you have made
four triangles of equal size, the angles of which touch the circumference, you
will take one of those sides for the front of the scaena and then, parallel to
that, you will draw a line that passes through the centre, which will be like
a diameter, equidistant to the front of the scaena, which will separate the
pulpitum of the proscenium from the orchestra. The theatres of the Greeks
are different from the theatres of the Latins because the Greeks introduced,
in the middle of the floor plane, the vaulters and the choruses, and they had
a smaller pulpitum; the floor of the vaulters was called the orchestra, but in
Romans theatres, since everything was represented in the pulpitum, it was
necessary for the pulpitum to be larger, so with this brought forward, the
reciters and musicians were better accommodated.
(Vitruvius) [V.VI.2 cont.] The height of the pulpitum should not be more than
five feet, so that those who are seated in the orchestra can see the gestures of all those
reciting. The wedge-shaped segments of the spectacles in the theatre should be divid-
pp. 247-248 409

ed so that the corners of the triangles that go around the circumference of the circle
drawn align the ascents and the steps between the wedges up to the first belt.
[p. 248] (Barbaro) Having given a height of five feet to the pulpitum,
Vitruvius teaches us where and how we are to align the steps and the ascents.
Theatres had their steps around them, and every so many steps there was a
belt—that is, a level floor on which you could walk. There were three belts,
which Vitruvius calls praecinctiones: the first of which was the lowest; the
second the middle; and the third the highest. The stair that led up to the first
belt did not continue to the second but, rather, in the middle of the second
belt there was another stair which led to the third. Thus the stairs were not a
single, straight ascent. Let us then imagine that the corners of those twelve
triangles that we made align the openings to the stairs, and form shapes like
wedges. I would therefore have it that those wedges that lead us up to the
first belt terminate there, and those that go from the first to the second belt,
meet up again with the intermediate corners, and thus those that go to the
third belt do not correspond to those that led to the second but to others
in the middle, alternating the cuts and the openings. There will be seven
openings equally spaced from each other, one of which, in the middle of the
semicircle, will be wider and more open. There will be one to the right and
one to the left of the diameter, two more alongside those, and two on the
ends, opposite each other. In this way the ascents will be correctly compar-
titioned. Other ascents and exits can also be made according to the size of
the theatre, which depends on the requirements of the place. Opening into
the aforementioned main stairways were the other covered ones (as I men-
tioned above88) for the convenience of the people. This is how the wedges
were compartitioned, going to the first belt.
(Vitruvius) [V.VI.2 cont.] Above, the middle wedges are aligned with alter-
nating pathways. [V.VI.3] Those wedges that are low down and align the ascents
will be seven, and the other five will delineate the composition of the scaena. Of
these, the one in the middle of the intersection must have the master doors. The two
that are on the right and left delineate the compositions of the lodgings for visitors,
which are called hospitali. The last two face the passageways in the turning of the
corners.
(Barbaro) The royal doors in the middle of the scaena, the lodgings for
the visiting troops, and where you turn to exit the stage correspond to the

88 
See Barbaro, p. 226.
410 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

remainder of the twelve wedges—that is, to five. There were porticoes from
the scaena to the horn-shape of the theatre, not continuous so that they
touched the horn (although this is seen in some plans), but such that they
were like wings of the scaena. What does it matter if Vitruvius means by
the term versura89 that which truly should be understood as when one side is
finished you turn a corner to the other? We can see that he used that term in
this sense in the third book90 as well. Also, at the end of the next chapter91
he explains this more clearly. He goes on to say.
(Vitruvius) [V.VI.3 cont.] The steps of the spectacles where the seats are to be
placed should not be lower than a palm and a foot nor higher than a foot and six
fingers; their width not more than two feet and a half, nor less than two feet.
(Barbaro) The steps of the spectacles92—that is, the work in stone built
around the theatre where one sat to watch—should not be lower than five
palms—that is, twenty fingers—nor higher than a foot and six fingers. In
the orchestra were also prepared seats for important men and senators, lo-
cated in higher places where once the seats of honour were placed. We read
that the senators were made more prudent by the words of Nasica,93 and
made it illegal for the subsellia, which were once carried into the theatre and
had begun to be used in the city, to be carried and put in their places. You
see, it appears that the subsellia, or seats where the nobles sat, were carried
in and set down and then carried out again, and that their place was raised
a few steps above the level of the orchestra. For five hundred and fifty-eight

89 
For the context of versurarum see Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 51r). See here below (Barbaro,
p. 248: gli ultimi due riguarderanno le vie nel voltar delle cantonate) and Barbaro (1567 Lat.,
p. 191, line 9: extremi duo spectabunt itinera versurarum). Barbaro also uses the expression ‘at
the turning’ in describing things placed in the corners of the palaestra; see Barbaro, p. 264.
90 
See Barbaro, p. 119; Vitruvius III.II.3, regarding prostyle temples: & dalla destra, & dalla
sinistra nel voltare delle cantonate (on both the left and right in the turning of the corners); cfr.
Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 96, line 47): & dextra, ac sinistra in versuris singula.
91 
See Barbaro, p. 256; Vitruvius V.VI.8, in the discussion about the turning faces of the
‘triangular machines’.
92 
Recall that in Barbaro’s usage, ‘spectacle’ meant both ‘theatre’ and ‘performance’: ‘theatre,
a name which means both ‘spectacle’ and ‘a place to watch’ (Barbaro, p. 223).
93 
There is some debate about whether this is Scipio Nasica, Pontifex Maximus in 154 B.C.
or Scipio Nasica, Consul in 111 B.C. St. Augustine describes this in City of God 1.31; Dods
(1913, pp. 43-44): ‘[Nasica, in] a very weighty speech warned them against allowing the
luxurious manners of Greece to sap the Roman manliness, and persuaded them not to yield
to the enervating and emasculating influence of foreign licentiousness. So authoritative and
forcible were his words, that the senate was moved to prohibit the use even of those benches
which hitherto had been customarily brought to the theatre for the temporary use of the
citizens’.
p. 248 411

years the senators had mixed with the people who were present at the spec-
tacles, but this custom was ended by aediles Atilius Serranus and L. Scribo-
nius, in accordance with the decree of Scipio Africanus separating the places
for the senators from the places for the people. For this reason the mind of
the common people turned against Scipio, and the favour he enjoyed was
greatly shaken. Figs. 5.6.1–3 show the plan, the profile and the elevation of
the theatre.

Fig. 5.6.1. [Plan of the theatre of the Latins] Image [p. 249]
412 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 5.6.2. [Elevation of the theatre] Image [p. 250]

 413

Fig. 5.6.3. [Profile of the theatre] Image [p. 251]

414 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter VII
On the roof of the portico of the theatre

[p. 252] (Vitruvius) [V.VI.4] The roof of the portico of the theatre that is above the
last row of the upper steps is made at the same level of the height of the scaena. The
reason for this is so that the voice, growing equally, will arrive both to the highest
row of steps and to the roof. If the roof is not made equal in height to the scaena,
then the less high it will be, the voice will be carried before to that height, to which
it will first arrive.
(Barbaro) I have said that this portico was on top of the steps and, like
a corridor, open towards the floor of the theatre, but being closed behind, it
made the voice resonate in a marvellous way.94 Leon Battista Alberti calls it
‘circumvallation’,95 and says that it was built to constrict and unite the voice,
and that over it, like a kind of sky for the theatre, both for the voice and for
shade, a curtain decorated with stars was drawn. This portico was made in a
very masterful way, in that it had colonnades beneath it and other porticoes
to support those above, but which were open on the exterior side. This was
done in theatres of very large size. The porticoes were made double, so that
in times of rain the people could be better sheltered. The colonnades were
solid and sturdy, and their delineations were derived from the rationale of the
arches, which the aforementioned author [i.e., Alberti] explains at length.
(Vitruvius) [V.VI.5] The orchestra among the lower steps, however large its
diameter, takes the sixth part of that. Both in the horn-shape and around the en-
trances at the level where that measure is taken let there be cut the lower seats, and
where the cut is made, let there be placed the supercilia of the aisles, because in this
way their conformations will have sufficient height.
(Barbaro) The first row of steps did not rise immediately from the
ground because that would have been too low, the steps being low and the
seats in the orchestra being higher. So Vitruvius would have us take the sixth
part of the diameter of the orchestra and make that the height of that little
wall that surrounds the orchestra. According to that height must be cut the
first steps on the lower part of the horn-shape. Around the entrances and
where those cuts are will be placed the supercilia of the aisles; by ‘supercili-
um’ he means the sopralimitare or upper lintel, in the way in which he used it

94 
See Barbaro, p. 227.
95 
Alberti (1485, 8.7); (1988, pp. 275-276).
pp. 252-255 415

in the fourth book96 where he treated the compartitions of doors. There were
some openings which went to the ramps and stairs aligned according to the
wedges that Vitruvius set out earlier.
(Vitruvius) [V.VI.6] Let the length of the scaena be double the diameter of
the orchestra. The height of the podium from the level of the pulpitum with its
cornice and lysis shall be the twelfth part of the diameter of the orchestra. Above
the podium the columns, with the capitals and bases, shall be the fourth part of the
same diameter; the architraves and ornaments of those columns, the fifth part; the
parapet above with the cymatium and the cornice as well will be half the para-
pet, or the podium below, and above that parapet will be the columns which are
one-quarter less high than the columns below. The architraves and the ornaments
of these columns will be a fifth. If a third component is also made above the scaena,
let the upper parapet be half of the intermediate parapet, and the upper columns
be less high by the fourth part of the intermediate columns. The architraves and the
cornices of those columns will similarly be the fifth part of the height.
(Barbaro) Leon Battista Alberti says that the foundations of those
walls that rise up to the last steps and are the farthest from the centre—that
is, from the last and widest belt—must be laid as far from the centre as
is the semi-diameter of the intermediate level plus a third more. The first
steps—that is, those that are innermost and lowest, where the gradation
begins—must not begin immediately from the level of the floor.97 In large
theatres there must be erected from the floor a wall or partition whose
height is the ninth part of the semi-diameter of the intermediate level; in
small theatres, that wall will be built no higher [p. 255] than seven feet. On
top of those walls must begin the steps, in that measure which Vitruvius
has set out. It appears that Vitruvius mentions this intention in the third
chapter,98 and here again, reasoning about the cut that is made for the steps
in the inner circumference, and for the supercilia of the aisles. By ‘seats’ he
means the first steps. He then reasons about the length of the scaena, which
must be double the diameter of the orchestra. Thus, if the diameter is sixty
feet, the length of the scaena will be one hundred and twenty feet. Sixty
feet of the scaena will be given to half the diameter of the orchestra, and

96 
See Barbaro, p. 183.
97 
Alberti (1485, 8.7); (1988, p. 271): ‘The distance between the base of the steps on the
outside … and the centre of the semicircle should be one and a third times the radius of the
central area. The steps do not begin at the level of the central area’.
98 
See Barbaro, pp. 224-225; Vitruvius V.III.4.
416 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

thirty on either side for the halves of the horn-shape of the theatre. He then
gives the height of the podium. The podium is like a parapet at the front part
of the scaena, whose highest part, which faces towards the orchestra, is the
pulpitum. Therefore, above the pulpitum, and from the level of that which
faces the spectators, the first parapet must be erected to a height that is the
twelfth part of the orchestra. The pulpitum is five feet high, and the parapet
five.99 Here it should be observed that the diameter of the orchestra provides
the measure and is the foundation for everything. So, the height of the po-
dium including the cornice and the lysis—which can also be called onda,
cymatium, or gola—is the twelfth part of the diameter of the orchestra. I
have not yet found where this term ‘lysis’ comes from. Lix in Greek is a
large, oblique stone;100 had Vitruvius said lixis he might possibly have meant
that stone of the podium floor on which a man stands. The columns with
the capitals and bases should be as high as the fourth part of the diameter of
the orchestra, and thus they would be fifteen feet high, the diameter of the
orchestra being sixty. On top of those columns and their ornaments went the
second order. That upper order was called episcenium, as in ‘upper scaena’ or
‘addition to the scaena’. In large theatres there was also a third level, whose
height was the same as that of the roof of the upper portico. In fact, it con-
tinued around with those same measures; Vitruvius does not explain those
measures because they are the same as the third episcenium.
From the profile of the theatre shown at large scale (Fig. 5.7.1), it is
possible to understand many things that we have stated in accordance with
Vitruvius’s intentions, although in the heights of the columns we have varied
greatly, by reason of what he says next:
(Vitruvius) [V.VI.7] Not in all theatres can all rationales and effects corre-
spond to the measures and compartitions. It is necessary for the architect to observe
with what proportions it is necessary to determine the compartitions and according
to the nature and the size of the place, and what rationales of nature or size of the
place he must base the work on and serve. There are things in small and large the-
atres that must necessarily have the same dimensions because use requires it to be
so; such are the steps, the belts, the parapets, the aisles, the ascents, the pulpita, the
tribunals, and other things in which necessity forces us to depart from symmetry so

Again based on the diameter of the orchestra that is sixty feet.

99 

Another reference to this term was seen in Book IV (Barbaro, p. 165), where Barbaro says
100 

that the sculptor Callimachus was called ‘Lixotecnon’ because of his custom of continually
polishing.
pp. 255-256 417

that their use is not impeded. Similarly, if supplies of marble, woodwork, and other
things that accompany the building are lacking, it will not be out of line to remove
or add a little, as long as what is added is not made stupidly but with judgement
and sentiment. This will happen if the architect is experienced and, furthermore, if
he is not lacking in quickness and acuteness of mind.
(Barbaro) So, anyone who sees the members of ancient architecture and
finds something that appears to be outside the teachings of Vitruvius (as has
been said elsewhere101) must not be quick to censure either Vitruvius or the
works, because it is not possible to know what necessity imposed and to what
extent that member took its rationale from the entire work. Vitruvius guards
himself against this sort of men who censure, and so in every passage where
he has indicated the symmetries and proportions of the things, he has us
observe that we must use moderation as the need at hand requires. We have
interpreted as ‘belts’ the word that he has taken from the Greeks, diazumata,
and has elsewhere indicated as praecinctiones.102 Thus it must be noted that
quite often Vitruvius uses several words to denote the same thing, as above
where he used onda to mean what he had elsewhere called cymatium. He
gives the name ‘tribunal’ to all of those parts to which one ascends by steps;
in the fourth book103 we have said enough about that. So, the things named
by Vitruvius [i.e., steps, belts, parapets, etc.] must have the same compar-
titions in every theatre because they are necessary parts and are made ade-
quate for their use.
[p. 256] (Vitruvius) [V.VI.8] The scaenae have their rationales determined
so that the middle doors have the ornaments of a royal hall, and to the right and
the left are the places for visitors; next are those spaces that are made for ornament,
which the Greeks called periachi, because in those spaces turned the machines that
have the triangles that revolve. In each are three different kinds of ornaments and
settings. These machines have to revolve and change the appearances of the orna-
ments on their faces, that is, when they must change the fables or when the gods
must appear with sudden thunders. Next to those places are the corners and turn-
ings that project forward, which provide the entrances and accesses to the scaena,
one from the forum, the other from some other part where the stage is entered.

101 
In Book III; see Barbaro, p. 133.
102 
See above, Barbaro, p. 225 and p. 248.
103 
See Barbaro, p. 197.
418 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
 419

Fig. 5.7.1. [The profile of the scaena of the theatre] Images [p. 253-254]
420 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) The middle door, which corresponds to the middle wedge of

the five that lead to the scaena, was called ‘royal’ because of its ornaments.
There were other doors, one to the right and the other to the left, so that
the front of the scaena had three large niches, as can be seen in the plan
(Fig. 5.6.3), in which were erected the triangular machines that revolved
on pivots. On each face was painted an ornament according to the fable
that was to be represented: on one face there was the prospective of a comic
scaena; on the other the tragic; and on the other the satiric. Those faces were
turned forward as the occasion demanded. From these machines the gods
spoke from on high, and when they arrived were heard thundering sounds,
made with pebbles or stones tossed around in inflated leather sacks, as in
the drums that we use that have stones inside them, making a huge rumble.
The decoration served the purpose of not allowing the gods be seen on the
scaena, as in Sophocles’ play Ajax when Pallas speaks with Ulysses but is not
seen. It is said that the voice of the unseen goddess, heard sounding the call
to arms, resembles the sound of a war trumpet which completely moves a
man. So, these machines revolved as needed, and made way for the entranc-
es, one representing a street that came from the square, and the other from
another place. Fig. 5.7.1 shows everything.

Chapter VIII
On three sorts of scaenae

[p. 256] (Vitruvius) [V.VI.9] There are three sorts of scaenae. One is called the
tragic scaena, the other comic, the third satiric. The ornaments of these differ among
themselves, and are made with different compartitions. Thus tragic scaenae are
made with columns, pediments, figures, and other regal ornaments; comic scaenae
have the form of private buildings, pergolas, corridors, and perspectives of win-
dows disposed in imitation of common buildings; satiric scaenae are adorned with
trees, caves, mountains, and other rustic and rural things in the form of gardens.
(Barbaro) Tragedies recited the cases of tyrants and kings. Regal orna-
ments were suitable for these: palaces, loggia, colonnades. So the face of the
triangle that was intended for a tragedy had these buildings that were grand,
ornate, and painted. Comedies represented everyday things and acts of low
people, so their scaenae showed forms of private buildings. Satires concerned
pp. 256-257 421

sylvan and woodsy matters of nymphs and the like, so the scaenae were of
greenery, water, and faraway colourful towns. The invention of the revolving
triangular machines discussed above was a marvellous thing, because behind
a tragic fable the apparatus for a comedy was already prepared, and after the
comedy it was possible to stage an eclogue or anything else without losing
any time, simply by turning the machine. From this effect the Greeks called
them periachi104 because they turned. Here it is necessary to have knowledge
and experience in perspective, because all those things require regulating
the point of view in how those faces are seen. Thus projections, foreshort-
enings, striking of light and shadows, the entrances and exits of the parts of
the members, the near, the far, the crossing [p. 257] of the rays, and the ra-
tionale of the angles under which everything visible is seen according to the
appropriate variation of appearances, all have their origins in perspective. In
this it is the work of good judgement to know how to place the point appro-
priately so that what is painted represents a site in a natural way of things
as they are, and nothing that is forced, precipitous, deformed, or unseemly,
as is seen in many scaenae where things are much too small, buildings too
large, the vanishing points are drawn so low and gracelessly that they cannot
be viewed with pleasure from either close up or far away. This necessity has
moved me to want to improve those who study in this area as well, as far as
I am able, and so I have written about perspective with the reasonable ways
and means aimed at the practice of what is called scenographia.105 I have laid
the foundations of this knowledge and the rules of this practice, by defin-
ing, dividing, and demonstrating what is required for the rationale of this,
so that there need be no doubts about how to situate the view in its proper,
accommodated place, in order to avoid falling into those errors that I have
described above. Here can be found the disposition of regulated planes in
square and out of square; the refinement of any solid whatsoever; the way to
show forms in elevation according to their heights; the rationale of the parts
of columns; the three sorts of scaenae; plus all that pertains to shadows, to
light, to some easy methods using instruments, and some other manners of

104 
This is Barbaro’s transcription of periacta, or periaktoi. He was reproached for it by
Giovanni Montenari (1749, p. 24): ‘onde periacti va scritto, e non periachi come scrive Daniel
Barbaro’.
105 
Barbaro is referring to his own treatise on perspective, Della perspettiva del Monsignor
Daniele Barbaro (1568).
422 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

this delightful and necessary practice. But let us return to Vitruvius, who
deals with the theatre of the Greeks, and says:
(Vitruvius) [V.VII.1] In the theatres of the Greeks not all things must be made
with the same rationales, because in the circumference of the lower level, where in
the Latin theatre the corners of four triangles touch the circumference and perimeter
that go around, in the Greek theatre the corners of three squares must touch that
circumference; the side of that square which is close to the scaena and which cuts the
curvature of the circumference at that part marks the end of the proscenium. From
there to the far end of the curvature a parallel line is drawn, on which is drawn
the front of the scaena. Through the centre of the orchestra next to the proscenium is
drawn a parallel line, and from that part where it cuts the lines of the circumference
on the right and the left sides in the horn-shape of the semicircle, centres are placed.
Placing the compass on the right an arc is drawn from the left space to the right side
of the proscenium, and then placing the centre in the left horn an arc is drawn from
the right space to the left side of the proscenium. [V.VII.2] Thus by means of three
centres with this drawing the Greeks have a larger orchestra, the scaena farther in-
side, and the pulpitum, which is called logeion, less wide. Because with the Greeks,
the scaena was given to the reciters of tragedies and comedies, but the other actors
made their offices in the orchestra. From this it comes that the Greeks called them by
separate names, scenici and thimelici.
(Barbaro) The orchestra was larger in the theatre of the Greeks, and this
was because in drawing their theatres they made three squares in a circle,
where instead the Latins made four triangles. As there are as many corners in
the three squares as there are in the four triangles, each arrangement divides
the circle into twelve equal parts. But there was a wider open space in the
middle in the arrangement of three squares than in the arrangement of four
triangles, because the sides of the squares are closer to the perimeter of the
circle. Where in the Latin theatre the side of a triangle defined the front of
the scaena, in the theatre of the Greeks the side of a square determined the
end of the proscenium. So the front of the scaena was on a line drawn outside
the circumference of the circle, tangent to it and parallel to the side of that
square that marked the front of the proscenium. This made it so the scaena
of the Greeks was farther back than the scaena of the Latins. After this an-
other line was drawn that passed through the centre of the governing circle
and was like a diameter parallel to that same side and in front of the scaena.
On the ends of this line, where it touches the circumference, a centre was
marked. One foot of the compass was placed on that centre, and the compass
p. 257 423

then opened to the centre of the governing circle, and turning it around, it
determined the limits of the larger circumference, because where it touched
the line of the proscenium, there was the limit of the circumference and
outermost boundary of the theatre, as can be seen in the plan in Fig. 5.8.1.

Fig. 5.8.1. [The theatre of the Greeks] Image [p. 258], legend [pp. 257-
259]: D, E, the centres for circles defining B and C, the outermost limits
of the theatre; O, the triangular machine, where there is also the royal
door; F-G, the front of the scaena; P, the orchestra
424 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[p. 259] The rest is easy. Both the lodgings for visitors and the other
rooms are as in the theatre of the Latins. It is true that in the plan of the Lat-
in theatre (Fig. 5.6.1) we have made three doors in the scaena, and in each
a moveable triangle to accompany the middle face in perspective. We have
also conjoined the scaena of the Latin theatre in a different way, because this
can be done in various ways. The way we have shown it pleases us as a most
suitable form, having observed it in the ruins of an ancient theatre that is
found in Vicenza among the vegetable gardens and houses of some country
folk.106 In that theatre three large niches can be seen in the scaena, where we
have placed the three doors; the middle niche is fine and grand.
(Vitruvius) [V.VII.2 cont.] The height of that place must not be less than ten
nor more than twelve feet. The steps of the stairs between the wedges and the seats
are aligned with the meeting point of the corners of the squares up to the first belt.
From that belt midway between those other gradations are aligned, and so to the
top as many as they are, that much will they be increased.
(Barbaro) The height of that place—that is, the logeion or pulpitum—
must not be less than ten nor more than twelve feet high. Vitruvius raises
the pulpitum of the Greeks seven feet higher than that of the Latins because,
the Latin pulpitum being closer to the orchestra, there was no need for it to
be higher; but the Greeks, having their orchestra farther from the scaena,
could raise their pulpitum much higher without impeding the view. It can
be seen that distance makes high things appear low: we know that if you go
close to a house you can’t see the ridge of the roof, but the farther you move
away from it, the more we can see of it, as the rationale of perspective makes
clear to us. Therefore, raising the pulpitum Vitruvius aligns the stairs to the
wedges, and would have it so that the stairs that go to the first belt do not
meet up with those that go to the second. Further, he would have it so that
the stairs and ascents are doubled in number according to how many levels
there are, as can be seen in Fig. 5.8.1.
(Vitruvius) [V.VIII.1] So that these things can be explained with the utmost
care and acuteness, it is necessary to more diligently observe that a place should be
chosen where the voice, sweetly applied, emitted, and returning back again, does
not carry to the ear an uncertain signification of things.

106 
This was the Teatro Berga, built in the first century A.D. and still visible in Barbaro’s day.
The perimeter of its cavea is still discernible within the urban fabric of Vicenza, bounded by
the curves of Contrà Santi Apostoli and Contrà Porton de Luzzo.
pp. 259-260 425

(Barbaro) It is very important to Vitruvius to accommodate the place to

the voice, thus in addition to the things already said, he gives us precepts and
very beautiful teachings about this. In truth, it is not without great reason
that he does this, because the aim of the entire subject of spectacles is that
one be able to see and hear comfortably. He thus distinguishes the places
with regard to the nature of sound, and says:
(Vitruvius) [V.VIII.1 cont.] There are some places that naturally impede the
movement of the voice, which are the dissonant, circumsonant, resonant, and conso-
nant, called catechountes, periechountes, antechountes, and synechountas by
the Greeks. The dissonant are those in which, the first voice, rising, strikes the solid
body above and is driven back down, and oppresses the ascent of the second voice.
(Barbaro) This is like saying that the first turn107 of the voice, stumbling
against a hard and solid thing, bounced back down and broke the second
turn, whereby dissonance is born, which by virtue of the Greek word sig-
nifies ‘sound driven down, broken and splintered’, since catichontes is like
deorsum sonum mittentes [i.e., sound cast down]. I have interpreted ‘disso-
nances’ in the sense of the Latin despicere, as in ‘deorsum aspicere’ [i.e., look
downwards].
(Vitruvius) [V.VIII.2] Circumsonant places are those in which the voice, re-
stricting as it turns around, dissolving in the middle, sounding without the last of
its endings, extinguishes, leaving uncertain the signification of the word.
(Barbaro) These places make a reverberation, because the same rumble
or sound comes back in them, as around and inside bells the sound is lost,
but the percussion remains.
(Vitruvius) [V.VIII.2 cont.] Resonant are those places where, the voice strik-
ing in a solid place, the images that they express returning back, they make the
endings double to the ear.
[p. 260] (Barbaro) The voice resonates by striking and returning back,
as in reverberation. As the rays of the sun are reflected, so too the reflected
voice resonates—that is, it sounds again and doubles its likeness—making
an echo. For our own pleasure we have expressed this in verse here below,
and in our books about the soul108 we provide the rationale speaking of the
movement of the voice and of the sense of hearing:

107 
Recall that sound moving through air was compared to the outward-moving circular
ripples (turns) of water when a stone is thrown into it; see Barbaro, p. 226, Vitruvius V.III.5.
108 
Barbaro may be referring to his edition of Hermolao Barbaro’s Latin translation of
Themistius’s commentary on Aristotle’s On the Soul; see H. Barbaro (1533, p. 499).
426 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Echo, daughter of green forests and valleys,

Nude spirit, and voice errant, fettered not,
Eternal example of am’rous follies
That repeats to others what you have caught.
So love to you is sent in joyful volleys,
And you render it in your own way, brought
Out of these valleys abandoned and lonely.
Dissolve my doubts in one word only.

Echo, what is the end of love? Love.

Who follows a path less secure? Cure.
Does she live forever, or does she die? Die.
May I a hard lot extenuate? Wait.
What will end the pain that scours? Hours.
How to defeat one liable to forswear? Swear.
So is love with deceit pleased? Pleased.
What is the end of it, war or peace? Peace.109

(Vitruvius) [V.VIII.2] Consonant are those places in which from the floor
plane the voice, helped with growing augmentation, enters into the ears with clear
determination of the words.
(Barbaro) Consonant places are in fact the opposite of dissonant places,
because in the former the voice comes assisted and united from the centre to
the circumference and grows equally, while in the latter the voice from the cir-
cumference to the centre is bounced back and broken. The differences between
places are very beautifully and clearly explained by Vitruvius. So he goes on:
(Vitruvius) [V.VIII.2 cont.] So if the selection of places is observed with dili-
gence, without doubt the effect of the voice in theatres will be with prudence mod-
erated and tempered for utility. The description and drawing with these differences
among them will be noted, that those drawings that are made of the squares are of
the Greeks, and those of the equilateral triangles are used by the Latins. Thus he
who wishes to use these prescriptions will do very well in theatres.
(Barbaro) Pliny says that sand strewn in the orchestra devours the voice.110

109 
This verse of Barbaro’s was republished in Cartari (1571, pp. 137-138) and later editions.
My English translation is intended to preserve the rhyme scheme and meaning.
110 
See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 11.112. The term used in the English translation by
Rackham (Pliny the Elder 1938-1962, vol. 3, p. 603) is that the voice is ‘absorbed’.
pp. 260-261 427

Chapter IX
On the porticos behind the scaena and the ambulatories

[p. 260] (Vitruvius) [V.IX.1] The porticos behind the scaena must be made to these
ends: so that when the sudden rains disturb the games, the people have a place to
take shelter from the theatre, and so that those places in which are given the in-
struments for the chorus and the apparatus of the choragium may have a spacious
field. Such are the Pompeian porticos, and in Athens the Eumenian porticoes and
the Temple of Father Bacchus, and the Odeon, for those who come out of the left side
of the theatre, which Pericles111 disposed in Athens with columns of stone, and with
the masts and the antennae of the ships recovered from the spoils of the Persians.
The same was also burned in the Mithridatic war; King Ariobarzanes rebuilt it.
And as at Smyrna that of the stratageum.
(Barbaro) Choragium signifies two things: those who provide the instru-
ment and the apparatus for the games; and the place where the instrument
comes from. An odeum was like a small theatre, where rehearsals and the
competitions between musicians were heard. I believe that this was where
the musicians would prepare themselves, as the choragium was where the ac-
tors prepared and from which they would then enter the scaena. Strategeum
I would call the armoury.112
Up to this point Vitruvius has described the theatre and has shown, ac-
cording to the customs of the Greeks and the Latins, what difference there is
between their descriptions. Now he will speak about the porticos that were
behind the scaena and were places for walking, because it was ordered by
good architects that temples, the houses of the great, and public buildings
should be given porticos. These were made, as Vitruvius says, for both neces-
sity and pleasure, and for ornament.
(Vitruvius) [V.IX.1 cont.] At Tralles the portico, like that of a scaena, is above
the stadium on one side and on the other, [p. 261] as it is in the other cities which
have had the most diligent architects. [V.IX.2] Around the theatre are the porticos

111 
Themistocles is not mentioned in Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 52v), but is in Cesariano (1521,
p. LXXXVr) does. According to Plutarch, The Life of Pericles 13.4, the Odeum is attributable
to Pericles (and thus Barbaro’s text is not incorrect). Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 154); Granger
(1931, p. 295); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 71); and Schofield (2009, p. 150).
112 
See strategeum in Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 52v) and strategeo in Cesariano (1521, p.
LXXXVr). For other renderings, see Morgan (1914, p. 154, ‘Stratoniceum’); Granger (1931,
p. 295, ‘colonnade of Stratonice’); Rowland and Howe (1999, p. 71, ‘Stratoniceum’); and
Schofield (2009, p. 150, ‘Stratoniceum’).
428 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and the spaces for walking; these it appears are to be placed in this way. First they
are doubled.
(Barbaro) That is, not in height and with two tiers of columns vertically,
but double horizontally, like the porticos of the dipteral temple. The next
words demonstrate this.
(Vitruvius) [V.IX.2 cont.] They have the outer columns Doric, and the archi-
traves with the ornaments made according to the rationale of the Doric measure.
Then, their width is such that, as high as the outer columns are, that wide shall be
made the space for walking in the part inside the outer columns, and between the
middle columns and the walls that enclose the inner portico. The middle columns
shall be the fifth part higher than the outer ones.
(Barbaro) The reason is that they must occupy that space that the archi-
trave occupies over the outer columns; because no architrave is placed over
the middle columns, they must be taller.
(Vitruvius) [V.IX.2 cont.] Let them be made Ionic or Corinthian. [V.IX.3]
The measures of the columns and the compartition will not be made with the same
rationales that I have described for the temples, because it is suitable for there to be
one kind of gravity in the temples of the gods, and another kind of subtlety in the
porticos as well as in other works. So if the columns are to be in the Doric manner,
let their height with the capitals be divided into fifteen parts, and of that one will
be the module, according to whose rationale the entire work will be made. At the
foot of the column the thickness will be two modules; the space between the columns,
five and a half; the height of the columns without the capital, fourteen modules; the
height of the capital one module; the width of two and a sixth; the other measures
of the remainder of the work will be made as was said of temples in the fourth book.
[V.IX.4] If the columns are made Ionic, the shaft of the column without the base
and the capital will be divided into eight and a half parts, and of these one will be
given to the thickness of the column; the base with the plinth will be made half of
the thickness. The capital will be made according to the rationale given in the third
book. If the column is in the Corinthian manner, the shaft and the base will be like
the Ionic, but the capital according to what is written in the fourth book. The ad-
dition of the pedestal that is made because of the unequal scabelli113 is to be taken
from the drawing on the writing in the third book. The architraves, coronae, and
all the rest of the members according to the rationale of the columns, are taken from

113 
A reference to the scamilli impares; see Barbaro, p. 136, where he likens the scamilli to
sgabelli, or footstools, but admits that he has not found a definition for the term scamilli.
pp. 261-262 429

the writings in the books above. [V.IX.5] The middle spaces that are in the open
between the porticos must be adorned with greenery, because walking in the open
is very healthy. First for the eyes, because the air, made more subtle by the greenery,
entering by reason of the movement of the body, makes the species of seeing subtle,
and thus removing the great humour from the eyes, leaves the vision subtle and the
species acute. In addition to this, the body warming by the movement of walking,
the air dries the humour of the members, reduces their fullness and, dissipating,
makes it thinner, because there is much more of those humours than the body can
support. [V.IX.6] That this is so, it can be observed that when sources of water are
covered and there is a marshy deposit below ground, no nebulous humour is lifted
from that but instead, in places that are open and free, when the rising sun with
its warm vapour warms the world, it excites both the humours from the humid
places and the abundant waters, and these, gathered together, are raised. If thus it
appears that in open places the heavier humours are sucked from the body by the
air, as fog shows itself to be sucked from the earth, I do not think there is any doubt
that in the city must be placed uncovered spaces for walking under the pure sky.
[V.IX.7] So that these walkways are not muddy, but always dry, it must be done
in this way. Let them be excavated and very deeply dug, and walled drains made
on the right and the left sides. In the walls of those that face the place for walking
let there be made pipes with their tops bent into the drains. Then, when these things
have been completed, it is necessary to fill those places with charcoal, and the walk-
ways above covered with coarse sand and levelled, so that by the natural rareness of
the charcoal and by the pipes corresponding to the drains, the water will be received
[p. 262] whereby the walkways will be without humour and dry. [V.IX.8] In these
works are the munitions of necessary things made by the elders of the city, because
in sieges everything can be had more easily than wood. First salt is more easily
brought in, and grain in the public and the private is more expeditiously gathered.
And if by chance they grow scarce, with herbs and with meat and legumes they can
repair. So too the waters, with the digging of wells and the great rains gathered
by the roof tiles. But the supply and provision of wood, so necessary for cooking
food, is difficult and troublesome because it takes time to collect, and more wood
is consumed in those times of need. [V.IX.9] During sieges, those courtyards and
open spaces are opened, and the measures equally divided per head. Thus those open
places made for walking provide two fine and good things: one in peace, which is
health; and the other in war, which is safety. For these reasons therefore the spaces
for walking, placed not only behind the scaena of the theatre but placed as well in
the temples of all the gods, bring great benefit to the city. Because it seems to me
430 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

that I have very clearly explained these things, now I will go on to demonstrate the
rationale of the baths.
(Barbaro) I wouldn’t know how to add anything to Vitruvius that would
not be pompous, so we will go on to reason about the disposition of the baths.

Chapter X
On the disposition and parts of baths

[p. 262] (Vitruvius) [V.X.1] First must be selected a place that is extremely warm,
that is, facing away from the Septentrio and Aquilo winds. Those places that are
for heating or warming will have the windows on that side where the sun sets in
winter. But if the nature of the place is an impediment, the light shall be taken from
the south, since the time for bathing is especially set from noon to vespers.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius nicely introduces us to the baths, and writes of what
is necessary for their use, but only with respect to basic needs, since first the
baths were not held in that esteem that arrived later; in fact, there existed
only the bath destined for bodily cleanliness. Later, as lasciviousness in-
creased along with increasing wealth, under the name ‘thermae’ they built
magnificent and grand things, with porticos, small forests, natatoria, pools,
and other things, according to the whims and appetites of the emperors and
grand personages. I will first set forth what Vitruvius says, and then I will
discuss it as needs be. So, he wants the baths to be built in very warm places,
and says what these are—that is, that they do not face north. Since there
were places in the baths where bodies were first made tepid and then heated
so that they did not go from cold to hot right away, he would have the light
in these places arrive from the side where the sun sets in the winter, which
is on the side of the south-westerly wind. When the site doesn’t allow this
accommodation, he wants the light to come from the south. The rationales
of these precepts are simple.
(Vitruvius) [V.X.1 cont.] Further it must be observed that the places where
the men and the women go to be heated are conjoined and placed in the same lo-
cations, so in this way it happens that both places will be served by the furnace
for common use. Above the furnace we must place three tanks of copper: one called
the caldarium; one the tepidarium; and the third the rinfrescatoio. They must be
placed in this order so that the amount of water that goes out of the caldarium will
pp. 262-263 431

be replaced by the same amount from the tepidarium, and so too in the same way,
water will flow down from the cold bath to the tepidarium. By the vapour of the
furnace common to all shall be heated the vaults of the beds, on top of which are
those tanks.
(Barbaro) Let the places where the men and the women go to warm
themselves be conjoined so a single [p. 263] furnace will heat both the cal-
darium and the tepidarium. Let them also face the same part of the sky. The
frigidarium—that is, rinfrescatoio or the tank of cold water—will be in the
top location. This will pour water into the tepidarium, and that will pour into
the caldarium. The hot vapour of the furnace will be beneath those baths, so
to the caldarium it will give a little; to the tepidarium, less; and to the one
above nothing at all. He teaches us how to suspend those tanks and says:
(Vitruvius) [V.X.2] The suspension of the caldarium is such that first the floor
is paved with tiles of a foot and a half. That paving should slope towards the mouth
of the furnace so that if a ball were thrown in it would not come to rest, but would
roll back to the mouth of the furnace; in this way the flame can more easily wander
beneath the place where those tanks are suspended. On top must be made the little
piers with bricks of eight inches, disposed so that on top of them can be placed the
tiles of two feet. The piers should be two feet high, made of well beaten clay or creta
and hair. On top of those are placed tiles of two feet, which support the pavement.
[V.X.3] The concamerationes will be more useful if they are of masonry but if
they are of boards or timber it is necessary to place terracotta beneath the work and
make them in this way. Make bars or strips or arcs of iron, and suspend these with
extremely thick iron hooks from the boards. Those bars or arcs are disposed such that
over two of those can be placed the tiles without upturned edges. Thus all the vaults
are carried out and perfected so that they rest on and are fixed over the iron. The
joints and connections of those vaults in the upper part will be covered lightly with
clay beaten with hair, but those in the lower part that looks down at the pavement
will be dressed with crushed bricks and lime, and then covered with a fine finish,
polished, plastered, and whitewashed. And these vaults, if made double in places
for heating, will be of greater utility, because the moisture cannot damage the plat-
form or boards, but can freely wander between the two vaults.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius teaches us how to make the vaults and ceiling of
the baths, as regards the material and parts. First he shows us how to make
the pavement of the bath to raise it above the ground and moisture, saying
that the floor must be paved with tiles of a foot and a half that slope towards
the mouth of the furnace. Over the pavement he wants several piers to be
432 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

raised two feet high, built of bricks that measure two-thirds of a foot and
are made of a mixture of clay well trampled with the feet so that they can
best resist the fire. On top of the piers are placed the tiles of two feet that
support the pavement, below which is lit the fire whose heat wafts through
certain funnels or channels in the thickness of the walls, as observed in some
places newly discovered where the ancients warmed their rooms.114 I have
shown this in figures in chapter ten of the sixth book (Figs. 6.10.1–2). As far
as what truly concerns the concamerationes, or vaulted ceilings of the baths,
Vitruvius gives us the rules, saying that they can be made in two ways: one
of masonry, the other of wood. It is thus necessary to consider and discuss
the parts below, in the middle, and above, and the way these are made. Said
parts are all of a single body that needs to be supported because without
ligaments and support it would fall to ruin, so the ligaments are made in
the following way. Iron arches are made, between which iron bars and strips
run transversely. This structure of arches and strips is attached to the boards
by means of thick hooks that act as anchors. The width between the arches
is such that the ends of two tiles can rest on two of them. This forms the
middle part. On top of that must be made a kind of rubble paving of creta115
mixed with hair and very thoroughly beaten and kneaded. The lower ceiling,
which is over the pavement, will be enamelled and dressed with crushed
bricks and lime, then plastered and nicely finished and whitewashed. If these
vaults are doubled—that is, if there is one on top of the other with due space
between them—they will be of greater utility, and will protect the floor-
boards from the steam. Now having dealt with the floor, the vaults of the
baths that go over it, and the material they must be made of, Vitruvius goes
on to give the measures, saying:
[p. 264] (Vitruvius) [V.X.4] The sizes of the baths are to be made according
to the multitude of men. They are to be compartitioned in this way: that whatever
the length, a third of that will be taken for the width, plus the place where one
waits around the labrum and the tub. It is necessary to make the labrum under-
neath the window, so that those who are waiting around do not take away the
light with their shadows. The spaces of the labra, called schole, must be spacious

114 
Barbaro, p. 301, mentions ‘Nero’s pool’ in Baia, and another site ‘near Civitavecchia’.
References to the same places are made by Palladio (1570, 1.23); (1997, p. 64).
115 
Although common clay (argilla) and creta are generally held to be the same thing, creta is
considered a little finer, and is thus favoured for making ceramic objects for household use
(trays, plates, etc.).
p. 264 433

enough so that when the first ones have occupied the places, the others who stand
around watching can stand up straight. The width of the bed between the wall and
the parapet shall not be less than six feet, so that the lower step and the pulvinus
take away from that width two feet. [V.X.5] The laconicum and the other parts
for those who sweat shall be conjoined to the tepidarium, and will be as wide as
they are high to the lower curvature of the hemisphere. A window should be left in
the middle of the hemisphere. And from that will hang the copper lid, suspended
on chains, which, raising and lowering, tempers the sweat. Thus it appears that it
must be made round so that the force of the vapour and the flames starting equally
from the middle can wander along the vault of the curvature.
(Barbaro) The definition of some terms will allow us to understand what
Vitruvius is saying here. The baths must be made according to the number
of users. We read that Agrippa made a hundred and seventy baths for the
benefit of the people.116 Later that number increased almost to infinity, and
so what could not be satisfied by size was satisfied by number. The measure
was that the length was three parts and the width two. Here we have the
sesquialteran ratio, but that width does not comprise the labrum and the
place where those who have yet to bathe must wait. The other part was a tub
or very capacious tank inside of which was water for washing, surrounded by
some parapets against which the people could lean as they stood in the baths
waiting for the first ones to come out of the baths. These were called schole.
Either that or (and I like this better) they were some benches around the
labrum, where one waited. The width of the labrum, which he calls alveus,
between the wall and the parapet, was six feet, two of which were occupied
by the lower step and the pulvinus, which I believe to be a part where one
rested in the bath. The labrum was beneath the window. The laconicum,
also called the dry sweating room, was called that by the Lacedaemonians
because they used to exercise in such places. I have interpreted clypeom as
‘lid’, so-called because it has the shape of a round shield. This was made of
copper and could be raised and lowered to moderate the heat in the bath
(Figs. 5.10.1–2). Read Palladius in the fortieth chapter of the first book.117

116 
This and the first part of the following statement come from Pliny the Elder, who reports
it in Natural History 36.24.
117 
Palladius, Opus agriculturae 1.40; Owen (1807, pp. 62-65).
434 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 5.10.1 [Plan of the baths] Image and legend [p. 264]: 1, laconicum;
h, tepidarium; k, frigidarium; L, labrum; I, piping [not lettered, but
corresponding to a, b, c in Fig. 5.10.2]

Fig. 5.10.2. [Profile of the baths] Image and legend [p. 265]:
a, frigidarium piping; b, tepidarium piping; c, caldarium piping [a,
b, c are the piping identified as I in Fig. 5.10.1]; d, copper shield; e,
laconicum; f, tepidarium; g, frigidarium
pp. 265-266 435

Chapter XI
On the building of palaestrae and xysti

[p. 265] (Vitruvius) [V.XI.1] Now it appears to me (though this is not used in
Italy) to state the way of making palaestrae and show how they are built by the
Greeks. So, let there be spacious exedrae in three porticos [which have places to
sit, in which the philosophers, rhetoricians and others who delight in studies can
gather to discuss while seated ].118 In palaestrae the surrounding colonnades and
porticos are to be made square or very long so that there are spaces for walking
around for a distance of two stades. Three of these are disposed as simple porticos,
but the fourth, which will face towards south, needs to be double so that when the
weather is windy, the water does not enter because of the gusts of wind. [V.XI.2]
In the portico that is double are to be placed these members: the place for training
the boys, called ephebeum, will be in the middle (and this is an exedra that is very
large, with its seats a third longer than wide); on the right, the place to train the
girls;119 and nearby there is a place where the athletes powder themselves, called
conisterium, from which place in the turning of the portico is the cold bath, called
loutron. On the left of the place for the boys is the place for putting on oil, called
elaeothesium, near which is the place for cooling down, from which you go to the
place of the furnace, called propnigneum, in the corner of the portico. Then near the
inner part opposite the frigidarium are the sudatoria, whose lengths are the double
of their widths, which in the turning have on one side the laconicum, composed as
written above. Opposite the laconicum is the hot bath. In the palaestra there are
peristyles compartitioned as described above. [V.XI.3] On the outside part must be
disposed three porticos: one where you come out of the peristyle, two on either side
right and left, called stadiatae. Of these porticos, that which faces north is made
double, and of a most ample width; the other is simple and made such that on the
side that has walls around it and on the one that faces the columns it has borders
like pathways not less than ten feet, and excavated in the middle so that two steps
descend a [p. 266] foot and a half from the borders to the floor, which floor must be
no less than twelve feet wide. Thus those who, dressed, walk on the borders, will not

118 
For this phrase marked in square brackets, cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 54v). In modern
translations it appears as the first sentence of Vitruvius V.XI.2; see: Morgan (1914, p. 160);
Granger (1931, vol. 1, p. 309); and Schofield (2009, p. 157).
119 
The coryceum; cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 160, ‘bag room’); Granger (1931, p. 309, ‘for exercise
with the quintain’); and Schofield (2009, p. 157, ‘room with the punchbags’). Identified as
B in Fig. 5.11.1.
436 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

be impeded by those who, oiled, are exercising. [V.XI.4] This portico is called a xy-
stus by the Greeks because the athletes, in the winter time, can exercise under cover
in the stadiums. The xysti must be made so that between two porticos there are trees
and plantings, and streets are made among the trees and therein with rubble pave-
ment are situated the rooms. Near the xystus and double portico are to be drawn
the uncovered places for walking, called paradromidas by the Greeks, where in the
winter when the weather is serene the athletes can go outside and exercise. After
the xystus will be made the stadium, that is, the place for exercising, such that the
multitude of people can comfortably watch the athletes who battle. I have diligently
described those things that it was necessary to suitably dispose inside the walls.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius says is sufficient for our interpretation. It
should be observed how much study the ancients put into exercise, and how
suitably they accommodated men’s needs and pleasures. Here again a figure
of the things said above clarifies Vitruvius’s words (Fig. 5.11.1).

Facing page:
Fig. 5.11.1. [Plan of the palaestra] Image [p. 267], legend [p. 266]:
A, ephebeum; B, coryceum; C, conisterium; D, cold washing; E,
elaeothesium; F, frigidarium; G, propnigneum; H, vaulted sudatorium;
I, laconicum; K, hot washing; L, outer portico; M, double portico that
faces north; N, portico where the athletes exercise, called xystus; O,
plantings, trees between the two porticos; P, where open-air walks are
taken and the athletes exercise during the summer; at the ends are the
so-called xysti; Q , the stadium where you watch the athletes; , east;
O, south; P, west; ↓, north; I, stations and resting places; the rest are
exedrae and schole
437
438 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter XII
On harbours, and on building in waters

[p. 268] (Vitruvius) [V.XII.1] It must not be omitted to speak about the accommo-
dation of harbours, so it is necessary to state the rationales with which ships are safe
from storms in them. Therefore if these are naturally situated so as to have prom-
ontories or headlands above the water such that by the nature of the place a gulf is
formed, they are of the greatest utility. Close by are to be made the porticos and the
shipyards, and from the porticos the entrance to the warehouses and customs house.
On one and the other side must be made the towers from which with machines the
chains can be pulled from one side to the other. [V.XII.2] If there is no place suitable
by nature for securing the ships from storms, it shall be done in such a way, if there
is no river that impedes it, that on one side shall be made the anchorage, that is, the
place where the ships are made secure…
(Barbaro) …which we call buon sorgitore…
(Vitruvius) [V.XII.2 cont.]…then on the other side with the embankments
and buildings it will project and come forward. Thus in this way must be formed
the enclosures of the harbour.
(Barbaro) The aim of the harbour is to protect ships from the wind and
storms of the sea, so it must be safe and large. The security is either natural
or aided by art. Natural security depends on the location of the place: when
there is a gulf, curved in a horn-shape like the moon, when lofty head-
lands project like promontories, and when the sides defend the gulf from the
winds. Enough can’t be said about the advantages of such a site. First of all,
it is secure; secondly, it is convenient because along the curvature there are
places for unloading the goods, which are the warehouses, customs houses,
bazaars, and other suitable places. I have seen many places in Scotland that
are very safe harbours by nature, among which there is one that is called in
the Scottish language ‘Sicher Sand’120 —that is, ‘secure sand’ and ‘safe har-
bour’. Venice doesn’t have this, but the scant security of the harbour is the
great security of the city: the ships come into the lagoon and are made safe
there. So when the site is naturally secure, little effort is needed. The harbour
is secured by the mouth, the headlands, and the sides. It is necessary to do
by art that which nature does not concede. So Vitruvius, pursuing art, says:

Barbaro is using a phonetic spelling: the Scottish ‘sicker’ means ‘secure, safe’; see Macleod
120 

and Cairns (1996, p. 334). I have been unable to identify the exact harbour.
pp. 268-269 439

(Vitruvius) [V.XII.2 cont.] It appears that the buildings that must be made
in the water are to be made like this: that the powder from those places that go from
Cumae to the promontory of Minerva is to be brought and mixed in the mortar
such that they correspond two to one. [V.XII.3] Then, where it has been determined
to build, it is necessary to place in the water cofferdams of durmast oak closed with
chains, lower them deep down below the water, and fix them tightly to the bottom.
Then that area that is within the cofferdams must be levelled and cleared [and little
beams or pallets or rafts are placed there121]. There shall be poured the material
mixed in the mixing trough according to the measure given above and rubble until
the space that must be built on is filled, that is, the space that is within the coffer-
dams. This gift of nature have those places that we said above.
(Barbaro) Here is a wonderful use of pozzolana, which Vitruvius dis-
cusses in the second book in chapter six.122 So, in places where it is possible
to have ample deposits of pozzolana, we take two parts of that and one of
lime and make a good paste, well mixed and beaten, in a mixing trough that
Vitruvius calls mortario. Then we make cataracts123 and cofferdams, called
arcae by Vitruvius, out of oak timbers. This is done as follows. Take flat
boards of durmast oak, and make grooves or channels along their length,
from one end to the other. The width of these channels will depend on the
size of the boards that are to be inserted in them. These boards must be of
equal size and thickness, and their ends inserted into grooves made pre-
viously, so that the timbers will stay straight and there will be the correct
spacing between one and the next. When more than two boards are raised
per side, they [p. 269] are chained together firmly and the joints sealed; then
they are forced to the bottom, where they will remain fixed and immobile.
Next, the space inside the cofferdams must be emptied with waterwheels
and other machines used to raise water, which Vitruvius will describe in
the tenth book. The bottom will be made level and clean, and little beams
or pallets or rafts are placed there. These things done, the mixture made in
the trough—that is, the material of mortar and rubble described earlier—is

121 
This phrase is omitted in the translation, but is remarked upon in the comment below.
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 55v, deinde inter eas ex trastillis inferior pars sub aqua exequanda
& purganda); Morgan (1914, p. 163, ‘dredged, with beams laid across’); Granger (1931, p.
313, ‘cleared with a platform of small beams’); and Schofield (2009, p. 161 and n. 23, p. 375,
‘cleared out by men working on small cross-beams’).
122 
See Barbaro, pp. 80-81.
123 
The cataracts described by Barbaro are also described in Alberti (1485, 10.12); (1988,
p. 351).
440 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

emptied into the cleared space inside the cofferdams. It will set wonderfully,
and the work to be built in water will come out well. This will be done when
no forces of water impede it, but when the impetus of the sea causes a distur-
bance, listen to what Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [V.XII.3 cont.] But if because of the currents and forces of the
open sea the cofferdams sent down cannot be kept at the bottom, then right at the
edge of the sea where the land ends must be made a very firm bed. The floor of less
than half of this will be level, but the remainder that is close to the shore shall slope
and lean towards the water. [V.XII.4] Around the sides of said bed are made edge
walls level with that floor, and that greater half which is sloped will be filled with
sand so that it is equal to the edge walls and the floor of the bed. On top of that floor
is to be built a large pilaster; once made, in order for it to dry and set, it is necessary
to leave it for two months. After that, that edge wall below that holds the sand is
to be cut, so that the sand submerged by the water will make that pilaster fall into
the sea. With this rationale answering to necessity the building in the water can
go forward.
(Barbaro) To build a jetty out into the sea you begin little by little from
the shore. Build a platform, part of which is flat and part of which is sloping;
let the part that slopes face towards the shore. You’ll make edge walls around
the platform—that is, retaining walls on the end that faces towards the sea
and on the sides—that are level with the platform. The side that slopes will
be filled with sand so that it is level with the flat part. On top of the platform
you build a large pilaster of the masonry material described above and allow
it to dry for at least two months. Then you will cut the edge walls away, and
right away you’ll see the sand go out because that retaining wall has been
cut, and the support having gone out from beneath the pilaster, by necessity
it falls into the water and will fill the first part closest to the shore. Wanting
then to go still farther out, you go on like this step by step.124 This can be
done as long as there is pozzolana or something like it that sets in water. But
when this material is lacking, Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [V.XII.5] In those places where powder is not born, you must
build in this way. Place in the location where it has been decided to build double
cofferdams of boards chained together, and between one and the next place clay
trampled down into sacks made of marsh algae. Then when this has been well
trampled down, then the middle place inside those cofferdams must be emptied

124 
This procedure is convincingly explained and illustrated in Dubois (1902, fig. 2, p. 456).
pp. 269-270 441

with wheels, drums, and the other instruments for raising water, and then there in
that enclosed space be excavated the foundations; if there is good earth let them be
excavated larger than the wall that will go on top of it, down to where it is solid
and filled with rubble, lime, and sand. [V.XII.6] But if the place is marshy, drive
piles of alder, wild olive, or charred durmast oak filled with charcoal, as we have
said in the foundations of theatres and walls. Then let there be erected the curtain
of the wall of squared stones with very long joints, so that especially the stones in
the middle will be well contained. Then that place that is between the wall should
be filled with rubble or with masonry, so that in this way it will remain so strong
that a tower can be built on top of it.
(Barbaro) To me it seems that what Vitruvius says is sufficient for our
understanding. Leon Battista Alberti, in the tenth book, speaks at length
about the way of making cataracts, levees, pile work, supports, embank-
ments, and the sluices and locks for holding back, closing, merging, and
diverting waters so that it is possible to build, to repair damage, or to satisfy
requirements, so we defer to his diligence.125
[p. 270] (Vitruvius) [V.XII.7] These things done, care will be taken that the
places where ships are to stay will face to the north, because the south, due to the
heat, generates worms, snakes, woodworms, and other pests that do great damage,
and nourishing them, it keeps them there. Those buildings must not be made of
timber because of fires. The size of the shipyard is determined only by the size and
capacity of the ships, so that if ships of greater capacity are pulled ashore there will
be space to accommodate them. I have written in this place of those things that came
to my mind that can be made in the city for the use of public places, how they should
be and how they can be carried out to perfection. But now in the next book we will
set forth the utility of private buildings and their compartition.
(Barbaro) Since we today have no perfectly conserved buildings of the
ancients, nor any who studiously attempt with new buildings to imitate
those marvellous buildings, and since there are few who are able, by dint of
art or practice, to mindfully and judiciously embrace such lofty undertakings
and build theatres, amphitheatres, circuses, palaestrae, porticos, basilicas,
and temples worthy of the grandeur of the empire, I would not know what
to say unless I turn to those structures that, in our times, are reputed to be
the best and most admirable. The first thing of greatness which looms be-
fore me is the fortifications of the city, which with large, high walls resting

125 
See Alberti (1485, 10.10-12); (1988, pp. 344-353).
442 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

on immense, deep foundations present themselves to us as a magnificent

and excellent idea of modern buildings. Besides the superb walls excellently
flanked, besides the bulwarks, platforms, cavaliers, and portcullises, it seems
to me that the grandeur of the gates holds a special place of honour. But in
seeking other things of greatness I come to the shipyard of the Venetians,
and the building of the galleys and ships used today. I won’t say that this
place is great because of the copiousness of marbles, or the magnificence and
superior quality of the materials that the ancients used in their buildings,
though this excellence can be seen in other public buildings. However, I will
say that the Venetian shipyard, in terms of all that which appertains to the
function and supply of everything that is necessary for seamanship, is very
far superior to all the others that can be seen in our day. Truly, legni, galleys,
vascelli, barze126 and galleons are reduced to all the perfection of capacity,
security and comfort that can be desired. Nor do I want us to marvel at this
place as a thing in itself that satisfies and appears marvellous to all men of
judgement, because it is born of something even more admirable and worthy
of desire and great study so that it is preserved: the long, inviolate liberty of
this city. This has given birth to this greatness; the use of things maritime,
the many, beautiful occasions have been such that there is no power so great
that it can do as much in as short a time as the Venetians have done. This
copiousness and this practice grew gradually (naturally, I would say) along
with the genius of that city; a thing cannot be created with force where
time has the prerogative. Thus I have no fear that I will prejudice my city in
telling about it,127 because anyone who wishes to judge for himself will find
that my description would sooner cast into desperation any other dominion
that would wish to imitate this great apparatus than embolden them to be-
gin. I might concede the large woodland areas, the multitude of people, the
greatness of the empire, the volition, and many other commodities to other
princes, but how I could give them the long study and the exercise of many
years, provisions born of the prerogative of time that the Venetian lords have
had? This creation is certainly not the work of a great empire as much as it
is one of continuous and free governments, and although they did not intro-
duce gladiators into the arenas, actors into the scaenae, or chariots into the

126 
The terms legni, barze and vascelli all refer to particular kinds of ships built in the Arsenale;
see Bellabarba and Guerreri (2002, pp. 7, 15, 33).
127 
In Book I Barbaro responded to those who said that it was wrong to discuss fortifications
because revealing such techniques might aid the enemy; see Barbaro, p. 63.
pp. 270-271 443

circuses, in the Arsenale of Venice they introduced an apparatus capable of

acquiring provinces and reigns, and even of removing the will of whose who
wished in some way to disturb the liberty of that state. So the fortifications
of this city had divine providence as their architect, and the benefit of na-
ture where neither walls, ditches, nor flanks are found; that built by man is
born of the same divine providence and the great love that the citizens had
[p. 271] and still have for their country, so that to adorn it and increase it
they have spared no effort. Thus you can see the marvellous order of things,
found everywhere you look. All that is necessary for a galley, all the instru-
ments, all the equipment is not only seen in its place with admirable order
but is most quickly ready for use, and in addition to the ordinary ships that
are always out to guard the sea, the equipment for a hundred or more galleys
with that ease—I would say that felicity—moves from its place like you can’t
believe. The blocks, winches, wheels, and reels are so ingeniously made, po-
sitioned, and ordered that there is no weight that cannot be rapidly moved.
In other days, although there was an infinity of things, they were not appar-
ent because they were not as well ordered and at the ready, but today, thanks
to the judiciousness of the magnificent Mr Nicolo Zeno,128 everything has
been reduced to an order that is so fine and convenient that we marvel even
more at the number and greatness of things than at the order mentioned
before. This was born of the loving study and industrious judgement of that
gentleman, with whom I used to go quite often to the Arsenale and try to
move immense weight with little effort.129 There is yet another occasion to
apply the greatness of effort, expense, and ingenuity given to us by divine
providence and the nature of things, an occasion which is dismaying to every
great heart that feels love for his country; that is, that time, which produces
all convenience and inconvenience, together with two elements—I mean the
sea and the land, one of which wants to give way, and the other of which
wants to occupy the site of this lagoon—wants to go to war against us and
cause us notable injury. This occasion, which makes us think and seems to
give us trouble, is to be received and taken merrily and with great courage
and love, because the Lord God giving us the most happy fruit of peace,
wants us to recognise the benefit we have received from the providence of the

128 
Niccolò Zeno (1515-1565) was a Venetian noble. A member of the Council of Ten, he
undertook a reorganisation of the Arsenale di Venezia.
129 
This perhaps explains where Barbaro attained his knowledge of the blocks and other
instruments that he describes in such detail in Book X.
444 Book V of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

site that he gave to the first founders of this city. Thus, through the exercise
of the minds and souls of the senators in an enormous undertaking, he wants
the world to see the grandeur of their state, the prudence of men, and their
love of serving their country. It is therefore the work of those who speculate
about nature and her practices to investigate the causes of the silting up of
these lagoons, as physicians do, who first consider the causes of the infirmity
and then supply suitable remedies. They will find that the land uses the rivers
in this usurpation, and is carried by the rivers into the salt water; they will
find that salt by its nature erodes and consumes matter; they will find that
the more salt water enters the lagoon the better it is, because going out with
great violence it carries some of silt with it; they will find that it is necessary
to remove all impediments to nature, so that it can work on its own and
do that which cannot be done with any amount of ingeniousness, force, or
expense. So they will move the terrain that has become so very hard and
facilitate the water in moving it away; they will straighten the canals and
courses of water, prevent the fresh water from mixing with the salt water,
build embankments and not leave much space. They will also plough and
move terrain. Finally, they will move the rivers, large and small, as far away
as possible. All these things have been carefully considered by the senators,
who have already begun this undertaking, prepared useful and ingenious
machines and instruments to carry out the work, and engaged intelligent,
diligent people who care about what they do and know how to spend mon-
ey wisely, since a great deal of money has been designated to achieve these
ends. Thus of the underlying forms of architecture, the most necessary for
this present need is distribution and its parts, as discussed in the first book.

The end of the Book V.

 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book VI

Preface
[p. 172 recte 272]

ristippus, Socratic philosopher, thrown by shipwreck onto the

shores of the Rhodians, having noticed some figures of geometry
in the sand, is said to have exclaimed thus, ‘Let us have hope,
O companions, since here I see the traces of men’. Having said this, he hastened
without delay to the land of Rhodes, going straight to the gymnasium where, dis-
cussing philosophy, he was awarded many gifts. Not only did he adorn himself,
but those who were with him were also given many gifts of clothing and other
things necessary for living. However, his companions wanting to return to their
homeland, and asking him what he wished to be said in his name at home, he thus
commanded them to say that it was necessary to provide sons with possessions and
provisions for a journey of a sort that they can carry with them swimming away
from a shipwreck, [VI.Pref.2] because those are the true safeguards of life, to which
neither evil force of fortune, nor mutation of state, nor the ruin of war can bring

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 445

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_7
446 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

harm. Nor less did Theophrastus believe in said sentence, exhorting men to sooner
be virtuous than entrust themselves to wealth, saying that the virtuous is the only
one who among all men who is neither a foreigner in the lands of others, nor poor
in friends when he loses his family, or kinsmen we might say. Rather he is a citizen
of all cities, and he alone can, without fear, disdain the strange occurrences of for-
tune. But he who thinks himself protected, not by the aids of doctrine but by good
luck, going by slippery paths, risks danger in a life that is not stable, but insecure.
[VI.Pref.3] Epicurus similarly affirms that fortune gives few things to wise men,
but those that it gives are the greatest and necessary with the thoughts of the soul
and of mind to be governed. These such things have been said by many philoso-
phers and also poets, who have written the ancient comedies pronouncing the same
sentences on the stage, such as Eucrates, Chionides, Aristophanes, and along with
these especially Alexis, who says that for this the Athenians must be praised: because
the laws of all the Greeks require that the fathers be supported by the sons, but of
the Athenians not all fathers but only those who have instructed their sons in the
arts. Thus all the gifts of fortune, when given by it, are easily taken away, but the
disciplines conjoined with our minds do not go missing for any time, but endure
permanently with us until the end of life. [VI.Pref.4] So I render the highest thanks
to my parents who, agreeing with the law of the Athenians, instructed me in the
arts, and in that especially which, without letters and without those commonalities
in all doctrines which revolve around it, cannot in any way be commended. Hav-
ing thus, both by the care of my parents and by the doctrine of my preceptors, grown
in me those abundances of disciplines, and delighting in things appertaining to the
variety of cognitions and artifices and the writings of the commentaries, I have
acquired with the mind those possessions from which comes this highest of all fruits,
which is that I have no more needs; I esteem it to be the property of wealth to desire
nothing more. But perhaps some, thinking these things to be slight and of little
moment, take for wise only those men who [p. 173 recte 273] abound in wealth.
Thus many attend to this, audaciousness joined to richness having also have led to
being known. [VI.Pref.5] I truly, O Caesar, not for money with deliberate counsel
have studied, but sooner have praised poverty with a good name than abundance
with a bad reputation, and so little notice has been taken of me, but yet I think
that, bringing to light these volumes, I will also be known to posterity. Nor must
anyone marvel that I am unknown to many, because architects ask for and aspire
to have many works to do, but to me by my preceptors it was taught that the man
who is asked, not the man asking, must take the commissions, because their intellect
is moved by shame from asking for a suspicious thing, because the ones sought are
p. 273 447

not those who receive, but those who provide the benefit. Thus what shall we think
is thought or suspected by the one who is requested to trust to the grace of him who
asks to be given the duty of spending his patrimony, if not that he must be judged to
do so by reason of booty and earnings? [VI.Pref.6] So the elders first of all entrusted
their works to those who were of good blood. Then they sought to find out if they
had been honestly raised, believing that such an upbringing must have endowed
the intellect with modesty and not audacity and arrogance. Those makers did not
instruct anyone except their sons and relatives, and they made them good men, to
the faith of whom in such great things without a doubt could be entrusted money.
So when I see the unlearned and inexpert who go around boasting of the greatness
of such a discipline, and those who not only of architecture but of all fabrication
have no knowledge, I cannot but praise those fathers of families who, confirmed
with the faith of letters, build for themselves, estimating that if the work must be
committed to the inexpert, it is worthier to do their own will than do the will of
others to consume the money. [VI.Pref.7] And yet no one strives to do any other art
at home, such as the art of the shoemaker or the tailor, or any of the others that are
easier, except for architecture, because those who make a profession of it do not have
true art, but are falsely called architects. Because of these things I thought that there
should be written all of the corpus of architecture and its rationales with the greatest
diligence, thinking that this gift will not be unappreciated by all people. So because
in the fifth book I have written of the opportuneness of the common works, in this I
will explicate the rationales and proportionate measures of particular edifices.
(Barbaro) In the sixth book Vitruvius treats private edifices, since he has
already furnished that part appertaining to public and common works. He
begins the present book with a most beautiful preface, which Galen so ad-
mired that he adopted that a part of it for that book where he exhorts young
people to study.1 The preface having been provided, he gives us several gen-
eral precepts for observation and consideration, speaking in the first chapter
of different qualities of countries and various aspects of the sky according
to which the edifices must be disposed. In the second chapter he makes the
architect take note and reminds him of his office. In the rest of the book he
treats private edifices, beginning with those parts of the houses that we first
encounter, and penetrating little by little into those that are more remote and
secret, almost as though he were taking us by the hand and leading us to see
from place to place the rooms of those who live in the city, leaving nothing

1 
See Galen, On the Natural Faculties 3.10.
448 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

out that is fitting for utility, comfort and beauty. Nor is he content with this,
but he gently leads us to pleasure in the villa, and builds for us most beauti-
ful lodgings with admirable regard for the decorum, use and needs of men,
concluding with some rules about the foundations of buildings, worthy of
consideration. The preface is easy, and contains an exhortation to admirable
virtue with efficacious examples and authority, and divine comparisons of
the virtues to fortune, and of the gifts of the mind to external goods. In
the end he instructs the architect and has him observe those things that are
pertinent to the present book.
‘I see the traces of men.’ [p. 274] Aristippus does not mean the footprints
of the human body, but the traces of the mind, because mathematical figures
were first considered with true rationales in the mind of those valiant men,
and then worked out and drawn in the sand. Just as writing is the symbol
of speaking, and speaking is the symbol of the mind, so too mathematical
drawings and geometric figures are symbols of their concepts. Aristippus
thus said, ‘I see the traces of man’—that is, traces of neither brute animals who
have no discourse nor parts of the human body, but traces of the mind, by
which and of which man is man. Having given the example of Aristippus,
Vitruvius approves the intention with the testimonies and authority of phi-
losophers and poets, citing a law of the Athenians, according to which he
explains and, speaking modestly of his own parents, shows how much care
fathers should take so that their sons are sooner good than rich, sooner vir-
tuous than famous, sooner worthy than admired.
‘Thus it was that, both by the care of my parents and by the doctrines of my
preceptors, I accumulated a great abundance of disciplines with the things pertinent
to the study of letters and to the desire of the arts.’ Here I have interpreted these
words in a way more fitting to our purpose than I interpreted them above, but
the sense is the same to anyone who considers it carefully. So, not only must
the architect devote himself with ardent desire to the knowledge of letters,
but he must also delight in knowing how things made with art go, investi-
gate them, and make them, so that his knowledge does not remain dead and
useless. This well recalls that which he said in the first book about fabrication
and discourse and about the conditions of the architect, so it seems to me that
Vitruvius, having to speak of the buildings for private individuals, almost as
if he were starting over, wanted us to recall from memory the things he said
in the first book. Thus in the preface to the present book he touches on part
of those things that he touched on in the first chapter of the first book. And
pp. 274-275 449

in the first, second, and last chapters of this book, he mentions that which
he said in the second, fourth, and fifth chapters of the first book. This he has
done so that we will see that in rationales of private buildings it is important
to use the same care, attentiveness and knowledge that we must use in com-
mon buildings. So I beg each of you to not so easily believe the many who
make themselves out to be architects, who do not know how to read or how
to draw, who not only do not have knowledge of architecture, but are also
inexpert in building (as Vitruvius says). But misfortune would have it that
the inexpert, by their audacity, are better known than those who perhaps
could achieve more in the works than in words, even though it should be
the opposite. To this is added another difficulty: that every other maker can
demonstrate his art at will, but the architect on his own cannot do anything.
Thus he needs to find people who want to spend, and make works into which
a lot of money goes. But let us return to Vitruvius, and we shall see his long
and fine discourse on the various qualities of different countries.

Chapter I
On various qualities of countries and the various aspects
of the sky according to which buildings must be disposed

[p. 274] (Vitruvius) [VI.I.1] These things will be directly disposed if first it is
observed by what part or what inclination of the sky they are ordered. So in one
way in Egypt, in another way in Spain, not like that in Pontus or in Rome, and
so in other properties of countries, it appears that the manner of buildings must be
constituted, because one part of the earth is oppressed by the course of the sun, and
the other is extremely far away from it, but then there are those parts in the middle
that are temperate. So as the constitution of the world to the space of the earth by
the inclination of the zodiac [p. 275], and by the course of the sun is naturally
collocated with unequal qualities, it then appears that buildings must be erected
according to the rationales of the countries and the varieties of the sky. [VI.I.2]
Under the north there will be buildings with vaults, quite enclosed, not open, and
turned towards the warmer parts. Under the great impetus of the sun in the parts
of the south (because those parts are oppressed by heat) it appears that buildings
must be made open and facing the north and north-east. Thus that which in itself
450 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

by nature offends, must be corrected by art. So too in the other regions in the same
way, according to how the sky is collocated to the inclination of the world, buildings
must be tempered. [VI.I.3] And these things are to be observed and considered by
that which nature does, and especially by the members and the bodies of the peoples.
So, in those places where the sun heats moderately, it keeps the bodies tempered, but
in those scorched by the sun running near, sucking them, it removes the temper of
the humour. In contrast, in the cold parts, because they are very far from the south,
humour is not removed by heat, but the dewy air from the sky strews humour into
the bodies, making them larger and their voices deeper. For this reason under the
north are nourished people of large stature, and white colour, of straight and red
hair, blue eyes and a good deal of blood, because from the fullness of the humour and
the coolness of the sky together they are formed. [VI.I.4] But those who are near
the axis of the south, subject to the course of the sun, are small of stature, with dark
colour, curly hair, black eyes, weak legs, of little blood, due to the great force of the
sun. Moreover, due to the little blood they are more timorous in resisting arms, but
they bear the fierce heat of fever without fear, because their members are nourished
with heat. So the bodies that are born under the north are more fearful and weak
of fevers, but by the abundance of blood they resist iron without fear. [VI.I.5] Like-
wise the sounds of the voice are unlike, and of various quality in different peoples,
because the termination of the east and the west around the level of the earth, there
where the upper part of the world is divided from the lower part, appears to have
its circumference in a natural way balanced and weighted, which term is called by
the mathematicians horizon…
(Barbaro) …that is, ‘terminator’…
(Vitruvius) [VI.I.5 cont.] So, because we have that, keeping in our mind the
centre, we draw a line from the lip that is in the northern part to that which is over
the southern axis, and from that again drawing another across up to the top, that
is after the northern stars, we notice from this that in the world there is a trian-
gular figure, like those organs called sambucas by the Greeks. [VI.I.6] So the space
that is near the lower pole of the line of the axis in the southern ends, those nations
that are below that place, due to the slight elevation of the poles, make a subtle and
most acute sound of the voice, like that made in organs by the chord that is near to
the corner. Following that, the others in the middle of Greece, in the nations make
more moderate ascents of sounds, and yet again from the middle in order increasing
up to the last of the northern regions under the height of the sky the spirits of the
nations are expressed with lower sounds, by the nature of things. Thus it appears
that the whole conception of the world by the inclination with respect to the tem-
pp. 275-276 451

perature of the sun is made with the utmost consonance. [VI.I.7] Thus the nations
that are between the pole of the southern axis and in the middle of the north, as
is described in the figure of music, in speaking the sound of the voice of the mesē.
And those peoples that go towards the north, because they have the highest distance
with respect to the world, having the spirits of the voices full of humour, are forced
by the nature of things with lower sound to the first and to the added voice, called
hypatē and proslambanomenos, as by the same rationale in the middle (the peo-
ples falling towards the south) make the most acute subtlety of sound of the voice to
those that are near the last chords, which are called paranētē. [VI.I.8] That it is
true that for the humid places of nature things are lower, and for the hot ones they
become more acute, experimenting in [p. 276] this way can be observed. Let there
be taken two chalices baked equally in a kiln and of equal weight, and of like sound
when touched. One of these shall be placed in water and then taken out; let both
be touched. When this is done there will be found a great difference between those
sounds, and they cannot be of equal weight. So too with the bodies of men: conceived
in a manner of figuration and a conjunction of the world, some, due to the heat of
the countries with the touching of the air, send forth an acute spirit; others, due to
the abundance of the humour strew a most low quality of sounds. [VI.I.9] So too by
the subtlety of the air, the southern countries due to the acute heat die earlier and are
quicker to take counsel with the mind, but northern peoples, infused by the thick-
ness of the air, because the air hinders them, cooled by the humour they have stupid
minds. And that these things are so can be understood from serpents which, due to
the heat having dried the coolness of the humour, move with great vehemence, but
in the time of ices, the winter made cold by the mutation of the sky, they are made
immobile due to the stupor. Thus it is no wonder if hot air makes the minds of men
more acute, and the cold in contrast makes them slower. [VI.I.10] Being thus the
nations under the south of most acute mind and infinite quickness in grasping the
situation, as soon as they enter into facts of arms they are lacking, because they
have had the strength of their minds sucked by the sun. But those who are born
in cold parts are quicker to arms and with great impetus and without fear enter
into battle, but with slowness of mind and without consideration making impetus
without acuteness they break with their counsel. Things being thus constituted by
the nature of the world, such that all countries are distinguished by immoderate
mixtures, it pleased nature that among the spaces of all the world and in the middle
of the universe the Roman people would be possessors of all terms, [VI.I.11] because
in Italy the peoples are most tempered for strength on both sides: with the members
of the body, and with valour of mind. Because as the star of Jupiter running in the
452 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

middle between the great fervour of Mars and the great cold of Saturn is tempered,
so too by the same rationale, Italy, placed between the northern part and the south,
is tempered by both sides, and invites praise. So with its counsels it breaks the forces
of the Barbarians, and with a strong hand the thoughts of the southerners. And
thus Divine Providence has placed the city of the Roman people in an excellent and
tempered region, so that it would be master of the world. [VI.I.12] If thus it is seen,
that to the inclination of the sky the dissimilar regions with various manners are
related, and that by nature peoples were born with unlike minds and figures of the
bodies and different qualities, we do not doubt also the necessity of distributing the
rationales of building according to the properties of the peoples and nations, nature
having of this given a ready and clear demonstration. I have exposed (as far as I
could observe with great reason) the properties of the places by nature disposed, and
in what way it is necessary to constitute, from the course of the sun and the inclina-
tions of the sky, the qualities of buildings to the figures of the peoples. So now I will
briefly declare in the universal and in the particular the proportions and measures
of the manners of each building.
(Barbaro) The qualities of countries must be considered by those who
build, since in one place building is done in one way and in another place it
is done in another way, with respect to the burning sun, the cold winds, the
snowy seasons, and the inundations of the seas or rivers. Where some build
in the caverns of the earth, others build on the mountains, still others in the
woods, and others again on top of the highest trees have made their habita-
tions. So Vitruvius has generally regarded what the architect must consider
in each place. He shows his intention in various ways, and with fine exam-
ples—that is, how qualities of the sky and aspects of various regions make
different effects—and attention must be given to these so that the rooms and
the habitations can be enjoyed without defect. He begins his argument with
the stature and members of men, and from the dispositions of their minds,
which follow the tempering [p. 277] of the body. All of this is easy. The
only part that requires an explanation is that appertaining to the differences
between the voices, when he says that the sounds of the voices among the
peoples of the world have different qualities, and that the variety of climates,
which he calls inclinations, cause men’s voices to vary. He thus says in brief
that those to whom the pole rises less over the horizon have more subtle and
higher voices, and the nearer to the pole—that is, the point in the sky over-
head that is close to the pole—one is born, the lower voice he will have. This
intention is taken from its resemblance to that instrument called a sambuca;
p. 277 453

we would perhaps call it a harp. This is a musical instrument in the shape of

a triangle; the shape is the same as that of the pipes seen in the hand of Pan,
god of shepherds, but the harp is a stringed instrument. Let us imagine, in
the meridian circle ABCD, that E is the centre of the world (Fig. 6.1.1), and
that AEC is the horizon, which is the circle that divides the hemispheres—
that is, the one that is seen from the one that is not seen. Let us imagine the
pole in point F from which falls a line straight down to the horizon to point
H, and similarly another which goes to the centre E.

Fig. 6.1.1. [Proof that shorter chords make higher sounds] Image [p. 277]
This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

There is no doubt that here we see represented triangle FHE. Let us

further imagine the pole raised above the plane in point G, and let us drop
from that point a line to the horizon at point I, and another from point G
to the centre E; here we have another triangle, GIE. I say that those to
whom is raised the pole in point F, have voices that are higher than those
to whom is raised the pole in point G. Let us thus carry line FH inside the
larger triangle and here let it be called MN. It is certain that line GI will
be greater than MN, and if it was a chord of an instrument it would sound
lower and deeper than chord MN, just as the one that is closer to the corner
and smaller makes a higher pitched sound, its movement being faster and it
454 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

being pulled tighter. This is why Vitruvius says, ‘Thus that space that is close to
the lower pole of the southern parts, those countries, that are under that climate by
the brevity of the height of the world make a sound of voice most acute and most
subtle, as is made in the instrument by the chord that is close to the corner’, 2 and so
forth. Our Fig. 6.1.1 shows his intention clearly, except for the oblique line
that he says must be drawn, because while it seems that he wants it to be
drawn from the end of the horizon, as from point C, which he calls the lip,
it must actually be drawn from the centre. Part of this discourse can be read
in Ptolemy, in the second book of his composition.3

Chapter I [recte II]

On the measures and proportions of private buildings

[p. 277] (Vitruvius) [VI.II.1] No greater care must the architect have than making
it so that the edifices have, according to the proportions of the module, the compar-
titions of their rationales. When the rationale of the symmetries is determined and
the proportions explicated with discourse then it is also proper to the acute mind
to see to the nature of the place, to the use, to the beauty, by adding or by taking
away appropriate temperaments, so that when anything is either taken away from
or added to the measure, that will appear to have been directly [p. 278] formed in
such a way that nothing more is desired in the appearance. [VI.II.2] Because one
form appears when seen from close and low, another when seen from far away and
high, nor does it appear in a closed place as it appears in an open place. In these
things it is a work of great judgement to know how to grasp the situation, because
it does not appear that the sight has the true effects but quite often the mind is faulty
in its judgement. As when in painted scenes, the projections of the columns and the
mutules and the figures of the markings come forward in relief, that panel being
without a doubt planar and flat. Similarly the oars of boats, being straight under
water, appear bent and broken to the eye. Until their parts touch the plane of the
water they appear straight as they are; when then under water, through the trans-
parent rarity of nature, they transmit images out of the water to the surface, and

Paraphrased from VI.I.6 above.

2 

3 
See Ptolemy, Almagest 2.12, where he describes the seven ‘climes’ (from Greek klima, or
inclinations).
pp. 278-282 455

thus those images, agitated and shaken, appear to the eye to make the appearance of
broken oars. [VI.II.3] This is because those simulacra are pushed, or because from
the eye come the rays of vision (as the physicists would have it) or for one or another
reason whatsoever. [p. 279] Thus it appears that the appearance has deceived the
judgement of the eyes. [VI.II.4] It being then that true things appear false, and it
proving to be that from the eyes some things appear differently than that which
they are, I do not think that there is need to doubt that according to the nature and
necessity of places must be made additions and diminutions, so that in such works
nothing is to be desired. This can be done not only by doctrine, but also by acuteness
of mind. [VI.II.5] So first it is necessary to order the rationale of the measures from
which the mutation of things can be taken without doubt. Then shall be explicated
the lower space of the work to be built, in width and in length of that work. Once
the size is constituted, there follows the preparation of the proportion to the beauty,
so that there will be no doubt about the eurythmy, to anyone wanting to consider
it. Of this, with what rationale it is made, I will say, but first I will explain how
open courtyards in houses, called cavaedia, must be made.
(Barbaro) I have said that Vitruvius very reasonably wanted to reiterate
in the sixth book those things that [p. 282] in the first book he had wanted
to present in the introduction to architecture. The architect must have the
same ideas regarding the ordering of private edifices as he had in public
things, and must well observe the disposition, decorum, beauty, distribu-
tion, compartition, and other things touched on in the first book, according
to how we have very clearly exposed them there. This strongly deflates the
arrogance of many who measure many members and many parts in the ruins
of Rome, and not finding that those correspond to the measures of Vitru-
vius, immediately criticise him, saying that Vitruvius did not understand.
Thus imitating the things that they have measured in buildings outside of
their places, they govern themselves by a firm rule always in the same way,
and have no consideration for what Vitruvius has said above, and says even
more clearly in this present place—that is, that one mustn’t always obey the
same rules and symmetries, because the nature of the site often requires
another different rationale of measure and necessity forces us to add to or
take away from that which has been prescribed. So, Vitruvius says, in this
case is seen much refinement and judgement on the part of the architect,
who, taking away or adding to the measure, makes it such that the eye has
456 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

its part,4 and necessity reigns with fine and subtle reasoning. So if we find
that the cornice of the Theatre of Marcellus is quite different from the rules
of Vitruvius, and the rest is very respectful of them, we must not criticise
the great architect who made that theatre. Those who were able to view the
entire work as a whole would have perhaps arrived at a better judgement.
So Vitruvius does well to say that even if the architect’s greatest care is for
the measures and proportions, he acquires much value when he is forced to
depart from the prescribed symmetries and yet takes nothing away from the
beauty of the appearance. Nor can he be blamed, because he has used reason
to medicate the evil of necessity. Here is seen how necessary perspective is
to the architect. Its power is shown when our sight is marvellously deceived
by paintings which, made on a flat surface and, according to the rationale
of perspective, regulated from a single point, make things appear in relief,
and cannot be sworn to not be in relief unless a man touches them or draws
near. The deceits of vision are either, according to the diversity of means by
which things are seen, that things that are entire appear broken, or things
that are small appear large. Too much light is a hindrance; too little is not
sufficient to see a small thing. Distances mutate the figures, so from faraway
square things appear round. Vitruvius has made us observe such things in
many places: the foreshortening of bodies does not allow us to see all of their
parts; when a lighted torch is moved quickly, the rapid movement makes a
flame seem continuous; the weakness of the eye also gives rise to different
errors. But many of these things can be remedied by the capable architect.
After the architect has carefully considered the rationale of the measures and
everything that makes a beautiful thing—including what manner is called
for, either solid to support weights, such as the Doric, or slender to delight,
such as the Corinthian, or something between the two, such as the Ionic,
and he has observed nature’s preferred number for columns, openings, and
that high things are born from the low, and that those proportions in sounds
that delight the ear, when likewise applied to bodies, delight the eye—I say
that in order that all of the things will be taken care of, it is necessary that
he, in the most refined way possible, attend to that which is necessary for
what is called ‘eurythmy’ in the first book.

A common adage in Italian, anche l’occhio vuole la sua parte (‘the eye too wants its part’). He
4 

used this expression earlier; see Barbaro, p. 115.

pp. 282-283 457

Chapter III
On the cavaedia of houses

[p. 282] (Vitruvius) [VI.III.1] Cavaedia are distinguished in five manners, the
figures of which are thus named: Tuscan, Corinthian, tetrastyle, displuviate, te-
studinate. The Tuscan are those in which the beams that run the width of the atri-
um have some sloped rafters, and channels or drains for the water that run between
the corners of the walls and the corners of the beams. Also from the rafters in the
middle of the [p. 283] cavaedium, called compluvium, are drains for water. In the
Corinthian with the same rationales are placed the beams and the compluvia, but
there is this in addition: that the beams begin at the walls, and rest on columns
placed around. The tetrastyle are those in which, by having corner columns under
the beams, are lent usefulness and solidity, because the beams are neither forced to
have great weight, nor are they loaded by rafters placed on them. [VI.III.2] The
displuviate are those in which the sloped beams that support the arca cast the fall-
ing waters outwards. These are of the greatest utility for the winter rooms, because
their straight compluvia do not take light away from the triclinia. But they have
this inconvenience in their arrangements, that the tubes containing the downspouts
for waters run around the walls, which tubes cannot so readily receive the falling
waters in the gutters, and thus back up and overflow and spoil in this way the
workmanship of the windows. The testudinate are made where there are no great
forces,5 and above the floors are made spacious places for habitations.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius has already shown us what we must consider before
we put our hands to the building of private houses, with respect both to the
regions of the sky and the aspects of the world according to which buildings
are to be laid out, and to the measures and proportions we must observe in
dispositions both free and prescribed by necessity. He now begins to give us
the precepts and compartitions of private houses, and considers their most
beautiful parts, adapting them to the rank of the people, considering parts
both public and private, and not omitting anything worthy of his obser-
vation. Thus to begin his treatment of houses, he begins with those parts
whose appearances first present themselves, as he did in treating temples
in the third book. What therefore first appears to us is the falling of the
slopes—that is, where the rain drains off—called impluvium and compluvium.
5 
‘There are no great forces’: a translation of non sunt impetus magni; see Fra Giocondo (1511,
p. 61v). This is markedly different from other translations, which say ‘span is not great’. Cfr.
Morgan (1914, p. 177); Granger (1934, p. 27); Schofield (2009, p. 172).
458 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

It is reasonable to describe this form, both because it is the first that we

encounter, and because Vitruvius having given the rules for the contigna-
tion and connections inside and underneath the roof (as was seen in the
fourth book6), he wants to show us the different appearances according to
the different manners of the valleys and hips outside and on top. He calls
these places cavaedia because they are really like the caves of the houses. The
Greeks called such places surrounded by walls and open in the centre aulas;
we call such places ‘courtyard’ or ‘courts’: when they are open, courtyards;
when closed, courts or entrances. The courtyard is thus one of the principal
elements where (as Alberti says7), as in a public forum, all the other, smaller
members come together. As in the city the forum and the parts conjoined
to it are the parts that are seen first, so too in a house, which is like a small
city, the first thing that meets the eye is the courtyard, to which is assigned
a large, open space, ready for everything. They are also called ‘atria’, but this
refers to another area; the term ‘cavaedium’ is used for the open spaces where
it rains inside, while ‘atrium’ is used for the part that is covered. There are
five manners of cavaedia; some take their names from the forms, the others
from the usages of different cities.
The first is the Tuscan, which is simpler than the others, and from which
the name atrium may derive, because in Tuscany there lived a people named
Atriensi8; this is why it isn’t convincing that ‘atrium’ derives from the colour
atrum [i.e., black], which comes from smoke, as though cooking took place
there.9 Tuscan cavaedia were those in which the beams that run the width
of the atrium have other rafters between them, called interpensiva, which
sloped downwards; they had drains called colliquiae that ran between them
and were like gutters, and came from the corners of the walls to the corners
of the beams. There were four main beams, on top of which were placed oth-
er rafters that sloped downwards; these are the ones which Vitruvius called

6 
See Barbaro, p. 167 and Fig. 4.2.1; Vitruvius IV.II.1.
7 
Cfr. Alberti (1485, 1.9); (1988, p. 22).
8 
Barbaro takes this idea from Varro, who refers to a people he calls ‘Atriati’; see Varro, De
lingua latina, 5.161: Atrium appellatum ab Atriatibus Tuscis… ; Ital. trans. Varro (1874, p. 75).
9 
This explanation is given by Maurus Servius Honoratus, In Vergilii Aeneidem commentarii
(Commentary on the Aeneid of Vergil) 1.726: ibi et culina erat: unde et atrium dictum est; atrum
enim erat ex fumo. It is repeated by Isidore of Seville, in Etymologies 15.3.4: Alii atrium quasi
ab igne et lychno atrum dixerunt; atrum enim fit ex fumo.
pp. 283-288 459

interpensiva, because they sloped.10 These came from the corners of the walls
to the corners of the rafters. At one end they were fixed on top of those raft-
ers, and with the other as though leaning on the corners of the walls. Then
there were small pieces, called battens (which we have discussed in the fourth
book11). On top of these were the roof tiles and the hollow flat gutter tiles
that sent the [p. 288] water down into the space of the courtyard (Fig. 6.3.1).

Fig. 6.3.1. [The Tuscan courtyard] Image and legend [p. 285]:
B, courtyard; E, cellae; D, sloped roof

10 
Barbaro’s description differs from current thinking. The interpensiva are now thought to
have been the beams resting on the main beams and framing the arca, or inner perimeter of
the roof. For a convincing illustration and description of this construction, see Ulrich (2007,
p. 170 and Fig. 8.34).
11 
See Barbaro, p. 167; Vitruvius IV.II.1.
460 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 6.3.2. [The tetrastyle courtyard] Image and legend [p. 284]:
A, courtyard; F, cellae

That Vitruvius uses the term interpensiva to indicate rafters that rest on
top of and not beneath the beams that run the width of the atrium in support
of them (as some would have it), can be seen by what he says further down
in speaking of tetrastyle cavaedia, ‘nor are they loaded by beams placed on them’.
This is therefore a sign that the interpensiva constituted a load and were
placed on top; if they had been supporting elements, they would not have
been called interpensiva. These cavaedia did not have a portico around them,
and their slope was very simple; it projected very far forward, throwing the
water far from the walls.
p. 288 461

Fig. 6.3.3. [The displuviate courtyard] Image and legend [p. 286]: C,
courtyard (that is, sloping in two directions); G, rooms

The second manner is called Corinthian, and is no different as regards

the projecting of the beams and the slopes of the Tuscan manner. It is quite
different, however, in that the beams that come from the walls of the width
of the atrium rest on top of columns that go around the cavaedia, as the plan
and section in Fig. 6.4.1 and Fig. 6.4.2 show. This figure could also serve to
illustrate the Tuscan cavaedia because of the similarities between the two; it
must be understood, however, that there are no columns in the Tuscan.
The third manner is called tetrastyle—that is, having four columns
(Fig. 6.3.2). It is very strong, nor does it carry a large load, because there
are no interpensiva. This courtyard must not be very large, since having only
four columns, and those at the corners, if it were very long or very wide the
spaces between the columns would be overly large and the work would not
be stable (as Vitruvius says).
462 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 6.3.4. [The testudinate courtyard] Image and legend [p. 287]:
D, courtyard; M, cellae; P, windows

The fourth manner is called ‘displuviate’—that is, having two slopes

made of rafters set like a compass standing open, called deliquiae (Fig. 6.3.3).
These have two slopes that drain off water: one that drains towards the
courtyard, the other draining to the outside. Here arises a defect, because
the water that drains off via the gutters cannot so quickly get into the pipes,
called fistulae, and the mouths clog up. The water, spilling over, drips down
the walls and over time damage the eaves, windows and woodwork, which
are troublesome to repair. However, they have the advantage of not blocking
the light from the rooms for dining. This is because the roofs do not project
very far, and the slopes are gentle, and thus they do not block the light.
Again [i.e., going back to the earlier discussion about the origin of the
term ‘atrium’], if I wanted to say that the term ‘atrium’ was taken from the
colour atrum, I would say that it was because the slopes that projected out
pp. 288-289 463

made those spaces shadowy and dark. But perhaps ‘atrium’ comes from the
Greek, and refers to a place with a straight path with no turns.
The fifth manner is called ‘testudinate’, and is made with four slopes. I
think that these were covered and had halls and spacious rooms above them,
their floors supported by beautiful colonnades, which in front of the doors
showed fine loggias that served as vestibules, or which, in the entrances, had
columns compartitioned to lend grandeur and beauty. It might also be that
these testudinate cavaedia were for ordinary houses of people of middling
status, in which there were neither atria nor colonnades. We might then
want to say that those entrances were called atria; certainly nothing prevents
us from understanding them this way (Fig. 6.3.4).

Chapter IV
On atria, to tablina

[p. 288] (Vitruvius) [VI.III.3] The lengths truly and the widths of the atria are
formed in three ways. First dividing their length into five parts and giving three
to the width; then dividing into three and giving two; finally setting the width in
a perfect square and drawing the diagonal, the length of which will give the length
of the atrium.
(Barbaro) I wouldn’t have divided this part on the atrium from the
preceding chapter, because the atrium goes with the cavaedium.12 This is
shown too by the way Vitruvius speaks of it, saying atriorum vero longitu-
dines.13 The atrium is the first part seen by those who enter the house. It is
a covered space, and has the main doorway in the middle, opposite which
are the doors that go into the peristylium, passing first through some other
spaces called tablina. On either side of the atrium are wings called pteromata
in Greek. That the atrium is the first part is shown [p. 289] by Vitruvius in
the eighth chapter of the present book, where he says that in the city atriums
must be near the door.14 That the atrium is covered Vitruvius has also shown

12 
Barbaro’s chapter division is mostly like that of Cesariano (1521) and Martin (1457).
Fra Giocondo (1511) did not divide the two chapters of cavaedia and atria, but kept them
together.
13 
See Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 62r).
14 
See Barbaro, p. 297; Vitruvius VI.V.3.
464 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

where above, in speaking of the cavaedium, he says ‘the beams that run the
width of the atrium’ and so forth. The measures and symmetry of atria are
determined in three ways—that is, atria are made in three proportions. The
first is when the length is divided into five parts and three are given to the
width. The second is when the length is divided into three parts, and two are
given to the width. The third is when the diagonal of the square of the width
is given to the length. The first is a superbipartient of thirds—that is, of a
square and two thirds. The second is a sesquialteran proportion—that is, a
square and a half. The third is diagonal.15 Before I come to the explanation
and compartition of these parts, I would like to quote the second chapter
of Pliny’s thirty-fifth book, because it seems to me that it suits the present
purposes, both because it regards the use of atria and tablina, and because it
provides a keen narration of memorable antiquity:

By the painting of images of very close resemblance figures were

conserved from age to age, which custom is totally lacking today.
Now they are placed on copper shields covered in silver, and with-
out discernible differences in the figures; the heads of the statues
are changed, causing rebellious verses to spread. Thus they would
sooner that the material be admired than the figures be recognised.
Among these things, with the old paintings they decorate the ar-
mouries where paintings are conserved, called pinacothecae, and pay
homage to the effigies of others, not holding honour in esteem ex-
cept for its value, which is broken by the heir, or stolen away by the
snare of the thief. Thus, the effigies of men not surviving, they leave
behind no image except that of money. These same men adorn the
gymnasia of the athletes with images, and the places where they
oil themselves, and to their cubicles they bring images of Epicurus
and carry them around with them. On his birthday they sacrifice
on the twentieth day of the moon and observe the feast-days each
month, called icas. And especially those who don’t wish to be rec-
ognised even in life. And thus it is truly that laziness has ruined

Barbaro bases his brief explanations of the proportions on the square: superbipartient
15 

of thirds is 5:3 (a square with side 3 to which 2 parts of that are added to achieve 5:3);
sesquialteran (a square of a square with side 2 to which 1 part of that is added to achieve 3:2);
the diagonal of the square, resulting in the proportion 1:√2 (known as a root-two rectangle).
He gives a detailed explanation of these proportions and more in his lengthy introductory
commentary to Book III; see Barbaro, pp. 97-108.
p. 289 465

art. And because there are no images of people, those of the mind
have been scorned as well. In other times in the houses of the elders
those were seen in the atria, because they looked not at the designs
of foreign artists, nor at the metals nor the marbles but at the fac-
es expressed in wax that were displayed in each armoury, so that
there were the images to accompany the defunct in the funerals of
the clan. As soon as one died, the multitude of clan was present in
order; the orders and degrees of clanship were marked in copper
strips attached to the painted image. There were also between the
doors and thresholds of the doors the images of the greatest minds,
and attached were the spoils of the enemy, which were not per-
mitted to be broken even by someone buying the house; when the
owners of the house changed the ornaments remained. This was a
great stimulus, that houses and roofs each day reproached a new
owner who entered through the triumphs of others.16

You see, in this quote can be gleaned a feeling for what Vitruvius de-
scribes, and how in the atrium was the tablinum with its images and statues.
Ovid says something similar in the eighth elegy of the first of his Amores: Nec
te dicipiant veteris quinque Atria ceræ:17 ‘wishing to show a great and ancient
nobility that not even five atria would suffice to hold the wax images of the
elders.’ The use, therefore, of these atria and their parts, such as the wings
and tablina, is made clear in the works of these great authors.
To proceed in orderly fashion in the design of atria, and in the compar-
titioning of the houses, so that this material, held by many to be (as it truly is)
extremely difficult, can be understood, I say that it is first necessary to arrive
at the plan, and with lines draw the atrium in length and width according
to one of the proportions that Vitruvius prescribed: a square and a half, a
square and its diagonal, or a square and two thirds. In Fig. 6.4.1 we have
made a square and a half, marked by the letters ABCD.18 We then arrive to
the design of the wings, which are on the right and left sides and are colon-
naded porticoes. Because these depend on the proportion of the length of the
atrium, in order that they be in proportion it is necessary to know how many
16 
This is Barbaro’s own translation of part of Pliny the Elder, Natural History 35.2.
17 
Cfr. Ovid, Amores 1.8.65: Nec te decipiant veteres circum atria cerae. Ovid makes another,
similar reference in Fasti 1.591: perlege dispositas generosa per atria ceras.
18 
There are no such letters shown on the figure.
466 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

feet long the atrium is. Here we have an atrium that is 80 feet long, so that it
will fall under the rule that Vitruvius gives, saying that if the atrium is from
80 to 100 feet long, its entire length shall be [p. 290] divided into 5 parts,
and one of these shall be given to the wings, such that the fifth part of 80
is divided into two equal parts, one of which is given to the right wing, the
other to the left, not counting in this, however, the thickness of the column,
because the wings would turn out quite narrow. Thus the width of the wings
will be 8 feet, because 16 is a fifth of 80. So, this atrium will be 80 feet long
and 53 and a half [recte a third19] feet wide, and will have wings of 8 feet not
counting the thickness of the columns. The height of the atria is actually
the same for all of them, and is determined in this way: subtracting a fourth
from the length, the remainder will be the height—that is, the distance from
the ground to the underside of the beams that form the bottom chord of the
roof structure, supporting the arca and the whole space up to the ridge beam.
Thus, subtracting 20 from 80, we will give sixty to the height; within these
60 feet, we will make the height of the columns, the architraves, friezes and
cornices. 53 feet and 16 [recte 4] inches will be given to the columns with
their bases and capitals; the remainder will be given to the upper members.
We mustn’t marvel that the columns are so high, because the magnificence
of these houses required that; height and length are proper to them, so that
Vitruvius says alta atria and Virgil longa atria.20 I don’t wish to reiterate what
Pliny says about the grandeur, indeed the luxury, of Roman houses, in the
thirty-sixth and thirty-seven books of Natural History or what Budé has said
at length in the third and fourth books of De asse.21 Rather I will recount,
as proof of what I have said regarding the height of the columns—that is,
that they came to be taken to the cornices up to the height of the roof—what
Pliny says:

Let us grant this indulgence for the amusements of the public; but
why did the laws maintain their silence when the largest of these
columns, pillars of Lucullan marble forty-two feet in height, were

19 
The ratio 3:2 actually produces a rectangle measuring dimension of 80′x53′-4″; in Barbaro
(1567 Lat., p. 217, line 58) he says clearly quinquaginta tres, & pollices, quatuor.
20 
Cfr. Vitruvius VI.5.2; Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 64r-64v): … faciunda sunt vestibula regalia,
alta atria et peristylia amplissima; Virgil, Aeneid 2.483: Appāret domus intus et ātria longa
patēscunt.
21 
Budé (1514).
p. 290 467

erected in the atrium of Scaurus? This was not done privately or in

secret, for the contractor for the public sewers compelled him to
give security for the possible damage that might be done in trans-
porting them to the Palatine Hill.22

Budé says that from these words we can understand that the theatre,
which was built for only a month, having been demolished, the enormous
columns were moved to Scaurus’s atrium, which was in the palace.23 The
heights of the columns were thus very large, and so Vitruvius says that
the lintel beams of the wings are high such that the height is equal to the
widths—that is, to the width of the atria. So, the atrium being 53 feet and
16 [recte 4] inches wide, likewise from the architrave to the ground there will
be 53 feet and 16 [recte 4] inches. Vitruvius calls these beams liminares, first
to show that they were not placed over those columns of the atrium, and then
because they bear a certain resemblance to supercilia.24 The atrium being
drawn in height, length, and width with the proportion of the wings, we
arrive to the tablinum. So first I would insert the text of what has been said
up to now, leaving the compartition of the architrave, frieze, and cornice to
the rules that were stated in the third book.
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.4] The height of the atrium must rise to below the beams
as much as the length taking away the fourth part. The remainder serves with re-
spect to the coffers and the arca, which is on top the beams. To the wings that are on
the right and the left the width is given in this way, that if the length of the atrium
is from 30 to 40 feet, the third part is given; if from 40 to 50 feet it shall be divided
into three parts and a half, of which one shall be given to the wings; if from 50 to
60 the fourth part of the length is conceded to the wings; if from 60 to 80 the length
shall be divided into four parts and a half and of these one part shall be the width
of the wings; from 80 to 100 feet, the length divided into five parts will give the
just width to the wings. The lintel beams must be placed at a height such that the
heights are equal to the widths.

22 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.2. 
23 
See where Budé, in his Book III, repeats almost verbatim the story told by Pliny, and then
adds: Ex his verbis intelligimus, dissoluto teatro, quod ad vnius circiter mensis tempus factum
erat, id est quoad ludi finirentur, columnas grandissimas in atrium domus Scauri, quæ erat in
Palatio, translatas; this is a clean version from Budé (1542, p. XCIXr); a slightly less clear
transcription of the same passage is found in Budé (1514, pp. LXXVI r-v).
24 
A reference to the sopralimitare or supercilium described in doorways in Book IV; see
Barbaro, p. 183.
468 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Here we observe an admirable increase and decrease in pro-

portions; those who wish to consider them attentively according to the rules
that we gave in the third book will recognise the admirable skill of these
proportions as well as the delightful effect they produce. As the length of the
atrium decreases, the proportion of the width of the wings increases, because
if the proportions of the wings of smaller atria were to be smaller, the wings
would be very narrow and less than good. I have examined the argument
in every way possible, but it doesn’t seem right to me to serve others bread
that has already been chewed; I would rather give them the opportunity to
strengthen their own teeth by biting down on the crust.25 Really I’ve done it
with good intentions, because if a man doesn’t discuss something with him-
self and look at it from all angles he produces no fruit at all.
Now we come to the tablinum, whose measurement depends on the
width of the atrium, just as the measurement of the wings depends [p. 291]
on its length. This is rightly so, because as the wings go along the length of
the atrium, so the tablinum goes along its width, and exactly opposite the
door: it is indicated by the letter T [recte, y] in Fig. 6.4.1. Thus Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.5] The tablinum, if the width of the atrium is of 20 feet,
taking away the third part of its space the remainder shall be given to it; if from 30
to 40 feet half of the width of the atrium shall be given to the tablinum. But when
it is from 40 to 60, divide the width of the atrium into 5 parts and of these give
two to the tablinum. Smaller atria cannot have the same rationales of symmetry
as larger atria, because if we use the symmetries of the larger atria in the smaller,
neither the tablina nor the wings will have any usefulness.
(Barbaro) Because they will be too narrow, and won’t suit any purposes.
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.5 cont.] And if we were to take the proportions of the
smaller in the larger, those members would be poorly formed and outsized in such
buildings.
(Barbaro) The example is this. If the proportion of the wings of atria
measuring 80 feet long (that is, a fifth of the length) is taken in measuring
the wings of atria 30 feet long, the wings would be too narrow, because a
25 
One of Barbaro’s more colourful expressions: Io ho rivoltata in tutti i modi, nè mi pare di
masticare il pane ad altri, e questo per dar cagione, che si fermino meglio i denti rompendo ancho
essi le croste. My thanks to Livia Giacardi of the University of Torino and Pier Daniele
Napolitani of the University of Pisa for an interesting exchange about this sentence. Pierre
Gros discusses the difficulties Renaissance architects faced with the question of the wings,
commenting that Barbaro’s comment indicates how intensely the issue was debated; see
Gros (2009).
p. 291 469

fifth of 30 is 6 feet, which, divided into two parts, would make the width
of the wings 3 feet. Likewise, if the proportion of the wings of atria 30 feet
long [i.e., a third of the length] is taken to make the wings of atria 80 feet,
the wings would turn out to be extremely wide and disproportionate. Simi-
larly in tablina, a proportion suitable to the width of the atria must be used.
Just as it is true that the longer the atrium the smaller the proportion taken
to make the wings, so too the wider the atrium the smaller the proportion
taken to make its tablinum. You see, in an atrium that is 20 feet wide, two
thirds are taken for the width of the tablinum; in an atrium from 30 feet to
40 feet wide, one half is taken; in an atrium from 40 to 60 feet, two fifths are
taken. Everyone can see that two thirds are greater than one half, and that
one half is greater than two fifths.
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.5 cont.] And so I thought I must write distinctly of the
exquisite rationales of the sizes that serve for usefulness and for appearance.
(Barbaro) For utility we need wide wings, because if those were narrow
it would not be possible to stroll through them. Similarly with regards to
the tablinum, where statues and armour are placed, if they were too narrow
they wouldn’t be of any use. Likewise to appearance, because a thing that is
poorly formed and outsized loses its visual appeal, while one that is too nar-
row is quickly filled and restrictive. If the tablinum entered from an atrium
20 feet wide were to have the proportion of the atrium of sixty, it would be
useless, because it would only be two-fifths of the width—that is, 8 feet; if
the tablinum taken from the atrium 60 feet wide were to have the propor-
tions of an atrium of 20 feet—that is, two-thirds—it would be too wide,
because it would be 4 [recte 40] feet. That would be just as visually offensive,
since one would enter from an atrium into a tablinum only slightly smaller
than the atrium. Vitruvius does not give the length of the tablinum, because
I think that this is to be made either according to the quantity of statues or
according to the status of the people, or as required by the proportions of the
atrium, which is better.
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.6] The height of the tablinum to the beam must be deter-
mined with the addition of the eighth part of the width. The coffers are raised with
the addition of the third part of the width to the height.
(Barbaro) Thus the width of the tablinum of our plan (Fig. 6.4.1) will be
two-fifths of the width of the atrium; that amounts to just a little more than
470 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

22 feet, because the atrium is 53 feet 6 [recte 4] inches wide.26 The height up
to the architrave will be greater than that width by one-eighth of it, to which
height one third of the width is added up to the coffers. Thus are expedited
the atrium, wings and tablinum as far as their proportions and commen-
suration are concerned. Since the ancients had a number of atria, cavaedia,
peristylia, loggias and other similar elements, there had to be openings and
passages to go from one to another, so Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.6 cont.] The mouths to the smaller atria are taken from
the width of the tablinum minus a third, but the openings to the larger are a half.
[p. 292] (Barbaro) These required openings, which Vitruvius calls fau-
ces, were passageways for going from one place to another, nor were they
(I believe) not lacking in ornament. Since statues were placed in the tabli-
num, Vitruvius orders how high they must be placed with their ornaments,
and says:
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.6 cont.] The images similarly must be placed at that height
that will be the width of the wings.
(Barbaro) And here in our elevation of the tablinum the statues are
eight feet high, because that is the width of the wings (Fig. 6.4.2). The rest
is easy in Vitruvius and is comprised in the rules given in the third and
fourth books.
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.6 cont.] The widths of the doors must be proportionate to
the height according to what their manners require: the Doric shall be done as the
Doric; the Ionic as the Ionic as in the fourth book, where in speaking of the doors the
rationales of symmetries are set forth. The opening of the impluvium shall be left as
wide as not less than a quarter nor more than a third of the width of the atrium.
But the length shall be made the module of the atrium. [VI.III.7] The peristylia
across shall be a third part longer than inside. The columns as high as the width
of the porticoes. The intercolumniations and spaces between the columns shall be
far apart not less than three nor more than four column thicknesses. But if in the
peristyle the columns are made in the Doric manner, modules must be made as I
have written in the fourth book regarding the Doric order, so that they are disposed
according to those modules and the rationales of the triglyphs.

26 
An erroneous calculation. Actually 2/5 of 53′-4″ feet is approximately 21′-4″; then the
third of 21′-4″ amounts to 7′-1 ⅓″, making the height up to the coffers 28′-5 ⅓″. His example
would have been neater and avoided all fractions if he had chosen a length of 90 feet, giving
a width of 60 and a height of 24, to which an eighth, or 3, is added to make the height of 27.
p. 292 471

(Barbaro) These compartitions, modules, and symmetries of beams,

doors, columns and manners were very clearly stated in the third and fourth
books, both in words and with figures, so I will avoid a lengthy discussion
in order to avoid tedium and to let the scholars have their say. Of the private
house I have given the plan in Fig. 6.4.1, the profile in Figs. 6.4.2, and the
elevation in Fig. 6.4.3; the parts of these are known by the letters indicated.

Fig. 6.4.1. [Plan of the private house in the Corinthian manner] Image
[p. 280]. [Legend from the 1567 Latin edition, p. 216: T, vestibule; o,
cavaedium; q, gardens; y, tablinum; z, basilica]
472 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
 473

Fig. 6.4.2. [Profile of the private house] Images [pp. 278-279]

474 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 6.4.3. Image and caption [p. 281]: This is a part of the front of the
private house
pp. 292-293 475

Chapter V
On triclinia, rooms, exedrae, libraries and their measures

[p. 292] (Vitruvius) [VI.III.8] As much as the width of the triclinia, two times
that must be the length. The heights of all the conclaves that are longer than wide
must be compartitioned in this way: that put together the length and the width, of
that sum is taken half, and that much is given to the height, but if the rooms and
exedrae are square, added the half to the width the height will be made. The rooms
called pinacothecae must be made like the exedrae with ample size. The Corinthian
rooms, those with four columns and those that are called Egyptian shall have the
rationale of their measure as the above-stated way of the triclinia. But these shall
be by the interposition of the columns more spacious.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius having treated up to here the public parts of build-
ings, now treats the private parts, such as the dining rooms, chambers,
ante-chambers, halls and the secluded rooms. These have different names
according to the meaning of the Greek names. The first is the name ‘triclin-
ium’, which was the place where they dined, so-called because of the three
beds on which they stretched out and rested on their elbows while they ate.
They did not, however, sleep there; they may perhaps have been like the
Turkish mastabas. The room was called triclinium because it was ordinarily
arranged with three beds, but there can also be diclinia, tetraclinia, deca-
clinia, made respectively of two, four and ten beds, and even more according
to their disposition. Philander speaks at length about this place.27 They were
on only one side of the dining table, which was near the bed and supported
on three legs, or even on a single leg, and they changed the table by changing
the table tops, so that when the first dishes were taken away, the second were
carried in on a different table top. By ancient custom women sat at the table;
[p. 293] the men, as I said, propped themselves up on their elbows. When
they wanted to eat the servants came running and took off their shoes. Usu-
ally no more than two people were on a bed, but the number of beds de-
pended on the number of diners. The form of these as taken from antiquity
is described by Philander and there are printed figures. Conclave28 was the
name given to those rooms locked with a key, such as chambers, triclinia and
all rooms where people lived. Oeci are the rooms where people assembled and

27 
Philander (1544, pp. 181-188).
28 
For a modern discussion of the meaning of ‘conclave’, see Leach (1997).
476 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

parties were held, and where the women worked. We might call them sitting
rooms or parlours. ‘Exedrae’ I would say is the hall or audience room where
mid-day naps were taken during the summer. It was located over the large,
spacious gardens and took its name from the chairs placed there. The pina-
cotheca was the place where there were painted pictures and writings. These
places—that is, the exedrae, pinacothecae and triclinia—were magnificently
appointed, ornamented with paintings, columns, and stucco work and other
splendours.
Now Vitruvius gives us the measure and disposition of all of them,
partly with general rules, partly with specific rules. First he talks about tri-
clinia, which he says had to be formed of two squares—that is, the length
was double the width. He says in general that the height of each conclave
had to be half the sum of the length and the width, so that if the width is 6
and the length 12, putting together 6 and 12 their sum is 18, half of which
is 9, and the height is therefore 9 feet. If the exedrae or rooms are square, the
height must be a square and a half. Pinacothecae must be made of very large
proportions such as the double and the triple. The halls in the Corinthian
manner, called tetrastyle, as well as those made in the Egyptian manner
used the same proportions as the triclinia, but since columns were placed
inside them, their spaces were larger. The difference between the Corinthian
and the Egyptian is quite clearly stated by Vitruvius, who says:
(Vitruvius) [VI.III.9] Between the Corinthian and the Egyptian is found
this difference: the Corinthian have simple columns, either placed on the base or
low down, and have the architraves and cornices either of stucco or wood, and
above the columns the ceiling or vault is coved in a flattened curve. But in the
Egyptian the architraves are set on top of the columns, and from the architrave to
the walls that go around is placed the flooring, and above that the floorboards and
pavements, unroofed, that go around. Then on top of the architrave directly over
the columns below are placed columns that are smaller by the fourth part, on top of
the architraves and ornaments of which go the adorned ceilings. Between the upper
columns are placed the windows; thus appears that resemblance to basilicas and not
to Corinthian triclinia.
(Barbaro) Corinthian halls have columns near the walls, and they were
simple columns—that is, of a single order with no columns on top of them,
only the architraves and cornices made, as in the curia, either of stucco and
plaster work or of wood. But Egyptian halls have walls all around and the
inner columns placed far from them, as in basilicas. On top of the columns
pp. 293-294 477

were the architraves and the cornices. The spaces between the columns and
the walls were covered by a floor, the pavement of which was left unroofed so
that you could walk freely in the open air around the perimeter of the hall.
Above the architrave there were other columns, smaller by a fourth than the
ones below, and between these were windows that brought light to the inner
part. That inner part had a high ceiling, because it was above the architrave
and cornice of the second order of columns. It truly must have been a very
great, worthy thing to see, and served admirably for the viewing of the ban-
quets and feasts held there. These Egyptian halls sooner resembled basilicas
more than triclinia. From these you entered other halls and rooms, be they
triclinia, conclave or others that were necessary for the convenience of the
house. Vitruvius goes on to give us other manners of rooms and accommoda-
tions made in the Greek fashion, which must also have been grand. The pru-
dent architect could take from this what he deems fitting for our own times.

Chapter VI
On halls in the Greek manner

[p. 294] (Vitruvius) [VI.III.10] Also made are halls not in the Italian manner,
called Cyzicene by the Greeks. These look towards the north, and especially to the
lawns and greenery. They have doors in the middle, and are so long and wide
that two triclinia with what goes around them can fit there, facing each other on
opposite sides. They have on the right and left the openings of the windows that
open and close, so that the length of the lawns can be seen through the spaces of the
windows over the roof. Their heights are made by adding the half of the width.
[VI.III.11] In this manner of buildings must be followed all of the rationales of the
measures that can be made without impediment from the site. The openings, if not
obscured by the height of the walls, will be easily explicated and seen to. But if there
is impediment from the narrowness of the site or other necessity, then you will need
with ingeniousness and quickness of mind to take away or add to the measure so
that the beauty of the work is not dissimilar to the true measures.
(Barbaro) There is this difference between Corinthian and Egyptian
halls: that the Corinthian have simple columns—that is, of a single order—
placed either on a base as in some temples, according to what was said in the
third book, or erected from the ground without a base. Above the columns
478 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

were the architraves and cornices made in either wood or stucco such as
that described in the second chapter of the fifth book in speaking about the
curia.29 Above these was a ceiling that was not completely round, but flat-
tened, though made with a compass; those vaults were portions of circles,
which we call rimenati.30 The Egyptians also used to place architraves over
the columns, but on top of those, which were at moved away from the walls
towards the inner part, they placed the beam structure that ran from the
architraves to the surrounding walls. On top of the beams was a flat surface
with floorboards and pavement over it, unroofed; that pavement was laid all
the way around in the space between the columns and the surrounding walls
so that you could walk on it in the open air. On top of the architrave directly
over the columns below was placed another order of columns in accordance
with the rule we have stated more than once—that is, that the upper col-
umns were a fourth part smaller than those below. These columns also had
their architrave, cornices and coffers in the Corinthian manner. Between
those upper columns were windows, so an Egyptian hall sooner resembled a
basilica than a triclinium.31
Two things must be observed here. One is how basilicas were and how
they had their windows. The other is that the term ‘triclinium’ is used by
Vitruvius in speaking about halls, and he makes no distinction between the
rooms that he calls oeci and those called triclinia. So I would say that oeci are
large triclinia, and triclinia small oeci, with the large ones dedicated to public
edifices and the small ones to private ones.
Vitruvius having thus explained this difference between Corinthian and
Egyptian halls, he describes the use that the Greeks made of these rooms,
and that although it appears that the Corinthian halls were Greek halls, and
that the Egyptian halls were also used by the Greeks, both manners were
adopted by the Italians. Nevertheless, I believe that the halls which in this
present chapter he says are in the Greek fashion were not adopted by the
Italians, but were only used in Greece. He says that they were called Cyzi-

29 
See Barbaro, p. 222.
30 
Barbaro’s translation of circinum delumbata (Vitruvius VI.III.9; Fra Giocondo 1511, p. 63v)
is sesta schiacciato, ‘flattened curve’. Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 179, ‘vaulted ceilings’); Granger
(1934, p. 31, ‘curved ceilings rounded to a circular section’); Schofield (2009, p. 178: ‘curved
panelled ceilings describing part of a circle’). It was defined as ‘about a quarter-circle’ in
Serlio (1544, p. XVI): il rimenato, cioè, circa la quarta parte di uno circolo.
31 
This paragraph of commentary is almost identical to the one that appears immediately
above it on Barbaro, p. 293.
pp. 294-295 479

cene, so-called after a city [i.e., Cyzicus] in Mysia in the Sea of Marmara.
They were situated towards the north, looking out over the fields and green-
ery. They had doors in the middle, and two triclinia could fit there, one op-
posite the other; from the beds of these the greenery could be seen through
the windows. The measures of these halls are clearly stated by Vitruvius, nor
is a figure needed, because from the figures shown above and the rules stated
more than once, he who is studious and diligent can derive the form.

Chapter VII
The part of the sky that buildings must face
in order to be useful and healthful

[p. 295] (Vitruvius) [VI.IV.1] Now we will state with what properties the man-
ners of edifices, according to use and according to the parts of the sky, can comfortably
face. The winter triclinia and the places of the baths shall face that part where the
sun sets in the winter, because it is necessary to use the light of the evening, and
also because the setting sun has its splendour opposite and, remitting heat in the
vespertine hours, gives more warmth to the surrounding region. The cubicula and
libraries must be placed to the east, because their use wants the morning light; also,
books do not spoil in such libraries; in those that are towards the south or the north
the pages are ruined by worms and humidity, because the humid winds blowing
generate and nourish them, and spreading the humid spirits, by mildew corrupt the
volumes. [VI.IV.2] The triclinia of spring and autumn face the east, because the im-
petus of the sun moving opposite towards the west makes those rooms, surrounded
by light, more temperate at that time when they are usually used. Those of the sum-
mer must face the north, because that part, unlike the others, which at the solstice
are made hot by the heat, by being turned away from the course of the sun, is always
cool, and offers healthfulness and pleasure in its use. So too it is necessary that those
places where writings and tablets and paintings are to be conserved, called pina-
cothecae, where blankets and feather pillows are sewn with different colours and
stuffed, or where painting is done, face the north so that the colours of those, thanks
to the steadiness and equality of the light, shall remain unaltered in the works.
(Barbaro) The ancients were greatly observant of decorum, of which we
have spoken in the first book. They were likewise attentive to the distribution
that serves use, so Vitruvius speaks about this here, about how it is accom-
480 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

modated, and what is suitable and proper for the various degrees of people.
It is true (as I said at the beginning of this book) that Vitruvius would have
us give the same consideration to what was said in the first chapter on public
buildings to private buildings as well, because concepts such as numbers and
shapes are indifferent, common and applicable to diverse subjects. As for the
things appertaining to distribution he speaks in the present chapter, where
he deals with which kinds of rooms must face what parts of the sky, so that
they are comfortable and useful as well as healthful. The ancients ate in
different rooms depending on the season. In the summer they ate in rooms
that faced north, and that had water and greenery; in the winter they had
fire, the warmest façade, learning from the birds, who migrate according to
the season. Because we must not only care for the comfort of people, but also
for the conservation of things, we must have special consideration for the
rooms where things are kept. What Vitruvius says here is very well thought
out and leaves us to think further as need arises, since although he does not
encompass everything, he sheds enough light for us, in addition to what he
will say further on. There are also houses built for craftsmen and merchants
who sell things that need to be kept in suitable places according to the kinds
of goods. The same is true for munitions, provisions, and weapons; there are
places conserving oil, wool, spices, and fruits, as each has their own proper-
ties that must be taken into consideration so that nothing spoils them. But
these things aren’t considered in the houses of the great. There is another
kind of distribution that participates in decorum, and Vitruvius says:

Chapter VIII
On sites proper to private and public buildings,
and the manners suited to every rank of person

[p. 296] (Vitruvius) [VI.V.1] The rooms being made with regard to the parts of
the sky in this way, it is then necessary to observe the rationales with which fathers
of families build their own places, and the way in which the common places shared
with outsiders are to be built, since in the private ones not everyone is permitted
or can enter unless invited; such are cubicula, triclinia, baths and other rooms that
have like rationales regarding their use. Common spaces are those in which also
those who are not summoned from among the people can enter. These are the en-
p. 296 481

trances, the courtyards, the peristylia and those parts that can have like use. For
those therefore who are of the common sort magnificent entrances are not needed,
nor are tablina nor atria, because these perform their offices by seeking others, rath-
er than being sought by others. [VI.V.2] Those that serve the usefulness and the
fruits of the villa, in the entrances of their houses must have stables and taverns,
and in their houses containers and granaries, wardrobes and pantries that more
readily serve for produce than for beauty and ornament. So for publicans, bankers,
and money changers are houses made grander and more beautiful, and more secure
from dangers. To men of the palace and lawyers the most elegant and most spa-
cious, to be able to receive and admit the multitude of people. For nobles who in the
magistrates and honours must not fail in offices to citizens must be built regal en-
trances and high atria and very ample porticoes and loggias, and very broad spaces
for strolling perfected with ornaments and decoration. In addition to this, librar-
ies, chancelleries, basilicas of magnificence not unlike that sought in those of public
works, because in their houses are often held public and private councils, and the
judges make arbitrations and compromises. [VI.V.3] If then with these rationales
for every sort of person the buildings are thus disposed with regard to decorum, as
was written in the first book, there will be nothing blameworthy, because they will
have everything convenient and their explications without defect. And these things
are not only rationales in the city, but also in the villa. Except that in the city the
atria are close to the doors, but in the villa, which almost imitates what is done in
city houses, immediately next to the doors are the peristylia, then the atria, which
have porticoes around with pavements, that look towards the palaestra and the
places for strolling. I have described diligently (as I set out to do) all of the rationales
of making the citified buildings in the city.
(Barbaro) Having concluded the part that appertains to distribution, in
the present chapter Vitruvius shows us what suits decorum, which is none
other than respect for people’s dignity and status. Having thus distinguished
between people, it is necessary to build for each according to his rank: so
the house of a gentleman will have one compartition; the house of a noble
another; the common man yet another. Similarly, the parts of the house, be
they common or private, must have regard for the quality of the people. In
ancient times those who built with greater magnificence used to leave an
open space in front of their doors; this was not part of the house, but led to
the house, and was where the clients and those who came to pay their re-
spects to the great ones waited to be admitted; you could say that they were
neither in nor out of the house. This place was called the ‘vestibule’, and was
482 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

extremely dignified, adorned with loggias and spaces. Its goodness lay in the
way, the custom, possibility, and pleasure of waiting comfortably, because
young people waiting for their elders would practice playing ball, wrestling,
leaping, and other youthful exercises. Doors opened out from there, first
the door to the common spaces, which was reasonably only one, rich and
marvellously adorned, and then other doors to private spaces [p. 297], such
as the one that served to carry things into the house, and the secret door of
the master, by which he could leave without being seen. Thus Horace writes:
atria servantem postico falle clientem.32 There were, in order, the entrance, the
atrium, the tablina and the peristylium. The stairways, as befit their dignity
and form, were very beautiful, very comfortable and filled with light. They
arrived to wide and spacious halls that looked out over the sea, the gardens
and greenery; below them on the ground floor there were many loggias and
audience rooms, leaving nothing to be desired. I will refrain from speaking
about the magnificence found in all the other rooms, in the sleeping rooms,
the dining rooms according to the seasons, in the chambers and baths, which
would take too long to describe. Care was taken to accommodate visitors.
So, the great ones had buildings that suited their status; the middle class,
the merchants and artisans, theirs. The shops had to be on the streets in
plain view, with goods on display, inviting men to buy them. Here then is
what Vitruvius leads us to understand regarding what he said in the second
chapter of the first book where he says, speaking about decorum, beatis, &
delicatis;33 here he says forensibus autem, & disertis.34 There where he says
pontentibus,35 here he says nobilibus, qui honores, magistratusque gerendo,36 etc.
Atria in the villa were not placed at the first entrance, but after the peristylia,
and they had porticoes around them with handsome pavements; by this we
see that the atria too were surrounded by porticoes. This concludes the dis-
cussion of private houses built in the city.

32 
Horace, Epistles 1.5 (letter to Manlius Torquatus), line 30.
33 
Translated by Barbaro, p. 36, as i dilicati & quieti (‘the delicate and quiet’).
34 
Translated by Barbaro, p. 296, as huomini di palazzo, & a gli avvocati (‘men of the palace
and lawyers’).
35 
Translated by Barbaro, p. 36, as i grandi (‘the greats’).
36 
Translated by Barbaro, p. 296, as nobili, che ne i magistrati, & ne gli onori (‘nobles who, in
the magistrates and honours’).
pp. 297-298 483

Chapter IX
On the rationales of rustic edifices,
and distinctions of many of their parts

[p. 297] (Vitruvius) [VI.V.3 cont.] Now I will speak of rustic edifices, how they
can be convenient for use and with what rationales they must be made. [VI.VI.1]
First one must look to the healthiness of the air, as was said in the first book on lo-
cating the city. Their sizes according to the measure of the possessions and the abun-
dance of the fruits are to be related; the courtyards and their sizes to the number of
sheep. And thus how many pairs of oxen will be needed must be determined. In the
courtyard the kitchen in the warmest place must be put, and have a connection to the
stables of the oxen, the mangers of which should look towards the fire and the east, so
that the oxen, seeing the fire and the light will not be made skittish and timid. Thus
the expert farmers of the regions do not think that the oxen should look at any part
of the sky except where the sun rises. [VI.VI.2] The widths of the cattle pens must not
be less than ten feet nor more than fifteen; the length such that each pair of oxen does
not occupy more than seven feet. The washrooms should be connected to the kitchen,
so that in this way the administration of the rustic washing will not be far away.
The oil press should be close to the kitchen, because in that way to oil-rendering fruit
it will be more convenient. And conjoined too should be the cellar, the windows of
which are made facing the north, because having them on the other sides where the
sun can heat up, the wine that is inside, stirred and mixed by the heat, will become
weaker and less robust. [VI.VI.3] The places of the oil must be located such that
they have the light of midday and are on the warm side, because the oil must not
be cooled, but by the tepidness of the heat will remain thin. The sizes of those places
must be made according to the rationale of the fruits and the number of vases, which
being of a measure of twenty amphorae, must by half occupy four feet. But the press,
if not a narrow one with screws, but one with handles and press plates and beams
that press, should not be less than forty feet, and thus there will be the space required
for those who turn it; its width shall not be less than sixteen feet, because then they
can be turned completely by those who make oil. If there is room for two presses or
calcatoi, twenty-four feet shall be given for the length. [VI.VI.4] The pigsties and
the stalls for the goats must be made large enough [p. 298] so that each sheep shall
have no less than four feet and a half, and can occupy not more than six in length.
The granaries must be erected on the north and north-east, because in this way the
wheat cannot so readily warm up, and the wind cooling it, it will be conserved
for a long time; the other sides generate mealmoths and other little beasts that are
484 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

harmful for the grain. The stalls of the horses are located in very warm places, al-
though they should not face the fire, because when she-mules are near the fire they
become frightened. [VI.VI.5] And too it is not useless for the cribs, or mangers as
they are called, of the oxen that are put outside the kitchen to face the east, so that
when in the winter when the sky is clear and the oxen are in taken into those in the
morning to graze, they will become fatter. The granaries, the hay lofts, the places
for storing the spelt and other cereals must be made outside the house of the villa,
so that the houses are more secure from fire. But if in the buildings of the villa if
you want to make something more delicate, from the measures of the houses of the
city described above they are made, but they are built without impediment of their
rustic utility. [VI.VI.6] It is necessary to take care that all the buildings are lumi-
nous. Those of the villa, because they do not have any walls of houses nearby that
impede them, are easily seen to. But in the city, either the height of the public walls
or the narrowness of the site with their impediments make the rooms dark. So for
these things an experiment must be made. On that side that the light is taken, let
there be drawn a line, or cord from the height of the wall, that appears to block the
place where the light is to be taken, and if from that line, when you look up you
can see the wide space of pure sky, in that place will be light without impediment,
[VI.VI.7] but if it is impeded by beams, attics, or balconies, then make the opening
from above, and thus there put the window. In sum, we must govern ourselves in
this way, that if from some parts can be seen the light of the sky, there must be left
the places for the windows, and thus buildings will be made full of light. The use of
the enormous windows in the triclinia and other conclaves, such as the vestibules,
ramps, stairs, is because in these places one often encounters people who are carry-
ing heavy things. I have explicated all that I could on the distribution of the works
made in this way, so that they are not obscure for those who build.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius did not want to omit the consideration of the villa
and other buildings that are built outside the city, because their treatment
is no less necessary than those of other buildings. From Columella, Varro,
Cato and Palladius37 can be taken copious amounts of information apper-
taining to the villa, and because those authors are so distinct and copious,
I do not want to pompously cite their passages. It is sufficient for me to
demonstrate Vitruvius’s precepts, some of which have been excellently ob-

37 
The works referred to are: Lucius Junius Moderatus Columella, De re rustica (On
agriculture); Marcus Terrentius Varro, De re rustica (On agriculture); Marcus Porcius Cato,
De re rustica (On agriculture); and Rutilius Taurus Aemilianus Palladius, Opus agriculturae
(The work of farming).
pp. 298-299 485

served. The buildings of the villa must be placed in healthy locations. They
are freer than those of the city, and must be built with many commodious
aspects and many that come from nature. They have a greater or lesser num-
ber of rooms according to the rank of the men, both the number of family
members as well as guests. The mediocre and lowly must exert themselves
have good rooms in the villa, so that the wives will stay more willingly to
govern the things and pay more attention to what is useful than to pleasure.
In contrast, the wealthy and great men must have in front of their rooms
spaces with fine greenery for running and jousting; they must be protected
from vapours, winds, from mountains that block; they should have neither
stalls nor dung-hills nearby, and the whole should be built with dignity.
The rooms of the labourer or administrator should be divided into places
for things, for men, things for animals, and tools. The farmyard should be
open to the sun and large, its surface beaten so that it somewhat higher
in the centre, and be near the covered areas. The overseer sleeps near the
main entrance, the labourers in the places that are close to their duties. The
kitchen should be large, luminous and secure from fire, the storerooms spa-
cious. The work animals, such as oxen and horses, should be kept in places
laid out in keeping with the rationales that Vitruvius gives. Likewise, the
animals that provide food, such as pigs, sheep, poultry, birds, fish, pigeons,
hares, and other similar animals must all be kept according to their kind and
characteristics. The observance of these things will be well done when we
observe what is done in different countries, devoting to them care [p. 299]
and industry. Wheat and all cereals rot with humidity and lose colour with
heat; when amassed too closely they wither and seethe; when they touch
lime they are ruined. So they should be on a surface of wooden boards or
in a cave on the bare ground, towards Boreas and Tramontane. Apples are
conserved in a cold place, closed in wooden crates. The wine cellar should be
below ground, enclosed, far from the south and the southern winds and dis-
turbances. The light should come from the east, or from the north; all hu-
mours, vapours and fetid odours must be kept far away. It should be sloping,
and paved so that if the wine overflows it can be mopped up. The containers
for the wine should be very capacious and stable. The instruments that are
necessary for farmers should be in suitable places: the cart, yokes, plough,
the hampers for the hay should be kept under cover to the south towards the
kitchen. To the press should be given a room that is ample and convenient,
with space for the vases, chains and baskets. Above the beams of the roof
486 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

are stored the wattles, sticks, straw, and hemp. Oxen eat low down, while
the horse take the straw from up high, because by raising their heads they dry
them; because they have damp heads, in front of the mangers there shouldn’t
be a damp place. The moon ruins their eyes. She-mules go crazy in places
that are hot, low, and dark. The measures of the stalls for oxen and sheep are
set out by Vitruvius. The ancient press was perhaps made in a different way
from what we use these days.
Having given the precepts of the things that are most necessary in the
villa, Vitruvius speaks about lights and windows. In the villa these are less
impeded, but in the city there can be a lot working against them. A remedy
is found every time by considering the effect of the light and how it falls and
where it comes from, because it is clear that no light can be had where it does
not fall. The thicknesses of the walls often block them, but some have cut the
walls where the windows are to be, beginning with the outside surface and
coming through the thickness of the wall to the inner surface with a slop-
ing cut. Perhaps Vitruvius is not far from this opinion. Thus, where along a
straight line it is possible to stretch a cord to open air, then without a doubt
there can be a window there. When this cannot be done from the sides of the
walls, then it is necessary to open from above. We thus observe in this matter
the precepts of Vitruvius, who first selects a healthy site, because where hell
is to be reckoned with, not only is entry uncertain, but so is life itself; indeed,
death is more certain than gain. Then with good counsel we must make the
buildings as large as the possession, earnings and copiousness of fruits re-
quire. With regard to the possession, there must be the way and the measure
that is best in all things, and it is necessary to obey the precept that says that
the field must be weaker than the farmer. Because if it is to be supported and
cared for, when the farmer cannot do much, then the field will necessarily
suffer; a great possession often renders less than a small one that is highly
cultivated. Thus we must keep only as much as we are able to maintain. We
should buy fields for our own enjoyment and not to take them from someone
else or weigh ourselves down too much, because it does us no good to want
to possess and not be able to work. Regarding the buildings, in like fashion
we must avoid falling into the vices of Lucullus and Scaevola, one of whom
built a villa much richer than what was required by his possessions, while the
other built much less than necessary, so that one had too much expense, and
pp. 299-300 487

the other incurred great damage.38 This error begins to multiply in our own
day because of men’s arrogance. The buildings that are not adequate make it
so that the fruits rot because of the narrowness of the place. One must there-
fore build so that neither the land lacks in buildings, nor the do the buildings
lack in land. The sixth chapter of Columella deals with this matter; we learn
about the press and the farmyard from Cato and from Palladius.

Chapter X
On the dispositions of buildings and their parts according
to the Greeks, and on the names that are different
and very far from the customs of Italy

[p. 300] (Vitruvius) [VI.VII.1] Because the Greeks did not use atria in the en-
trances, so in our way they are not usually built, but entering by the doors they
make the hallways not very wide; on one side are the stalls of the horses, and on
the other the rooms for the doorkeeper, and immediately the interior entrances are
finished. This place between the two doors is called a thyroron.
(Barbaro) That is, portorio or portal.
(Vitruvius) [VI.VII.1 cont.] Then is the entrance to the peristylium, which
has the portico on three sides. On the side facing south, it has two pilasters or antae
very widely spaced from each other, on top of which are placed the beams. As much
distance as there is between the antae, that much taken away the third part is
given to the interior space. This space is by some called prostàs, by others parastas.
[VI.VII.2] In those inside places are made the large rooms in which the mothers of
families sit with the wool spinners. In those entrances on the right and the left are
the cubicula, of which one is called thalamium, the other antethalamium. Around
the porticoes are the ordinary triclinia and more cubicula, and the rooms for the
family. This part is called the gynaeceum.
(Barbaro) That is, women’s room.
(Vitruvius) [VI.VII.3] To this is conjoined the larger houses, which have
more ample peristylia or colonnades, in which there are either four porticoes of
equal height, or that facing south is made with higher columns. That colonnade that
has higher columns and porticoes is called Rhodian. Those houses have magnificent
The story of Lucullus and Scaevola is told by Columella (On agriculture 1.4) and Pliny the
38 

Elder (Natural History 18.7). Cato remarks, ‘you should see that the steading does not lag
behind the farm nor the farm behind the steading’; see Cato and Varro (1935, p. 11).
488 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

vestibules, private doorways with grandeur, and the porticoes of the peristylia very
ornately ceiled, plastered, and worked in stucco. In the porticoes that face north they
have the triclinia, Cyzicenes, chancelleries; towards the east they have the libraries;
towards west the exedrae; and towards south halls so large that they could easily
put and set up four triclinia. The place is also spacious for watching the feasts,
and for service and administration. In these rooms they hold the banquets for the
men, [VI.VII.4] because according to the customs of the Greeks the matrons do not
sit at table. These peristylia or colonnades are called androns because in those the
men stayed without being disturbed by the women. Beyond this on the right and
the left there were some small houses that have their own convenient doorways,
triclinia and cubicula because visitors were not lodged in the peristylia but in these
guest quarters. The Greeks were more delicate and graced with more of the goods of
fortune, so for the visitors who came they set up triclinia, cubicula, wardrobes, and
pantries. The first day they invited them to dinner; the second day they sent them
poultry, eggs, herbs, apples and other things from the villa, and so the painters,
imitating in their paintings the things sent to guests, called those xenia. Thus it
did not appear that the fathers of families were guests, having in such lodgings a
secret liberty. [VI.VII.5] Between these peristylia and lodgings were the entrances
called mesaulos, because they were in between two halls; but our people call those
androns. But this is to be wondered at because this can suit neither the Greeks nor
our people, because the Greeks call androns the rooms where the men eat, because
women cannot stay there. And so again are the other similar things, such as the
xyst, prothyron, telamons and other parts of this manner. A xyst according to the
Greeks is a portico of ample width, where in winter the athletes practiced. But our
people call xysti open places for walking, which the Greeks call peridromes. For the
Greeks prothyrons are the vestibules in front of the doors, but we call prothyron
what the Greeks call diathyron. [VI.VII.6] Again, if some masculine figures sup-
port [p. 301] the mutules or coronae, our people call them telamons, but why they
are called this is not found written in the histories. The Greeks call them atlases,
because in history Atlas was formed to hold up the world. Because he was the first
who, with the readiness of mind, took care to leave to men the course of the sun
and the moon, the risings and settings of all the stars, and the rationales of the
turning of the world; for this by painters and sculptors he is formed for that benefit
of supporting the world; his daughters the Atlantides, which we call Vergiliae and
the Greeks Pleiades, are consecrated among the stars in heaven. [VI.VII.7] I have
not proposed these things in order to alter the usages of words and ways of speak-
ing, but so that they are not concealed from those who want to know the rationale.
p. 301 489

I have set forth the rationales according to which are made the buildings of Italy
and Greece, and I have written of the measures and proportions of each manner.
Therefore, since of beauty and decorum I have written above, now I will speak of
firmness, in what way it can last without defect to old age.
(Barbaro) It appeared to Vitruvius that man could easily be misled
when reading or hearing the Greek and Latin names for parts of buildings,
because there are great differences between them. So to remedy this disor-
der, he wished here to discuss the parts of Greek buildings and show how
different their terminology was from Italian usages. So, he says that the
Greeks did not use atria. I believe this is because they lacked the occasion for
grandeur that the Romans had, although they were not without grandeur,
for they made the women’s rooms beautiful and separate from the men’s.
Thus, not using atria, which in Roman houses were next to the doorways, as
soon as one entered the house there was a covered entryway, not very wide,
that had a place for the horses on one side, and a place for the doorkeeper
on the other; facing that was another doorway, and the space between the
two doorways was called the thyroron, as in ‘space between the doors’. This
took the place of the atrium or vestibule. Passing through the inner door
one entered into a handsome peristylium, or colonnaded courtyard, which
had columns on three sides—that is, on the side of door, on the right, and
on the left. On the side that faced the door, looking south, there was a very
wide opening, at the corners of which were erected two great pilasters that
supported a master beam; beneath this opening was a covered space whose
length was a third less than the opening. On the opposite wall and on the
sides were the doors to the large halls where the matrons worked, and on
either side of these openings were located the cubicula—that is, chambers
and antechambers or hearths as we would call them. Around the porticoes
were cubicula, storerooms, and family rooms, which Vitruvius describes
clearly. This was the part that belonged to the women. The rest concerns the
compartitions of the men’s rooms, which is also clear in Vitruvius. He then
goes on to declare the differences in some of the terminology used by the
Greeks and taken to mean other things by the Latins, giving due attention
to use, wherein lies the power and standard of speaking. It doesn’t behove a
wise man to argue about names when the thing is understood. In our Lat-
in commentaries we place greater emphasis on the names pertinent to the
Latins, so here it sufficient for us to have mentioned them in the course of
the interpretation.
490 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Here it remains to me to say something about the way the ancients used
to keep themselves warm. I have two things to say about this matter. First,
the architect who built the Palace of Urbino left it in writing that the reason
why we have no examples of the fireplaces of the ancients is because the fire-
places were located in the upper parts of the house, which was the first part
to go to ruin, so there are no vestiges of fireplaces except in places that are
hardly known.39 Then, where it can be found, he describes the form. One is
near Perugia, above the village of Pianello, in an ancient building that had
certain semi-circular niches where you sat, and had in the middle a round
mouth where the smoke went out, that was vaulted and surrounded by walls,
six feet wide and eight feet long, as shown in Fig. 6.10.1.

Fig. 6.10.1. [First kind of fireplace] Image [p. 302]

See Francesco di Giorgio Martini, Trattato di architettura civile e militare 2.3; (1841, vol. 1,
39 

p. 161ff and vol. II (Atlante), Tav. 1, Fig. 1). The editor of the 1841 edition, Cesare Saluzzo,
notes (1841, p. 161, n. 3) that Barbaro took both the description and the drawing of the
Perugia fireplace from Martini’s manuscript (ms. Fondo Nazionale II.I.141).
pp. 301-302 491

The other is in Baie near Nero’s Piscina Mirabilis, which was in a square
that was 19 feet wide on all sides, in the middle of which there were four
columns with the architrave, on top of which were the vaults 10 feet high,
adorned with fine figures in stucco. In the middle there was a kind of little
pyramidal dome, with a [p. 302] hole at the top, where the smoke went out.
Similarly, not very far from Civitavecchia there is one that is almost as big, in
which from the corners projected four modillions, on which rested four ar-
chitraves, on top of which was the pyramid of the fireplace, where the smoke
went out. On the face of each wall there were two small windows with an
semi-circular niche between them where statues could be placed; these nich-
es were at a height of 4 feet above the pavement (Fig. 6.10.2).

Fig. 6.10.2. [Second kind of fireplace] Image [p. 302]

The other thing that occurs to me is that another way has been found
that the ancients used to heat their rooms, and it is this: in the thickness of
the wall they made pipes or ducts through which the heat of the fire that
was below those rooms rose and came out through certain vents or mouths
inserted in the top of those pipes. These vents could be opened or closed in
492 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

order to provide more or less heat to the rooms and allow more or less vapour
to exit. With this rationale, some hold that it is possible, on the lower floors
of the house, to collect the wind and make it rise from places underground
by means of the pipes in the summer.40 In our area are found several build-
ings near the mountains where, the spirits of the winds entering into closed
spaces, by opening some hatches by degrees the rooms are cooled so that in
the summer there is a marvellous freshness. But I wouldn’t advise a friend
suffering from the heat to go into such places. It seems to me that I have
read that the ancients spent a great deal on certain vessels worked in metal in
which they could carry [p. 303] fire when they needed to warm themselves.
I have no doubt that in them they burned things that had no odour and that
they did not use not charcoal, which is noxious. In our day it is clear what we
use and how fireplaces are built in the thickness of the walls; these carry the
smoke out through flues that rise above the roofs and emit the smoke into
air. It must be observed that the smoke exits freely thanks to the contrary
winds, and doesn’t turn around and go back down, because the rooms would
fill with smoke, and nothing is more harmful to the eyes. As the saying goes,
‘smoke and a nagging woman chase a man from his home’.41 I will refrain
from describing in detail many things whose measures and ways are not giv-
en by Vitruvius, because I know that a book about private houses composed
and drawn by Palladio42 will soon come to light; having seen that his book
leaves nothing to be desired, I won’t take the efforts of others for my own.
It is true that, once his book is printed, and having to reprint my Vitruvius
again, I will exert myself to summarise briefly the precepts of his book so
that, more usefully placed in my book,43 one needn’t seek them elsewhere
and will know from whom I have taken them. In Palladio’s book you will see
a marvellous practice of building, ways to save, and advantages, beginning

40 
Palladio did exactly this in the Villa Cornaro in Piombino Dese, running pipes from the
canal behind the house into the basement, and then using the cooled air to cool the house
in the summer.
41 
A Tuscan version of this saying goes, Acqua, fumo e mala femmina cacciano la gente di casa
(‘water, smoke and bad women chase people from their homes’).
42 
Andrea Palladio’s I quattro libri dell’Architettura (1570) was published the year Barbaro
died.
43 
In a phrase that has remained unchanged from the 1556 edition, Barbaro here makes it
sound as though his second edition will post-date the apparently imminent publication of
Palladio’s Quattro libri, but in fact, we are now in Barbaro’s second edition, and Palladio’s
treatise will not finally be published until 1570. It does, however, indicate that even in 1556
Barbaro anticipated a second edition.
p. 303 493

with the principle of foundations and going all the way to the roof: how
many and of what kind must be the pieces of stone that are to be used in the
work, both in the bases and in the capitals and other members that go on top
of them; the measures of the windows will be given, the designs of fireplac-
es, the way of ornamenting the inside of houses, the jointing of wood, the
compartitions of staircases in all manners; the drilling of wells, sewers, and
other places for waste; the comforts that houses want to have; the qualities of
all the parts, such as wine cellars, storerooms, pantries, kitchens, and finally
all of that which can pertain to the fabrication of private houses, with plans,
elevations, and sections of all the houses and palaces that he has designed
for various noblemen, with the addition of several fine ancient buildings
excellently drawn. Because of this I reckon that architecture, enlarged and
adorned little by little, will allow itself to be seen in its ancient form and
beauty, where men, enamoured by the sight of it, will think carefully before
they begin to build, and that which appears beautiful to them when they
know no better, will over time become odious, and when they come to know
the errors of the past, they will regret their not having believed those who
spoke the truth. And if I may pray, I pray and pray again, especially for
those of my country, that they will remember and, not lacking the wealth
and power to do honourable things, that they will wish to see that nothing
of ingeniousness and knowledge is lacking in them. They will do this when
they are persuaded that they don’t know what they truly don’t know, nor
can know without practice, exertion, and science. And if one should think
that the tradition of their way of building can serve as a teacher, he is greatly
misled, because in fact it is too corrupt and badly done. Even if they wish to
concede something to tradition, which I too concede, they should have the
grace to let that tradition be moderated by one who understands, because
with practice and reasoning a thing can be very well arranged, and adjusted
so that, the bad qualities removed, it is reduced to a form that is reasonable
and tolerable, to the advantage of use, suitability, and beauty. If an oblong
thing is awkwardly capable of holding two hundred people, they should al-
low the same effect to be achieved with a finer figure; if they want a deter-
mined number of windows in a room, they should be content to allow them
to be placed in their proper place, with the orders of the art, because this is
very important for beauty and doesn’t hinder their use. And if I could place
them far from the corners, wouldn’t it be better for me to do so rather than
place them at the corners, where they weaken the structure of the house?
494 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The head of the household, knowing what he needs, must say, ‘I want so
many rooms and so many chambers, this for me, and for my wife, that for
my children, these others for the servants, and those others for convenience’,
and then leave it to the architect to compartition and place everything in its
proper place according to its order, disposition, and measure. The spaces will
be the ones that the owner wants, but disposed in orderly fashion according
to the precepts of the art; when it is seen how well they turn out, there will
be a certain competition among men to do well, regretting their bad, outdat-
ed ways. They will know that that architects are not born, but made, [p. 304]
and it is necessary to learn, know and support oneself according to rationale,
from which anyone who trusts to his own intelligence departs. He will never
know the fineness of things; indeed, he will hold the ugly to be beautiful,
the bad to good, the badly made to be ordered and regulated. I also want
to exhort architects and overseers that they shouldn’t applaud and assent to
their patrons. Indeed, they should tell them the truth and advise them well
and lovingly, and think carefully before they make them spend money, as has
been said elsewhere, because in so doing they truly merit praise and live up
to the name of their profession.

Chapter XI
On the solidity and foundations of buildings

[p. 304] (Vitruvius) [VI.VIII.1] Buildings that rest flat on the ground, if they are
made in the way set forth by us in the previous books, when we reasoned about the
walls of the city and the theatre, will without a doubt endure eternally. But if we
want to build underground and in vaults, we must make the foundation of those
buildings larger than what is above ground. And the walls of those buildings that
are above, the piers, and the columns shall be collocated in the middle straight over
that which is below, so that they rest squarely and correspond to the solid; because
if the loads of the walls and the columns are placed hanging, they will not have
continued firmness.
(Barbaro) There are found among the ruins of ancient buildings many
underground places made with vaults marvellously constructed and of ines-
timable size, so one might wish to know the way to build the foundations of
such places and vault them so that they support the large loads of the large
pp. 304-305 495

buildings that rise over them. Thus Vitruvius, so that in this part too we have
nothing to desire, deals with the foundations of buildings. Since he has dealt
in the first, third, and fifth books with those places where the buildings are
built directly on the ground, he makes brief mention here of the rationales
behind those foundations, referring to the places where they are discussed.
Now more amply he will teach us the way to build the foundations for build-
ings below ground, and gives us many precepts. One is that the foundations
of these buildings must be larger than the building above; another is that we
must not put piers or columns that do not fall directly over the walls, piers
and columns below, because it is wrong to do so, because things above are
born from things below, and because it runs the risk of being readily dam-
aged when a wall above crosses a room and has no footing below it that is
based on solid ground. There are many such errors and damages in our city,
where it seems to me for now that men must sooner be warned so that they
don’t fall into error than be taught to make fine and rational buildings, al-
though they cannot help but build in error when they don’t build according
to rationale. But let us look at the other precepts of Vitruvius, who says that
if we wish to be sure of ourselves, then where there are sills and lintel beams,
and these have on their sides posts, pilasters, and the like, it is necessary for
us to place some piers below them, on top of which the lintel beams rest, and
that the space below the lintel beam be empty and not touch on any side—
that is, nothing should rest on the lintel beam because it would break; thus
he says that they encompass the entire space.
(Vitruvius) [VI.VIII.2] Further, if between the sills, in line with the pilas-
ters and the antae, are placed piers …
(Barbaro) … called postes …
(Vitruvius) [VI.VIII.2 cont.] …they will not have any defect. Since lintel
beams and other beams being by the building loaded break in the middle, breaking
beneath the floors, structures and joints, when piers are placed like wedges beneath
them, they will not allow the beams, cracking on top, to damage it. [VI.VIII.3] It
must also be seen to that the weight is relieved by arches, with the division of wedg-
es and joints that correspond to the centre, because when the arches are [p. 305]
tightened by the wedges over the beams and the tops of the lintel beams, at first the
wood relieved of the load will not split. Then if due to age there is any damage, it
can be repaired easily.
(Barbaro) This is seen in some buildings in Rome, in whose walls there
are arches with voussoirs corresponding to the centre, above the lintels of
496 Book VI of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

both the doors and windows, which, when well made, greatly relieve the
loads of the walls, and make it easy to make adjustments and repair damage
without having to erect shoring and scaffolding.
(Vitruvius) [VI.VIII.4] Similarly those buildings that are made of pilasters
and with the divisions of the wedges corresponding the joints to the centre, close
themselves in arches.
(Barbaro) It appears here that Vitruvius touches on rustic work, where
above the doors large wedge-shaped stones [i.e., voussoirs] form arches, and
the joints between the stones are directed towards the centre. He mentions
that these works are made with pilasters—that is, with squared columns on
top of which are erected the arches and fornixes, not architraves. He gives us
a precept that is worth noting, saying that the last pilasters must have larger
spaces than those in the middle. He explains this, saying:
(Vitruvius) [VI.VIII.4 cont.] In these buildings made of pilasters, the last
pilasters must be made of a larger space, so that they have the strength to resist
when the walls, oppressed by the loads via the joints, that push on them at the
centre, widen at the imposts, or those stones that are on top beyond the wedge in the
middle. So if the corner pilasters are made of a larger size, containing the wedges
they will make the works stronger. [VI.VIII.5] Then when such things will have
been attended to with diligence, then no less it must be observed that all the rest of
the walling corresponds squarely and does not bend in any part. But the greatest
care must be taken for buildings that are built low down and in the foundations
because in those the accumulation of soil can give birth to infinite defects, because
the earth cannot be always of the same weight that it is in the summer, because in
the winter, receiving from the rains a great quantity of water, it grows, and with
the weight and volume it heaves and often pushes out the walls. [VI.VIII.6] So in
order to remedy this shortcoming, it must be done in this way, that first according to
the size of the accumulation of the soil is made the width of the walling, then on the
faces be made the buttresses or spurs, as far apart from each other as the foundation
is high. But they shall be of the same width as the foundation, but at the bottom
have feet that are as thick as the foundation, but then little by little going up they
taper so that at the top they are as thick as the wall of the work being built. [VI.
VIII.7] In addition to this on the inside part towards the soil like teeth in the guise
of a saw adjoined to the wall shall be made, such that each tooth is as far from the
wall as the foundation is to be high, and the walling of these teeth shall be as thick
as the wall. Similarly at the corners, when they have drawn from the inner corner
as much space as is occupied by the height of the wall, shall be marked on one side
pp. 305-306 497

and the other, and from the marks shall be made a diagonal wall, and from the
middle of that another shall be joined to the corner of the wall, thus the teeth and
the diagonal wall do not allow the wall to be pushed with all the force, but divide
it, retaining the impetus of the accumulation of the soil.
(Barbaro) The present passage restates what was said in the fifth chapter
of the first book,44 and is easily expressed by Vitruvius, so we do not need
another figure. The buttresses that are placed outside the wall are also un-
derstood.
(Vitruvius) [VI.VIII.8] In what manner the works must be made without
defect, and what must be observed by those who begin them, I have set forth. But of
the way to set the roof tiles, rafters, and battens, the same care need not be given as
that for the things said above, because they are easily set, nor are they considered solid
things. I have set forth the rationales with which and how these things can be made
firm and ordered. [VI.VIII.9] But it is not in the power of the architect to use what-
ever material he pleases, because not in all places is born a great quantity [p. 306]
of every material (as we have said in the next [recte previous] book). Besides, it is in
the power of the patron to build in brick, or stones, or ashlar. Approbation therefore
of all works lies in consideration of three parts, so that a work is tested either for the
subtlety of its maker, or for its magnificence, or for its disposition. When a work is
seen to be magnificently perfect with every power, the expense is praised. When it
is seen to be subtly made, the manufacture of the maker is approved. But when it
is beautiful and has authority due to its proportions and symmetries, the whole is
turned to the glory of the architect. [VI.VIII.10] These things will turn out well
when the architect can stand being counselled by craftsmen and by idiots. Because
all men, not only the architect, can see what is good, but there is this difference
between idiots and architects: that the idiot, unless he sees a thing made, cannot
know what must come out well, but the architect, since he has things ordered in his
mind before he begins, knows for sure what is needed for beauty, use, and decorum.
I have written diligently in the clearest way I could those things that I think useful
to buildings, and how they must be made. In the next volume I will set forth the
finishing of those, so that they are elegant and endure a long time without spoiling.
(Barbaro) Here I will say nothing further, except that what Vitruvius
has said must be considered with diligence.

The end of Book VI.

44 
See Barbaro, p. 50; Vitruvius I.V.7.
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book VII
Preface
[p. 307]

rudently and usefully our elders decided to leave to posterity by

means of reports in the commentaries the thoughts of their minds,
so that they would not be lost, but increasing in every age, and
brought to light with the volumes, little by little over a great age they would arrive
to the highest subtlety of the doctrines. Thus it is not with little but with infinite
gratitude that we are beholden to those who did not want to remain quiet out of
jealousy, but with writings have seen to the conservation in memory of all manner
of sentiments. [VII.Pref.2] If they had not done so, we would not know how things
were made in the city of Troy, nor what opinions Thales, Democritus, Anaxagoras,
Xenophanes and the other natural philosophers had of the nature of things, and
what deliberations about life were left to men by Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Zeno,
Epicurus and the others who philosophise, or what things were done by Croesus,
Alexander, Darius and the other kings and for what reason, if our elders, with the
teachings for the memory of all, had not, writing them, raised them for posterity.

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 499

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_8
500 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[VII.Pref.3] As to these we must be grateful, so too for the opposite reason must be
criticised those who, making the writings of others their own, go about publishing
them and do not strive with their own thoughts to write, but with envious habits
boast of violating the works of others. Not only are they deserving of reprehension,
but (because they have led their lives with impious habits) they must be punished.
Thus it is said that these things have been curiously avenged by the ancients, the
outcomes of which, in the judgements, how they were, I do not think it is untoward
to explicate, as they have been left to us. [VII.Pref.4] The Attalid kings, induced by
the sweetness of knowing the rationales of things, having in shared delight made
a fine and estimable library in the city of Pergamum, Ptolemy, incited by ardent
zeal of desire at that time, with no less industriousness, strived to make one in Al-
exandria in the same way. Having done this with the greatest diligence, he did not
think that this was much if he had not sought to augment it by sowing new seeds,
and thus he consecrated games to the muses and to Apollo. As to the athletes, so to
the victors among the common writers he ordered prizes and ample ways of being
honoured. [VII.Pref.5] Then after these things were ordered, and it being near time
to make the games, there had to be elected the literary judges who were to approve
them. The king, having done this and elected six but not finding so readily the sev-
enth, took counsel of those who were in charge of the library, and asked them if they
had met anyone who was suitable to make this judgement. They answered that there
was a certain Aristophanes, who with great study and the greatest diligence day
after day had completely read all of those books. Thus close to the time of the games,
the seats being secretly assigned to those who were to judge, they called Aristophanes
with the others, to that place that was assigned to him to sit. [VII.Pref.6] First the
order of poets was introduced to the competition, and reciting their writings, all the
people with gestures indicated which one that the judges were to approve. It thus
being asked of each their opinions, six concurred in the same sentence; the one that
they [p. 308] had noticed to have most pleased the crowd, to him they gave the
first prize, and to the one who was next, the second. Aristophanes being asked his
opinion, would have it that pronounced first be the one who had given less delight to
the people [VII.Pref.7]. But the king being scornful together with the others, Aristo-
phanes rose to his feet and begged to be allowed to have his say. And thus, when si-
lence was had, he showed that one alone among all was a poet, and the others recited
things alien to them, and that it was necessary for the judges to approve what was
written, not what was stolen. The people marvelling and the king doubting, he, re-
lying on memory, drew from certain cabinets infinite volumes, and comparing them
with the things recited, forced them to confess to having stolen them. Thus the king
p. 308 501

would have it that these were tried for thievery and condemned with shame and
dismissed. He adorned Aristophanes with the greatest gifts, giving him charge over
his library. [VII.Pref.8] In the years that followed Zoilus came from Macedonia to
Alexandria, I mean the one who had the surname ‘Homeri Flagellator’, and recited
to the king his volumes written against the Iliad and the Odyssey. Ptolemy thus
seeing the father of poets and the guide of sweetness in expression being accused in
his absence, and that he who was by all peoples held in honour was reviled by him,
did not deign to answer. Zoilus then, sojourning at length in the kingdom and op-
pressed by need, sent surreptitiously asking the king that something be given to him.
[VII.Pref.9] It is said that the king answered: Homer who died a thousand years
ago, fed many thousands of persons, thus it is fitting that he who professed to be the
better mind should not only feed himself but many more people as well. In the end
is told the death of Zoilus, condemned as a parricide. Some say that he was cruci-
fied on a cross by Philadelphius; others say he was stoned; others say he was placed
alive on a pyre in Smyrna. Of these things, however it happened, it is certain that
he deserved the punishment, because nothing else is deserved by one who calls to
judgement others who cannot answer nor show by their presence what opinion they
had when they wrote. [VII.Pref.10] But I, O Caesar, show you this corpus, neither
altering indexes made by others by putting my name, nor vituperating the thoughts
of others in order to approbate and praise myself.
(Barbaro) Nor do I desire any other opinion to be held of me, but I have
said nothing that I have not sought and understood from others. And if
anything can be said to be mine, then effort and study can certainly be said
to be so.1
(Vitruvius) [VII.Pref.10 cont.] Rather, I render infinite thanks to all those
writers who, with acuteness of mind that age conferred on them, have in diverse
manners left most abundant amounts of things prepared, from which, as from
springs we draw water and translate it to our purpose, we have more fecund and
more expeditious forces in the writing, and trusting in such authors, we draw the
courage to do new things. [VII.Pref.11] I therefore having my starting point in
them, taking those rationales that I have seen to be fit for my case, I have begun to
go forward. So, Agatharchus, when Aeschylus in Athens taught tragedy, first made
the painted scene, and left a commentary on it.2 Urged by this Democritus and
1 
These lines are not distinguished in either Barbaro (1556) or this present 1567 edition as
being by Barbaro, but they do not appear Fra Giocondo or any other Latin text, nor do they
appear in Barbaro (1567 Lat.).
2 
Barbaro opens the preface to his treatise on perspective with this story; see Barbaro (1568,
p. 3).
502 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Anaxagoras wrote on the same thing, about how it is necessary, with the natural
rationale of the centre placed in a certain position, to make lines corresponding
to the eye and to the straightness of the rays, so that from an uncertain thing the
certain images of the buildings in the painting of the scene render their appear-
ance, and how those on the vertical faces and in the flat surfaces were figured,
shortening as they moved away and appeared to be in relief. [VII.Pref.12] Then
Silenus made a volume of the Doric measures. Of the Doric Temple of Juno that is
in Samo, wrote Theodorus. Of the Ionic Temple of Diana consecrated in Ephesus,
wrote Ctesiphon and Metagenes. Of that of Minerva in Priene, which is an Ionic
work, spoke Phileos.3 Of the one that is Doric in Athens, also of Minerva, in the
citadel, wrote Ictinus and Carpion. Theodorus of Phocaea writes of the cupola that
is in Delphi. Philo wrote of the measures of the sacred temples and of the arsenal
[p. 309] that was in the port of Piraeus. Hermogenes wrote of the Ionic temple of
Diana that is in Magnesia, pseudodipteral, and that which is of the god Bacchus
in Teo, monopteral. Argelio4 writes of the Corinthian measures and of the Ionic
Temple of Aesculapius in Tralles, which is said to be by his hand. Of the Mauso-
leum, wrote Satyrus and Pythius, [VII.Pref.13] to whom fortune truly made an
excellent gift, since their esteemed arts have always earned the greatest praise and
flowered continually. They have also given admirable works according to things
they conceived, so on each side of the mausoleum competing makers undertook to
adorn and prove his worth: Leochares, Bryaxis, Scopas, and Praxiteles; others put
Timotheus there. The excellent greatness of the art of the men led the name of that
work to arrive to the fame of the seven miracles of the world. [VII.Pref.14] Many
others less renowned have written the rules of the proportionate measures, such as
Nexaris, Theocydes, Demophilus, Pollis, Leonidas, Silanion, Melampus, Sarna-
cus and Eufranor. Likewise of machines, such as Cliades,5 Archytas, Archimedes,
Ctesibius, Nymphodorus, Philo the Byzantine, Diphilos, Charias, Polyidus, Phi-
tone,6 and Agesistratos.7 From their commentaries, that which I have observed to
3 
Phileos, an alternate identification for Pytheos (or Pythius); see Fra Giocondo (1511, p.
69r).
4 
Barbaro’s transcription of the name Arcesius. See the note to the previous reference to
Arcesius in Book IV: Barbaro, p. 171.
5 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 69r). On Cliades as an alternate transcription of Diades, see
Viviani (1830-1832, Lib. VII, p. 19).
6 
Barbaro uses the transcription ‘Phitone’ both here and in Barbaro (1556, p. 182), but in
Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 232, line 60) he uses the form ‘Phyros’, as per Fra Giocondo (1511, p.
69r). Elsewhere it is given as ‘Pyrrhus’; see Morgan (1914, p. 199); Granger (1934, pp. 74-
75); and Schofield (2009, p. 195).
7 
Barbaro omits Democles from this list; cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 69r).
p. 309 503

be useful to such things I have collected and reduced into a corpus, and especially
because I have seen many volumes on this thing by Greeks, and few of ours brought
to light. So first Fuffitius of those things decided to bring to light an admirable vol-
ume. Later Terentius Varro wrote of the new disciplines and a book on architecture.
Publius Septimius made two. [VII.Pref.15] There were no others who put an effort
into a similar manner of writing, there being among the citizens great architects
who could have written no less elegantly than those aforementioned, because in
Athens the architects Antistates and Callaeschrus, and Antimachides, and Dorino
[recte Porinos8] laid the foundation of the temple that Peisistratus had made to
Olympian Jupiter, but then his death, by impeding public things, left it imperfect.
Two hundred years later King Antiochus, having promised to pay the cost for that
work, Cossutius, a Roman citizen, with great skill and the highest cognition, nobly
made the cella and the placement of the dipteral surrounding columns, and the dis-
tribution of the architraves and the other ornaments with proportionate measure.
This work not only among the vulgar but also among the learned is renowned for
its magnificence,
[VII.Pref.16] In four places are the dispositions of the sacred places adorned
with marble, for which these with the highest fame are renowned. The excellence of
which, and the prudent apparatuses of their thoughts in the thrones of the gods, are
very marvellous and make themselves noticed. First the Temple of Diana in Ephe-
sus in the Ionic manner was made by Ctesiphon of Knossus, and by Metagenes his
son. Then Demetrius, the servant of Diana and […9] Daphnis Milesius at Miletus
made the Temple of Apollo with the Ionic measures; Ictinus in the Doric manner to
Ceres Eleusina, and to Proserpina built a cella of immeasurable dimension, with-
out columns outside of the space used for the sacrifices. [VII.Pref.17] This, Athens
being dominated by Demetrius of Phaleron, was later made by Philo in the pro-
style aspect and the vestibule so enlarged left the space to those who consecrated, and
gave great authority to the work. In Asty10 it is also said that Cossustius undertook
the enterprise of making Olympian Jupiter with the largest modules and measures

8 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 69v, ‘Porinos’); transcribed as ‘Potinos’ in Barbaro (1567 Lat.,
p. 233, line 8). For other interpretations, see: Morgan (1914, p. 199, ‘Pormus’); Granger
(1934, pp. 76-77, ‘Porinus’); Schofield (2009, p. 195, ‘Pormos’).
9 
Barbaro has omitted a few words here: the complete sentence should read ‘and then
Demetrius, the servant of Diana, and Paeonius of Ephesus is said to have completed it. At
Miletus the same Paeonius and Daphnis of Milesius built …’. Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p.
69v).
10 
Asty was the city region of the city of Athens (there was also a coastal region and an inland
region); Barbaro explains that Asty refers to Athens in Book VIII: see Barbaro, p. 336.
504 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and Corinthian proportions, as was said above, of which no commentary has been
found. Nor of Cossutius alone is that sort of writing to be desired, but also of Caius
Mutius, who relying on his great science, with legitimate orders of art conducted to
completion the Temple of Honour and Virtue of the Marian cella11 and the propor-
tions of the measures and the architraves.
If that temple that he made had been built of marble it would have had, as
according to art, slenderness, magnificence, and substantial authority, and would
certainly be named among the first and greatest works. [VII.Pref.18] Discovering
thus that our ancients no less than the Greeks were great architects, as were many
others within our remembering, and [p. 310] that none of those except a few hav-
ing written of the rules of architecture, I thought I did not want to pass in silence
myself, but to treat each thing in order in each book. So, having in the sixth book
written with diligence of the rationales of private edifices, in this, which is the
seventh in order, I want to treat ornaments, and express the rationale according to
which they have both beauty and stability.
(Barbaro) In the seventh book Vitruvius gives us the rules for the finish-
es and ornaments of buildings. Not unreasonably, he has placed this material
here following the order of nature, which first places things in being and
then adorns them. So, the parts of buildings have their ornaments: first the
floors, then walls, and finally roofs. Floors need subfloors and pavements;
walls need plaster, whitewash, and painting; roofs and attic spaces need sof-
fits and painting. Because things must not be less beautiful than durable,
in this book Vitruvius embraces both firmness and ornament; he also orna-
ments the present book with a beautiful preface in which he comments on
the virtues of the past, criticising the arrogance of the inept and thanking his
preceptors. The preface is easy and full of history, narratives, and examples; I
don’t want to confirm these with sayings other than those of Vitruvius. The
majority of the rest of the book is also easy, which relieves us of the exertion
of a long commentary. In the first four chapters he treats the ornaments of
pavements; from the fifth to the seventh he speaks of the rationale of paint-
ing and marble finishes; from the seventh to the end of the book he speaks
of natural and artificial colours. We will stop where needed.

This refers to ‘Aedes Honoris et Virtutis’ commissioned by Marius and designed by

11 

Mutius, one of the ‘Monumenta Mariana’, also referred to in Book III; see Barbaro, p. 120;
Vitruvius III.II.5.
pp. 310-311 505

Chapter I
On rubble pavements

[p. 310] (Vitruvius) [VII.I.1] First I will begin to speak of the forming of rubble
pavements, which are the starting points of the finishing and of the ornament of
buildings, so that greater care and provision is taken for firmness. If then it is nec-
essary to pave flat surfaces with rubble it must first be determined that the ground is
completely solid and then that it is well-levelled and made even. If so, the first layer
of the rubble is applied. But if all of the area, or a part of it, is uneven, it is neces-
sary with great care and diligence to make it solid, so it is well beaten and rammed
with piles. But if it is desired to pave with rubble over planking or floors, it must
be well observed, if there is some wall under the pavement, that it does not come
all the way up, but rather has above itself the suspended planking, because the solid
wall coming up, and the beams drying out, or settling on themselves because of the
warping that they make, because of the solidity of the building, it necessarily makes
to the right and the left of the wall cracks in the pavements. [VII.I.2] Again it is
necessary to work so that planks of horse-chestnut are not mixed with those of oak,
because those of oak, as soon as they have received humidity, warping, make cracks
in the pavements. But if horse-chestnut cannot be had, and necessity forces the use of
oak, it appears that it is necessary to do as much as possible to saw the boards thin,
because the less they have of strength, the easier it is to hammer nails to hold them
together. Then for each beam in the end parts of the planks shall be hammered two
nails, so that warping themselves on one side they cannot lift the corners. None of
Turkey oak, beech and farno12 last to old age. The planking made, let ferns, or if
there are none, straw, be spread so that the wood is protected against damage from
the lime. [VII.I.3] Then are put the broken stones no smaller than that which can
fill a hand, and those laid, let rubble be broken and placed, which if made of new
material then of three parts one is to be [p. 311] of lime, but if old material is being
reused, the mixture should correspond as five to two. Then let the rubble be cast
and tamped with wooden sticks by many men, and made very solid, all of which
paste shall not be less than nine inches high and thick, but then on top of it is set the
middle layer of pounded baked clay, that is, the crust or the most resistant cover…

12 
Viviani (1830-1832, Lib. VII, p. 28) identifies farno as faggio, beech; modern translators
identify it with ash; see Morgan (1914, p. 202); Granger (1934, p. 81), and Schofield (2009,
p. 197) (but see Granger’s note 4 on p. 81, where he says it is probably a technical term). The
term does not appear in the chapter on wood in Book II; see Barbaro, pp. 89-94; Vitruvius
II.IX.
506 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) … called ‘nucleus’…13

(Vitruvius) … the mixture having three parts of that to one of lime, so that
the pavement will be no smaller than six fingers thick. On top of that middle lay-
er, with a level, shall be laid the pavement either of cut pieces of small stones or
large squares. [VII.I.4] When those are placed together, and protruding surfaces
jutting out, it is necessary to grind them down so that the pavement of stones has
no unevenness or ridges according to those shapes that the pieces have, either round
like shields, or triangular, or squared, or of six corners, like the hives of bees, but
are placed straight together and all even. If the pavement is of large squares, it is
necessary that they have equal angles and that none jut out from the level surface;
until the angles are all equal and equally level, that grinding will not be perfectly
carried out. And thus if the pavement is made of strips of clay tile, or Tiburtine
tile, it must be made with diligence; if not it will have ruts or juts; it should be laid
and be levelled according to a ruler. But then over the grinding, when it has been
made smooth and finished, there is powdered marble and on top of that shall be laid
coats of lime and sand.
[VII.I.5] In the pavements made in the open it is necessary to use diligence
that they are useful and good, because the beams swelling due to the humidity, or
shrinking due to dryness, or moving out of place, bellying out and moving, they
damage rubble pavements. In addition to this, the cold, ice, and water do not allow
them to remain intact, so if it is necessary to make them, then they must be made
in this way. When the planking has been made, it is necessary to make another one
going crosswise to it, which, hammered with nails, will make a double armature
of beams. Then let there be a third part of pounded tiles to the new rubble and two
parts of five of them correspond in the mortar. [VII.I.6] The filling made, there
shall be the rubble, and that, well beaten, shall not be less than a foot thick. The
middle layer being laid (as described above) let there be made the pavement of large
squares, having in ten feet two fingers of slope. This pavement, if well mixed and
laid, will be safe from all defects. So that between the joints the mortar does not
suffer from ice, it is necessary each year before winter to saturate it with oil lees,
because in this way it will not be allowed to receive the rime of the cold that falls.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius is speaking of the rubble pavements that are
made in the open on top of houses.

The anima, or nucleus, is the middle layer of the pavement, between the concrete bed and
13 

the paving stones; see Orsini (1801, p. 114).

pp. 311-312 507

(Vitruvius) [VII.I.7] But if it seems to us to want to make this with greater

diligence, then tiles of two feet jointed together are placed on top of the rubble over
the wood. These have on each side of their joints little channels a finger wide which,
when made to conjoin, shall be filled with lime beaten with oil, the joints rubbed
together and well mixed. Thus the lime, which will adhere in the channels, hard-
ening, will not allow either water or anything else to pass through between those
joints. Then that being so laid over the rubble, the middle layer must be laid on top
of top of, and tamped well with sticks. On top of that the pavement must be made
with squares or strips of clay tiles according to what was written above, giving it
a slope. These things, when done in this way, will not go bad.
(Barbaro) The first place among finishes is held by pavements of rubble,
or terrazzo14 as they are called. These are made on floors on grade or higher,
and can be either in enclosed spaces or open-air. If they are on floors on
grade, the terrain is either uneven or level. Vitruvius gives us the rules for
building them in all conditions. Solid ground must be levelled, and then
the first coat of the rubble laid over it. Here we can see that the ancients
were very diligent about building pavements, since they used many layers
of things to form them—that is, many coats one on top of another—start-
ing from the lowest, of the largest material, and coming to the uppermost
surface with finer material. They were very attentive to the weather when
making pavements, as I will show later. So, for a foundation [p. 312] it is
necessary to place (as Vitruvius says) first a bottom layer of stones that are
no larger [recte smaller] than a fist and then squared stones; Vitruvius calls
this foundation statumen, and it is laid together with the larger material. If
the terrain is uneven, it must be beaten and made quite firm and unified
with piles so that it does not swell, making the pavement break and crack.
The greatest diligence is necessary in this, therefore level it and do as above,
laying the first layer of stones. If in floors on top of beams we wish to lay a
pavement, it is necessary above the beams to lay a layer of planks crosswise,
and assure that the beams and the walls that support those planks are of a
kind of wood or stones that are equally strong, because one part support-
ing the weight and another giving way creates an inequality that causes the
pavement to crack. This is frequently seen at the ends of the beams near

Barbaro uses the term terrazzo to describe the rubble pavements described by Vitruvius
14 

(which are more precisely opus signinum pavements); these should not be confused with the
term ‘terrazzo’ or ‘Venetian terrazzo’ describing the technique used in Venice in Barbaro’s
day and still in use today.
508 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the walls, because in those places the end of the beam is strong because it is
near the point where it rests, and in the middle is weak, so that the wood in
the middle giving way, it sags lower than the ends and makes cracks in the
pavement. In the beams and planking it is necessary to make sure not to mix
qualities of wood, because different woods have different natures, and some
are less firm than others, which can also give rise to defects in pavements.
For the same reason, on top of the beams and planking it is neces-
sary to place straw or ferns, so that the lime that goes into the rubble will
not spoil the wood. So, lay the first foundation of stones no smaller than a
hand can hold, and cover it with rubble. Two kinds of rubble are used: the
new, which is made with stones or clay tiles crushed at the time, and add-
ing one part of lime to two parts of those, and the old, which is made by
reusing old pavements, in which are mixed two parts of lime to five parts
of rubble. When the rubble is laid, it is necessary to tamp it thoroughly,
so the ancients assigned this work to a number of up to ten men, as many
as could work in a room without getting in each other’s way; they used as
many decuria—that is, groups of ten men—as needed and one man directed
and oversaw the work of ten. We call this way of tamping, solidifying, and
levelling the rubble orsare.15 The height, or thickness, of the material when
tamped must not be less than nine inches (called dodrantis by Vitruvius); this
is the first layer, or crust, or bed, of the pavement. On top of this, a coat of
thinner and finer material is laid. This middle layer is intended for solidity,
and is composed of two parts of well-pounded clay tiles and one part of
lime. On top of this layer is laid the pavement, either of terracotta or some
other stone; this can be small, like mosaic, or of large squares, according to
the greatness or beauty that is desired. The stones can be shaped square or
round like shields—which Vitruvius calls scutulae—or triangular, or of six
corners—which Vitruvius calls favi, or honeycombs, because beehives have
six-cornered cells (Fig. 7.1.1).

15 
Orsare, literally ‘bearing’; the tool was an orso, or ‘bear’.
pp. 312-313 509

Fig. 7.1.1. [Pavement patterns] Image and caption [p. 312]: Antiquity
This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

Whatever the shape, all must be equal and level on the same plane,
and the corners must meet so that none are higher than the others, and so
the sides and corners are joined. This is done by grinding and making them
completely smooth. [p. 313] The ancients used some layers made of sand and
lime and small tiles, into which went the fourth part of crushed Tiburtine
tiles; some used little tiles that were one finger thick and two fingers wide
and high, which were laid on edge and looked like strips (spicche16). These
shapes, polished and shined, were such that the joints were not seen, and not
even the tiniest part of the stone jutted out, so that they were wonderfully
level, and especially graceful. This is what others say, but I say that they were
different, that these tiles were laid so that water and humidity could not pass
through to the beams, and they were flat. On top of this was a wonderful
coating that Vitruvius calls lorica, made of crushed marble mixed with very
coarse sand and lime; this coating covered the work laid in strips, as seen in
the ancient ruins. That work in strips is not as Philander describes it,17 shown
in Fig. 7.1.2, but was as Fig. 7.1.3 shows it, according to an example taken
from antiquity; these were of the size of the frame that contains the figure,
and an inch thick.18 Such things were used in enclosed spaces.

16 
Barbaro’s term spicche (slice or wedge) is vague, but the figures makes it clear that he is
speaking of strips in a herringbone pattern.
17 
See Philander (1544, p. 215).
18 
In Barbaro (1556, p. 184) the herringbone patterns were shown within a rectangle that
measured approximately 5 cm x 17 cm; this is lost in the 1567 edition.
510 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 7.1.2. [Herringbone pattern] Image and caption [p. 313]: Philander

Fig. 7.1.3. [Herringbone pattern] Image and caption [p. 312]: Antiquity

In the open air another procedure is necessary, there being a greater

danger of ice, humidity, and heat. So, it is necessary to make two layers of
planking, one crosswise to the other, very well nailed together, after which
new rubble must be mixed with two parts of pounded clay tiles, and two
parts of lime must correspond to five parts of the mixture made with the
rubble. Having laid the lower bed, it is necessary to lay a second layer one
foot high, over which goes the middle layer; on top of the middle layer goes
the pavement as described above, which should be higher in the centre, with
a slope of two fingers every ten feet. This pavement shall be made of squares
pp. 313-314 511

two fingers thick. With this procedure we can be assured from damage from
rain and ice. For the finishing and levelling is taken a very heavy piece of lead
or flint, which is to be dragged with cables from top to bottom and from side
to side, spreading coarse sand and water over the surface in order to level the
whole thing. If the corners and the sides of the paving stones are not even,
this cannot be done as it should be. If the pavement is polished with linseed
oil, it will be as shiny as glass. Likewise, it is a good idea to spread amurca
[i.e., oil lees] on it, or to drench it several times with water in which lime has
been slaked. If you want to repair broken rubble pavements take one part of
pounded clay tiles and two parts of Armenian bole, and incorporate it with
resin over a fire. Having heated the rubble, cast this material over it and then
spread it gently with a piece of hot iron. You can also do this if powdered
marble is mixed with uncooked white lime in boiling water and allowed to
dry. Having done this three or four times, knead it with milk and with what-
ever colour you want to give it. If you want to make the work appear like mo-
saic, place this material in moulds, giving it the colour that you like, but then
give it hot oil, or make a paste of the powdered marble with cheese glue19, the
glue being diluted with well-beaten egg white, then add the lime and knead.

Chapter II
On steeping lime for applying marmorino to walls

[p. 313] (Vitruvius) [VII.II.1] When we have departed from the thought of mak-
ing the pavements, then it is necessary to state the way of applying marmorino and
finishing the works. This will turn out well when, a long time before it is needed,
pieces and chips of extremely good lime shall be softened and steeped in water, so that
if any chips [p. 314] are only a little cooked in the kiln, by the long steeping they are
forced by the liquid to boil off, they will be uniformly digested. Since when lime is
taken, not steeped but new and fresh, later when it is put on the walls, having peb-
bles or small uncooked stones hidden in it, it sends forth pustules, and these pebbles,
when in the work they are likewise broken up and slaked, dissolve and undo the
finishes of the coatings. [VII.II.2] But when one has carefully seen to the steeping of
the lime, and that has been diligently prepared in the work, take an axe…

19 
Glue made from whey (the casein in cheese is a natural glue).
512 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) …which we call a trowel, others a sap…

(Vitruvius) [VII.II.2 cont.] …and, as wood is hewn and finished with the
plane, so the steeped lime in the trench shall be hewn and turned with the axe. If
pebbles are felt when working with that instrument, it is a sign that the lime is
not well tempered; when the iron, taken out, is dry and clean, it shows that lime
to be shrunken and thirsty; when it is rich and well steeped and sticks like glue to
that iron it is an excellent sign of being excellently tempered. These things done and
prepared, the instruments and scaffolding found, let the composition of the vaults
in the rooms be carried out, when we do not wish to make soffits.
(Barbaro) In the second chapter Vitruvius teaches us to prepare the lime
so that we can properly use it to cover the walls with marmorino. Thus hav-
ing taken care of the pavements and their beauties, he comes to adorn the
walls. I said enough in the second book about lime,20 and what was said there
makes this present passage, already plain, even easier. So I will expound on
what follows, about adorning the vaults and walls.

Chapter III
On the disposition of vaults, and how to cover the walls

[p. 314] (Vitruvius) [VII.III.1] When it is necessary to make vaults, it must be

done in this way. Let the rafters or straight laths be no farther than two feet apart;
these shall be of cypress, because those of fir are soon consumed by woodworms and
old age. These rafters, when they are set all around in a round shape, shall be con-
nected to the beams, or roofs, and hammered with iron nails; arranged in rows are
tie-beams, which shall be made of such material which neither woodworms nor
old age nor humidity can damage, such as boxwood, juniper, olive, durmast oak,
cypress, and others similar, except for common oak, because common oak, warping
in the work where it is used, splits. [VII.III.2] These rafters having been arranged
in order, to those must be tied beaten Greek reeds, as the shape of the vault requires,
with some stays made of Spanish esparto. Likewise on top of the curvature there
should be laid material made of lime mixed with sand, so that if some drop should
fall from the flooring above or from the roofs it can easily be supported. But if there
is no supply of Greek reeds it is necessary to take those thin reeds from marshes and

20 
See Barbaro, pp. 79-80.
pp. 314-315 513

tie them together, and of these make the sheaves and stays as long as required but
of a uniform thickness, so that between two knots there is no distance between
connections more than two feet. These sheaves (as is written above) shall be tied
to the rafters and purlins, and nailed through with pegs, and the other things all
being carried out (as said above). [VII.III.3] Thus arranged the curvatures and
settings, let their ceilings be glazed and prepared with sand and then finished with
clay or marble. Then when the vaults are polished the cornices must be placed. These
must be made as thin and light as possible because, being large, due to the weight
they come off, nor can they be supported. In these gypsum must not by any means
be mixed, but pulverised marble must be uniformly laid over them, so that setting,
they allow the work to dry at the same time. And it must be also that in making
vaults [p. 315] are avoided the disposition of the ancients, because the planes of
their cornices, menacing due to the great weight, were dangerous. [VII.III.4] Of
cornices, some are plain, others ornate. In conclaves where there are many lamps or
fire the plain are better, so that they may be more easily cleaned, but in the summer
places and the exedrae, where there is no smoke or fumes to do damage, the ornate
ones do well. White things always, by dint of the pride and greatness of candour,
take smoke, not only in the places where they actually are but from other edifices
near them. [VII.III.5] The cornices done and expedited, it is necessary to thorough-
ly go into the walls, finishing them. That finish having dried, there shall be laid
the rows of the rough plaster, such that the lengths of the walls are horizontal, the
heights vertical, the corners are square, because the manner of coating in this way
will prepare for the painting. Said coating beginning to dry, again another coat
is given over the first; the deeper the coat of the sand, the firmer the solidity of the
plaster. [VII.III.6] When the wall, after the first finishing with three coats at least
of sand, is formed, then is done the smoothing with marble grain, when the mate-
rial is tempered so that when it is made into a paste it does not stick to the shovel
and the iron is drawn out clean from the mixing vat. The grain laid, and dried,
there shall be given another light coat of plaster, which is applied well-beaten and
lightly scratched. When thus the walls with three coats of sand and marble will
have solidified, it can receive neither cracks nor other defects. [VII.III.7] The solid
surfaces, founded and made firm with the beating of tamps, smoothed with the
firm whiteness of marble, and overlaid by the colours with the finishes, will send
forth excellent beauties. When the colours are laid with diligence over the coats not
completely dry, thanks to this they will not give off moisture, but will stay firm,
because the lime in the kilns having dried the moisture, and by dint of the rareness
having become empty, astringed by the dryness, it will attract to itself the moisture
514 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of things that chance to touch it. Solidifying, by the mixture made of things with
another virtue, the seeds and principles running together in each member that it
has formed in drying, it will become such as to appear to have the qualities prop-
er to its manner. [VII.III.8] So the coatings that were made will neither become
rough with old age, nor will release the colours when washed, because they were
made with diligence in drying. When thus in this way, as said above, the walls are
covered they can have both firmness and splendour, and strength to last forever. But
when there is given a single coat of sand and a thin one of marble only, that slight
thinness can break, nor can the finish, because of the weakness of the thickness, con-
serve its splendour. [VII.III.9] Just as the silver mirror made of a thin sheet holds
an uncertain and weak lustre, while that which is formed of a more solid prepara-
tion, receiving the polish into itself with firm power, renders lustrous in appearance
and certain the image of one who looks into it, so too coatings made of thin material
not only make cracks, but are quickly spoiled. But those that are made with several
coats of sand and with the solidity of marble, made more solid and with frequent
polishing are beaten and smoothed, are not only made lustrous, but can even send
forth the images of those who look into them. [VII.III.10] The Greek finishers using
these rationales not only make their works firm but also in the mixing vat with the
lime and sand mixed by many men they pound the material with pieces of wood,
and so well-beaten by many it is put it into work. From this it comes that many
use this coating, which they remove from the walls, in place of panels to be paint-
ed. Those coatings, with the division of panels and of mirrors, have around them
the protrusions expressed by things. [VII.III.11] If the coatings are to be made on
wattles, cracks are necessarily made in the verticals and crosswise rafters (because
when plastered with lute they receive the moisture, and when they are smoothed,
becoming thin, they make cracks in the coating). So that this defect does not occur,
it is reasonable to proceed in this way. When the entire wall has been covered in a
lute paste, [p. 316] then in that work let there be continuous reeds hammered with
nails,21 then the lute is laid again. If the first reeds are driven in crosswise, the sec-
ond ones are driven in vertically, and so (as was determined above) there is given
a coat of sand and marble and every manner of coating, and so the continuity of the

21 
Barbaro translates Vitruvius’s clavi muscarii as chiodi muscarij. Cesariano discusses them
specifically (1521, p. 115r). Galiani (1758, p. 275) defines them as nails called moscardini, a
name which comes from their similarity to a small Mediterranean octopus with a large head.
Orsini (1801, vol. 2, p. 71, s.v. moscarii clavi) identifies them as small nails (bulletti) (but on
p. 23, clavi moscarii, refers back to Galiani and his moscardini).
p. 316 515

reeds being doubly driven into the walls with crosswise orders, neither hairs nor
cracks can be made in any way.
(Barbaro) This deals with the disposition of vaults. This is necessary
since the vaults would be badly finished and plastered if they were not solid,
well-made, and suitable for receiving the adornments and plaster. So, he
teaches us how the vaults should be formed; why ornaments are to be used
sparingly; how on their top and bottom surfaces plaster and marmorino22
are to be applied; how, beneath them, the cornices are to be made; how the
walls must be coated with marmorino; and finally, how walls of wattle are to
be made and covered. We will speak of vaults in the universal, so that all the
present material will be before our eyes, and we will adduce a part of what
Alberti says in the fourteenth chapter of the third book.23
There are various manners of vaults and curved surfaces; we must seek
the difference between them and what lines make up their outlines. Their
types are the fornix,24 the camerated,25 the hemispherical, and those vaults
that are parts of these. The hemisphere, or half-globe, derives its nature sole-
ly from the circular plan. The room with a camerated vault derives from the
square plan. Fornices are for rectangular buildings; the vault that resembles
a tunnel excavated through a mountain is called a fornix, which is very long
and shaped like an arch. Let us imagine an extremely long wall, vaulted and
curved at the top, and crossed by a portico. A camerated vault is like an arch
that curves from south to north, and that is likewise crossed by another from
east to west, and resembles a curved horn. The hemisphere is an assembly
of many arches that concur in the centre of the highest point in the middle.
There are also many other manners of vaults and arches derived from fig-
ures with many angles, but a single rationale is used to vault them, and all
of the aforementioned manners are based on the rationale used to make the
walls, since the supports and ribs that rise to the top must commence from

22 
Dare il bianco meant the application of marmorino, a plaster made of pulverized marble
(usually white) and slaked lime. Marmorino finishes were very frequently used in Venice
in Barbaro’s time. Giorgio Vasari describes the rediscovery of Roman marmorino made
from pulverized marble and white lime of travertine as a medium for sculpture in his life of
Giovanni da Udine.
23 
Alberti (1485, 3.14); (1988, pp. 84-87).
24 
To indicate a barrel vault, Barbaro follows Alberti in using an Italian rendition of fornice
(pl. fornici), for the Latin term fornix, arch. See Alberti (1988, n. 55, p. 379). The term also
appears on Barbaro, p. 305.
25 
A term used by Alberti; see Alberti (1988, n. 56, p. 379).
516 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the ribs of the walls, and thus the walls must be established according to the
manner of the vaults—that is, in the shape that we want to give to the vaults.
These bones must be placed with a certain distance between them. Vitru-
vius says that the rafters must be placed no farther than two feet from each
other. These rafters are tall, thin members that he calls asseri; when they are
arranged according to the shape of the outline—that is, according to the
manner of vault that we wish to make—they must be tied with tie-beams,
which are wooden ties placed at the top of the rafters so that they hold
together. These shall be nailed either to the roof or to the flooring above.
Alberti wants those spaces between the bones to be filled, but there is a dif-
ference between the filling used for interior or exterior walls and that used
between these bones, since in the walls they go straight down, but here they
are curved and warped according to the shape of the vault. He also wants
the bones to be made of baked clay, measuring two feet, and the filling to be
made of very lightweight stone, so as not to load the wall. Then he says that
to make the arches and vaults centring is necessary, made of wood according
to the desired shape. On top of this is placed the wattle of reeds, to support
that material used to make the vault until it hardens. He would have it that
the hemispherical vault requires no centring, nor do the forms that imitate
shapes with many angles. But even so there is a need for a ligature, or weav-
ing, that very tightly connects the weak parts with those that are strong and
solid, and here he recommends the hemispherical shape. He then says that
the shell vault, the camerated vault, and the fornix need centring; he recom-
mends that the first rows and ends of the arches be very solidly set. He gives
several rules related to this subject: how to erect the centring, fill the gaps,
and strengthen the arches; these rules are clear to those who practice. We
use arches and vaults, cross-vaults, cupolas, surbased vaults based on a quar-
ter-circle (rimenati26) and lunette vaults, according to the type of building,
as known. Once the camera—that is, the desired curvature of the vault—is
formed, the ceiling is coated on the top and on the bottom, as Vitruvius says.
Then the cornices are made all around [p. 317] of stucco. There is no gypsum
at all in the cornices, which must be lightweight and of thin material. They
must not project very far out, or the weight will break them. Great care must
be taken in plastering the walls, and Alberti goes on at some length about

26 
Defined as ‘about a quarter-circle’ in Serlio (1544, p. XVI): il rimenato, cioè, circa la quarta
parte di uno circolo. The term also appears on Barbaro, p. 294.
p. 317 517

this, but we will remain with Vitruvius and discuss his original intention,
which is to carry out vaults and their curved surfaces. He says that some
rafters are to be placed no farther than two feet apart, and that they should
be of cypress, because this wood is not liable to wormwood or rot. These
rafters must be distributed around the room with wooden tie-beams up to
the flooring or roof, and hammered with iron nails. He wants these rafters
to be of boxwood, olive, cypress, or durmast oak, but not of common oak,
because it splits, nor of any other wood that suffers. Having seen to the ties,
arranged the rafters, and nailed them to the underside of the flooring above,
it is necessary to cover them with sheaves of Spanish esparto, which is a kind
of reed, or with pounded Greek reeds. These are (I think) the reeds that we
call canne vere.27 Vaults similar to these are built in Romagna, and they are
given whatever form is desired because this material bends and can be han-
dled as you like. So, the curved surface being formed, there are two surfaces:
one above that is convex and faces the roof, and the other below, which is
concave and faces the pavement. The one on top is covered with lime and
sand and plastered so that it protects the upper part from drops that fall from
the roof or beams. This is how the upper part is treated; when there are no
Greek reeds, we use marsh reeds, which are bundled together like wattle,
tied and knotted with cords or twisted reeds; such knots must not be farther
than two feet apart. These sheaves or wattles are fastened to the rafters with
wooden pegs, called spatelle or cortelli.28 On the part that truly requires fin-
ishing—that is, the part on the underside of the ceiling—a plaster of lime
and sand is to be applied, and then covered with sand and pulverised marble.
The vault finally finished and coated with marmorino, it is necessary to make
the surrounding cornices as light and thin as possible, and small, because if
they are large there is the danger of their coming off because of the weight.
So, it is necessary to take care that they are not of gypsum, but of pulverized
marble, applied in a uniform layer so that it dries all at once; if one part
were thicker than another, they would not dry the same. Their lightness also
protects the inhabitants from danger, because cornices that are heavy and

27 
Canne vere was the lay term for arunda donax, the domestic cane native to the
Mediterranean basin.
28 
For alternate translations of spatelle or cortelli (=coltelli), see Morgan (1914, p. 206, ‘pegs’);
Granger (1934, p. 91, ‘pins’); Schofield (2009, p. 201, ‘pegs’). Viviani (1830-1832, Lib. VII,
p. 39) translates the phrase literally as si trapassino con coltelli di legno (‘wooden knives are
passed through them’).
518 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

large could by some accident, become detached and fall down on someone
in the room. Some cornices are made plain; others are elaborate. Plain ones
are good in places where there is smoke, lamps, and dust, because they are
more readily cleaned. The elaborate ones with foliage or figures do well in
summer rooms, because these have neither smoke nor lamps; it is incredible
how much damage is done by smoke from other rooms, even when these are
far away, because of the pride of the whiteness.29
When the cornices are made and the ceiling adorned, it is then neces-
sary to adorn and apply marmorino to the wall of the room and prepare it for
the painting. So, to the wall is first given a rough plastering, on top of which
is then, when it begins to dry, given a plaster of lime and sand made accord-
ing to the compartition that is desired for painting. The heights of the walls
should be vertical, the lengths horizontal, and the corners square, as truly
uniform as those made a thousand or more years ago, where a straightedge
touches all parts; they should be so solid that the marmorino on them could
be used as a panel for painting; they should be so well polished with a cloth
that they shine like mirrors. This originated with those who gave several
coats to the walls and used infinite diligence, applying the successive coat
before the previous had dried. The material was well steeped, and prepared
much ahead of the time when it was applied. This made it so that the colours
of the painting not only shone and were delightful, but also that they last-
ed forever and became incorporated into that marmorino, which would not
happen if only a single coat each of sand and marmorino were given. Because
walls of wattle, which can suffer from many defects, are often made, either
out of necessity or in order not to overload the buildings, Vitruvius gives us
instructions for making them as good as they can be, so that they will last
and not crack. All of this is easy, so we will move on to other things.

29 
Barbaro’s translation of the Latin propter superbiam candoris is soperbia della bianchezza (Fra
Giocondo 1511, p. 71r), which I have rendered ‘pride of the whiteness’. For a discussion of
the term soperbiam, see Viviani (1830-1832, Lib. VII, p. 41, n. 2), where he has translated
it as vanità (vanity).
p. 318 519

Chapter IV
On finishing in damp places

[p. 318] (Vitruvius) [VII.IV.1] I have spoken of the rationales with which the fin-
ishes are made in dry places. Now I will set forth how, so that they last, it is suitable
to make the finishes in damp places. First in the conclaves which are on the ground
floor, about three feet high from the pavement, in place of rough plaster shall be giv-
en plaster made with earthenware, so that the parts of that coating are not spoiled
by damp. If there is found any wall that is completely affected by damp, it is neces-
sary to move far away from that, and make another wall as far away as appears
fitting. Between the two walls shall be cut a channel lower than the floor of the
conclave, which channel will empty out somewhere. Then when it is built somewhat
high, leave there some vents, because if the humour does not exit either through the
mouth and above or below, it will spread through the wall again. These things done,
a coat of crushed tiles shall first be laid on the walls, then levelled and made even,
and finished. [VII.IV.2] If the place does not suffer the building of another wall,
also make there the channels with their mouths opening into an open place, then on
one side at the edge of the channel place tiles of two feet, and on the other erect small
pilasters of bricks of eleven inches, in which can fit the corners of two tiles. Those
pilasters will be no farther from the wall than a palm can pass. Then on the low part
of the wall up to the top hooked tiles shall be fit vertically, on the inner part of which
pitch is diligently applied so that they repel the moisture, and so too below and above
the vault there shall also be vents. [VII.IV.3] Then they shall be whitened with liq-
uid lime in water, so that they do not refuse the plaster and coating of earthenware,
since because of the dryness taken from the kilns they cannot receive the plaster nor
hold it if the lime placed beneath does not adhere and stick to both things. That first
coat laid, there is given, in place of rough plaster, earthenware; all the other things
are to be done as written above in the rationales of plastering.
[VII.IV.4] The ornaments of the finish must have their own and particular
rationales of decorum, so that they have the dignity appropriate to the nature of
the places, as well as the differences of the manners. In the winter rooms such com-
position is not useful, nor are very costly paintings and the refined ornaments of
the vaults and cornices, because those things by the smoke and soot of many lamps
are damaged. In these over the platforms must be placed panels painted with ink
and finished, placing between them wedges of silica or red earth. When the vaults
as well are completed and finished, the usages of the winter rooms of the Greeks
is not unpleasant, if one thinks about it. This usage is not sumptuous, but useful
520 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[VII.IV.5]. The floor level of the triclinium is excavated down to almost two feet
and, the ground well beaten, there is given either rubble pavement or the pave-
ment of tiles so sloped that they drain into the channel. Then there is placed on
top charcoal, solidly tamped, and there is given a material mixed of coarse sand,
lime and ash a half a foot thick, laid with a ruler and levelled, and the surfaced
smoothed with a whetstone. The form of the pavement is blackened, and so during
their meals that which drops from the vases and their spitting dries as soon as it
drops, and the servants who minister, although they are barefoot, do not take cold
from that pavement.
(Barbaro) Here we see the admirable industriousness used by the an-
cients so that their buildings would last and remain beautiful and ornate,
such that, where the nature of the place could hinder that and harm the
ornaments, they exerted themselves to remedy it with art. There is noth-
ing more harmful to buildings and their ornaments than damp. There is no
doubt that until that is ingeniously dealt with, beauty cannot attain its effect.
So, Vitruvius having furnished us with the instructions for ornamenting and
whitening dry places, in the present [p. 319] chapter he teaches us to remedy
the defects of damp places. The defect of damp comes either from below,
from the terrain, or from above, from the walls that flank hills or high levels
of terrain. If it comes from below, then for the ground floors where we wish
to make pavements it is necessary to excavate down to a depth of three feet,
fill the entire excavated area with crushed earthenware, and level it well.
This material will keep the place dry always. But if by chance some wall is
continuously affected by damp, then we will make another thin wall as far
away from it as we see fit. Between those walls is placed a channel that is
somewhat lower than the floor level of the room; this will empty out into an
open place. Vents will be left at the top, because when the channel is very
high and this precaution is not taken, there is no doubt that the whole thing
will rot and come apart. Having thus built this wall as prescribed, we can
then see to the plastering and finishing. This same remedy is given to us by
Pliny and Palladius.30 If by chance the place will not permit the building of
a second wall, then a channel is made that drains into an open place. On
the edges of that channel on one side place two-foot tiles, and on the other
build some small walls or pilasters of bricks measuring two-thirds of a foot,

30 
See Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.55; Palladius, Opus Agriculturae 1.9 (for winter and
summer rooms and the black pavement) and 1.10-15.
p. 319 521

the tops of which can support the corners of two tiles. These tiles should not
be farther than a palm away from the wall. Then comes the building of the
channel and its covering. So that the humidity of the main wall can go into
that and channel it, it is necessary along the wall, from bottom to top, to af-
fix flanged tiles so that one hooks into the other; these must be very carefully
coated with pitch on the inner side so that they don’t take on moisture. Thus
these tiles will compensate for the lack of the second wall and lead to the
same effect, because between the tiles and the wall there is a suitable space,
and the humidity of the wall will go between the tiles and the wall, as long
as there is an outlet at the bottom and vents at the top. Once this ‘entabula-
tion’31 (I would call it that) is made, in order for it to receive its finish, it must
be coated with liquid lime, because the lime will remedy the dryness of the
tiles, which wouldn’t take the plaster without that first coat of lime. After
this, Vitruvius shows us very easily and with acute observations that which
is to be painted in different kinds of places, and in particular I refer to the
interpretation he gives of that which appertains to decorum. He then speaks
of the Greek custom of making pavements, which is handsome, useful, and
not expensive; this is clear in the text.

Chapter V
On the rationale of painting in buildings

[p. 319] (Vitruvius) [VII.V.1] In the other conclaves, that is, of spring, autumn
and summer, and the atria and the peristyles of the ancients there were certain de-
termined manners of painting for certain respects, since painting makes an image
of that which is and can be, as of a man, a building, a ship, and other things, the
examples of which are taken from the forms and outlines of bodies with figurative
similarity. From this the ancients who ordered the principles of the finishes first im-
itated the diversity of marble finishes and their collocation, and then in the cornices
and various compartments of colours in cerulean and minium. [VII.V.2] After this
they entered into making figures of the buildings and the columns, and imitating

31 
Barbaro may be coining the term intavellitura to describe the interlocking tiles based on
the idea of the intavolato, or gola reversa defined as being formed of an ‘interlocking leaf
pattern’; see Palladio (1997, p. 397, Glossary, s.v. ‘Intavolato’).
522 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the projections and reliefs of the pediments. In the open places, such as exedrae, on
the expanse of the walls they drew the fronts of the scaenae in the tragic, comic, and
satirical manners. In the places for strolling, due to their being long spaces, they
gave themselves to adorning them with varieties of gardens, expressing the images
of certain properties of countries. Thus they painted ports, promontories, seashores,
rivers, springs, stretches of water, temples, sacred forests, mountains, sheep, shep-
herds. In some places they also made more worthy paintings more carefully worked
that also depicted greater things, such as [p. 320] the simulacra of the gods, the
orderly telling of fables, the Trojan wars, the travels32 of Ulysses in different places,
and other things that have rationales similar to those made by nature. [VII.V.3]
Those examples that were taken by the ancients from real things are now corrupted
and spoiled with evil usages, because on the coatings of the walls are sooner painted
monsters than certain images taken from determined things. So instead of columns
there are reeds, and in place of pediments there are fluted arpaginetuli33 with curly
foliage. Similarly the candelabra with temples that support figures. Over the tops of
those, born from the roots the twisting tendrils of the volutes, these have, without
reason, the figures that are seen above them. Similarly the little flowers that have
half-figures that come out of their stems, some similar to human heads, others to
heads of beasts. [VII.V.4] But such things are not, nor can be, nor will ever be. So
then the evil customs have made it so that, out of inertia, the bad judges close their
eyes to the virtues of the arts. Because how can it be that a reed supports a roof, or
a candelabra a little temple and the ornaments of a pediment? Or that a sheaf of
grass so thin and soft supports a figure that sits on top of it? Or that from roots and
small stems on one hand are generated flowers and half-figures? Although men see
such things to be false, they yet delight in them, nor do they take account of whether
they can be or not. The obfuscated minds of infirm judges approve that which with
dignity and reputation of decorum cannot be proved. Those paintings must not be
approved that are not similar to the truth, and even though they are well made by
art, good judgement of them must not be so readily given, unless they have certain
rationales of argument declared without offense. [VII.V.5] Even at Tralles, having

32 
Barbaro’s expression errori d’Ulisse per i luoghi might appear to confound ‘errant’ with ‘error’
but the same term errori in the sense of travels or journeys is also used by his contemporary
Tarquato Tasso, who speaks, for example, of Aeneas’s così lunghi errori da Troja fin’in Sicilia
(‘his very long travels from Troy to Sicily’); see Tasso (1735-1742, vol. 8, p. 418).
33 
The term arpaginetuli (Fra Giocondo 1511, p. 72v), transcribed by Barbaro as arpagineti, has
been variously interpreted: see Morgan (1914, p. 211, ‘fluted appendages’); Granger (1934,
p. 105, ‘striped panels’); Schofield (1999, p. 207, ‘fluted stems’). For a specific discussion see
Viviani (1830-1832, Lib. VII, n. 1, p. 54).
pp. 320-321 523

Apaturius of Alabanda, with a chosen and good hand, painted a scaena in a small
theatre which they called the ekklesiasterion, and made in that place in place of
columns the figures and the centaurs that supported the architraves and the rotund
roofs, and the prominent vaults of the fronts and the cornices adorned with leonine
heads, all of which things follow the rationale of the stillicidia that come from the
roofs. In addition to this, on top of that scaena there was no less than the episceni-
um, in which were the various ornaments of the whole roof, the tholoi, the pronaoi,
the half-pediments. When thus the appearance of that scaena was pleasing to the
sight of all because of its difficulty,34 they were already prepared to approve that
work. Then Licymnius the mathematician leapt forth, and [VII.V.6] said: ‘The
Alabands were very quick in all civil things, but because of the not very great sin of
not serving decorum, they were judged to be not very wise, because all the statues
that are in their gymnasium appear to treat cases of law, and those that are in the
forum to hold a discus, run, or play with a ball. So the statues of the figures, lacking
decorum with regard to the properties of the places, have increased the defect of the
reputation of the city. But we must also take care that in our times the scaena of
Apaturius does not make us Alabandans and Abderites, because who of you can
have a house on top of the roof tiles, or columns, or pediments? Because these things
are placed over floorboards and not over the roof tiles. If then the things that cannot
have the truth of the fact are approved by us in paintings, we too will come to allow
the city by dint of such defects to be judged of scant wisdom’. [VII.V.7] Then Apatu-
rius did not have the courage to answer anything to the contrary, but removed the
scaena, and altering it according to the rationale of the true, it was then prepared
and approved. O if only the immortals would wish Licymnius to return to life and
correct this madness and these wall coverings, erroneously ordered. But it is not al-
ien to our purpose to explicate why false rationale vanquishes truth. That to which
the ancients exerted themselves, and applying their industriousness attempted to
prove with the arts, in our day is obtained with colours and their charms, and
where authority was given to the works by the subtleness of the maker, now the
spending of the patron does what is not desired. [p. 321] [VII.V.8] Who among the
ancients did not use minium parsimoniously, like a medicine? But in our day most
vaults and all of the walls are covered with minium, and added to that are given

34 
Asprezza, ‘roughness’ or ‘difficulty’, was a quality praised in poetry; Tasso writes of it,
saying, for example, L’asprezza ancora della composizione suol esser cagione di grandezza, e di
gravità and again, questa asprezza sente un so che di magnifico, e di grande; see Tasso (1735-
1742, vol. 5, p. 447).
524 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

tincal,35 marine purple, armenium. These things, when they are given to the walls,
although they are not placed skilfully, they nevertheless give to the eyes something
of splendour, because they are precious things and worth a great deal, so they are
exempt from the rules, which are represented by the patron and not by the one who
does the work. I have expounded as much of these things in which I could observe
in what covers the wall, so that there is no error. Now I will say how they must
be prepared, as it comes to my mind, and since earlier was discussed lime, now it
remains to us to speak of marble.
(Barbaro) Part of what needs to be painted in various rooms so that
decorum is served Vitruvius taught us in the previous chapter, and part of
it he teaches us now. From the definition of painting he argues about what
is good, and then he liberally criticises the usages of painters in his day for
having greatly deviated from the certain, just rationale of the ancients. Here
he largely opposes that manner of painting that we call ‘grotesque’, claiming
that it is in no way good, because if painting is an imitation of things that
are, or that can be, how can we call good that which is seen in the grotesque?
Such are animals that support temples, columns of reeds, claws of monsters,
deformities of nature, mixtures of various species. Certainly, as the fantasy
of dreams shows us confused images of things, and often places things of
different natures together, we can say that the grotesque is made in the same
way; without a doubt we might call it ‘the dream of painting’. We see similar
things in the arts of speaking, so that the dialectician exerts himself to sat-
isfy reason; the orator, sense and reason; the poet, much more of sense and
delight than reason; the sophist does monstrous things that for us represent
fantasy, when our senses are closed in sleep. How much the sophist is to
be praised I leave to the judgement of others who know how to distinguish
between the false and the true, and the true and verisimilar. Because what
Vitruvius says is easy, and Pliny in Book 35 of Natural History sheds much
light on this subject, I will not elaborate. But as far as I have seen and read
of things and can understand, I find that painting is like anything else that
men do: first they must have an intention, and represent some effect to which
the entire composition is aimed. As fables must be useful to men’s lives and
music must have its intentions, so too with painting. Then it is necessary to
know how to outline things and have the symmetries of all the parts, and

Instead of the usual translations of borace as ‘malachite’, Barbaro alone has used tincal
35 

(Asian borax), perhaps because there was a healthy industry in Venice for refining borax
imported from Asia.
pp. 321-322 525

the correspondences among them. And with all of this, the motives and
actions must be such that they appear to be living things, and not painted,
and show the affects and customs, of which only few are capable. On top
of this (which is something achieved by the very few, is in our day hardly
considered, and is the perfection of the art) is making the outline so that it
is gentle and hazy, so that one comprehends what one doesn’t see, indeed,
what the eye thinks it can see, but what it doesn’t see, which is a very sweet
evanescence, a tenderness on the horizon of our sight that is and is not,
which can only be done with infinite practice, and which delights those who
know nothing else, and amazes those who well understand. I will leave aside
the colours that are appropriate, the mixing of them, and the shading and
softness of flesh in womanly images which reveals the muscles, and in that
way that fabric is understood to testify to nudity: the soft folds, the slimness,
quickness, the outward appearances, the eye level and other things that are
excellently accommodated in painting; speaking of these at greater length
is useless and beside the point for our purposes. Those who have considered
many paintings of various excellent men, and who have listened to reason,
and with delight and attention have listened to others, know quite well how
important, and how much is embraced by what I have mentioned. The rest
of what Vitruvius says to the end of the book is clear, and I have no desire
to add more, it seeming to me that Vitruvius has spoken so plainly. Now it
remains to us to speak of the many ornaments that are made in cities, such
as pyramids, obelisks, sepulchres, plaques, columns, and other such things.
But by now the ancient things of Rome have been measured more than once,
and light shed on them by many worthy men, so that it is less tiring to see
the paintings [p. 322] directly and measure them, than it would be to read
the many pages that I could write. I thus exhort all who study antiquity to
imitate the good, and exert themselves to infuse rationale into what they
themselves make, practicing the liberal arts and especially the four disci-
plines36 which are the four principal portals of all buildings, instruments,
and inventions that ever have been, are, and will be. If one wishes to have
some instruction about the things said above, let him read Leon Battista
Alberti’s ninth book, and observe his teachings.

36 
Barbaro defines the seven liberal arts in his commentary in Book I (Barbaro, p. 5), where
he further specifies the four disciplines ‘regarding quantity’ (the quadrivium) as arithmetic,
geometry, music and astronomy.
526 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter VI
How to prepare marble for finishes

[p. 322] (Vitruvius) [VII.VI.1] Not in the same manner in every land is marble
generated, but in some places are born chunks, as of salt, that have shiny and re-
splendent flakes, which when ground up and soaked provide great utility in wall
coverings and in cornices. But in those places where such things are not found, the
marble rocks or flakes that fall from large stones cut by the quarriers are ground
with iron pestles and softened, and these, sorted, are divided into three types: the
part that is coarse (as was said above) mixed with lime is laid over rough plaster,
then the next, and the third, which is the finest. These things applied, and diligently
levelled and smoothed, it is right to give the colours so that they send forth shining
and splendid rays, of which this will be the first difference and preparation.37

Chapter VII
On colours, and first ochre

[p. 322] (Vitruvius) [VII.VII.1 cont.] Of colours there are some that are born of
themselves in certain places, and from there they are taken, others that are composed
from things mixed and tempered so that they are useful in works in the same way. I
will set forth those that are born of themselves and are taken, such as ochre. This in
many places, including Italy, is found. That of Attica is excellent, and this cannot
be had in our day. At the mines in Athens where silver is extracted, when they had
families, at that time they mined underground to find silver. When they found the
vein of ochre they followed it as though it were silver, and so the ancients in the
finishes of the works used a great quantity of sil. [VII.VII.2] Also in many other
places are extracted great quantities of red earth, but perfectly in few, as in Sinope
in Pontus, and in Egypt, and in the Balearic Islands in Spain, nor less in Lemnos,

37 
Barbaro’s translation here follows Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 73v): Quibus inductis & diligenti
tectoriorum fricatione levigatis, de coloribus ratio habeatur, uti in his perlucentes exprimant
splendores, quorum haec erit differentia & apparatio. These lines also appear in the translation
by Cesariano (1521, p. CXIXv), but not in modern transcriptions or translations. Instead,
in modern sources, the lines Allis locis, ut inter Magnesiae et Ephesis fines … contuse et subcreta
appear here; see Morgan (1914, pp. 213-214); Granger (1934, p. 111); Schofield (2009; p.
209). In Fra Giocondo, Cesariano, and Barbaro, these lines appear further on; the reader of
this present translation will find them on p. 322, at the end of Vitruvius VII.VII.5.
pp. 322-323 527

the earnings from which island the senate and people of Rome conceded to the Athe-
nians to enjoy. [VII.VII.3] Paraetonium takes its name from those places where it
is extracted, and, with the same rationale, milenum, because the force of that ore is
said to be in Melos, the island of the Cyclades. [VII.VII.4] Green earth is born in
many places, but the perfect kind is born in the island of Smyrna. The Greeks used
to call this theodotian, because Theodotus was the name of the man on whose land
that kind of chalk was first found. [VII.VII.5] The orpiment of the Greeks was
named arsenic; it is extracted in Pontus, and so too in several places is sandarac,
but the best has its vein in Pontus near the river Hypanis. In other parts, as be-
tween the borders of Magnesia and Ephesus, there are places where it is extracted
already prepared, so that there is no need to grind it, but it is so refined that it is as
though pulverised and sifted by hand.38
(Barbaro) Ochre is called ‘yellow earth’, but is also commonly called
‘ochre’.39 This is burned, not until it blackens, but until it turns dark and
rust-coloured. It comes from the East. I have also found, in the land I pos-
sess in the Trevisan hills,40 a very good quality of it [p. 323] in great quanti-
ties. Attic sil was a mineral that some say was the colour of ochre, and they
do not make much of a distinction between ochre and sil, but I believe that
ochre was the general name, and sil the specific, so it might be that sil was a
species of ochre, but of a very different colour, tending towards blue, purple,
or violet. Red ochre and sinopia are red earths; we call red ochre imbuoro,
in other places it is called buoro. These red earths were good and perfect in
the places named by Vitruvius. Paraetronium and milenum were colours,
the former white and the latter yellow; Vitruvius tells us why they are so-
called. We call green chalk ‘green earth’. Sandarac is an orange colour. We
call minium made of white lead ‘burnt’; below Vitruvius will speak of how
sandarac was born and also made artificially.

38 
The final lines of this passage are those discussed above in the note at the end of Book VI.
39 
The colour names in this and the chapters that follow are rendered as close as possible
to those used by Barbaro, rather than using more common terms. This attitude was taken
partly in light of the comment in Smith (1890, s.v. ‘colo’res’): ‘It should be observed that both
Greek and Roman writers use colour-names in a very different way from that now employed;
and thus most classical names for colours are now quite untranslatable’. A very good guide
to pigments and names of colours is found in Alexander (1967).
40 
The Villa Barbaro in Maser, designed by Andrea Palladio for Daniele Barbaro and his
brother Marcantonio, is located at the foot of the Trevisan hills.
528 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter VIII
On the rationales of minium

[p. 323] (Vitruvius) [VII.VIII.1] Now I will enter into the explanation of the
rationales of minium. This is said to have been first found in the Cilbian fields
of the Ephesians. Its effect and its rationale give cause for great marvel. A chunk
is extracted, called anthrax before it is handled and becomes minium. The vein
is the colour of iron but much redder, having around it a red powder. When it is
extracted, by the striking of the irons it sends forth tears of quicksilver, which is
immediately gathered by those extracting it. [VII.VIII.2] These chunks, saturated
by the fullness of the humour that they have in them, are placed in the furnaces
of the workshops so that they dry; the smoke that is raised from the chunks by the
vapour of the fire, when it falls back to the bottom of the furnace, is found to be
quicksilver. The chunks removed, the drops that remain, because of their smallness,
cannot be gathered, but they are made to run into a container of water, and there
they unite and mingle together. This being of a measure of four sextaria, when are
weighed, is found to be a hundred pounds. [VII.VIII.3] When all that quicksilver
is together in a container, if a weight of a hundred is placed on top, it will remain
on top, nor with its weight press that liquor down, nor mash it, nor disperse it. The
hundred-pound weight removed, if a scruple of gold is placed there, not only will it
not float, it will on its own go all the way to the bottom. That this is not due to the
amount of weight but to the quality of the heaviness of each thing cannot be denied.
[VII.VIII.4] This is useful for many things, because neither silver nor copper can
be gilded without it so that it is well done, and when the gold is contested in some
bit of clothing that is consumed by wear and can no longer be worn with honesty,
that gold cloth shall be placed in an earthenware pot, and burned on the fire. The
ashes are thrown into water, to which is added quicksilver, which will draw to it-
self all the bits of gold, and force them to combine with it. The water then emptied,
this is poured into a cloth, and that being squeezed with the hands, the silver comes
out through the thinness of the cloth with the liquid, and the gold, gathered by the
tightness and compression, is found gathered pure therein.
pp. 323-324 529

Chapter IX
On the temperament of minium

[p. 323] (Vitruvius) [VII.IX.1] I will now return to the tempering of minium.
So, those chunks, being dried, are ground with iron pestles and pulverised, and
with frequent washing and cooking the colours are made to come. When thus they
have sent forth the drops of quicksilver, then the minium is made of a soft nature
and weak strength, and as the quicksilver has gone, so too the natural virtues
that it held inside. [VII.IX.2] When it is given to the finishes in the conclaves it
remains in its colour without defects, [p. 324] but in open places such as peristyles
and exedrae and other similar places where the sun and the moon can send their
rays and light, when by these the place is touched, it spoils and, the virtue of colour
lost, it blackens. And so do many others. Faber writes that having wished to have
on the Aventine Hill a fine and ornate house, in the peristyle he had minium giv-
en to all the walls, while after thirty days became of an ugly and different colour,
which immediately led him to apply other colours. [VII.IX.3] But if one is more
subtle and wishes for the finish in minium to retain its colour, when the wall is
finished and dry, then shall be given with a brush Punic wax liquefied by fire
tempered with much oil; the coals then placed in an iron pot, that wax will sweat,
heating the wall with it, and will make it so that it is spread evenly. Then with a
candle and a clean sheet it is rubbed, in the way that marble statues of nudes are
cleaned; this operation is called causis41 by the Greeks. [VII.IX.4] Thus the cover of
Punic wax will not permit either the splendour of the moon or the rays of the sun,
touching them, to take the colour away from that finish. For this reason the work-
shops where the ores were extracted by the Ephesians have been moved to Rome,
because this sort of vein was later discovered in the lands of Spain, from the ores of
which are taken the chunks that are treated by the excise men (daciari42) in Rome.
These workshops are between the Temple of Flora and the Temple of Quirinus.
[VII.IX.5] Minium spoils when mixed with lime, and if someone wishes to make
an experiment to test if it is spoiled, it must be thus proven: Take an iron blade…
(Barbaro) …or shovel, as we say…
(Vitruvius) [VII.IX.5 cont.] …and on it place the minium, and set in the fire

41 
Causis is Barbaro’s Italianisation of the Greek k αυσις following Fra Giocondo (1511,
p. 74r) and Cesariano (1521, p. CXXv). Barbaro maintained the Greek in (1567 Lat., p.
245, line 52). The accepted term today is ganosis. I thank Ntovros Vasileios for a discussion
on this.
42 
Barbaro’s daciari is a variation on dazieri, so he is translating Vitruvius’s publicanos literally.
530 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

so that the blade is ablaze; when the white changes into black, remove the blade
from the fire. If the minium, once cooled, returns to its previous colour, then it is
doubtless proven to be without defect, but if remains black, this shows that it is
spoiled. [VII.IX.6] I have spoken of those things that came to my mind regarding
minium. Chrysocolla is brought from Macedonia, and is extracted from those places
that are near copper ores. Minium and indicum are words that show the places in
which they are generated.
(Barbaro) Minium, as Pliny says,43 is a sort of sand of the colour of
saffron. Punic wax said to be white wax. Their way of making it white is
given in Pliny’s Book 21, chapter 14.44 Chrysocolla is glue for gold; they call
it borax.45 Minium is so-called for a river in Spain by that name. Indicum is
called ‘indigo’ by us, and is a dark blue colour. It is used to dye cloth, and is
also used in painting.

Chapter X
On artificial colours

[p. 324] (Vitruvius) [VII.X.1] Now I will enter into those things which, altered
with the tempers of the mixture of other manners, receive the properties of the col-
ours. First I will speak about ink, the use of which in works is of great necessity, so
that the tempers shall be manifest, and the way in which with certain rationales it
is prepared by makers. [VII.X.2] The place, being built like a laconicum, is finished
with marble and finely smoothed. In front of this is built a small furnace, which
has the inner opening towards the sweating room, and the mouth outside is closed
and lowered with great diligence, so that the dissipated flame does not go outside.
In the furnace is placed resin…
(Barbaro) …or rasa…
(Vitruvius) [VII.X.2 cont.] …and this burning, the force of the fire sends the
smoke out by the vents into the laconicum; this smoke goes around the walls and the
curves of the vault and adheres. Then part of what is collected is compounded by

43 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 33.37 (Pliny actually says that the sand was the colour of
the kermes berry, which was used for red dye).
44 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 21.49.
45 
Neither ‘chyrisocolla’ nor ‘borax’ is used here in the modern sense; see Pliny the Elder,
Natural History 33.26.
pp. 324-325 531

being beaten with gum to be used as library ink, and part of it, mixed with glue,
is used by finishers on the walls. [VII.X.3] But if these supplies are not available,
necessity must be provided for so that by waiting and delaying the work is not
hindered. Let there be burned chips or flakes of linden, and when they have become
charcoal and are extinguished, they are then ground [p. 325] in the mortar with
glue, and thus is made a colouring for covering which is of good quality. [VII.X.4]
A similar thing will be had from wine lees dried and cooked in the furnace, and
then ground with the glue, which will make a very welcome colour of ink. When it is
made of better wine it will not only imitate the colour of ink, but also that of indigo.

Chapter XI
On the tempers of cerulean

[p. 325] (Vitruvius) [VII.XI.1] The tempers of blue were first discovered in Al-
exandria. Later Vestorius ordered it to be made in Pozzuoli. The rationale of that
colour, how it was discovered, gives cause for great marvel. Sand is ground with
flowers of natron so finely that it becomes like flour and, mixed with filed Cyprian
copper, is dampened so that it holds together. Then rolling it with the hands balls
are made, and put together so that they dry. These, when dry, are placed in an
earthenware container, which is then put in the furnace. Thus the copper and that
sand, boiling together by the force of the fire, having dried, mutually giving to
and receiving from each other their sweat, they depart from their own properties,
and compounded of their things by the great force of the heat, they become blue.
[VII.XI.2] Burnt sand, which is of no little use in covering walls, is tempered in
this way. Cook a chunk of good blue stone so that when it is taken from the fire it
is like fiery iron; this, extinguished with vinegar, becomes a purple colour.

Chapter XII
How to make ceruse, verdigris and sandarac

[p. 325] (Vitruvius) [VII.XII.1] Of ceruse and verdigris, which we call aeruca, is
it not beside the point to say how they are made. The Rhodians putting in barrels
the filings of iron, sprinkle them with vinegar, and on top of those filings they place
532 Book VII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the lumps of lead. Then they stop up the barrels made like that with lids, so that they
cannot breathe. After a certain time, opening them, they find ceruse, or white lead,
as the lumps of lead are called. With the same rationale, putting in copper sheets,
they make verdigris, called aeruca. [VII.XII.2] The ceruse, cooking in the furnace,
its colour changed by the burning of the fire, becomes sandarac…
(Barbaro) (… which we call minium).46
(Vitruvius) [VII.XII.2 cont.] Men have learned this from burning that oc-
curred by chance, and that is of less utility than the one that is derived from ores.

Chapter XIII
How to make marine purple, the most excellent
of all artificial colours

[p. 325] (Vitruvius) [VII.XIII.1] Now I will begin to speak about marine purple,
which holds a place above the aforementioned colours, being the most expensive
and most refined in appearance. This is collected from seashells used for purple dye,
and that is no less marvellous to those who consider the different natures of things,
because no colour in a single manner is to be had in all those places where it is born,
but by the course of the sun it is naturally tempered. [VII.XIII.2] So that which is
collected in Pontus and in Gaul, because those parts are close to the north, is black.
To those who go below the north, it is livid; [p. 326] that which comes from the
equinoctial east and west is of a violet colour; that which is extracted in the middle
parts is red. That red is also generated on the island of Rhodes and in other parts
that are near the course of the sun. [VII.XIII.3] Those shells are collected and spread
out, and when with irons they are struck the purple serum comes out, like tear
drops. Extracted, it is prepared in mortars by grinding. That which comes from sea
shells in this way has been named ostrum. This, because of the salt, quickly becomes
dried out, if it does not have honey sprinkled over it.
(Barbaro) The Tyrian Hercules, at the time of Minos, discovered the
purple dye that is called ‘conchilium’, the jaws of his dog being splattered
with it. He carried it to the king of the Phoenicians, who was the first to
wear purple.47

46 
For a further mention of sandarac, see Barbaro, p. 337; Vitruvius VIII.III.11.
47 
This story is recounted by Julius Pollox in Onomasticon 1.45-49.
p. 326 533

Chapter XIV
On purple colours

[p. 326] (Vitruvius) [VII.XIV.1] There are also purple colours made by dying
chalk with the root of rubia and hysginum. Similarly, from flowers are made other
colours. Thus when the dyers wish to imitate Attic sil, throwing a dried violet into
a container they make it boil with water, and then when it is tempered they pour it
on a piece of cloth, and squeezing with their hands they receive the violet-coloured
water in a mortar, and into that pour the red clay, and grinding it they make the
colour of Attic sil. [VII.XIV.2] Tempering vaccinium with that same rationale,
and mixing with that, they make a fine purple. And again those who cannot, be-
cause of scarcity, use chrysocolla, dye the grass called luteola with blue, and they
produce a very green colour; this is called infectiva, that is, ‘ dye’. Because of the
shortage of indigo, they dye Selinusian chalk or anularian chalk with the glass
called hyalos, and imitate the colour of indigo. [VII.XIV.3] I have written in
this book as much as I was able to call to mind of those things, with what ration-
ales regarding the disposition of firmness and beauty paintings must be made, and
what powers all the colours have in them. Thus in seven volumes are set forth all
the perfections of buildings, and the demonstration of what it is opportune and fit
for them to have. In the following I will treat water: how it is found and where
it is not, the rationale used to conduct it, and how to prove that it is healthy and
suitable for use.
(Barbaro) Rubia [i.e., Rubia tinctorum, madder] is called ruggia, and is
used commonly by cloth dyers; hysginum, vaccinium and hyacinth are other
names for the same things. Selinusian chalk is the colour of milk, and anu-
larian paste48 is white. As to the rest, I have not tried these things, nor do I
wish to fill the book with recipes.

The end of Book VII.

48 
For ‘anularian white’ see Pliny the Elder, Natural History 35.30, where it is defined as a
kind of chalk mixed with a glass paste.
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book VIII

Preface
[p. 327]

hales of Miletus, one of the seven sages, said that water was the
principle of all things; Heraclites, fire; the priests of the Magi, wa-
ter and fire; Euripides, auditor of Anaxagoras, which philosopher
the Athenians named Scaenicus, said air and earth, and that the earth, having
been impregnated by the celestial rains, generated in the world the kinds of the
peoples and of all the animals, and those things that are produced by it, when com-
pelled by the force of time to dissolve, return again to it. Those that are born of air,
still in the parts of the sky are transformed in receiving some defect, but mutated,
in their dissolution they fall back into the same property in which they were before.
But Pythagoras, Empedocles, Epicharmus and the other physicists and philosophers
proposed to us that there are these four principles, air, fire, water and earth, and the
qualities of these operate among themselves with natural form conjoined, according
to the differences of the things. [VIII.Pref.2] We observe that not only do the things

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 535

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_9
536 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

that are born from these principles have their birth, but that all things are unable
to nourish themselves, or grow or conserve themselves without their force. Thus
bodies without redundant spirit cannot have life if the air that enters into them is
not made of the continuous growing of increases and decreases.
(Barbaro) That is, breathing, which is done by drawing breath into one-
self and sending it forth again.
(Vitruvius) [VIII.Pref.2 cont.] And again if in the body there is no just meas-
ure of heat there will be no vital spirit, nor can it solidly raise itself on its feet, and
the forces of food cannot have the tempering of digestion. Thus bodies, not nour-
ishing themselves of earthly food, will weaken and so by the mixture of the earthly
principle, will be forsaken. [VIII.Pref.3] Animals, without the power of humour,
will be exhausted, and dried of the liquid of its principles, they will desiccate.
(Barbaro) Aristotle says that we are nourished by those things of which
we are composed, and thus the four elements are necessary for man’s life
because it is of them that the body is composed.
(Vitruvius) [VIII.Pref.3 cont.] So divine providence did not make difficult
and costly those things that are properly necessary for the peoples, as are precious
stones, gold and silver, and the other things which neither the body nor nature
desires. But it gives to us those things without which the life of mortals cannot be
surely ready at hand in every part of the world. And so of these principles, if by
chance a thing is lacking in spirit, the air assigned to restore it does so copiously.
So too the impetus of the sun is set up to help us with heat, and the discovery of
fire renders life more secure. So too the fruit of the earth, lending us provisions, by
superabundance relieves desires, and nourishes the animals who graze continually.
And water, not only for drinking, but for use giving us infinite necessities by being
given to us for great utility, is rendered to us. [VIII.Pref.4] And from that those
who treat the sacred things in the way of the Egyptians show that all things consist
of the force of liquor, and so when they fill the vessels of water which to the sacred
temple with chaste religion are carried, then kneeling with hands raised to heaven
they thank the divine goodness for those findings.
[p. 328] (Barbaro) Vitruvius reiterates what was said in the first chapter
of the second book regarding the material principles of things, but here the
intention is different. In the second book he had in mind to show the effects
that arise from the mixture of the principles in things such as lime, bricks,
sand, stone and trees. Here, however, he intends to treat the nature and use
of water. He is quite right to adorn this effort of his with a treatment of
water since, while gold, gems and stones are precious because of their rarity
p. 328 537

though human nature has little need of them, water is precious because of its
necessity and use for life. Thus not unduly have the sages, poets and priests
celebrated the use of water. Since the city of Rome with its works and supply
of water has far surpassed what has been done in other places, Vitruvius, to
satisfy the Romans in this part as well, has particularly dedicated a book to
this subject, in which he speaks not only about the universal utility of water,
but about its specific nature and uses.
Of its nature he speaks in the second, third and fourth chapters; of its
use, in the first and remaining chapters. Regarding its nature, after a delight-
ful natural history he tells us of the properties, strengths and qualities. Of its
use, he tells us how to find it, how to choose it, how to transport it, and how
to conserve it. He devotes the first chapter to finding it, and the fifth chapter
to choosing it, because it is not enough to find water, but it is also necessary
to choose that which is good and healthy. To its transportation and conserva-
tion he devotes the sixth and seventh chapters, teaching us how to level it and
showing us the instruments used for that purpose and the ways to transport
it. Thus with great utility he gives perfection to the eighth book, which I will
expound in the proper places, leaving digressions and pomp for another time.

Chapter I
On the discovery of water

[p. 328] (Vitruvius) [VIII.Pref.4 cont.] It being thus judged by the physicists, the
philosophers and the priests that all things stay together by the force of the water, I
thought (since in the first seven volumes are expounded the rationales of buildings)
in this one it was necessary to have to treat the invention of waters, and what
powers they have in the properties of places, and with what rationales they are
transported, and how again it is tested.
(Barbaro) He concludes to show his intention, and in three words em-
braces a fine discourse on water, saying:
(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.1] Thus it is very necessary for life, for pleasure, and for
everyday use.
(Barbaro) Water’s necessity to life was shown above, because without
water it is impossible to stay alive. Here I leave it to those who have seen very
beautiful places, waters, streams and springs, to say how happy and delightful
538 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the sight of them is. As to its use, this has finally been shown by armies, the
besieged, the makers, the countryside, the sea and the earth. So let us arrive
to the uses following the intention and order of Vitruvius.
(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.1 cont.] But that will be easiest if the sources are open and
running.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius deals with the discovery of water and wraps up his
discourse in this essence: that water is either found in the open and shown by
nature, such as springs, rivers and other open and evident veins—and thus
he says ‘But that will be easiest… etc.’—or it is found hidden and underground,
when it is known by the form and appearance of the place where it is found.
The clues are first explained by Vitruvius, who says:
(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.1 cont.] But if it is not running it is necessary to look for
the sources underground and collect it, which thing must be experimented in this
way: someone must stretch out on the ground with the teeth downwards, before the
sun rises where the water must be found, and placing the chin on the ground and
resting it on a small clod he shall look at the land around him, because the chin fixed
in this way, the sight will not go higher than it needs to, but will draw a certain
line over the land at a level height equal to the horizon. Then where humours are
discerned that thicken and gather together and rise into the air, there one must dig,
because this sign cannot be made in a dry place.
[p. 329] (Barbaro) He explains the way this is done, saying that if in the
early morning one stretches out on the ground and looks along the plane of
the horizon, and sees some wisps rise from the terrain and gather together
like smoke does from green wood when a fire is lit under it, this is a clue that
there is water, because where there are vapours rising, it is a sign that there is
an abundance of moisture that is attracted by the sun. This clue is also used
by those who dig mines, because both the quantity of vapour and its colour
derive from the quality of the mine. Palladius thinks this test should be per-
formed during the month of August; read all of this material in the seventh
and eighth chapters of his treatise on agriculture.1 Having explained this
natural clue, Vitruvius arrives to expounding those arguments that derive
from the quality of the earth, and says:
(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.2] He who seeks water must also observe of what nature
the place is.

1
 Rutilius Taurus Aemilianus Palladius, Opus agriculturae 9.8 (On finding water).
p. 329 539

(Barbaro) And he gives the reason, saying:

(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.2 cont.] Because certain and determined are the places
where water is born.
(Barbaro) And he sets forth the nature of places; this is easy to under-
stand in the author’s own words and has no need of any explanation of ours.
(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.2 cont.] In clay it is thin and scant, not highly copious,
and not of excellent taste, and so it is thin in dissolved sand. But if it is found in
lower places it will be muddy and not sweet. In black earth are found condensation
and not large drops, which collected by the rains of winter in the dense and solid
places fall down; these are of an excellent flavour. From gravel truly mediocre and
uncertain veins are found, and these are of marvellous sweetness, and so again
from masculine sand, fine sand and charcoal more certain and more stable are the
supplies of waters, and these are of good flavour. From red stone waters come abun-
dant and good, if they do not run out of the veins and drain away, but beneath the
roots of the mountains, and in flint waters are more copious and more abundant,
and these are colder and healthier. In springs in the countryside they are salty,
heavy, tepid and not sweet, unless coming from the mountains underground they
break out in the middle of the fields; those have the sweetness of mountain waters
which are covered around by trees. [VIII.I.3] But the signs as to the manner of
lands under which water lies, besides what is written above, are these: if it is found
that there are born thin reeds, wild willow, alder, vitex, canes, ivy and other sim-
ilar things that cannot come to light nor nourish themselves without humour. The
same things are usually born in lagoons in which staying also beyond the rest of the
field receive water from the rains, and by the winter in the fields and at length due
to the capacity conserve the humour. Faith must not be placed in these things, but
in those countries and in those lands where there are no lagoons and where they are
born by nature and not by seed, there must water be sought.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius touches on that which appertains to man’s industry
in finding water, saying:
(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.4] But in those places in which similar discoveries are not
significant, in this way it must be experimented. Dig a hole on all sides towards the
place three feet high, not less than five feet wide and in it shall be placed towards
sunset a basin of copper or iron, or a pot. Of these, that which is on hand I would
have it greased inside with oil, and placed upside down; the mouth of the pit shall
be covered with canes or branches, and soil placed over it. Then the following day it
shall be uncovered, and if in the vessel there are drops and condensation, this place
has water. [VIII.I.5] Following that, if a vessel made of unbaked clay in that pit
540 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

is closed with that rationale, and if that place has water, then being uncovered the
vessel will be damp and will also dissolve from the moisture. And if in that hole
is placed a tuft of wool, and the following day water is squeezed from it, this will
show that that place has a supply of water. Nor less will it happen that if there is
set up a lantern both full of oil and lit, and in that place covered, and the following
day it is not dry but will have traces of oil and wick, and it is found to be damp, it
will give a sign of an abundance of water, because all heat draws moisture to itself.
Again, if in that place fire will be lit, and the earth greatly heated and scorched and
of itself solicits a nebulous vapour, this place will have water. [VIII.I.6] Then when
such things in this way have been attempted, and [p. 330] the signs written above
discovered, then in that place the well must be dug. And if the head of the water is
found, then several wells must be dug and all must be led to a pit in the same place.
(Barbaro) Subjects regarding the site, and the form of the place.
(Vitruvius) [VIII.I.6 cont.] And these things in the mountains and in the
northern regions, must especially be sought, because in those the waters are sweetest,
healthiest, and most abundant, since they are turned away from the course of the
sun. So in such places the trees are thicker, and the woods and mountains have their
shadows hindering the rays of the sun from reaching straight to the earth, nor can
they dry the humours. [VIII.I.7] The spaces also of the mountains receive the rains,
and by the thickness of the woods there the snows by the shadows of the trees and
the mountains are conserved for a long time, then melting, drip through the veins
of the earth, and thus arrive to the deep roots of the mountains, from which then
erupt the flowing courses of the springs. In contrast, in country places and fields,
supplies of water are not to be had, and if there are any, at least they are found to be
unhealthy because of the vehement impetus of the sun, because no shadow hinders
it, boiling, from drying the humour of the fields. If there are apparent waters, of
these the most subtle part of the subtle healthiness, the air removing and raising, is
carried into the impetus of the sky, and those that are hard, and most heavy, and
not sweet, those (I say) left are in the springs of the field.
(Barbaro) Nature does not always show us the abundance of waters with
broad rivers, dense springs or overt clues, but often collects waters in the
bowels of the earth, like blood in the veins, and carries it to hidden places.
So, if we wish, with industry, to find that which nature keeps hidden from
us, Vitruvius shows us how to do so in this passage. He teaches us to find the
clues when nature does not show them to us, and to dig the wells. Here it
must be observed that if water is not found before going a great deal down
below where the bed of the river is above, then besides this it takes industry
pp. 330-331 541

to avoid the peril of the earth giving way, or noxious fumes harming us,
because quite often from the excavated earth some poisonous and pestiferous
vapours arise, as is well known by those who excavate mines, whose advice
we must ask in this case. With this Vitruvius concludes the discussion of the
invention of water. Pliny and Palladius and many others have availed them-
selves of precisely this book.

Chapter II
On rainwater

[p. 330] (Barbaro) Here he deals with the nature of kinds of water, first of
rainwater, then of the others.
(Vitruvius) [VIII.II.1] So, collected rainwater is the best and healthiest, since
it is chosen first from the vapours most subtle and lightest of all the sources of wa-
ter, and then, by the commotion of the air, dripping and breaking up by means
of tempests descending towards the earth. Beyond this it rains not as often in the
plains as in the mountains and at the summits, since the humours, affected in the
morning by the rising of the sun, and coming out from the earth into any part of
the sky that arches, push the air, then when they are agitated, so that there is no
place that is empty, they draw after themselves the waves of the air, [VIII.II.2]
which with rapidity and strength follow behind. In that medium the precipitous
air, driving away the humour that lies before it in all places, makes it so that
the blowings, impetuses and also the waves of the winds increase greatly. Because
of this then the humours, pushed by the winds and compressed together complete-
ly, from the springs, the rivers, the marshes and the sea, are carried along; when
they are touched by the heat of the sun, they are extracted, and in this way the
clouds rise above the earth. These, strengthened by the air that moves and un-
dulates, when they arrive to places that are high and [p. 331] projecting such as
mountains, because they meet those impediments fiercely, by being driven from the
tempests, melting they liquefy and, being heavy and full, they disperse and in this
way diffuse over the earth. [VIII.II.3] Why the vapours, fogs and humours come
out of the earth, this reason appears to us: because the earth collects inside herself
both fervent heat and vehement spirits, and also cold and great quantities of wa-
ters, then, when in the night they are cooled by the nocturnal shadows, the breaths
of the wind are born, and from humid places are born the fogs, and they rise on
542 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

high. Then, when the sun, rising with its heat, touches the earth, the air strongly
heated and the waters made subtle by the sun, raises the humours from the earth.
Following this same rationale we take example from the baths, [VIII.II.4] because
no vault where there are the boilers can have a spring above it; the ceiling that
is built there, heated through the vent by the vapour of the fire, draws the water
from the pavements, and carries it up to itself, into the curvature of the vaults, and
holds it there, suspended and hanging. This is because hot vapour by its nature is
always driven upwards, first because it is subtle, and being light it is not released,
but then when more humour is added to it, and it becomes denser, as though by
greater weight weighed down, it can no longer be sustained, but drips onto the
heads of those who are washing themselves. Thus for the same reason, the air of
the sky heated by the sun, from all places draws the humours to itself, as when the
human body because of heat releases sweat. [VIII.II.5] Proof of this is provided by
the winds, of which those that are generated in the coldest parts, such as Boreas and
the Tramontane blow into the air spirits attenuated by dryness, but Auster and the
others that take their power from the course of the sun, are extremely humid, and
always carry rain with them, because heated, they depart from the fervent regions,
taking with them almost all the humours, and they then disperse in the northern
parts. [VIII.II.6] That the aforesaid things are done in this way, argument and
verification is taken from the heads of the rivers, which in the particular descrip-
tions of the places depicted and written by many, around the earth the most part,
and the greatest, are found originating in the northern parts. First in India the
Ganges and the Indus are born from Mount Caucasus; in Syria the Tigris and the
Euphrates; in Asia and in Pontus, the Borysthenes, the Hypanis, the Tanais, the
Colchis, and the Phasi; in Gaul, the Rhône; in Burgundy, the Rhine; on the other
side of the Alps, the Timavo and the Po; in Italy, the Tiber; in Maurusia, which
we call Mauritania, from Mount Atlas, the Dyris, which is born on the northern
side, flows along west to Lake Heptabolus, and changing names is called the Niger,
then from Lake Heptabolus beneath desert mountains it passes through southern
places and comes out, entering the Coloe marsh, which surrounds Meroë, which is
the kingdom of the southern Ethiopians, and from those marshes turning through
the rivers Astasobas and Astaboras, and many others for the mountains it comes to
the cataract, and from that falling, it arrives between Elephantis and Syene, and
in Egypt, among the fields of Thebes, where it is called the Nile. [VIII.II.7] That
the head of the Nile comes from Mauritania is known principally from this: that
on the other side of Mount Atlas there are other heads that similarly flowing go to
the western ocean, and there are borne the ichneumons and crocodiles and other
pp. 331-332 543

similar beasts and fishes in addition to hippopotami. [VIII.II.8] When it is thus

this way, that all the greatest rivers in the description of the world appear to have
their origins from the northern regions, and the African fields, which are exposed
on the southern parts to the course of the sun, have in fact hidden humours, rare
rivers and not many springs, it remains that much better are found the heads of the
springs that look to the Tramontane and Boreas. If places full of sulphur are found,
and where there is alum or bitumen, then these mutate and send forth either warm
water or cold water with a bad odour and evil flavour. [VIII.II.9] Because warm
water has no property, but when the cold runs through a fiery place, it boils, and
very heated comes out of its veins over the [p. 332] earth, it cannot stay so for long,
but will become cold; if its nature was warm, it would not become cold, but for all
this cooling are rendered neither the flavour nor the odour of before, because it is
already, due to its rarity, tinctured and mixed.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius is clear here and says many fine things, especially
when he speaks of the river called Niger, which is today called Senegal. This
flows through Africa towards the west into the ocean, and brings about the
same effects in the Nile, nourishing and producing the same animals that are
seen in the Nile. He tells of the generation of rains and illustrates it with an
example. He speaks of the generation of springs and rivers. For pleasure we
insert here verses taken from our Meteore.

A man who denies that good heaven’s effect

has not the power to earthly clay fashion,
his mind surely is in ignorance bedecked.
So what I say shall be based on firm reason
I hope to show that light is effect-making,
to show true pow’r of influence and motion.
When the Sun from us begins its leave-taking,
or when it returns to reside in the sign
in which its potency was first awaking:
Who does not see with the changing of the sign
the changing of things? Takes not in at a glance
the good earth now empty, now full in design?
When he shows his handsome laughing countenance
There is not a tussock so thirsting and dry
That it does not sprout in faithful observance.
544 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

But then when the hot summer heat is most high

All seeds to maturity hasten their quest
to increase the abundance of our supply.
And when so withdrawing the gilt-coloured crest,
leaving our lands for the opposite station
the demise of the twelvemonth is manifest.
Yet more, it appears that all germination
to life is raised high or bends down to die when
Sol should happen there or elsewhere to station.
But when down from heaven’s high throne once again
Any planet conveys rays shining down straight
That have virtues that contrast the heatless whin:
Unlike do the scales mark the first bodies’2 weight;
But the two lightest of them doubling go hence,
unequal and intemperate is their freight.
So Saturn and Mercury move in a sense
Contrary to those and standing o’er us make
it so the land and the water recommence.
But their natural forces of cold partake,
hence frore are the qualities that fall from them,
and their humid and cold influences wake.
It is not that in heaven, father of vim,
that there’s heat or cold, as here below, indeed
but such is the force and virtue of them.
Nor do I go back on my word, or mislead
when I say that greatest are the elements
because neither in this truth do I exceed.
So, if of fire and fierce ardour increments
are seen in one part, thusly in proportion
in the other is a weakening in ebullience.
And in this lies nature’s ample oblation
that taking from one, to another is given,
and thus arranges eternal sonation.

2
 Aristotle’s ‘first bodies’ or ‘simple bodies’ were the four elements earth, air, fire and water.
pp. 332-333 545

But we in the path of reason driven,

so having started, let us advance on it
and find more to strengthen our opinion.
It is thus seen to be Heaven’s high merit
and virtue to draw fire and wave around,
and the body that lies in extremes’ ambit.
Fervid heat does therefore more greatly abound
when the Moon, in the part of the sky opposed
to that of the Sun, displays its visage round.
The most ancient spirit, nearly disposed
to the great wheel,3 stops earth as she wheels,
so that she turns neither side nor coast.
And that planet that lordship over war wields,
(here listen to reason for wonder again),
among the first bodies equality seals.
And again near to this the noble reign
over metals, stones, and others besides
keeps watch, as treasures of their own domain.
Nor can we not mention the virtues that hide
in the animals, the waters and the plants
so marvellous to those where marvel resides.
But let us depart from the world in its dance
and go on to speak of what is from humour
created down here in varied appearance.
There arises from earth the humid vapour
drawn by the Sun in less tepid location,
and little by little increases in vigour,
And in that space make great accumulation
[p. 333] so much that it condenses and astringes
into dense fog, of a dark coloration.
Cold is the reason such vapour constringes
and, like a sponge o’er soaked with water, may
wring out the humour, and so the world tinges.

The ‘great wheel’, i.e., the zodiac.

3 
546 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Sometimes the droplets are miniscule that spray,

sometimes are larger, and though the subject might
be more copious or less, it ends this way.
And often pure air, in itself astringed tight
by powers on high, into rain it converts
and showers down water full of delight.
Gathered this in the deep womb of the earth,
renders it fecund; then blooming, a garland
and green leaf ’d skirt sews to enwrap round its girth.
Vertumnus then, with Pomona, Flora and
Father Bacchus, and a thousand ancient hallows
laud the Sun, who blesses the year and the land.
But when the air reverses its flows,
as from the mountains of the open’d cloud
with crashes frightening and horrible blows,
And therein are inserted terrible voices, loud
in place of whispers, that from all sides rampage
and are strewn with flames quickening and unbowed.
This is born of the blowing that howls in rage
and with great force hardens the nimbus grim
that impatient of restraints refuses a cage.
So now they look sharp with angular trim,
such the appearance of cloud that is cuspated
by such a rim of ferocious and impetuous hem.
But so my reason shall be clearly stated,
I will speak of the signs that the rain assumes,
how many there are, so finely created.
He who sees smoke that on turbid wings looms
and rises up to Heaven and appears in the form
of fog, or vapours or suchlike fumes,
Can rightly judge and without further norm
that the air pregnant with looming rain is set
and will but rarely into other guises transform.
And again when behind the humid and wet
vapours the Sun casts a red glow at orient,
it is a sign of rain, and soft mirrors of it.
p. 333 547

The cackling of the muddy country gent,

and the song that some birds resound
show that dew denser than most will be present.
The avid little sheep rain do also propound
with their bite greedy, and flies that scamp’
arrogant and endless joust round and round.
The flickering of candle, tremble of lamp,
is a clue that copious showers are growing
as is when sheltering walls are damp.
When with less water the fountain is flowing
and when the river with course bated makes its way
a good judgement of rain will be showing.
A thousand signs and more though I cannot say
in such brief space; gleaned from sailors wise
who strain to make their path in the sea’s humid sway.
Many more from farmers and yeoman arise
and there still follow more from the folk who dwell
with usages and customs under diff’rent skies,
The success of the best of these they will tell.

CHAPTER

The soul so simple that descends below

from heaven’s halls to the low earthly stratum
much less than before of truth comes to winnow,
Because dissuaded from its former custom
enchained like Danae in a darkened chamber
it dwells in nescience’s darkest asylum.
Benign her god, who in world and bedchamber
did seek to shower her with ardour burning,
in gold transfigured, a bright fecund amber.
Golden is knowledge, fine truth wisdom’s learning,
benign influence fills mind; fewer graces
had Croesus, Midas less aurum was turning.
548 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

And so the treasure concealed from the races

of men is finally found; trove apprehended
though ardent study alone reveals traces.
Although awareness is very well blended
with phantasms and forms that from sensation,
from hearing and seeing, in us are commended
And finally found from immense cogitation
Thus pure and purged the thinking head,
to Jupiter yields the honoured oblation.
Clearly is seen this from all that has been said:
beyond the fine truth of first observation,
from accidents we are to true concept led.
These with fertile science have no elaboration
to restore materials on which the might
of true heat searing has made an impression.
The bolts of lightning, fires, comets, are bright light;
by those things visible are made to dawn
on thinking minds, and give intellects insight.
And the humid vapours are also drawn
by chance encounters to our observing eye:
how they are created; by what force are gone.
[p. 334] Now follows that which my muse will descry
to speak of dew, to declaim of frost and rime
and of the rest of things of similar supply.
The heavenly heat of divine light sublime
raises sweet vapour from the terrain below
to the part of the air that lies next on high.
The night so gelid with a cold veil, and slow
compresses that vapour ’til it’s collected
little by little in droplets, dew to bestow.
This to the soft leaves, flow’rs and grass directed
approaches, a-tremble, and when the day’s born
the fine rays of Sol are as in a glass reflected.
Like vapour is made by the cool of the morn
but because the cold has more power and might
so it compresses and takes ever finer form.
pp. 334 549

So often have revellers had this insight:

that the dew is condensed when it stays low
for lack of heat to waft it to any height,
Since having a repast in a delightful meadow
the evening falling, they have the sensation
that vapour is indeed dispensed from below.
’Tis place and season that give invitation
to impressions like these, often bitter
and often have a sweet, savoury gustation.
There was long ago a food precious and dear
similar to dewdrops, a promise to bring,
of how much heaven could do, with a sign clear.
In desert wastes where nothing would spring,
the Sun raising no grass, and no font delicious
a people was made heir to ev’ry good thing.
With their taste and ready desires anxious
such bait should have had every flavour.
Hear things incredible, but precious.
It was a land where God’s divine favour
led the people in whom he delighted
beneath the banner of a great saviour.
In that instead of water pure and unblighted
did candid milk and sweet honey flow,
everything in its degree to perfection united.
But into the homeland they thought they would go
without effort and bitter walking; and full
of every discomfort, and too much sorrow,
They felt themselves wilt in a weakening lull,
of their life, their journey and their yearning.
They braked not their tongues from complaining woeful.
Their leader to heavenly spaces turning,
humbly raising in prayer his eyes and hands
prayed, according to his ancient learning.
Father (he said) of heaven, if I well understand,
You have led your people to a place dire
where without You death awaits woman and man.
550 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

You, who divided the elements, and to fire

gave seat sublime, and of more capacious measure,
and too much and too little to the mean retire:
I too confide in my honest vows, which sure
are founded in the promises by You spoken,
that in our suffering you would take no pleasure.
These people are with me, and I with them,
they harken to my voice, as I do to Yours,
Your voice, that sings your own desires’ anthem.
See how the path, like the walnut tree, sours,
how great the fallacious error of roads unsmooth
how indomitable hunger, and atrocious its powers.
You are the way, You are the truth
You are the life, hear my prayer gentle Father.
Show us the true path to teach us your ruth.
Give us the nourishment your peoples long for;
give us to understand that you are present
with these graceful works as we go hither.
I heard the voice of the God of Gods consent,
Oh faithful Commander, his great pain showed them
that the good he does love, and bad resent.
Calling to him his blessed host of seraphim
that, which bends on earth his will,
and hovers in sweet flight always before him:
Give them, since to the just shall not be denied
just request, so travel where is served
our ambrosia, and the nectar divide
In eternal vases, forever conserved:
let this rain o’er the desert, o’er vale and hill
where my people cry out, by hunger unnerved.
Let so much from heaven around them all spill
that their bellies are filled full, and continue
’til there be not a tribe that has not its fill.
Now came an array of those spirits who strew
heavenly viands from the sky, each angel
raining down manna that no one did eschew.
pp. 334-335 551

The afflicted and worn, who from the clear veil

of serene morn around them, see in amazement
the transparent sweet frost that around them fell,
Desirous, they gather, leave off enragement
that was nourished by hunger, and fill their plates
exclaiming with wonder, and with assuagement.
Dismay turns to marvel at such a rare grace
Leading each one to wonder, what thing is this?
What mouth grows not tired before nourishment sates?
[p. 335] Every flavour in that awakens the wish
So that every palate is with it contented,
All taste is quietened, and longings vanish.
Blessed be Heaven, which has this consented,
And though that time it was well kind,
That some part was still left, it was hinted.
The air of those lands is so very benign,
That what it sends forth serves to heal diseases,
cure maladies various and maligned.
But here it is well that my song ceases.

CHAPTER

How the heat of the spheres celestial

Lifts from earth’s bark the vapour so lightened,
Above was said with true testimonial.
As winter’s gelid grip by white snow is tightened,
So reinforced is summer by the storm,
its virtue and strength by tempest heightened.
Humid and warm smoke to heaven is borne
And into the middle regions levitates
and compresses so a white cloud takes form
That cloud the vapour weakly elevates
and since being subtle does quickly disperse.
Like immaculate wool it dissipates.
552 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Whereby turns white the entire universe

The air impregnated all round with flakes
The white strata of the humour asperse.
But a harder touch, and greater fury, makes
the frozen hailstones hit rooftops in a flurry,
spill over with clamour and horrible quakes.
Oaken branches are broken without mercy
The hay down to the earth beaten and battered,
by the hard frozen crystals, to tell of it pains me.
Death comes to all plants that such storms have shattered.
The farmer sees trammelled with them his prospects,
His dreams for himself and family scattered.
The occurrence of this strange accident one expects
when the Sun, at its strongest, does elevate
into high, colder regions the humorous aspects.
Not the same regions where cold snows incubate.
Cold frost and the moist dew are strengthened likewise
by effects contrary that consolidate.
Nor should it bring greater wonder or surprise
that warm summer’s like cold winter’s freeze is keen
in the region where the vapours are led to rise.
Extremities burning, freezing what is in between.
Not being able to flee from its enemies
Compressed into itself, it hides unseen.

Chapter III
On warm waters, the powers they derive from diverse metals,
whence they spring, and the nature of various springs,
lakes and rivers

[p. 335] (Vitruvius) [VIII.III.1] There are some other warm springs from which
come waters of excellent flavour, the drinking of which is so suave that there is no
desire for that of the fountains of Camenae, or the Martian font. But these of this
nature are made in this way. When by alum, or by bitumen, or sulphur below the
earth’s surface fire is ignited by the heat, the earth around it becomes white and
pp. 335-336 553

burning hot. Over the surface of the earth it sends forth the fervid vapour. Thus if
there are springs in those places that are over it, it happens that waters born sweet
are offended and clash with that vapour, boiling among the veins, and in that way
come forth, without their vapours being spoiled. [VIII.III.2] There are also some
cold springs of not good flavour and odour, which, born in lower places inside the
earth, pass through the fiery places, and going away from these, and cooled by cours-
ing over a long distance of earth, come out above with the odour, flavour and colour
ruined and corrupted, as can be seen along the Tiburtine Way in the river Albula,
and in the Ardeatine plain in the cold springs, called sulphurous, because of the same
odour. So too it is seen in other similar places, but all of these that are cold appear
however to boil, because it happens that encountering each other deeply below in
high places, offended by the humour and the fire, that they converge with each other
with great and vehement clamour and strong and vigorous spirits [p. 336] go re-
ceiving, and so swollen by the force of the wind, and are often forced to boil to come
outside of their springs. But of those springs that are not open, but are either false
or retained by some other violence, through the narrow veins they are by the force
of the spirit sent forth to the large, projecting mounds of earth. [VIII.III.3] Thus
greatly do they deceive anyone who thinks he has come to the head of those springs,
when they open the large ditches in that high place that are the mounds, because as a
vessel of copper is not full to its brim but has the measure of two of the three parts of
water according to its capacity, when its cover by the great fervour of fire is touched,
the water is forced to heat greatly, and that by its natural rarity receiving into itself
the vigorous inflation of the heat, not only fills the vessel, but with its spirits lifting
the lid, and coming out, boils over. But when the lid is lifted and its boilings are
exhaled into the open air, it returns once more to its place. In a similar way those
heads of springs, when they are compressed and restricted by the narrowness, with
great impetus the spirits come out above from the water, but as soon as (tantosto4)
they are reopened and enlarged, they are emptied by the rarity that prevails in the
liquor, they reside and return to the property of its just weight. [VIII.III.4] Every
warm water for this reason is suitable for medicine, because being re-cooked in the
preceding things it receives another virtue for human use. Thus sulphurous springs
restore the fatigue of nerves, warming and sucking with their heat the sad humours
of bodies. Springs that have alum, when they receive any bodies dissolved by paral-
ysis, or by some forced illness maintaining the coolness in the open veins, restore by

Tantosto: immediately, right away. A term used in the literature of Bocaccio, Dante and
4 

others. Barbaro’s use of it shows the literary character he gave to his translation of Vitruvius.
554 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the contrary force of heat, and thus continuing by this the bodies are restored to the
former health of their members. Finally, where there are waters that hold bitumen,
men can purge the defects that they have inside their bodies by drinking it, and in
this way medicate themselves. [VIII.III.5] There is also a sort of cold nitrous water
as at Penna, Vestina, Cutilio and in other similar places, which, drinking of it,
purges, and passing through the stomach diminishes and reduces the swelling of the
struma. Where gold, silver, iron, copper, lead and other things similar to these are
mined, there are found many springs, but they are highly defective, since they have
vices contrary to those warm waters that come from sulphur, alum and bitumen,
and make in the one who drinks of them, when they enter the body and go through
the veins touching the nerves and joints, and introducing themselves, a hardening
of the nerves. Thus swollen by the inflation they recede in length and so make men
suffer either from nerve pain or from podagra, because they have mixed the thinness
of their veins with very hard, thick and cold things. [VIII.III.6] Another sort of
water is found, which not having its veins clear enough, its foam swims on top like
a flower similar to the colour of a purple glass. These things are admirably observed
and considered in Athens, because there from similar places and springs to Asty and
the Port of Piraeus are transported in conduits, and although no one drinks of them
for that reason, they serve well for washing and other needs, and they drink from
the wells and thus avoid the defects of those springs.
(Barbaro) Hermolao Barbaro, in Castigationes Plinianae XXXI.iii, reads
not ‘Asty and the Port of Piraeus’ but ‘the masti at the Port of Piraeus’, and
says masti, or source, referred to as mamma, papille and ubera, is like a breast
out of which the waters flow, although he also saves the first reading.5 By
‘Asty’ is meant Athens.6
(Vitruvius) [VIII.III.6 cont.] But in Troezene this cannot be avoided, be-
cause there another sort of water is not found, except what the impure springs
have, and so in that city all or most of the people have weak feet. In Tarsus, a city
in Cilicia, there is a river named Cydnus, in which those with podagra, letting
their legs soak, are relieved from pain. [VIII.III.7] Beyond the things said many

5
 The discussion concerns the term mammatis in Pliny the Elder, Natural History 35.46.
H. Barbaro (1492, Ex Libro.xxxv, Cap.ii): Quidam scribunt imbricibus tegulis tubulisquae;
sequebatur enim ad balneas mammatis. Tubulos autem mammatos feu mámas in balneis &
fontibus intelligunt quas libro septimo vitruvius mastos Græca voce nominaverit. Athenis inquit
ex eiusmodi locis & sontibus masti usq; ad portum Pyrræum ducti sunt salientes. Eas. M. Varro de
re rustica papillas conuertit. Cassiodorus ubera.
6
 There is a previous reference to Asty in Book VII; see Barbaro, p. 309; Vitruvius VII.Pref.17.
pp. 336-337 555

other generations of waters are found that have their properties, as in Sicily, the
Himera River, which having come out of the spring divides into two parts, and
that branch that extends [p. 337] running towards Mount Etna, since it passes
through earth of gentle juice, is of the greatest sweetness; the other branch that runs
through that plain where salt is mined, has a salty flavour. Similarly at Paraeto-
nium, and where the journey to Ammon goes, and to the Casius to Egypt are
marshy lakes of a salty manner, which on top of them have frozen salt. Near there
are many other places, springs, rivers and lakes which, passing beyond the salt
mines, necessarily become salty. [VIII.III.8] Others penetrating through the fatty
veins of the earth come out as though greased with oil, as at Soli, a castrum of
Cilicia, the river named Liparis, in which anyone who washes himself or swims is
greased by the water. In India there is one that, when the sky is clear, sends forth a
great quantity of oil. Again in Carthage there is a spring on top of which swims oil
of an odour like the bark of citron, which oil is used to grease the sheep. In Zakyn-
thos and around Dyrrachium and Apollonia there are springs that together with
the water vomit a great amount of pitch; in Babylon there is an enormous lake,
called the Asphalt marsh,7 which has on top of it liquid bitumen that swims; of that
bitumen and baked brick Semiramis built the wall that belted great Babylon. So
too in Joppa in Syria and in the Arabia of the Numidians are found lakes of im-
measurable size, which send forth great masses of bitumen, which are then re-
moved by the inhabitants of those places. [VIII.III.9] But this is not to be won-
dered at, because in those places there are many quarries of hard bitumen. When
thus the water breaks out of bituminous earth it carries it with it, and when it has
come out of the earth, it distinguishes and thus on its own expels the bitumen. So too
in Cappadocia on the way that is between Mazaca and Tyana, is found a great
lake, which, if a piece of reed or something else is placed in it and then taken out the
following day, that part that was taken out will found to be of stone, the other part,
which did not touch the water, remaining of its own nature. [VIII.III.10] In the
same way in Hieropolis in Phrygia boils a multitude of warm water, which is sent
through ditches around the orchards and vineyards. This, at the beginning of the
year, becomes a crust of stone, and so each year the inhabitants of those lands make
the margins of earth on the right and on the left, let that water go, and with that
crust they make the hedgerows of their fields. This appears to occur naturally, be-
cause in those places and in that land where that juice is born, there is beneath a

 ‘Lake Asphaltes’ was a name sometimes given to the Dead Sea; see Rapp (2002, p. 235.)
7
556 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

quality similar to the nature of coagulum. Then when the mixed force comes out
above by its springs, it is forced to contract and seize by the sun and by the heat of
the air, as is seen in the salt flats. [VIII.III.11] There are nearby many bitter springs
born of the bitter juices of the earth, such as in Pontus there is the Hypanis River,
which from its source for forty miles runs with water of the sweetest flavour, then
when it joins that place that is one hundred and sixty miles from its mouth, it
mixes with a very small spring. That small spring, when it goes into said river,
then makes it so that the great quantity of water becomes bitter, since from that sort
of earth and those veins from which sandarac is quarried, the water coming out
becomes very bitter. [VIII.III.12] All of these things of dissimilar flavours taken
from the property of the terrain that they pass through clearly occur, as is apparent
in the fruits, because if the roots of the trees or vines or other seeds send forth fruits
not taking the juice from the properties of the terrain, without a doubt the flavour
of all those in every place and every part would be of the same nature, but we see
that the island of Lesbos makes Protropos wine, Meonia the wine called Catace-
caumenite, Lydia the Tmolite, Sicily the Mamertino; Campania the Falerno; Ter-
racina and Fondi the Caecuban, and in many other places innumerable multitudes
and varieties generate the sorts and forces of the wines, which cannot otherwise be
produced unless the earthly humour with its properties makes the flavour infuse in
the roots, nourishes and feeds the material, so that coming to the top it diffuses the
flavour of the fruit proper to the place and its kind. [VIII.III.13] If the soil were
not [p. 338] dissimilar and varieties of humours distinct, there would not be scents
only in Syria and Arabia in the canes, reeds and grasses, nor again the trees that
give us incense, nor those lands that give us pepper grains, nor the chunks of myrrh,
nor in Cyrene would laserwort be born in the stalks, but in all the regions of the
earth and in all places all the things of the same nature would be produced. But
according to this diversity in various places and lands, the inclination of the world
and the impetus of the sun, making its way either nearer or farther, generates such
humours of this nature and those qualities that are seen not only in those things, but
in the sheep and the flocks, and such things would not appear dissimilar to us if the
properties of each terrain were not tempered in different lands by virtue of the sun.
[VIII.III.14] Because in Boeotia there is the Cephisus River and the river called
Melas; among the Lucanians the Crathis; in Troy the Xanthus; and in the lands of
the Clazomenians and the Erythraeans and the Loadiceans there are springs and
rivers, to which when the sheep at their times of the year prepare to yean, they are
driven each day to drink in those places, and from this it happens that although
they are white, they nevertheless give birth in some instances to grey animals, to
pp. 338-339 557

some black, to some the colour of crows. Thus when the property of the liquor enters
into the body, inside it sows the mixed quality according to its nature, and since in the
Trojan fields the red flocks and the grey sheep are born near the river, it is said that
the Ilienses call that river Xanthus. [VIII.III.15] There are also found some deadly
waters which, passing through a harmful juice of the earth, receive in themselves the
force of poison. Such is said of a spring in Terracina, which was called Neptune, of
which whoever inadvertently drank was deprived of life. Because of this it is said
that the ancients stopped it up. By the Greeks in Thrace there is a lake that not only
makes one who drinks from it die, but also one who bathes in it. Similarly in Thess-
aly there is a running spring of which no animal tastes, nor does any other sort of
beast go near it. Near that spring is a tree of a purple colour. [VIII.III.16] So too in
Macedonia where Euripides is buried, on the right and left of the monument two
streams converge into one, where on one side because of the goodness of the water the
passers-by use to sit and eat, but no one goes near the bank that is on the other side of
the monument, because it is said that its water is deadly and pestilent. Nearby in
Arcadia is also found a land named Nonacris, that in the mountains has very cold
water from dripping stones, and that very cold water is called Styx, and this can be
contained in neither silver nor copper, nor in iron, because any vessel composed of such
materials dissipates and dissolves in that water, so to conserve and hold that water
nothing is good except a mule’s hoof. This water is said to have been sent by Antipat-
er in the province where Alexander was found, by Iollas his son, and it is written
that the king was killed by him with that water. [VIII.III.17] In this way in the
Alps, where is the realm of the Cottius, there is a water that whoever drinks of it
falls dead. But in the Faliscan land along the Via Campana in the plain of Cor-
netus there is a wood in which is born a spring, where the bones of snakes and
lizards, and other serpents lie. Again there are some acid veins of springs, as at
Lynchestia and in Italy at Virena, in Campania at Teano, and in many other
places, that have such virtue that drinking them breaks the stones in the bladder
that are born in human bodies. [VIII.III.18] This appears to happen naturally by
reason that the acrid and acid juice lies under the land, by which, coming out of the
veins the water is tinctured with that acridity and so when it enters into the hu-
man body, it dissipates by the subsidence of the water those things that are found
generated and enlarged. By what cause those stones are dissolved and broken up by
acid things we can observe from this, that if one places an egg in vinegar and leaves
it there at length, the shell will become soft and dissolve. [VIII.III.19] Similarly if
lead, which is extremely slow and of great weight, is placed on top of a vessel that
has vinegar inside it, and [p. 339] the vessel is well covered, plugged and luted, the
558 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

lead will dissolve, and will make white lead. With the same rationales, if copper,
which is also of a more solid nature than lead, is tested the same way, it will certain-
ly dissolve, and verdigris or its rust is derived. So too pearl and stones of flint, which
by iron or by fire cannot be undone, when by fire they are heated and vinegar is
sprinkled over them, they quickly dissolve and break up. When we thus see such
things happen before our eyes, we can say with reason, that by the strength of the
juice with the acid things those who feel the pain of stones can be cured. [VIII.III.20]
There are beyond those also springs mixed as though with wine, as there is one of the
Paphlagonia, of which anyone who drinks becomes drunk without wine. But at the
Aequiculi in Italy and in the Alps, in the nation of the Medulli, is found a sort of
water, of which one who drinks becomes goitered. [VIII.III.21] In Arcadia there is
a city, not unknown, of Cleitor, in whose fields is a cavern out of which comes out a
water that renders drinkers abstemious. At that spring there is an epigram in Greek
verses carved in stone, with this sentiment: that that water is not good for bathing
in, and is also an enemy of vines. It is so placed because at that spring Melampus
with sacrifices purged the madness of the daughters of Proetus, and returned the
minds of those virgins to pristine sanity. The epigram is written here:

Should you, shepherd, by burning thirst led,

Arrive with your flock to Cleitor’s spring,
At noontime refreshment is had
By drinking of it, and rest it will bring
To linger on hearing the pleasantly glad
Chorus that sweetly the water nymphs sing.
To bathe in that stream you must disdain
If drinking wine is not already your bane.
Shun my fountain which despises vines – flee!
For in it Melampus dipped and purged
And set Proetus’ madden’d daughters free.
When from Argos he was urged,
And here he bundled all things unhealthy
To cleanse them in Arcadia’s gurge
And thrown with the other evils unclean
Amidst my limpid waves they sank unseen.
pp. 339-340 559

[VIII.III.22] There is on the island of Chios a spring of such a nature that it makes
those who inadvertently drink of it go mad. There is carved an epigram to this
effect, that the water of that spring is sweet, but those who drink from it will have
the feelings of stone. The verses are these:

Cool my waters, sweet the taste

But if you chance of them to sip
Your mind will turn to stony waste.

[VIII.III.23] At Susa, in which city is the kingdom of the Persians, there is a little
spring of which one who drinks loses his teeth. There is written an epigram whose
meaning is this: the water is good for bathing, but if anyone should drink of it their
teeth will fall out from the roots. Of this epigram the verses in Greek are:

O passer-by see this frightful flow

It is licit for bathing in it to dip
But dare not the cold liquor swallow
Else when you touch your upper lip
Nothing at all will you feel beneath,
Your gums being orphan’d and bare of teeth.

Chapter IV
On the properties of some places and springs

[p. 340] (Vitruvius) [VIII.III.24] There are also in some places properties of
springs that make it so that those born in that place have wonderful voices for
singing, as in Tarsus and Magnesia and other similar regions. Also in Zama,
a city in Africa, whose perimeter King Juba belted with a double wall and in
which he built his royal house. Twenty miles from that is the Ismuc castellum,
the parts of which territory are enclosed by incredible properties of nature. Africa
is the mother and wet-nurse of fierce beasts, and especially of serpents, but in the
fields of that castellum none are born, and if sometimes by chance some are carried
there, they immediately die from the mere sight of it, but also if the earth of those
places is carried elsewhere, the same occurs. This sort of terrain is said to be similar
to the Balearic Islands, which land has another marvellous virtue, which I have
560 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

understood in this way. [VIII.III.25] C[aius] Julius, son of Masinissa, fought

with Caesar Pater. He lodged with me, so that it was necessary in being and
living together to speak about something. It happened that between us we fell to
reasoning about the force of water and its virtues. He told me that there were in
that land springs of a nature such that those who were born there have excellent
voices for singing, and for this reason they always bought handsome male servants
from overseas and unmarried female apprentices, and these were put together so
that those who were born of them not only had good voices, but were of a not un-
lovely beauty. [VIII.III.26] When thus by nature many varieties are distributed
in diverse places, so that in parts of the human body is found earth, and in it are
found many sorts of humours, such as blood, milk, sweat, urine, tears, if in such a
small particle of land are found many diversities of flavour, it is no wonder that
in a great expanse of land are found innumerable varieties of juices, penetrating
through the veins of which the water arrives mixed to the outlet of the springs,
and thus by that are made diverse and dissimilar springs of the sorts proper to
the difference of the places and the inequality of the lands, and by the dissimilar
properties of the terrain. [VIII.III.27] Of the things said above there are some that
I have seen and considered, but the others I have found written in the books of
the Greeks, of which writings the authors are Theophrastus, Timaeus, Posidonius,
Hegesias, Herodotus, Aristides, and Metrodorus, who with great vigilance and
infinite study have declared the properties of places, the virtues of waters, the qual-
ities of lands to be divided in this way by the inclination of the heavens. Following
the beginnings, or treatments, of these authors, I have written in this book, with
what I thought to be a sufficiency of the properties of the waters, so that more easily
from such prescriptions men can select the springs from which they can, for human
use, conduct the flowing waters to the city and the lands. [VIII.III.28] Of all
things it seems that none is as necessary for use as water, because if the nature of all
animals were deprived of grain, yet having plants, meat, fishing, and each using
of these other things, it could defend its life, but without water, neither the body of
the animals nor any virtue of food can be born, or sustain itself, or be prepared. So,
it is necessary with great diligence and industry to seek and select the springs for the
healthiness of human life.
(Barbaro) After water had been found, it was necessary to test it and se-
lect it. And because selection presupposes that there are several possibilities,
in order to be able to have the best of them, Vitruvius, having discussed the
finding of water, now sets forth its various properties and natures so that the
best can be chosen. He thus comes to experiments for testing waters.
p. 341 561

Chapter V
On testing water

[p. 341] (Vitruvius) [VIII.IV.1] Experiments and testing of springs are carried
out in this way. If they are running and open before beginning to conduct them, it
is necessary to observe and carefully consider, in the surroundings of those springs,
what kind of bodies are found: if they are found to be strong of body and light of
colour, nor have weak legs, nor bleary eyes, then certainly the springs are well ap-
proved. Likewise again if a spring is newly dug, and its water placed in a vessel of
Corinthian copper or one of another kind of good copper, if, when sprinkled, that
water does not stain, then it is undoubtedly good. And so too if in a bronze pot it is
set to boil, and then let rest and poured out, and in the bottom it leaves no sand or
sediment, certainly that water is proven. [VIII.IV.2] In the same way if vegeta-
bles in a vase with that water are put on the fire and cook quickly, argument will
be taken that that water will be good and healthy. No less of an argument will be
taken if the water of the spring is limpid, and very clear and if, wherever it goes,
is seen no moss, nor are there born any reeds, nor in any way is that place stained
or dirtied, but is clear, pure, and beautiful to the sight, it will show with these signs
that the water is subtle and of excellent goodness.
(Barbaro) When water has been found and tested, it is necessary to
conduct it, and to conduct it, is necessary that it flow downhill and follow
its natural course to the desired place. In order to carry this out well, Vit-
ruvius describes many instruments for levelling water, and among the many
he selects one as being the surest, the form of which is shown in its entirety
in Fig. 8.6.2 below. Levelling is thus nothing other than taking the height
of the place where the water is found, and comparing it to the height of the
place where it is to be conducted.

Chapter VI
On conducting and levelling water,
and the instruments suitable for those effects

[p. 341] (Vitruvius) [VIII.V.1] Now how to suitably conduct water to residences
and cities I will clearly demonstrate. Of this, the first rationale is the levelling. This
is usually done with such instruments as alidades, water levellers, and that in-
562 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

strument called a chorobates. With that instrument one most diligently and sure-
ly levels, because the alidade and the water leveller fail. The chorobates is a rule
twenty feet long, which has the arms bent at the heads, equally made and placed
at the ends of the rule at right angles. Between the rule and said arms are attached
by dovetails some crossbeams that have vertical cords, and on each side the lead
weights hang from the rule, which weights, when the rule is tight and straight
and along it they touch equally the lines of the description, will show that it is
correctly placed level. [VIII.V.2] But if the wind impedes it, and by the movement
those lines cannot show the true level, then it is necessary for them to have on top
a channel five feet long, one finger wide, one finger and a half high, and water
poured in it. If the water in the channel equally touches the lips at the top of the
channel, then you will know that it is well levelled. So when it has been levelled
with the chorobates, it will be known what the height is. [VIII.V.3] Those who
read the books of Archimedes will perhaps say that water cannot be levelled flat,
since he would have it that water is not flat, but of a spherical figure, and it has
its [p. 342] centre where the world has its centre. But it is true that whether the
water is flat or spherical, necessarily the ends of the channel of the rule will equally
sustain the water, so that if the channel is tilted to one side, there is no doubt that
the higher part will not have the water of the rule of the channel up to the lip. Thus
it is necessary that where water is poured, it has in the middle the swelling and
the curvature, but the ends on the right and the left must be equally balanced. The
figure of the chorobates will be described at the end of the book. If the top or height
is great, the course of the water will be easier; if the spaces are full of gaps, it is
necessary to provide it with little walls underneath.
(Barbaro) If it is desired to conduct water, you must take care that the
place to which you want to conduct it is always lower than the place from
which you conduct it. Therefore, place yourself at the foot of the spring and,
using the alidade of your quadrant, sight the place that is the destination,
holding the quadrant in such a way that the lead weight falls straight over
the line of the horizon. If your vision leads you above the place that is the
destination, you will know that water can be conducted there, but if not, it
cannot be. If your vision is blocked by cliffs or mountains, make many marks
and from one to the other, always aiming up in that way, you will go forward
so that from one of said places you can see the place that you were not able
to see at first, as Fig. 8.6.1 shows. As for the rest, in our day the subject of
how to level water is well known. The example of the chorobates is shown
in Fig. 8.6.2. In sum, waters cannot be forced further up than their head
p. 342 563

and origin, that is, on their own waters will never go above the head of their
spring. When you wish to conduct them through channels you must take
care to make the channels proportionately deep, because the water will not
rise up if there is either too little or too much depth. The figures show both
the instruments and that way of levelling water.

Fig. 8.6.1. [How to sight a point where direct sighting is blocked by cliffs
or mountains]. Image and legend [p. 342]: b, the head of the spring; bc,
the first target; cd, the second target behind the mountain; de, the third
target, where water cannot be conducted; df, the fourth, where it can be;
hgf, the conduit of the water

All images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

Fig. 8.6.2. [Chorobates] Image [p. 343], legend [p. 342]: 1, 20-foot rule;
2, anconi, or arms; 3, crossbeams
564 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter VII
The ways of conducting water

[p. 343] (Vitruvius) [VIII.VI.1] There are three ways of conducting water: first in
watercourses in built channels, then with lead pipes, and then with pipes of earth-
enware or clay.8 If we use channels, it is necessary for them to be built of the most
solid masonry, and the bed of the watercourse to have its level no less than half a
foot in a hundred. The masonry shall be made vaulted, so that the sun does not
touch the water. Then, when this is conducted to the city, a tank or reservoir for
water shall be made there, to which shall be conjoined three outlets for drawing off
the water. In the tank there shall be three pipes equally spaced, conjoined to those
tanks or outlets, so that when the water flows out from the recptacles at the ends it
spills over into the one in the middle. [VIII.VI.2] So, in the middle one are placed
pipes that go to all the fountains with their outlets; from the other they go to the
baths, so that its income is given to the people every so many years; and finally from
the third into private houses, so that the public is not lacking, since they cannot
draw it from elsewhere, as from the sources they have their own conduits. These are
the reasons for which I have made this division, that is, so that those who private-
ly draw waters into their houses protect the conduits of the waters by means of the
publicans, by paying taxes to them. [VIII.VI.3] But if between the city and the
head of the spring there are mountains, levelling must be done in this way. Exca-
vate below ground the places where the waters must pass, and let them be levelled
at the top, according to what is written above. If there is tuff or rock, cut a channel
into it, but if the ground is made of soil or sand, make lanes with their vaults in the
excavated places, and through these shall water be conducted. The wells should be
made such that they are between two acta. [VIII.VI.4] If water is to be conducted
by means of lead pipes, first at the head of that shall be made a tank or reservoir of
water, then according to the quantity of water you shall make the laminae of the
pipes. These shall be laid from the first reservoir to that which is near the city, and
the pipes shall not be longer than ten feet. Those laminae shall be a hundred fingers
in width before they are curved into cylinders; each shall be a thousand two hun-
dred pounds in weight. If they are eighty fingers, of nine hundred sixty; if of fifty,
they shall be six hundred pounds; if of forty, they shall be of four hundred eighty; if
of thirty, they shall be of three hundred sixty; if of twenty, they shall be of two
8
 Barbaro omits a phrase: quorum eæ rationes sunt (‘whose rationales are these’). See Fra
Giocondo (1511, p. 81r); Morgan (1914, p. 242); Granger (1934, vol. II, p. 181); Schofield
(2009, p. 236).
pp. 343-344 565

hundred forty; if of fifteen, they shall be of a hundred sixty [recte 180 9]; if of ten,
they shall be of a hundred twenty; if of eight, they shall be of ninety-six; if of five
they shall be of sixty. Thus [p. 344] from the number of fingers that go into the
width of the sheet before they are curved into a round shape, the pipes take their
names. So, the sheet that is of fifty fingers, when the pipe is made from it, it is called
a quinquagenaria, and likewise the others. [VIII.VI.5] That conduit of water that
must be made of lead pipes has this convenience: if the head is to be levelled to the
plain of the city, and the mountains between are not so high as to impede the flow,
it is necessary to set up below those spaces other levellings, as was shown above with
regard to watercourses and channels. If the circuit is not long, we use vaults and
circumduction. If the valleys are continuous the courses must be directed along a
sloping place. When the water has arrived below, the place prepared should not be
too deep, so that the level can go as long as possible; this is the belly, which the
Greeks call chilia. When it comes to the opposite slope through the long space of the
belly it gently raises, so that it is driven to the height of the slope; [VIII.VI.6] but if
in the valleys the belly is not made, nor is it arranged down below so that it is lev-
elled, but is bent and curved, it will overflow because of the impetus, and will
break the joints of the pipes. In the belly must also be made vents, through which the
force of the spirit are released. Those then who conduct waters by means of pipes of
lead in the way described, with such rationales will be able in the most refined
manner to provide the outflowing of waters and make them turn where they want
them to go, and likewise make the tanks and drive them up high when they wish.
[VIII.VI.7] So with the same way, when from the head of the springs to the walls
of the city itself the level of the height is well taken between two hundred acti, it is
not without usefulness to make there another layer of tank, so that if in some place
the pipes are damaged, the entire work is not broken or spoiled, and so that where
the damage has occurred is more easily recognised. It must however be observed
that those tanks are not made in the slopes or the plane of the belly, nor where the
waters are to be driven up high, nor in any of the valleys, but in a continuously flat
place. [VIII.VI.8] If we wish at less expense to conduct water we shall do so in this
way. Let there be made tubes of earthenware no less large than two fingers, and
made so that on one end they are tapered, so that a bit of one enters into the next.
Then where there are joints and openings of those pipes, these must be sealed with
quicklime beaten with oil. In the bending of the level of the belly, at the node there

An error on Barbaro’s part. The width: weight ratio used is 1:12, so by calculation for a lamina
9 

of 15, the weight is 180, not 160. The same oversight is found in Barbaro (1556, p. 199).
566 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

must be placed a rock of red stone. This is to be drilled so that the last pipe, from
which the water falls, is attached to that rock. The same shall be done to the first
pipe near the levelled belly, and in the same way in the opposite slope the last pipe
in the levelled belly shall be cemented in the hollow of the red stone. [VIII.VI.9] The
first, near where the water is to be driven, will be fixed with like rationale, and so
the levelled plane of the pipes, by the falling and the rising, will not be lifted up.
Some air in the conduit of the water might give rise to a spirit so strong that it
breaks the stones, if water is not introduced there from the head first gently and
with measure, and the nodes and bends are not contained with good connections
and with weights and ballasts. The rest can be made as we have said of the pipes of
lead. Again when the water is first introduced, ash must be placed at the head in
those pipes so that if some of the joints are badly cemented, they will be stopped up
by those ashes going into the openings. [VIII.VI.10] Conduits of water made this
way of pipes have this advantage, that first in the work if there is any damage,
anyone can repair it, and the water is much more salubrious, when it passes
through earthenware pipes than in those of lead, because from lead, being that
from which white lead is made, it appears that it is made defective. It is said that
white lead is noxious for human bodies, and since harmful things are born from
lead, there is no doubt that it will not make the water healthy. [VIII.VI.11] We
can take example from those who work with lead, who are always of a pallid col-
our, because when lead is made in founding, the vapour that is there enters into the
members, and burning each day, sucks from their [p. 345] members the virtue of
blood. Thus it does not appear that we should conduct water with pipes of lead, if
we want it to be healthy and good. It is also seen in daily use that water conducted
by earthenware pipes is of a sweeter flavour, because even where there is a great set
of silver servers, still everyone uses terracotta pots to put water in because of the
goodness of the flavour. [VIII.VI.12] But if there are no springs from which water
can be conducted, it is necessary to dig wells, and in digging them, rationale must
not be despised, but with acumen and acuteness of mind must be very well consid-
ered the natural rationales of things. So, earth contains in itself many and diverse
qualities, because it is, like all things, composed of four principles. The first is ter-
rain; then it has springs from the humour of water, nor is it without heat, from
which are born sulphur, bitumen and alum; finally it has the greatest spirits of the
air, which coming heavy from the veins of the cavernous earth to the excavations
of the wells, and finding there the men who dig, with natural vapour they stop up
the animal spirits in their nostrils, and so those who do not quickly remove them-
selves from those places, die. [VIII.VI.13] The rationale to avoid this peril, is this.
p. 345 567

Drop down a lighted lantern; if it remains lighted, then it is safe to go down, but
if it is extinguished by the force of the vapour, then alongside the well on the right
and the left vents shall be dug, from which, as from nostrils, the spirits coming out
will disperse. When we have done in this way, and we have arrived to the water,
then the well must be surrounded with masonry in such a way that the veins are
not stopped up. [VIII.VI.14] If the places are hard, or in the bottom there are in
fact no veins, then from the roofs, or from the high places copious amounts of water
are collected in structures made of tilework. To make these tiles we must first pro-
vide the purest and coarsest sand. The rubble shall be only of flint, no heavier than
a pound, and in the mixing vat shall be mixed the strongest lime, such that to five
parts of sand correspond two parts of lime. To the mixing vat shall then be added
the rubble.10 With that the walls of the trench shall be beaten with wooden clubs
covered with iron to the level of the desired height. The terrain between the walls
shall be excavated to the bottom of the walls, and the floor levelled, from the same
mixing vat shall be beaten and rammed the pavement to the desired thickness.
Those places, if they are made doubled or tripled, so that the water, dripping, can be
changed, much healthier will be its use, because when the mud has a place to go
down, the water is much clearer, and will conserve its flavour without a bad odour,
and thus there is no need to add salt and thin it. I have put in this book as much as
I was able to gather about the virtues and varieties of water, showing its useful-
ness, and the rationale by which it can be conducted and tested. In the next I will
write of the regulated styluses of shadows and the rationales of clocks.
(Barbaro) Philander says many fine things regarding this book that de-
serve to be read regarding the doctrine and knowledge that are found here,
so I exhort scholars to see what he says, and save me the effort of availing
myself of the things of others.11 However, I will say something about what
is found in this final chapter, the sum of which is this. Vitruvius deals here
with conducting water, and says that there are three ways of doing so: via
watercourses or channels, lead pipes, or pipes of terracotta. He states how
each way is done, beginning with channels; he teaches us how to make water
flow, make reservoirs for it, distribute its use in the city, remove the imped-
iments posed by mountains, dig tunnels through tuff and stone, and make

10
 This sentence—al mortaio si aggiunto poi il cemento—appears in Fra Giocondo (1511, p.
82v: mortario cementum addatur) but does not appear in other translations. Cfr. Morgan
(1914, p. 248); Granger (1934, pp. 190-191); Schofield (2009, p. 240).
11
 Philander (1544, p. 248-291).
568 Book VIII of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the channels. In conducting water through lead pipes, he teaches us to make

the tanks, or castella as he calls them; he gives us the measurements of the
pipes as regards both length and weight; he shows us how water is to be
conducted where there are mountains, valleys and plains, what steps must be
taken, and how they are done easily, where the pipes are damaged. He then
discourses on how to conduct water in pipes of earthenware, and shows how
such pipes must be connected together. He compares this way of conducting
water to that of lead pipes, showing that it is healthier and less expensive.
[p. 346] He then teaches us the ways to dig wells, avoiding the risk of evil
vapours that are exhaled; to make sure that the terrain does not fall in upon
us, to collect water that is dispersed, and not to lose the water collected, to
reinforce the walls of the well, to build its sides, and to make sure that the
water is good. This is the sum of Vitruvius’s intention, and its interpretation
is clear. Both Palladius and Pliny take everything they say from Vitruvius.12
What Vitruvius calls an actus is a distance of a hundred and twenty feet; this
when doubled in length formed an iugerum.13 What Vitruvius calls saburra is
what we call ‘ballast’,14 and is used in ships. What he calls favilla is ash, that
is, what remains when coals are extinguished. His word for vents is aestuar-
ia. The name of the lead sheet is taken from the number of fingers, so that
if before they are turned into cylinders they measure a hundred fingers they
are called a centenarie; if fifty, quinquagenarie, and so on for the rest. Fronti-
nus speaks at length about aqueducts.15 From Hero’s book as well many fine
and delightful ways can be derived for using water; one day that book may
perhaps come out edited and illustrated as it should be.16

The end of Book VIII.

12
 Palladius, see Opus Agriculturae 9.9 (‘Of Wells’) and 9.11 (‘Of Aquæducts’); Pliny the
Elder, Natural History 31.31.
13 
Although Barbaro says ‘doubled by length’ (raddoppiato per lungo), this is not wholly
accurate. The iugerum, or jugerum, was a measurement of area measuring 120 x 240 Roman
feet (28,800 square Roman feet). However, in at least two instances Pliny uses the jugerum
as a unit of length; see Natural History 4.15 and 6.6.
14
 Saorna, a Venetian dialect term for zavorra, ballast. See Simone Stratico, Vocabolario di
marina in tre lingue (Milan: Dalla Stamperia Reale, 1813), vol. I, p. 504.
15
 Sextus Julius Frontinus, De aquaeductu.
16
 Hero of Alexandria, Pneumatica.
 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book IX
Preface
[p. 347]

he elders of the Greeks conferred such great honours on those no-

ble athletes who had won the Olympic, Pythian, Isthmian, and
Nemean games that not only were they lauded before the multitude
of men with the palm and crown but also, when they returned victorious to their
own countries, they were carried triumphantly inside the walls in chariots and by
public deliberation were granted an income for life. Having then observed this, I
marvel that the same and even greater honours are not attributed to the writers
who continually provide a service to all peoples, inasmuch as it would be worthier
and more reasonable were it to be thus ordered because athletes, through their ex-
ercises, make their own bodies more robust; but writers not only perfect their own
sentiments but those of all men, setting in their books precepts from which to learn
and render their souls more acute and awakened. [IX.Pref.2] Pray tell me, of what
benefit was Milo of Croton to men that he should be insuperable, and the others
who have in that manner been victors, except that while they walked among their
fellow citizens they enjoyed nobility? But the precepts of Pythagoras, Democritus,

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 569

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_10
570 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Plato, Aristotle, and all the other sages, all the day adorned by perpetual industry,
who not only for their fellow citizens but for all men brought to light fresh, flow-
ering fruit so that they, from tender years satiated with an abundance of doctrine,
have the highest sentiments of wisdom and endow the city with humane practices,
equable rationales, and laws. When such things are far removed, no city can sur-
vive and maintain itself whole. [IX.Pref.3] Men being therefore by the prudence
of the writers bestowed with such great gifts in private and in public, I think that
not only should they be given crowns and palms but should be by deliberated decree
given triumphs and consecrated among the thrones of the gods. [IX.Pref.4] I will
relate some examples of their many thoughts, which were of great benefit so that
men could pass their lives comfortably, and those who recognise this will confess
them to be worthy of great honours. First I will exhibit one among many of the
very useful discourses of Plato and the manner in which he explained it.
(Barbaro) Having stated the rationales that appertain to public build-
ings as well as private, we now come to the second principal part of archi-
tecture, called ‘gnomonics’, by which we will see the effects produced in the
world by the rays of the shining bodies of the heavens. And because the
rationale of the present part lifts us up from the earth while we contemplate
the divinity of the heavens with their greatness, beauty and swiftest move-
ments, Vitruvius proposes a similar, most appropriate preface, seeming as it
does to him that the men who have found the most subtle rationales of lofty
things are most worthy of heavenly honours because they have less regard
for their own dignity than for the common good, and will be of benefit not
for an age or a century only but for eternity and in perpetuity. [p. 348] Just
as the mind is nobler and more excellent than the body, so is virtue more
valuable than any other blessing. Happy therefore can be called those sages
who have procured praise and glory with beautiful and subtle findings, the
fruits of which have been handed down for the eternal benefit of the world,
and even more when they have shown us noble and precious things. Since it
is more gratifying to man—and more delightful—to see at least a small part
of their own beloved things than it is to treat the members of all the other
bodies, so it is more worthy to know the most basic rationale of the lofty and
faraway things than to enter into cognition of many that are familiar. But
well says a poet:
p. 348 571

So truly happy, of luck without measure

Were those souls to whom first it was gifted
To know things so fine and of priceless treasure.
Who by that blessed idea were lifted,
Whose lot was to rise to heavenly haven,
Whose fate was equalled by virtue unsifted.
Believe if you will, that monsters craven
Could be cleansed of errors, and rid of all play
That weakens our breasts, their mettle was proven.
Their hearts were not burned by the fiery display
Of Venus cruel; nor could wine or such
Their course, by much or by little, delay.
Neither the noise of the forum’s angry clutch
Nor war’s bone-weariness, nor the aim useless
Of lust for glory arrogant, grandiose.
Greed for gold, empty and heartless,
Could not a hair’s breadth bend the spirits of those
Who aimed higher realms’ truths to possess.1

Who would therefore compare such men to athletes? Who would com-
pare such men to gladiators or others who for victory or present benefit only
a few are obliged? Rightly therefore must we judge with Vitruvius that the
inventors of useful and beautiful things sooner merit heavenly honours than
those who in their day the Greeks showered with glory for the strength of
their bodies, demonstrated in those games that were celebrated so pompous-
ly and before great crowds of people in honour of various gods and heroes,
such as the Olympic games in honour of Jove, the Pythian games in honour
of Apollo, the Nemean games in honour of Archemoros,2 and the Isthmi-
an games in honour of Palaemonius. But let us leave that which is clear in
Vitruvius and come to some of the beautiful findings of some of the ancient
sages, first to Plato in the first chapter, then to Pythagoras in the second,
and finally to Archimedes, to Eratosthenes, and to Archytas in the third. It

1 
From Ovid’s Fasti, Bk. I, lines 297-306. As usual, Barbaro has loosely translated the Latin
into hendecasyllablic terza rima. My English translation is aimed at preserving the metre,
the rhyme scheme, and the meaning of his translation.
2 
Another name for Opheltes, baby son of King Lycurgus of Nemea, whose death by a snake
was taken as a bad omen (Ἀρχέμορος means ‘the beginning of bad fate’).
572 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

should be observed that the field of ‘gnomonics’ extends much beyond what
Vitruvius intends here.

Chapter I
The method discovered by Plato for measuring a field of land

[p. 348] (Vitruvius) [IX.Pref.4] If the site or the field of equal sides is square and it
is necessary to double it again with equal sides, although this is not found by numbers
or by multiplication it can yet be done with emended descriptions of lines. This is the
proof. It is certain that a square of ten feet on every side is a hundred feet square.
If therefore it is necessary to double it and to make a space of two hundred feet that
has equal sides, then one must seek how to make the side of that square such that the
doubling of the space corresponds to two hundred feet. This cannot be found by way
of numbers because if one makes a side of fourteen feet, multiplying one obtains the
sum of one hundred ninety-six; if of fifteen feet, it is two hundred and twenty-five.
[IX.Pref.5] Therefore, because this cannot be shown by way of numbers, one must, in
the square that is ten feet to the side, draw a line from one corner to the other in such
a way that the square is divided into two equal triangles, each of which is fifty feet
in area. Then according to the length of the line drawn one must make a square area
of equal sides. Thus, as large as the two triangles of fifty feet in the smaller square
drawn by the diagonal line, with that same number of feet in the larger square will
be described [p. 349] four triangles. With this rationale (as shown in the figure
below) by way of lines was the doubling of the square field accomplished by Plato.
(Barbaro) Here there is nothing that needs to be said for now since
Vitruvius is clear on his own. The square is doubled by drawing the diagonal
and, from that, making the side of the square that will be the double of the
first. Fig. 9.1.1 shows the square abcd that is to be doubled, of ten feet per
side. The diagonal, ab, divides it into two triangles, adb and acb, of fifty
square feet each in area. Of diagonal ab is made side abde [recte ef] which
will be the side of the square that is the double of the square abcd.
It may well be that the diagonal can found by means of numbers but
this would take us into fractions, which is not to our purpose. The diagonal
is found in this way: multiply the two sides of the square by themselves, each
separately, and add the sums of the multiplications together; take the square
root of that sum, and that much will be the diagonal. Let there be square abcd
p. 349 573

of five feet to a side: multiply ab by itself—that is, five by five is twenty-five—

and do this as well to side bc, which will likewise be twenty-five, which added
together with the first twenty-five produces fifty, the square root of which is
7 1/14 and so the diagonal will be that many feet. This will be the case in all
other rectangular figures with right angles, as in rectangle efgh (Fig. 9.1.2).

a 10 d

50
10 f
50

c b
Fig. 9.1.1. [Partial construction of the doubling of a square: left) original
image [p. 351]; right) corrected image, drawn by Kim Williams
This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

Fig. 9.1.2. [Calculating the diagonal of a rectangle3] Image [p. 351]

3 
The bottom figure has sides of 6 (not marked) and 8, and a diagonal of 10. The value 84
should be 48 (the area of 6 x 8) in the same way that in the square above 25 is the area of 5
x 5. This error also appears in the figure in Barbaro (1556, p. 202).
574 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter II
On the set square, the invention of Pythagoras
for forming the right angle

[p. 349] (Vitruvius) [IX.Pref.6] Pythagoras similarly demonstrated the set square,
discovered without the work of any maker, and made clear the great effort with
which the blacksmiths, having made it, were able to reduce it to a right angle. This,
with rationale and emended ways, is shown in his precepts. So, if three rulers are
taken, one of three feet, the other of four, the third of five, and these rulers are ar-
ranged so that their ends touch together, forming a triangular figure, they will lead
to the set square with a right angle. And if on the length of each ruler a square with
equal sides be made, I say that on the side of three feet shall be made a square of nine
feet, and on that of four feet shall be made a square of sixteen feet, and on that of
five feet shall be made a square of twenty-five feet. [IX.Pref.7] Thus as much space
as is occupied by two squares, the one of three feet and the one of four feet, that many
feet shall be found in the square drawn on the side of five feet. Pythagoras, having
discovered that, doubting not that he had been instructed in this discovery by the
Muses and blessing them greatly, is said to have sacrificed victims to them. This ra-
tionale is useful in many things and in many measures, as in making stairways in
buildings so that the steps are in proportionate measure and very easily made. [IX.
Pref.8] So, if the height of the landing from the top of the beams of the upper level
to the lower level is divided into three parts, the ramp of the stairway will be five
of those parts with the correct length of the stringer. Therefore, as large as are three
parts from the upper beams to the level below, four of those parts shall be pulled out
and away from the vertical so that in this way will be moderated the collocations
of the steps and the stairs, and thus also from such things shall the form be drawn.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius sets forth the invention of the set square and the
use that derives from it. Pythagoras, a divine man in many things, was the
inventor of the rationale of the set square. In so doing he by far surpassed
the invention of many excellent makers, and thus he deserves the greatest
commendation. The set square is made from three rulers arranged in a trian-
gle so that the length of one is three parts, that of the second four, and that
of the third five. From this invention it can be understood that, making on
these sides three perfect squares, each according to the length of its ruler, the
square made from the length of five parts shall be as [p. 350] large as, and
will contain as much as, the sum of the two squares made on the other two
sides, as can be seen in Fig. 9.2.1.
p. 350 575

Fig. 9.2.1. [The 3-4-5 triangle and the proportioning of stairs] Image [p. 351]

The use of the set square in all sorts of fabrications and buildings is very
useful and necessary, and though it would be too long to describe it fully,
the sum is briefly as follows. The right angle4 is the measure of all things
where quadrants, radii,5 triangles and all other devices are used to measure
heights, lengths, and widths. All have their virtue in the right angle, called
the ‘normal’, which is found in the set square. Vitruvius, avoiding tedious-
ness, brings us only one admirable use for it, which is that of proportioning
stairways and their inclines so that they are comfortable and suitable for
climbing. Because we have made no mention of stairways up to now, we
shall discuss them here.
The setting up of stairways requires judgement and greater than average
experience because it is very difficult to find a place for them that neither
impedes them nor robs space from the compartition of rooms: one doesn’t

4 
Barbaro here again uses the term angolo giusto for right angle, as he did in Book I. See
Barbaro, p. 24 and the footnote there.
5 
With the term raggi (radii) (mentioned again later, see Barbaro, p. 354 and again on p. 408),
Barbaro is referring to the instrument known as a radius astronomicus used to determine the
inclinations of stars in navigation. It is a variation of the cross-staff or Jacob’s staff used to
measure I thank Robert Egler and Samuel Gessner for discussions about these instruments.
576 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

want either to be impeded by the stairways, or to impede them. They must

be provided with a certain determined space so that they are free and un-
hindered. They will be most comfortable where they are least inconvenient.
Here we are reasoning about the stairways and ramps of buildings, and not
of ladders that serve the purpose of war.6 For stairways, then, one must con-
sider the manner, location, opening, shape, number of steps, and landings.
One goes from one level to another either by steps, or by a ramp, or by a
stepped ramp. Stepped ramps are used in great palaces and royal houses,
and are very comfortable because the ascent is made little by little, without
great movement, especially when there is a way to make them as flat as pos-
sible; ramps are also made in this way when men need to go up mountains.
Stairways that have steps must likewise be comfortable and well-lighted.
They will be comfortable when they are made with the proportions that we
will set forth, and if they are to be as comfortable as possible (as I said), then
the entire stairway and the individual steps must be made in proportion. To
this end the explanation and figures set forth by Vitruvius are helpful. They
shall be well lighted according to the rationale given elsewhere for allowing
light to enter7 and by the good judgement of the architect. The number of
steps and the landings (because one must beware of making many steps
without intermediate landings) follows the ancients, who never made more
than seven or nine steps without a landing, both to provide a pause for those
who tire while going up and so that, if someone falls, he won’t fall from very
high but will have a place to stop. The risers of the steps and the treads must
be made so that the feet, lifting, tire themselves as little as possible. One
shouldn’t exceed the measure given by Vitruvius in the third book 8 —that
is, one shouldn’t make them larger—but it is good to remember to make
them as comfortable as possible in private buildings. Spiral stairways are
often very convenient in buildings because they don’t occupy much space,
but they are more difficult to climb if they are meant to be utilitarian. In
Germany the stairways are ordinarily in the corners of buildings, which is
flawed because neither windows, nor niches, nor stairways, nor any other
opening whatsoever should be placed in the corners of houses; the corners of
these should be most solid and when opened are weakened. In sum, having
6 
Stairs and ladders for scaling the walls of fortresses are discussed Book X; see Barbaro,
p. 443; Vitruvius X.I.1.
7 
Discussed in Book VI; see Barbaro, p. 299; Vitruvius VI.VI.6.
8 
See Barbaro, p. 136; Vitruvius III.IV.4.
pp. 350-352 577

a number of stairways is not desirable because they are of great impediment

to the whole building and a multitude of steps worsens the building. Stair-
ways have three openings: one at the entrance at the foot, another where the
windows are, and the third at the exit at the top. All of these must be ample
and magnificent (I mean this especially regarding the principal stairways),
almost as though inviting people to climb them. So, the main entrance or
opening of the stairway must be located so that it is visible immediately upon
entering. The window must be high so that it provides light equally to all the
steps. Here we can make use of the rationale of shadows: it will be found
that the proportion of the shadow to the height of the stairway as a whole
shall also characterise the rise of one step to the tread of another. The exit
must bring us to a place where we see the whole of the hall; the lights of the
windows must be centred and of an odd number, so that there is symmetry
between the doors on one side and the other of the room. That is all that
needs to be said about the rules of stairways.
It is marvellous to learn by observing the things made by the ancients
and the fine perceptions that they had. For example, in that very beautiful
building, the Rotunda [i.e., the Pantheon in Rome], the stairs that go up in-
side it, although they are spiral, are not circular but rather triangular, which
takes care of those who, spiralling up, suffer [p. 352] vertigo from weakness
of the head. Further, the steps that go up to the tribunal of this temple have
their treads inclined inwards, so that if one were to fall while going down,
his heels being lower than his toes, he would be forced to fall backwards and
not forwards. Beautiful also are the stairways of some of the moderns, as can
be seen in the admirable palace of Urbino, as well as in the stairways of the
palace in Rome9 and elsewhere, which shed much light on the subject and
teach us many things. Now, as to Vitruvius, I say that he wants the measure
for the stairway to be taken from the set square. Thus, one should divide the
space from the upper floor to the lower floor perpendicularly into three parts,
and from where the plumb line falls a line is drawn out that measures four
parts, each of which is equal to one of the three vertical parts. If then a line is
drawn from one end at the lower floor to the other end at the top of the per-
pendicular, this length will be five parts. Compartitioning the steps along this
line will make the stairway comfortable and well-proportioned, as Fig. 9.2.1
shows. Of spiral stairs Vitruvius could likewise have reasoned, had it been his

9 
Not better identified, and not mentioned at all in Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 269).
578 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

intention to do so, but what he said about stairs was an aside and only intended
as a demonstration of the set square. Although he himself didn’t say anything
anywhere, he nevertheless provided us with an occasion to find for ourselves
a way to make them. Straight stairs and spiral ones concur with regard to the
measure and comfort of the steps, the openings, and other things, but this is
the difference: the stringer of a straight stairway—called scapus by Vitruvi-
us—is a straight line that descends from the top floor to the lowest floor like
a hypotenuse or diagonal, but the stringer of a spiral stairway is straight as a
plumb and around that, as around a hinge, are the steps, even though spiral
stairs are sometimes made without a stringer. These stairways were made by
the ancients to ascend to very high places such as columns, pyramids, and
other huge buildings. The plan of the spiral stair is like a volute. The elevation
is made from certain points of the volute, as Albrecht Dürer shows in the first
book of his Geometry.10 We have shown the figure and the perspective togeth-
er with the demonstration mentioned previously (Fig. 9.2.2).

Fig. 9.2.2. [Laying out a spiral stair] Image [p. 351]

10 
Dürer (1525, p. 7v, fig. 15); cfr. Barbaro’s Fig. 9.2.2.
pp. 352-353 579

Chapter III
How to know the portion of silver mixed with gold
in a finished work

[p. 352] (Vitruvius) [IX.Pref.9] There being many and marvellous discoveries of
Archimedes, all made with infinite acuteness, that which I shall set forth appears
to be too often narrated. So, Hiero, ennobled by ruling power in the city of Syra-
cuse, things having happened prosperously for him, decided to place in the temple
a votive crown of gold and to consecrate it to the immortal gods. At the greatest
expense he commissioned the work, giving to him who was assigned to accomplish
it a measured weight of gold. This man at the due time brought the King the work
subtly crafted by hand, and it appeared that the crown was returned with the right
weight of gold. [IX.Pref.10] But since it was hinted that a certain quantity of gold
had been removed and that he had put in its place an equal amount of silver, Hiero
was indignant at having been mocked. Having no rationale with which to dis-
cover the theft, he begged Archimedes to take care to recognise the fact, by thinking
very carefully about it. Archimedes, having then taken thought of this, chanced to
enter a bath. And there slipping into the bathtub he came to see that according to
how much of his body entered the bathtub, that much water flowed out of the tub.
Having thus discovered the rationale that would allow him to prove what had
been proposed, he did not linger another minute, but left the bath with great joy
from, and going nude towards home, he showed aloud that he had found what he
was looking for, since running the whole way he cried in Greek, ‘Eureka! Eureka!’.
(Barbaro) That is, ‘I’ve found it! I’ve found it!’.
(Vitruvius) [IX.Pref.11] Then having entered into that discovery, he made
two masses of a weight equal to the crown, of which one was of gold, the other of
silver; having done this, he filled a large container to the brim with water. First
he placed [p. 353] in it the mass of silver, of which as much of its size went in,
that much water came out. So taking out the mass, he replaced the water needed
to fill the container, having measured it with the sextarius, so that the water was
once again at the level of the brim. From this he discovered how much, to a certain
weight of silver, corresponded a certain and determined amount of water. [IX.
Pref.12] Having then proved this, he placed the mass of gold in the container, like-
wise full, and taking it out, with the same rationale the measure being added, he
found that amount of water that had come out was not the same, but was less by
as much as the size of the body of the mass of gold was less than that of the mass of
silver of the same weight. Finally he refilled the container, and placed in the same
580 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

water the crown, and found that more water came out for the crown than had come
out for the mass of gold of the same weight. Thus by reason of the fact that more was
made to come out by the crown than by the mass of gold, he understood that the gold
had been mixed with silver, and thus made manifest the theft by the one who had
been commissioned to make the crown.
(Barbaro) Of all the elements, fire is the lightest because (as was said
in the second book 11) it is above all the other elements. The heaviest is earth
because it lies beneath all the others. Air and water are neither heavy nor
light absolutely but in relation, since while air rises above water, it descends
below fire; and water rises above earth but falls in air. Likewise, things made
of the elements have the movement that is given to them by the element that
is prevalent in their composition. Thus things that have in their mixture
more air or fire, rise; such are smoke, vapours, sparks, material fire here be-
low,12 and other exhalations and spirits. But things that have in them more
water or earth move to where the water or earth draw them. Besides this,
every element has its natural resting place, such as water in watery places, or
earth in earthy places, and likewise the others. This comparison regards not
the quantity of weight but the gravity in species,13 because it is one thing to
say that a great beam weighs more than a blade of lead, and another to say
that lead is heavier than wood: although the beam is of a greater quantity of
weight, in terms of the gravity in species it is lighter, since we can see that
lead sinks in water and wood floats. Thus in order for one to know the gravity
in species it is necessary to take perfect bodies of equal size, and if they are
found to be of equal weight they can be said to be of equal gravity in species.
If one of the two bodies of equal size is of greater weight, it can without
doubt can be affirmed as the body made of the greatest gravity of species.
Here is an example. Take equal bodies of marble and wood, and a quantity
water. I say that, with respect to the size, you will see that the marble weighs
more than the wood or the water, and that the wood is the lightest because
it floats in the water, while the marble is the heaviest because it sinks in the
water. Thus it can be concluded that water is lighter than marble, but is of

11 
See Barbaro, pp. 73-74.
12 
That is, fire as we know it here on earth, not heavenly fire.
13 
The terms gravitas generis (gravity in species) and gravitas propria had been known since
the thirteenth century and were forerunners of gravità in ispecie and gravità assoluta, which
appeared in Galileo’s Discorso intorno alle cose che stanno in su l’acqua o che in quella si muovono
(1612). For a discussion of gravity in species, see Ceglia (2003).
pp. 353-354 581

greater gravity in species than wood. Therefore, given two different bodies of
the same weight, that which is greater in size is of a lesser gravity in species.
Therefore, given two masses of equal weight, one of gold, the other of silver,
the mass of silver will be greater in size. Helped by this rationale, Archime-
des revealed the goldsmith’s theft. To do this he placed the masses one by
one in a container full of water and measured how much water came out of
the container for each. Seeing that for the mass of silver more water came
out than for the mass of gold because it [i.e., the mass of silver] was of greater
size, he took the crown, putting it to the test as Hiero had requested. He put
the crown, which was equal in weight to each of the other two masses, into
the container, out of which came more water than had come out for the mass
of gold, and less than what had come out for the mass of silver. Regulated by
the rule of proportionals, he knew not only that the crown had been falsified
but also the amount by which Hiero had been cheated. The occasion for this
wonderful discovery was the water that came out of the bathtub—which
Vitruvius calls solium—when he went to the baths to wash. So moved by that
pleasure which is born of discovery (as Vitruvius says in the third chapter of
the first book 14), running home naked he cried, in Greek, ‘Eureka! Eure-
ka!’—that is, ‘I’ve found it! I’ve found it!’.
[p. 354] (Vitruvius) [IX.Pref.13] Now let us transfer the mind to the thoughts
of Archytas of Tarentum and to Eratosthenes of Cyrene because these men by math-
ematics have found many things that were welcome to men. Although they found
favour for their other discoveries, nevertheless in contending over one, they were
suspected, because each with a different rationale exerted himself to explicate that
which Apollo in the answers in Delos had commanded, that is, that the number of
square15 feet of his altar was to be doubled, so that it would come about that who-
ever found himself in that island should be then freed by religion. [IX.Pref.14] So
Archytas with the drawings of cylinders, and Eratosthenes, with the instrumental
rationale of the mesolabium, explained the same thing.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius says that the discoveries of Archytas and Eratos-
thenes were very welcome to men, but each of them having treated the same
problem and each having contrived a different way of solving it, they gave rise
to suspicion; not because a question cannot be solved in different ways but

Actually in Barbaro, p. 32; Vitruvius I.II.2.

14 

Barbaro mistranslates the text of the problem as treating square feet, when actually the
15 

problem involves doubling the cubic feet—that is, the classic problem of doubling the cube,
which Barbaro correctly describes below.
582 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

because people who were not learned, seeing that Archytas used one method
and Eratosthenes another, began to think that they were just engaging in
a contest of skills. It is as if one were to take the measure of a tower with a
quadrant, another with a mirror, a third with two spears, and another with
the astrolabe or with mathematical radius:16 the layman, not knowing that
the rationale of all these instruments is the same and derives from the prop-
erties and power of the angles, would suspect that the competition between
the measurers does not have anything to do with the truth, given the diversi-
ty of the instruments. The same happened with the competition between Ar-
chytas and Eratosthenes. The problem was how to double a cube. A cube is a
body (as I said in the preface to the fifth book17) of six faces—that is, six equal
sides—like a die; it is measured by multiplying one of its sides by itself and
then multiplying that product by that same side, as can be seen in Fig. 9.3.1.

Fig. 9.3.1. [Cube with sides of 8, areas of sides 64, and volume 512]
Image [p. 360]

Given a cube with each of the sides measuring eight: multiply eight by
itself, which comes to sixty-four; multiply sixty-four by eight, and the result
is five hundred and twelve, and this is the number of cubic feet in that cube.
Having thus formed the cube of five hundred and twelve cubic feet, the
problem requires that it be doubled. In order to do this one needs to know,
given two straight lines of unequal lengths, how we can find two others be-
tween them that are in continued proportion both with each other and with
the original two. In order, therefore, to find these lines, eleven methods were

16 
The radius astronomicus, mentioned earlier in Barbaro, p. 350.
17 
See Barbaro, p. 205.
pp. 354-355 583

proposed by the ancients. Some used solely mathematical proofs, others add-
ed instruments to the proofs. These instruments went by the same name be-
cause mesolabium was a common term signifying an instrument for taking
the mean, and thus with that instrument are found the mean proportion-
al lines with respect to two given lines. Archimedes used the mesolabium,
and Plato likewise. Archytas made some proofs by means of semicylinders,
which were judged impossible to make into an instrument, even though I
have seen them, following the proof of Archytas, very well made and easy to
use. I will set forth both the proofs and the instruments and will show how
the finding of the two proportionals serves us in the doubling of the cube.
First I will recount the circumstance of such a fine problem, in which one
can understand the great usefulness that architects can take from this dis-
covery, and from knowing the proofs and the use of such fine instruments.

[The ‘Letter to King Ptolemy’18]

There is a letter by Eratosthenes to King Ptolemy written thus:

To King Ptolemy Eratosthenes sends greetings

It is said that one of the ancient composers of tragedies induced Minos

to build the sepulchre of Glaucus, and having been told that it measured
one hundred feet on every side, he answered, ‘This is a small ark for a royal
sepulchre; let it therefore be doubled, but let the cube remain unchanged’.
In truth, he who would double the length of each side would appear to be
in error because if the sides are doubled, each surface would be four times as
large and the solid eight times as large. It was therefore asked [p. 355] of the
geometers how that solid, remaining in the same shape, could be doubled,
and the question was called ‘doubling the cube’. Thus, given a cube, the way
was sought to make one the double of it. Many being long in doubt, the first
was Hippocrates of Chios, who thought that if one started with, as givens,
two straight lines of which the greater was the double of the lesser, one could
take two others between them in continued proportion that would easily

18 
The ‘Letter to King Ptolemy’ and the proof that follows were transmitted by Eutocius
in his commentary on Archimedes. See Archimedes (1544, pp. 22-23); a parallel Greek-
Latin text appears in Archimedes (1881, vol. 3, pp. 103-115). A recent English translation
is available in Archimedes (2004, pp. 294-297). This present translation follows Barbaro’s
own translation of the letter.
584 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

double the cube. By this the difficulty of doubling a cube and the doubts that
assailed the mathematicians were made even greater. Not much later, it is
said, the inhabitants of Delos, stricken by plague and ordered by the oracle to
double the size of a certain altar, suffered the same doubts. They appealed to
the geometers in the Academy of Plato who, believing they could find what
was sought, enthusiastically took up the task. They found that it was necessary
to find, given two lines, two others that are means. It is said that Archytas
of Tarentum found the solution by way of semicylinders, Eudoxus by curved
lines. To tell the truth, it so happened that all of them with proven rationale
described the science of finding how to find, between two given lines, two
means in continued proportion, but they did not discover how these could
be easily manipulated by hand and using instruments. The exception was
Menaechmus, who briefly and obscurely discovered I don’t know what. But
we have imagined a simple invention by way of instruments with which can
we find not just two means in continued proportion between the two given
straight lines but as many such means as we please. With this discovery we
can reduce into a cube any solid body that is enclosed by parallel lines and
likewise transform them from one body into another; we can also make a
similar one, increasing it in size as we please, while still maintaining the
same similarity of form. So too with temples and altars, as well as measures
of liquid things and dry goods, such as metretes and modii, transforming
them into cubes of equal sides with which to measure vessels to hold liquids
and dry goods so as to know how much they hold.19 In sum, cognition of this
problem is useful and convenient for those who wish to double or enlarge
all those instruments that are used to throw spears, stones, or iron stakes,
because it is necessary that all things increase in length and size according
to proportion, be they holes, or the cords that go into them, or whatever is
needed, if we wish everything to increase in proportion.20 This cannot be
done without the discovery of the mean. The proof and outfitting of the in-
strument I have described for you here below (Fig. 9.3.2). First the proof.

19 
A metrete (pl. metretes, metretae) was a Greek liquid measure equal to approximately
forty litres. A modius (pl. modii) was a Roman dry measure equal to about 0.96 peck. Both
of these terms were used in the dual sense of a unit of measure and a vessel that contained
exactly that amount. Barbaro discusses ‘measure’ and its three possible meanings in Book
III; see Barbaro, p. 110.
20 
This is of interest with regard to the proportioning of the elements of ballistae; see Barbaro,
pp. 474-476; Vitruvius X.XI.
p. 355 585

Fig. 9.3.2. [The geometric construction of Erastothenes. Point e in the

proof, missing in the figure, refers to the third angle of triangle abe]
Image and caption [p. 360]: Proof of Erastothenes

Given two straight, unequal lines, ab and cd,21 we shall seek Between
them means that are in continued proportion—that is, as the first is to the
second so is the second to the third and the third to the fourth. Draw the
two straight lines ab and cd at right angles to line bd, and let ab be greater
than cd. From a to c let a line be drawn that intersects bd at point e. Let
another line, af, be drawn from point a to intersect line bd at point f. Now
draw a line from f parallel to ab and let that be fg, which intersects ac at g.
From g draw a line to point h parallel to line af, and let that be gh, which
intersects line bd at point h. From that point rises a straight line parallel to
line ab, and let that line be ih, intersecting line ac at point i. From that point
drop a line parallel to line af that terminates in point d. Having done this, to
express ourselves better let us call lines ab, gf, ih and cd the first parallels,
and lines af, gh, and id the second parallels. Likewise there are two large
triangles: one is abe—of which angle b is right—and the other is afe; abe
shall be called the first triangle, afe the second. In the first there are the tri-
angles made of the first parallels—that is, gfe, ihe and cde. Because these,
by with the twenty-ninth proposition of the first book of Euclid, have equal
angles, they have proportional sides, by the fourth proposition of the sixth
book. Likewise, because the second triangles made of the second parallels

In what follows, for ease of comprehension I have adopted the convention of putting
21 

numbers in order from top to bottom and left to right as they appear in the figure (for
example, gf instead of fg; and de instead of ed). I am very grateful to Samuel Gessner
and Maria Zack for their careful readings of the proofs that follow and their many helpful
corrections.
586 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[p. 356] have equal sides [recte angles], then without a doubt they have pro-
portional sides. Thus, in the first parallels, as is the proportion between ae
and ge [recte ag] so is that between be and fe. And in the second parallels, as
ae and ag are in proportion, so are fe and he. Again, in the first parallels, as
fe is to he, so ge is to ic [recte ie]. And in the second parallels, as ge is to ie,
so is he to de. Therefore bc [recte be], fe, he, and de are in continued propor-
tion. By the same rationale it can be proved that ab, gf, ih and cd are also in
continued proportion, since as be is to bf [recte fe], so is ab to gf; as fe is to
he, so is gf to ih; and as he is to de, so is ih to cd. Thus, given two straight
lines, ab and cd, we have found two means in continuous proportion [i.e.,
mean proportionals], which are gf and ih, which it was our intention to do.
This is Eratosthenes’ opinion regarding the proof. Although he would
have it that lines ab and cd be at right angles to line bd, that doesn’t mean
that the same conclusion wouldn’t follow in the case where both lines inter-
sect bd at some other angle, as long both made similar angles, and the lines
dropping down are parallel because it is all based on this rationale: in trian-
gles that have equal angles, the sides are proportional. In sum, if we want to
find more than two proportional lines between two given lines ab and cd, it
is necessary according the method described above to draw more of both the
first and the second parallels.

[The Mesolabium of Eratosthenes]

The instrument with which Eratosthenes’ beautiful proof can be carried
out is this. Take a board of wood or copper longer than wide, quadrangular
and of right angles, as for example surface abdc (Fig. 9.3.322).
Then on that arrange three sheets of some solid, thin, and smooth
material which are quadrangular and of right angles. One of these is fixed
in the middle of the board, so that it can move neither right nor left; let
that be efgh. Let this sheet have fitted on its corners, at points e and f, two
rulers with pegs so that each can turn in every direction, and let one be
called em and the other fn. Let the other sheet, called kdc, have its top and
bottom in a channel in the board so that it can be slid closer to or farther
from sheet efgh, and its sides are to be parallel to side fh of the fixed sheet.

22 
A better drawing of a mesolabium is found in Zarlino (1562, p. 96).
p. 356 587

Fig. 9.3.3. Image and caption [p. 360]: The instrument of Eratosthenes
[note that the letter between d and c is r]

This sheet kdc, at point k,23 holds a ruler that can be turned, raised and
lowered, like the others, and let that be ko. It can be parallel with the other
rulers. The common intersections that they make with ag [recte eg], fh and
[k]l lie the same straight line mnol. Likewise let am be equal to dk, because
am is imperceptibly past dk. These things being arranged, between two lines
ab and cd result two mean proportionals, which are en and fo, by the ration-
ales given above. But should it happen that the two given lines—call them s
and t (shown to the right in Fig. 9.3.3)—to which it is necessary to find two
mean proportionals that are not equal to the lines ab and cd [recte rd 24] in the
instrument. Make them by sliding sheet bdc as necessary, pulling it towards
or away from the fixed sheet, but always keeping it parallel. So doing, I say
that as s is to t so shall be ab to rd—that is, if s and t are in double or triple
or sesquialteran proportion, then so too are ab and rd. So, just as two mean
proportionals to ab and rd are found in the instrument, it follows that two
mean proportionals shall also be found to the given s and t. The more artful-
ly and well made the instrument, the easier it will be to use it to find the two
mean proportionals—that is, the edges of the sheets should enter easily in
their channels and slide smoothly. If one wishes to find more than two mean
proportionals, he can easily do it by adding more rulers and sheets. This was
the invention of Eratosthenes. It is necessary to make sure, however, that the

23 
Note that Barbaro’s computations assume that in Fig. 9.3.3 the line containing dou (u,
hard to recognize, is the letter between g and h) actually originates at k, although drawing
shows it originating at d. The error is needed to make the computations make sense.
24 
The letter r, rather hard to recognize in Fig. 9.3.3, is the character above the d.
588 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

rulers are long enough so that when it is necessary to slide the sheets they can
reach the intersections of the lines that are to be in proportion and touch the
upper side of the instrument, as em, fx, ku—to say it better, they should be
as large as the diagonal of the sheet efgh, or a little larger.
[p. 357] It remains to be said more clearly and simply how this instru-
ment it to be used—that is, how it is possible with it to find, between two
straight lines, two or more mean proportionals, following the thinking of
Eratosthenes. We shall first find two proportionals between two straight
lines, and then find several mean proportions between two straight lines
(Fig. 9.3.4).

Fig. 9.3.4. [The proof of Eratosthenes redrawn with missing points added
for clarification, shown in red] Image and caption [p. 360]: Use of the
proof of Eratosthenes with the instrument

Let there be two straight lines, ab and cd, both of which fall on a third
line such that they are parallel.25 Extend line cd so that it is equal to ab, the
end of it being e. From a a line is drawn to e, so that a quadrangular surface
is made with abc. Line bc is then divided into three parts, and one of which
is where point f is; let point g be drawn somewhat in front of f, so that from
b to g is somewhat more than a third of bc. Likewise, on line ac [recte ae] let
a point be marked that is as far from a as g is from b; let that be h. Then g is

25 
In the demonstration that follows, in some instances the order of the literals has been
modified for the sake of uniformity; these modifications will not be noted.
p. 357 589

connected to a and to h. Line ad cuts line gh at point i. Likewise, line ab is

cut at a distance equal to that from g to i; let that be distance be bk. From
i to k a line is drawn until it touches line ga; let that point be marked l. By
the thirty-third proposition of the first book of Euclid, line ab is parallel to
line gih. By our assumption that lines gi and bh [recte bk] are equal, it fol-
lows that line bg is parallel to line li. Further, from lines gc and he are taken
away two parts equal to part li: let those parts be gm and hn, and let m be
connected to i and to n. By the aforementioned proposition, gl and mi are
parallel and so too are gh and mn. Further, line mn cuts ad at point o. Let a
portion equal to mo be taken on line bk, and let that be bp. A line is drawn
from point o to point p so that it touches line im at point q. If then line me
[recte mc] is equal to oq, it is correct; but if mc is smaller, then bg will have
been taken greater than it ought to have been. So, it is necessary to make bg
somewhat smaller, and do the drawing over, and experiment until part oq
is equal to mc. When mc is equal to oq, co and mq shall be parallel, by the
assumption and the thirtieth proposition of the first book of the Elements.
Finally, ab, ig, om, and dc shall be the first parallels, and ag, im, oc the
second parallels. I say that to lines ab and dc the mean proportionals are ig
and om. Let then ad and bc be extended in length so that they meet at point
r. By the similarity of triangles, in the first parallels as ar is to ri, then so is
br to gr. Further, in the second parallels, as is ar to ri, so is gr to mr. In the
first parallels, as gr is to mr, so is ir to or, and in the second parallels as ir is
to or, so is mr to cr. Therefore br, gr, mr and ro [recte cr] are in continuous
proportion. But also having the same proportions, by the fourth proposition
of the sixth book of the Elements, are these: as ab is to ig, so is ig to om, and
mo to dc. Thus between two straight lines, ab and cd, have been found two
lines in continuous proportion, as it was necessary to do.
With similar rationales we can find as many mean proportionals as we
wish. Here to find two mean proportionals, bf is a third of bc, so that bg
is somewhat larger than a third of bc and never less than or equal to bf. To
find three mean proportionals, bf shall be a fourth of bc, and bg somewhat
larger than bf. To find four, bf shall be a fifth of bc and bg somewhat larger
than bf—that is, somewhat larger than a fifth of bc. Thus bc will always be
divided into one part more than the number of means that we wish to find,
and in each case bf will be one of those parts and bg somewhat larger than
bf. Part bf is taken so that it enters exactly a certain number of times into bc
so that the size of bc [recte bg] can be more quickly conjectured.
590 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[The proof and instrument of Archytas26]

As regards the discovery of Archytas, I have to say that the invention
is difficult and the proof is very subtle, so that many have denied being able
to find the instrument that is conform with the proof. With as much ease
as we can, we will demonstrate the proposal, the fundaments of which are
sprinkled among the many propositions and the theorems of Euclid, which
are necessarily [p. 358] taken for certain because it would be too much to
undo each link of such a great chain. Let there be given two straight lines, ad
the larger and c the smaller, between which it is necessary to find two mean
proportionals (Fig. 9.3.5).

Fig. 9.3.5. Image and caption [p. 360]: The proof of Archytas27

Let us take then the larger, about which we make a circle, abdf, in
which, by the first proposition of the third book of Euclid, is placed a line
equal to line c—that is, ab—which is extended out beyond the circle, ar-
riving at point p; let p be the end of a line that is dropped down so that

For an explanation of the method of Archytas, see Heath (1921, vol. 1, pp. 246-249).
26 

Cfr. the figure and explanation in in Valla (1501, exp. et fvg.lib.xiii. et geometriae
27 

iiii, n.p.).
p. 358 591

it touches the circle at point d and goes to point o; that line will be pdo.
Let another line be drawn parallel to this, intersecting line ad at point c
[recte e]. Conceive then a semicylinder set vertically on the semicircle abd.
Then let us conceive on the parallelogram of the semicylinder on ad [i.e., on
the rectangular face of the semicylinder] is drawn a semicircle that, like the
parallelogram of said semicylinder, is at right angles to the plane of circle
abdf. This semicircle is revolved from point d to point b, remaining fixed
at point a, which is the endpoint of the diameter ad. In its revolving it cuts
the cylindrical surface, and describes a certain [curved] line. Further, if the
line ad remains fixed and triangle apd, moving, makes a motion contrary to
that of the semicircle, then without a doubt it will describe a conic surface
of the straight line ap.28 This, in revolving, is conjoined at some point to the
line that was described previously by means of the movement of the semi-
circle on the surface of the semicylinder. Similarly, b will also circumscribe
a semicircle in the surface of the cone. Finally, semicircle ade shall have its
place when it is moved to where the lines, falling, concur. The triangle that
moves in the contrary direction will be located at dla; let the point of said
falling be k. Let there also be described through b a semicircle bmf;29 and its
intersection with semicircle bdfa shall be line bf. Then from point k to the
plane of the semicircle bda, a perpendicular shall fall: it is certain that it shall
fall on the circumference of the circle because the cylinder was set vertically
on the plane of that very circle. Let it fall, then, and be ki, and the line that
comes from i to a shall intersect bf at point h. Because both semicircles dka
[oka 30] and bmf are set vertically on the plane of circle abdf, their intersec-
tion mh is at right angles to the plane of circle abdf. Thus, the area under
bh and hf—that is, under ah and hi—is equal to that which come from hm.
Then, by the converse of the corollary of the eighth proposition of the sixth
book of the Elements, angle ami is right and triangle ami is similar to both
triangles mab and akd. Angle dka is right, by the thirty-first proposition
of the third book of the Elements, because by the assumption it is inside the
semicircle. And (as has been proved) angle ami is right. Thus, according to
the twenty-ninth proposition of the first book of the Elements, dk and mi are
parallel. By the same proposition ki and mh are parallel, so—by assumption

28 
That is, triangle apd, with side ap, is revolved, it forms a right cone.
29 
This is a circle centred on e that passes through points b, m, and f.
30 
In Fig. 9.3.5 point d, after revolution, is labelled point o, thus dka is equivalent to oka.
592 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and by the things that have been proved—ki and mh are perpendiculars at
right angles to the plane of the circle abdf. Thus it stands proportionally that
as da is to ak so ka is to ai, and ia to am, because triangles dak [recte oak]
kai, and ima are similar, by the fourth proposition of the sixth book of the
Elements. Consequently, the four lines da, ak, ai, and am are in continuous
proportion, and as am is equal to ah, then am is equal to c, by the common
notion that says that things that are equal to one thing are equal to each
other. Given then two straight lines ad and c, two mean proportionals—ak
and ai—have been found, which is what it was required to do.
But it seems to me that the instrument is more readily of use to us than
the proof, so let us imagine a circle made in the plane as abdf, and that on
it at right angles falls a semicylinder, placed on diameter acd [recte aed] of
said circle. At point a is set vertically a semicircle which, fixed at point a,
revolves and is half in and half out of the semicylinder according to the cut
that it makes, and that above that is a triangle and a quarter-circle, from
which lines shall fall as needed. So this is how the instrument is made, as I
was shown by those excellent men in Rome.31 Since they will, following their
fine [p. 359] discoveries, be bringing to light this and other beautiful things,
I will gratefully leave to their care the publication of them.

[The proof and instrument of Plato32]

Now I come to the proof and instrument of Plato (Fig. 9.3.6).
Connect at right angles, at point b, two straight lines between which you
want to find two mean proportionals. Let the larger be bg and the smaller
be. Then extend both of them out from angle b—the large towards d and
the smaller towards c—and make two right angles, finding the appropriate
points c and point d on their respective lines; one angle shall be gcd and the
other cde. I say that between the two straight lines be and bg you will have
two other, proportional lines, which are db and cb, because we have presup-
posed that angle cde is right and that de is parallel to cg. It follows by the
twenty-ninth proposition of the first book that angle gcd is right, and equal

31 
In Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 274), Barbaro credits mathematician Antonio Maria Pazzi with
having given him the instrument, which is carefully illustrated there on (1567 Lat., p. 277).
A detailed discussion of the correspondence between Barbaro and Pazzi, as well as a general
discussion of Barbaro’s presentation of solutions to the problem of mean proportionals, is
found in Gessner (2010).
32 
For an explanation of the method attributed Plato, see Heath (1921, vol. 1, pp. 255-258).
p. 359 593

to angle cde, which similarly we presupposed to be a right angle. So, as ac-

cording to our composition, db is perpendicular to cbe, then similarly cb is
perpendicular to dbg. Thus by the corollary of the eighth proposition of the
sixth book, db is the proportional line that falls between be and cb; similarly,
line cb is the mean proportional between db and bg. Having established the
ratio and common proportion of lines db and cb, it follows that bg will be in
the same ratio to line db that cb is to be because the ratio of both, as has been
shown, is as db to cb, by the eleventh proposition of the fifth book. Thus as
bg is to db, so db is to cb, and cd to be. Given then two lines, bg and cb [recte
be], we have found two mean proportionals db and cb. This is the rationale
of Plato.

Fig. 9.3.6. Image and caption [p. 360]: Plato’s proof

The instrument is this (Fig. 9.3.7): let there be a set square kml,33 and
in one arm of it set a ruler no, which makes a right angle with that arm; it
can be moved towards point m, or towards point e [recte I]. Having made
this most simple instrument, and wishing to find two mean proportionals
between two given lengths, let the two lengths—for example, be and bg, as
they were called in the proof above—be joined at point b at a right angle, and

There is a lack of correspondences of letters between the proof given and Fig. 9.3.7: point
33 

K is not shown, and point I is indicated on the top right of the vertical element in Fig. 9.3.7.
594 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

let them be extended as above. Now the instrument is taken and accommo-
dated to the lines cb [recte be] and bg so that side km of the set square falls
on g and angle m is joined to line cb. Angle o [recte n] is on line bd and the
moveable ruler comes to point e such that point m is superimposed over point
c, and point o falls on d [recte n]. When you have thus arranged and set up the
instrument, you will have found between lines be and bg two mean propor-
tionals—that is, db and cb—of which the proof is the same as given above.

Fig. 9.3.7. Image and caption [p. 360]: Plato’s instrument

[The proof and instrument of Nicomedes34]

Nicomedes used another proof, and accordingly contrived another in-
strument, and with great subtlety of invention, surpassing Eratosthenes, was
of great benefit to the scholars of geometry. To make the instrument, take
two rulers and place one at the top of the other at right angles, so that both
are in the same plane and neither higher than the other, in the shape of the
letter T (Fig. 9.3.8). Let one of them, line ab, be vertical, and the other, cd,
horizontal. Make a channel lengthwise along the middle of ab, into which

34 
The proof and instrument of Nicomedes was transmitted by Eutocius in his commentary
on Archimedes. See Archimedes (1544, pp. 22-23); Archimedes (1881, vol. 3, pp. 115-129);
Archimedes (2004, pp. 298-306). This present translation follows Barbaro’s own translation.
Cfr. Valla (1501, exp. et fvg.lib.xiii. et geometriae iiii, n.p.).
pp. 359-362 595

from below is fit a wedge shaped like a swallow’s tail that can be pushed
up and down in the channel without coming out. Let a line then be placed
lengthwise in the centre of ruler cd, and at the end of it, where the letter d
is, let there be placed a peg; let that peg, gh, be at right angles, sticking up
somewhat beyond the plane of ruler cd. In this peg let there be a hole in
which is inserted a little rod, ef, which shall be connected to the wedge that
was placed in the channel of ruler ab; the end of said rod is k. If you move
the wedge in the channel towards point a or towards point b, the little rod
joined to it will also move; point e will always move in a straight line, and
the little rod ef, which goes through the hole of peg gh, will move in and
out of that hole; the straight line in the middle of the little rod ef will move
according to the aforementioned movement by the hinge of the peg. Finally,
it is observed that the excess ek on the little rod ef is always the same, and of
the same length. So, if we place something at point k that could draw on a
plane beneath it, then moving [p. 362] the little rod, one would mark in the
plane a curved line, lmn. Nicomedes calls this the ‘first conchoid’; the space
between e and k is called the ‘magnitude of the ruler’; and point d, the ‘pole’.

Fig. 9.3.8. Image and caption [p. 360]: The instrument of Nicomedes and
proof of the first property
596 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Nicomedes proves that found in this curved line are three principal
properties. One is that the farther curved line lmn is extended, the closer
it comes to straight line ab. As is seen (Fig. 9.3.8), point c is farther from
line ab than point n; point n is farther than point m; and finally, point m is
farther than point l. This can been seen clearly by letting lines perpendicular
to line ab fall from these points c, m, n, and l.
The second property is this: if between ruler ab and the curved line is
drawn a line, it will ultimately cross the curved one (Fig. 9.3.9).

Fig. 9.3.9. Image and caption [p. 362]: The second property of the curved line

Let the ruler be ab and the pole c, and in the space de let there be drawn
the curved line called a conchoid. Between that and the ruler ab let there
be drawn a straight line, fgb. I say that line fgb, extended, will intersect
the curved line previously drawn. Line fgb may or may not be parallel to
ab. Let’s say first that it is parallel, and make it so that as dg is to gc, so too
is de to another as k. With the centre at c and distance [i.e., radius] k, the
circumference drawn will cut line fg at point f. Let c and f be connected, in-
tersecting ab at L. It thus stands that as dg is to gc, so is Lf to fc, and as dg is
to gc, so is de to k—that is, to cf. Therefore de will thus found to be equal to
Lf, which can’t be because in this way the part would be equal to the whole.
This is shown made clear by extending cf until it intersects the curved line
drawn through e at o. Since the straight line Lfo is equal to de, by the defini-
tion of the conchoid, it thus remains that the straight line fgh intersects the
pp. 362-363 597

curved one if it is drawn towards the same side. But let the line that is drawn
between the ruler ab and the curved one, mgn, not be parallel. Let the fg be
drawn through g parallel to the ruler ab. Thus fg will intersect the curved
line, and furthermore, so will mn. These properties being gathered along
with the instrument, their usefulness to our purpose will be proven when the
third property is provided. It is this: the straight line ab and the first curve,
or conchoid, will never meet, even if they were extended to infinity.
This is easily made clear if the form of the instrument with which the
curved line is made is carefully observed, since in that form the middle line
of the ruler ef, in describing the curved line, always intersects straight line
ab at point e. For this reason point k will never arrive at [p. 363] line ab,
even though it comes closer and closer to it, by the first property outlined
above. Therefore, the first curved line, or conchoid, and the straight line
above which it is drawn, shall never meet, even if they are drawn to infinity,
and come ever closer together, which was what was to be proved.

Fig. 9.3.10. Image and caption [p. 361]: Proof of the third property and
axiom of Nicomedes35

This assumption of Nicomedes is useful for the following proof (Fig.

9.3.10). If an angle is formed with a straight line that is infinite on one side,
and it is desired to draw, from a given point outside, a straight line that cuts
two straight lines at the same angle, and of which straight line a short seg-
ment comprised between the two that form the given angle is equal to the

35 
Cfr. the figure in Valla (1501, exp. et fvg.lib.xiii. et geometriae iiii, n.p.).
598 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

given [recte a given] line, it will be done is this way. Let the given line be ab,
which on the side of b extends to infinity, and on that let there be drawn
the given angle bag. Let the point outside ab be c, and the given straight
line d. From c to ab let there be drawn the perpendicular, which shall be
ck, to which is joined ef equal to d. By means of the instrument described
above, from pole c and at distance ef from ruler ab, let there be described
a curved line, or first conchoid. Thus by the second property, line ag to the
first conchoid extended beyond will intersect with conchoid fg. It will thus
intersect at g, and line cg will intersect ab at h. I say that gh will be equal to
d. This is made clear by the fact that by the definition of the first conchoid,
line gh is equal to line ef, and by what we had presupposed, ef is equal to d.
Thus by the common notion that says that things equal to a third thing are
also equal to one another, straight line gh is equal to d. Thus is done what
was proposed.
According to Nicomedes one can find the two mean proportionals be-
tween two straight lines in this way (Fig. 9.3.11).36
Let there be two straight lines be ab and bc, placed at right angles,
between which are to be found two mean proportionals. Let parallelogram
abcd be made. Let each of those lines be cut in two parts: cd at e and da at f.
Point b shall be joined to point e and that line extended so that it falls on ad,
also extended, at point g. Let line fh fall at right angles from line ad, and let
ah be made as long as ce. Let g and h be conjoined; to that line is parallel ai;
thus angle kai is equal to angle fgh, according to the aforegoing assumption
[i.e., that ai is parallel to gh]. Let straight line gik [recte hik] be drawn to
intersect ai in i and let da be extended in the direction of a to k, so that ik is
equal to ah. Points k and b conjoined, that line is extended it until it meets
dc, also extended, at point l. I say that as ab is to ak, so are ak to lc, and lc
to cb. So cd is cut in two parts at e [recte da is cut in two parts at f], and to
this is added ka; by the sixth proposition of the second book of the Elements,
the rectangle on da and ak added to the square on af is equal to the square
on fk. Let there be added to both quantities the square on fh. Thus the rec-
tangle formed by dk and ka with that which is formed by af and fh—that is,
adding that square which is made on ag—is equal to the squares made on
kf and fh—that is, the square on kh. And given that as lc is to cd so is lb to

36 
For an explanation of this method of Nicomedes, see Heath (1921, vol. 1, pp. 260-262).
Cfr. Valla (1501, exp. et fvg.lib.xiii. et geometriae iiii, n.p.).
pp. 363-364 599

bk, and as lb is to bk so is da to ak. Therefore, as lc is to cd, da is to ak. But

ce is half of cd, and ag is the double of da. By the fourth proposition of the
sixth book, as ab is to de, so ga is to ad. From the presuppositions, ba is the
double of de, and therefore ga is the double of ad. It shall be, therefore, that
as lc is to ce, so ga is to ak, by the same and permutated proportion, by the
twenty-third proposition of the fifth book of the Elements. As ga is to ak,
so is hi to ik, by the second proposition of the sixth book of the Elements.
By the assumptions, gh and ai are parallel. And compounding according to
the eighteenth proposition of the fifth book, it follows that as le is to ec, so
hk is to ki. But ki has been set equal to ce, so ik is equal to ah, and ah to
ce, and thus el is equal to hk. Consequently the square on le is equal to the
square on hk. The square on le is equal to the rectangle on dl and lc added
to the square on ce, by the sixth proposition of the second book of the Ele-
ments. The square on hk has been proved to be equal to the rectangle on dk
and ka together with that made on hk, of which the square on ce is equal
to [p. 364] the square on ah because it was assumed that ah is equal to ce.

Fig. 9.3.11. [The method of Nicomedes for finding two mean

proportionals. Note in the image that, in order for the proof to match the
figure, points e and c have been inverted, and that line fh has been drawn;
these modifications are indicated in red] Image and caption [p. 361]: Use
of the instrument of Nicomedes and his proof
600 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

By the common notion that if from equal things, equal parts are taken, they
remain equal, the rectangle formed by dl and lc is equal to that on da and
ak. By the fourteenth proposition of the sixth book of the Elements, the sides
of parallelograms that are equal and also have equal angles are reciprocally
proportional. Thus as ld is to dk, so is ka to cl, and as dl is to dk, so too are
ab to ak, and lc to cb. Given therefore two straight lines ab and bc, there
have been found two mean proportionals, which are ak and lc, which it was
the intention to do.
The ancients had other ways to find the two mean proportionals, such
as those of Philoponus, of Dione of Byzantium,37 of Diocles, of Pappus in
the Mechanics, of Sporus,38 and of Menaechmus, all of which can be found
in the commentaries of Archimedes. Johannes Werner sets them forth in a
learned way,39 which we won’t go into so as not to be tedious. Let us come,
therefore, to the way of doubling and multiplying solids so that the utility of
such fine proofs and many instruments becomes clear.
So, given a certain solid, I want to make another similar one to it and
in a given ratio to it. Let the given solid be a (Fig. 9.9.12). I want to make
another that is the same ratio to a as line b is to line c. A line is taken equal
to one of the sides of the solid; let that be d. As is the ratio of b to c—be it
double, or triple, or some other—let there be d to e. By one or another of the
proofs given above, two mean proportionals are found; let those be f and g.
Then from some straight line equal to f, by the twenty-seventh proposition
of the eleventh book of the Elements, a solid is made; and let that be h. It
will be similar, and similarly placed, to the given solid a. By the thirty-third
proposition of the same [i.e., eleventh] book—or rather, by the corollary to
that proposition—if there are four straight lines in continued proportion,
then as the first is to the fourth, so is the solid made from the first line to the
similar and similarly drawn solid made from the second. The ratio therefore
of solid a to similar solid h is as d to e and, by the supposition, d to e has the
same ratio as b to c. Therefore, to the given solid a, a similar solid h has been
formed in the given ratio of b to c, as was the intention.
37 
Barbaro gives the name ‘Dione Bizantio’ but Werner (1522, ‘Commentarius seu
Paraphrasica enarratio in uns decim modos consiciendi eius problematis quod cubi duplicacio
dicitur’, n.p.) identifies him as ‘Philon bisantius’; for another source, but after Barbaro, see
Clavius (1604, p. 298).
38 
Sporus of Nicaea. Barbaro refers to him as ‘Poro’, and Philander (1544, p. 299) as ‘Pori’.
39 
See Werner (1522, ‘Commentarius seu Paraphrasica enarratio in uns decim modos
consiciendi eius problematis quod cubi duplicacio dicitur’, n.p.).
 601

Fig. 9.9.12. Image and caption [p. 361]: Duplication of cubes

It is sometimes necessary to transform and reduce one solid into anoth-

er, and to proportion several solids. If we want to make a cube that is equal
to a given parallelepiped, it is done in this way (Fig. 9.3.13).

Fig. 9.3.13. [Making a cube equal to a given parallelepiped] Image [p. 361]
602 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Let there be a given solid parallelepiped abcd of width ab, height bc and
length cd. It is necessary to make a cube equal to it. By the last [i.e., four-
teenth] proposition of the second book of the Elements, is found the square
side [i.e., root] of the surface abc—that is, a straight line whose square is
equal to surface abc, called e. Then by means of one of the previous proofs
are found two proportionals between e and cd, which are f and g. I say that
the cube of straight line f shall be equal to the given parallelepiped abcd,
since by the corollary to the nineteenth proposition of the sixth book of the
Elements, the ratio of the square made from f to the square made from e is as
the ratio of the square made from cd to the square made from f. By the thir-
ty-fourth proposition of the eleventh book, solid parallelepipeds whose bases
are reciprocals of their heights are equal. Thus the cube made from f is equal
to the given solid parallelepiped abcd. From this it follows that, among col-
umns, those that have sides of which the opposing planes are parallel and the
other planes are parallelograms, by the above-stated rationale, can easily be
converted into cubes because a parallelepiped whose base is a square equal
to a polygonal base and whose height is equal to that of the column, is equal
to the column itself. It can also be proved that a solid parallelepiped raised
to a given height can be made equal to a given cube. Let the given height be
straight line a and the given cube b. It is necessary to raise to a given height a
a parallelepiped that is equal to cube b. Let c be equal to a side of cube b and,
by the eleventh proposition of the sixth book of the Elements, let the mean
proportional be e. I say then that the parallelepiped whose base is equal to
the square made on e and [p. 365] whose the height is equal to a will be
equal to given cube b (Fig. 9.3.13).
So by construction, the three lines—that is, e, c and d—are in con-
tinued proportion. Therefore by the corollary of the nineteenth proposition
of the sixth book, the ratio of the square that comes from c [recte e] to the
square that comes from e [recte c] is as c [recte e] to d—that is, as a to c—
because by the assumption a is to c as c [recte e] is to d. But the square that
comes from c is the base of cube b, and the square that comes from e is
the base of the parallelepiped that is to be made. Thus by the thirty-fourth
proposition of the eleventh book of the Elements, the solid parallelepiped
whose base is equal to the square e and whose height is equal to the given a is
equal to given cube b, which is what was to be proved. Here it would still be
necessary to continue on and demonstrate how various shapes and solids are
transformed into other shapes and how they are not only doubled but tripled
p. 365 603

and multiplied as well, if the principles given thus far were not sufficient. But
let us return to Vitruvius, who says:
(Vitruvius) [IX.Pref.14 cont.] It is sure, then, that with great pleasure of
doctrine such things have been noted, and naturally they were forced into move-
ment by the discovery of each thing, considering the effects. While I regard many
things with attention, I have not a little admiration for the volumes composed by
Democritus on the nature of things, and on his commentary entitled Chirotonito,
in which he used the ring, sealing with a wax tinted with minium the things that
he had experimented.
(Barbaro) Here I would read cirocinnavos,40 because ciros meant wax and
cinnavos the images that statuaries present to the eyes. Thus Democritus,
imprinting his experiences in wax to remember them, kept them before his
eyes. And those notes were like commentaries because they committed the
experiences to the mind. Pliny reads it Cirocineta.41 Philander interprets it as
‘commentary on selected things’.42 But the reading that I have given it ap-
pears best to me because Vitruvius himself almost declares as much, saying
‘in which he used the ring, sealing with wax tinted with minium the things that
he had experimented ’. It is certain that Democritus marked in red wax the
things proven in order to keep them in his memory, as we are accustomed
to use colour to mark selected things in the margins of books, to keep them
handy. Vitruvius goes on:
(Vitruvius) [IX.Pref.15] Men’s discoveries were therefore not only set up
in order to correct customs, but for the perpetual utility of everyone. But the ac-
claimed greatness of the athletes, like their bodies, quickly grows old, so that neither
when they greatly flourish, nor later in posterity, can they benefit human life as
the thoughts of wise men do with fine teachings, [IX.Pref.16] not trusting the due
honours nor the claims, nor the precepts of the talented writers, and looking at the
highest minds that the air with the steps of memories forces to be raised to heaven, so
that eternally not only the pronouncements but their images are known to posterity.
So he who has a mind adorned with the pleasures of letters cannot help but have
consecrated in his breast, like the gods, the simulacrum of the poet Ennius, and
those who take assiduous pleasure in the verses of Accius appear to have present not

40 
Barbaro is dealing with the interpretation of the title left in Greek by Fra Giocondo (1511,
p. 86r) and Cesariano (1522, p. CXLVIIr). See Philander (1544, p. 313), which gives the
transcription as xeipotónhkton.
41 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 24.102, where it is called Chirocmeta.
42 
Philander (1544, p. 313).
604 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

only the virtue of the words, but also his image. [IX.Pref.17] Thus many who shall
be born after our memory shall discuss the nature of things with Lucretius as if he
were present, similarly the art of speaking with Cicero, and many who come after
us shall reason with Varro about the Latin language. And many lovers of knowl-
edge, deliberating many things with the sages of Greece, shall appear to be privately
reasoning with them. In sum, the pronouncements of the good writers, flowering
still when their bodies are long gone, when adopted in sentences and disputations,
have greater authority that those of the ones present. [IX.Pref.18] Therefore, O
Caesar, trusting to these authors and taking their sentiments and council, I have
written these volumes. In the first seven I have treated buildings, in the eighth
waters, and in this ninth book the rationales of gnomons, how the shadows of the
gnomons were found from the rays of the sun in the world, and I shall set forth
clearly the rationales by which they lengthen and shorten.
(Barbaro) [p. 366] Vitruvius concludes his long digression. It seems that
everything up to here constitutes the preface to the present book, which has
perhaps been divided into many parts because of the diversity of the things
treated. The whole is as easy as it is worthy of being put to work, being full
of very useful precepts for those who delight in knowing and conserving in
memory the things learned.

Chapter IV
On the rationales of gnomons found from the shadows
of the rays of the sun; on the world; on the planets

[p. 366] (Vitruvius) [IX.I.1] Those things were acquired with a divine mind,
and great is the admiration of those who consider that the shadow on the equinox
made by the gnomon is of one height in Athens, of another in Alexandria, and of
yet another in Rome. Nor is that in Piacenza the same as in other places on earth.
Thus there are many different descriptions of clocks depending on the differences
between lands, so from the length of the equinoctial shadows are drawn the forms
of analemmas, from which are made the descriptions of the hours according to the
rationale of the places and the shadows of the gnomons.
(Barbaro) It is an admirable doctrine that Vitruvius gives us in the pres-
ent book of the things of astronomy. Even more admirable is his brevity.
Thus the present treatise must be studied with diligence and greater than
p. 366 605

average attention because it touches very briefly on that which has been
gathered in many volumes. In order not to create confusion, we will say
everything in an ordered way according to Vitruvius’s words, which really,
instead of mere words, deserve to be called pronouncements or conclusions.
The present book therefore deals with the rationales of sundials43 and shad-
ows. Shadow is simply when the rays of a luminous body are blocked by
an opaque body, but the treatment here regards heavenly bodies that give
light, and thus embraces the movements of the heavens, the shape, and the
measure of the whole. He introduces his treatment in this way: when we see
that the day and the night are equal, this time is called the equinox, which
arrives two times a year, in March and in September. The exceptions are
those who are on the equinoctial line—because they have this always—and
those who are at the poles—because they never have twelve hours of day and
twelve of night. So I say—seeing that at the time of the equinoxes at midday
in different locations—the shadow is differently proportioned to buildings,
trees, styluses, and to all things that rise straight up from the earth, so that
at certain times in some locations the shadow is equal to the things that
create them, in others it is longer and in others shorter. We have great cause
to wonder, and so by natural instinct we try to find where the difference
in shadow comes from. Seeing that this mutation can only arise from the
difference in the height of the sun, which at times is higher in some places
and lower in others, we begin to investigate the course of the sun. Those
things that we cannot draw in heaven, we draw on earth with lines and fig-
ures, providing the entire rationale of everything. He who is so subtle and
ingenious as to discover such descriptions can justly be said to be of divine
intellect, and his discoveries called more divine than human. This is what
Vitruvius has said thus far. He then states how the drawing of lines that is
made to demonstrate the course of the sun is called, saying that it is called
‘analemma’, which he then defines by saying:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.1] The analemma is rationale sought in the course of the
sun and the lengthening shadow, found from observation of the winter solstice,

Barbaro uses the term horologi da Sole (lit., ‘sun clocks’), for which I have chosen the
43 

translation ‘sundials’. This is intended to evoke the correct mental image, and to avoid
confusion with mechanical clocks, which Barbaro in fact mentions in two places: the
mention of counter-weighted clocks in bell towers of churches (p. 202), and the lengthy
discussion of the water-powered clock of Ctesibius (pp. 430-437). I am grateful to James
Lattis for discussions on this and many other terms that arise in the course of this chapter.
606 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

whose effects in the world were discovered by means of rationales of architecture

and drawings with the compass.
(Barbaro) [p. 367] The ancients began their year with the winter sol-
stice, which comes in December; this they called winter. They observed that
in that time at midday the shadow of the gnomon was longer than at mid-
day in other times, and they therefore concluded that the sun at that time
was lowest. Then drawing circles in a plane and erecting gnomons—that is,
shadow styluses—on the plane, they drew lines from the circles to the points
of the stylus, and continuing those lines, they represented the shadows on
the plane, proportioning the shadows with the stylus, which, because it was
at right angles to the plane, was called ‘gnomon’. Then from day to day at
midday they measured the height of the sun, which, from the time of winter
to time of summer, rose higher each day. Deducing in this way the height of
the noonday sun, they drew it in the plane, the drawing showing on earth
the effects of heaven; this drawing was called the analemma, which is like
a replication of the course of the sun used to make sundials according to
the diversities of place. They took the height of the sun and the noonday
shadows because the meridian circle is more certain and observable than
the others. Because in the definition of the analemma, Vitruvius said, ‘whose
effects in the world were discovered ’, he now takes this opportunity to declare
what is meant by ‘world’.44
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.2] World is a very great concept of the nature of all things
and of the heavens, shaped by the stars.
(Barbaro). The world embraces two things: the first is the heavens; the
second is all that which is comprised in the heavens, which the moderns, in
the division of the sphere, have called the elemental and the heavenly re-
gions.45 It was necessary to place the heavens there because in the heavens are
placed the luminous bodies, the rays of which make the effects in the world.
The world is therefore a most great and most high concept of all things be-
cause it is perfect. Perfect is that in which nothing is missing, and to which
nothing can be added.46 The world deserves the name perfect because it is
made of all materials; because it embraces everything; because it has begin-
ning, middle and end; and because it contains and is not contained. Vitruvius
44 
‘World’ here is intended as ‘universe’ or ‘cosmos’ (Latin mundus, Barbaro mondo).
45 
For a similar discussion, see Finé (1542, p. 1ff).
46 
See Barbaro, p. 112 for the first instance of this definition of beauty. Cfr. Alberti: (1485,
6.2) and (1988, p. 156).
pp. 367-368 607

attributes perfection to it, saying conceptio summa, because the highest is that
beyond which nothing is found47 and in which all is comprised. Thus the
world is an immense embracing of all natures, both those which are acted
upon and receive some impression, such as the elements, and mixtures both
perfect and imperfect, and those that have the virtue of doing and influenc-
ing, such as the heavenly bodies. These natures are one inside the other, so
that this earthly wax can be formed by the heavenly bodies, which is why
Vitruvius says ‘heavens shaped by stars’. Reasoning about this, he says:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.2] This heaven continually revolves around the land and
the sea, by the extreme ends of its pivot, which is called axis.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius leaves aside the first part of the definition of the
world [i.e., the elemental] because it is not pertinent here. He treats the sec-
ond part, which is the heavens. In few words he says many things that we
shall speak of distinctly. That the heavens move is manifest to the senses by
the changing locations of the heavenly bodies, which are never at rest. It is
also widely noted that the movement is circular about the sea and the land,
and that it revolves on a pivot imagined to exist between its extremes. So
if heaven embraces every thing, every place, every space, if it were to move
around in some way other than in a circular form, it would surely leave ei-
ther a space or a void outside of itself, which is not reasonable. Besides this
there are many other occurrences that allow us to understand that heaven
moves around in a circle and that its shape resembles its movement. There
are volumes full of this, and experiments of it are made with instruments.
Because we see a continuous movement in one direction, we imagine two
very stable points diametrically opposed to each other, through the centres
of which we imagine a line passing. Those points are called cardine because it
is almost as though heaven revolves about them. They were called ‘poles’ by
the Greeks. The imaginary line that goes from one end point to the other,
passing through the centre of the world, is called the axis; its ends are the
poles of the world. All that is said of points or lines or circles in heaven is
said for greater clarity of expression, and not because we actually find these
in the heavens as [p. 368] some would have it, finding in the poles the virtue
of moving, which is refuted by Aristotle in the book of the movement of ani-
mals, arguing that this cannot be since the poles have no size, but are instead
This definition recalls the ontological argument of the existence of God—that than which
47 

nothing greater can be thought—first set forth by St. Anselm of Cambridge in the Proslogion
(eleventh century).
608 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

indivisible points.48 Perhaps with what was said by Aristotle we can correct
Vitruvius, who as an architect must be forgiven, when he says:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.2] Because in such places the virtue of nature, like an ar-
chitect, has fabricated and situated the end points like centres, one over the sea and
land, and the other on the opposite side, in the southern parts. There, about these end
points, as about centres, he made wheels as perfect as if turned a lathe, which were
called poles by the Greeks, by means of which heaven turns unceasingly on the swift-
est course. Thus the earth with the sea in the middle has been placed as the centre.
(Barbaro) There are two poles, or end points, which are on opposite
sides of the diameter of the world, but it’s not that one is above and the other
below, unless we mean with respect to the inhabitants of the earth. It must
be understood that Vitruvius had to say things in this way. And because
he doesn’t say how it can be seen, saying that nature placed them so one is
above and the other below, it is necessary for us to understand immediately
that those who are beneath the equinoctial line don’t have one pole higher
than the other; those who are on the other side of it have their pole elevated
higher above the horizon, while to those of us who live on this side of the
line the pole is lower. Ours to them is southerly, as theirs is to us. So this site
of which Vitruvius speaks must be understood relatively and not absolutely,
if (as Vitruvius says) the earth with the sea has been naturally located in the
middle as the centre. It is certain that in some regions a pole will be higher,
and in others lower, and in some they both shall be equally located in the
plane of the horizon. Thus it has been concluded by all the astronomers that,
wherever man is located on the earth, the plane of his horizon divides the
heavens into two equal parts. Almost all of the instruments that are used, are
used as though man were at the centre of the earth. It is necessary to conclude
that the earth is in the guise of the centre of the world, and that what is seen
is equally divided from what which is unseen by the plane of the horizon.
Since we therefore have two points as fixed terminals, on which the heavens
revolve, Vitruvius goes on to describe the heavens with the signs, and says:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.3] These things by nature are disposed in such a way so that
in the northern part the centre is higher over the world and in the southern part the
lower places of the world are hidden from the earth, thus crosswise in the middle of
the world is formed a zone like a circular belt with twelve signs curving towards

See Aristotle, Movement of Animals (1941, pp. 447-448): ‘They are not right, however, in
48 

holding that the poles possess a kind of force, since they have no magnitude and are only
extremities and points’.
pp. 368-369 609

the south, which form is divided into twelve equal parts by certain dispositions of
stars, each of which expresses a form that nature painted there.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, wising to say many things, becomes quite obscure
because of the difficult way he says them. Seeing the sure and continuous
rotation of the heavens from east to west, we have found the two poles and
the axis in certain, determined locations. Considering then the movement
that the sun makes in a year, and that first it rises in a part of the horizon
and from one wind, and then from another, and that sometimes at midday it
comes near to the point that is directly over us, and at other times it is low-
er, and that the days and nights vary in length, we know that the ancients,
carefully noting and observing these things, found the oblique way of the
sun, along which, with a motion contrary to the first motion, it travels day
by day, making all of that perceptible mutation. Likewise noting that the
bodies of the other planets follow the path of the sun but do not stay equally
near to it, they called the path through which the sun and the other planets
pass ‘belt’ or ‘zone’. Just as in its girth a belt doesn’t form a simple line, but
has width, so the path of the planets has been imagined to be circular and
wide, and is known to curve on one side towards one pole on one side and
towards the other on the other side, and to embrace all of heaven—that is, it
is one of the great circles. In that belt have been recognized certain groups
of stars, to which has been given the name ‘signs’; they are twelve. Vitruvius
calls them twelve equal parts [p. 369] because there are thirty degrees per
sign, out of the three hundred and sixty parts into which the circle has been
divided for greater convenience. The Greeks called the path of the planets
‘zodiac’ and the Latins signifer because the signs are in it. The path of the
sun was called the ‘ecliptic’ because the sun and the moon at certain points
on it make eclipses—that is, their lessenings and darkenings. The zodiac has
width because the course of the planets requires it. Its circumference is also
divided into 360 parts. The path of the sun called the ecliptic is in the mid-
dle of the width of the zodiac, and the lines that form the boundaries of the
width of the zodiac are each six degrees away from the ecliptic; six degrees
on either side thus make the zodiac twelve degrees in width, beyond which
the planets don’t travel; although Venus and Mars—because of the size of
their epicycles (as some thinkers have said)—go a little outside of it, this
happens rarely. This has perhaps given rise to the fable of Venus and Mars.49

This is the fable in which Vulcan, the husband of Venus, ensnares Venus and Mars in a fine
49 

net that holds them fast in a bed, then shames them before the other gods.
610 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The zodiac is called an oblique circle because it neither ascends or descends

regularly according to its parts, and because not all of its parts are equally
distant from the poles of the world. Besides, it does not intersect the other
heavenly circles at right angles. With regard to what Vitruvius says, ‘These
things by nature are disposed in such a way’, it is not by nature but with respect
to the horizons that change according to the locations, although by nature
the heavens are fixed in two points, which Vitruvius calls centres. The con-
ditions of the zone, as Vitruvius says, is that first it is wide, and then that it
is curved towards the poles. Further, it is formed of ten [recte twelve] signs,
and even though nature made those stars, it is the observers who have thus
divided them, and the astronomers who have given their causes. The signs
are twelve, to each of which is given its month, so there are twelve months.
The signs have thirty degrees apiece following the consideration that the
year is divided into three hundred and sixty days and that bit more by which
the sun advances each day with its movement contrary to the movement of
the first heaven. About this Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.3] Those luminous signs, with the world and with the re-
maining ornament of the stars rotating about the land and the sea, make their
course in accordance with the circularity of the heavens. [IX.I.4] All the things
that are seen and unseen are formed with the necessity of the times and the seasons,
of which times six signs above the earth with the heavens go wandering, and the
others below the earth, by the shadow of it are obscured. But six of these are always
moving above the earth, so that by the amount that a part of the last sign is forced
with its turning downwards under the earth and is obscured, by that same amount
another on the other side by the necessity of turning upwards is raised with the
circular movement, coming out of unseen and dark parts into the light, because one
and the same force and necessity makes east and the west.
(Barbaro) That is, because one and the same force and necessity makes
one side ascend and the other descend. The movements of the heavens are
two, known by many occurrences. One is from east to west, as can be seen
every day by the rising and setting of the sun and the other stars. This move-
ment is called prime and diurnal, of which no perceptible thing is greater.
In terms of hours, it fits perfectly in twenty-four hours, making the space of
one natural day. Thus the sun makes the year; the moon, the month; and the
first movement, the days. It is of this first movement, of which is nothing is
faster, that Vitruvius has spoken up to this point, saying that by that move-
ment, six of the signs are always above the horizon, and six are always below.
pp. 369-370 611

This is true because at every horizon, whether day or night, there is born one
semi-circle of the zodiac in which there are six signs, and there dies, or falls,
another, in which are the other six signs. The zodiac being one of the great
circles of the sphere, at every horizon half is always above, and the other half
is always below, and by as much as one falls down, the other rises up.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.5] Those signs being twelve in number, and each holding
the twelfth part of the world, and going continually from east to west, then through
those signs with a contrary movement go the moon, the stars of Mercury and of
Venus, the sun, and too the stars of Mars, of Jupiter and of Saturn, climbing as if by
steps; each, rising [p. 370] with a different size of revolution, goes from west to east.
(Barbaro). See how rich this is, and with what brevity Vitruvius draws
many conclusions. One is that there are twelve signs in the zodiac; another
that each sign occupies the twelfth part of the heavens; another is that they
all move continuously from east to west with the first movement;50 the fourth
thing is that the planets move in the opposite direction, entering into those
signs from west to east; the last thing is that they move with their revolutions
of different sizes. We shall set forth each of these propositions separately,
beginning with the twelve signs, the names of which are: the Ram [Aries],
the Bull [Taurus], the Twins [Gemini], the Crab [Cancer], the Lion [Leo],
the Virgin [Virgo], the Scales [Libra], the Scorpion [Scorpio], the Archer
[Sagittarius], the Goat [Capricorn], the Water-bearer [Aquarius] and the
Fishes [Pisces].51 The signs are numbered starting from the intersection of
the ecliptic with the equinoctial because, since by its nature the circle has
neither beginning nor middle nor end, it is reasonable that the part that is
taken as the beginning is common to the rise and fall of all places, and in
which, the sun staying there, the length of the day begins to be greater than
the length of the night. The names of the signs were taken from animals,
both those with reason and those without,52 and other things, so that the
sun, entering into those stars, produces here below things that conform to
the nature of the animal or thing that the sign is named after. Aries has two

50 
The germ of the notion of two prime, opposite, movements—the first from east to west
(the ‘motion of the Same’); the second from west to east (the ‘motion of the Different’)—
dates back as far as Plato in the Timaeus and was developed by Ptolemy in Almagest I.8.
51 
Barbaro sometimes refers to the signs and constellations by their names in vernacular, and
sometimes by their Latin names. In what follows I adopt the Latin names, as these are likely
to be more familiar to the reader.
52 
Barbaro also discusses beings without reason and with reason (i.e., animals and men) on
p. 441 as the moving agents for machines; and he repeats this on p. 392.
612 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

horns, thus ^. Taurus is almost the same _. Gemini has two conjoined
lines `, symbolizing Castor and Pollux. Cancer has two opposing eyes, so
that it appears to have one in front and another behind, a. Leo, because of
his tail, is symbolized thus b. Virgo is characterized by the semblance of her
skirt, c. The symbol of Libra resembles her instrument, d. Scorpio is sym-
bolized thus, e;53 Sagittarius by his bow, f; Capricorn by the form of his
knees tied together with a cord, g; Aquarius by the flow of water, h; Pisces
by the figure of two fishes connected together at their backs, i. Hence we
have explained Vitruvius’s first conclusion.
Next, it is clear that each sign occupies the twelfth part of the zodiac,
since it can be observed that the sun remains for thirty days in each sign, and
each sign is just about divided into thirty equal parts. These parts are called
degrees (gradi54), as if the sun and the other planets continually went up and
down on them, like Vitruvius says, ‘climbing as if by steps’. Thus the zodiac is
of three hundred and sixty parts because twelve times thirty equals three
hundred sixty. This number has been deemed the most convenient because
it is only five off from the total number of days in the year, due to the reason
given above. And since the sun does not rise equally because of the obliquity
of the zodiac, but instead sometimes moves faster and other times slower, it
thus happens that, because of the proportional distribution of the five-day
difference, we have the number three hundred sixty-five and a bit more cor-
responding to the three hundred and sixty degrees. Further, because of the
convenience of the number sixty, every circle, regardless of whether it is large
or small, is divided into three hundred sixty parts because the number sixty
can be divided into halves, thirds, quarters, fifths and sixths. Besides, the
most expedient division of the circle is into six parts because the same open-
ing of the compass that used to make the circle goes six times into its circum-
ference; it is for this reason that the compass is also called a sesta [i.e., sixth].
The third and fourth conclusions were that all the planets, wandering
through those signs, move from west to east, and that they enter them by a
contrary course. Through long experience and observation this has been un-
derstood, since we have long experienced the continuous circular movement

53 
Scorpio is actually symbolised by a tiny scorpion in the text.
54 
The Italian term grado (pl. gradi) can be translated as either ‘degree’ or ‘step’; in this
context we say ‘degree’, but Barbaro’s translation of Vitruvius’s per graduum ascensionem as
‘rising by steps’ reflects the ambiguity of the term. A similar ambiguity is found in Book V,
Barbaro p. 229, where the voice is described as salendo quasi per gradi.
pp. 370-371 613

from east to west that is common to all heavenly spheres, according to which
regular revolutions not only all the heavenly bodies move but the rarest ele-
ments are also drawn. So too the second movement has been known, as the
inquirers into heavenly things observed the rising and setting of the stars
and of the sun. And having seen the sun and the other stars go on mutating,
and finding them in different places at noon and at midnight, appearing
sometimes higher and sometimes lower to the inhabitants of a given place,
they have imagined different axes, different poles, and different spherical
volumes. Seeing the fixed stars always at an equal distance, they observed
some of the more noticeable and luminous stars, so that it was understood
that the seven wandering stars moved successively towards east and that
over some [p. 371] interval of time they moved away from the same star, and
then after some time they returned to it. This can be most readily seen in
the moon, whose course is the swiftest, by observing many times the con-
junction, and the interval of time it takes to move away from a known star
towards east, and then return to the same star. In this manner was found the
second movement, contrary to the first.
The fifth conclusion was that each of the planets, with a different size
of revolution, makes its way along a course. Vitruvius having listed above
the seven planets—Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the sun, Venus, Mercury, and the
moon—here we will give their symbols in the same order:     C  .
This conclusion is stated by Vitruvius with a lengthy reflection in this way:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.5] The moon goes in twenty-eight days and almost an hour
around the heavens, returning to that sign whence it first departed, forming the
lunar month. [IX.I.6] The sun passes though the space of a sign that is the twelfth
part of the heavens in a month, so that in twelve months it passes through the space
of twelve signs; when it returns to the sign whence it first departed, it completes
the space of one year. The revolution that the moon makes thirteen times in twelve
months, the sun, moving through the same signs, makes one time.
(Barbaro) Since Vitruvius has shown us that there is diversity in the
movements of the heavens as well as in terms of the movement, he now
shows us that there is diversity in slowness and speed, and determines the
intervals of time in which each makes its movement. For greater clarity, we
will set forth some things about the order, number, position, location, and
movement of the heavenly spheres. There are eight heavens, or better, the
entire heavenly machine contains eight revolutions of heavens that are sep-
arate, contiguous, and concentric, outside of which there is no movement at
614 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

all, except for imaginary movement necessary to save the appearances. Seven
heavens are given to the seven planets already listed. The closest to the earth
is the moon, the farthest Saturn. The eighth heaven is that of the fixed stars,
called ‘firmament’, which is enormous and capable of containing all the oth-
er heavens. This number has been understood from the speed of the inferior
stars, and by the slowness of the superior ones,55 because the stars of the su-
perior heavens (I mean the wandering stars) move more slowly than the in-
ferior ones—that is, it takes more time for them to go around—because they
have a longer journey, in conformance with the first movement [i.e., from
east to west]. There is another argument that is taken from the concealment
of the superior bodies; as we are in the lowest place, there is no doubt that
what is closest to our eyes, coming between our eyes and a superior body,
covers or conceals that which is above when it comes between our vision
and the superior body. Adding to that is the difference between the place to
which our vision arrives and that where the star, or planet, really is, which
can be called the ‘diversity of aspect’ [i.e., parallax]. This is nothing other
than an arc of the great circle that passes over our heads, comprised in two
lines, one of which we imagine as going from the centre of the world, and
the other of which goes from our eye, which is on the earth’s surface, passes
through the centre of the star that we are looking at, and terminates in the
aforesaid arc. The line that passes from the centre of the earth and, passing
through the centre of the star being observed, ends at the imaginary arc of
the zodiac is called ‘the line of true location’ because it is the demonstrator
and indicator of the true location of the star. The line that goes from the eye
through the centre of the star to the zodiac is called ‘the line of appearance’,
and shows the apparent location. So the angle formed between those straight
lines is the quantity of the difference, which will be greater the lower and
closer to the horizon the star is. Thus when the star is directly overhead, no
difference is seen because both lines—that of true location and that of appar-
ent location—are one and the same. That difference, however, is immense
in the moon, and small in the sun; in Mars it can barely be seen, and in the
superior planets cannot be comprehended because they are so very far away.
The illustration is shown in Fig. 9.4.1.

The terms ‘inferior’ and ‘superior’ regard the location of the planet’s celestial spheres as
55 

seen in relation to that of the sun. The ‘inferior planets’ are Mercury and Venus; the ‘superior
planets’ are Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. Earth, of course, is in the lowest position, placed at
the centre of the world.
p. 372 615

Fig. 9.4.1 [True and apparent locations of stars] Image [p. 372] legend [p.
371-372]: a, the centre of the earth; b, the eye at the surface of the earth;
c, the star; d, the point directly overhead; bca, the angle of diversity

[p. 372] Thus the moon, because it is the swiftest of the wandering stars,
because it has a greater diversity of aspect, and because it eclipses the sun, is
the lowest and farthest below of all the planets. So too it can be concluded
by some of these rationales that Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn are above the sun,
while Mercury and Venus are below. Besides, this works with the proportion
of the solar diameter—that is, the distance from the sun to the centre of the
earth—since there would be too great a distance between the sun and the
moon, and the space empty. These proportions of the diameters are com-
prised in the tables.56 Also, it is reasonable that the sun is in the middle and
that it divides the superior planets from the inferior ones because the inferior
ones have a great deal of conformity in their movements, as do the superior
ones in theirs—that is, the inferior ones in the epicycles and the superior ones
in the deferents. Thus the sun is the eye or the heart of the world, and like
a king or lord it deservedly occupies the middle space. It is difficult to judge
which is superior, Mars or Venus or Mercury, because they are of almost equal
movements, and slight are the mutations and the diversity of aspect; neither
is it possible to understand which one covers and conceals the other. Those
who have penetrated more deeply into the subject (as writes the learned Mau-
rolico57), divining nature’s intentions, have said that nature made the spheres
of the planets that decline from the ecliptic, so that in the conjunctions and

56 
These tables were reproduced at the end of the treatise, on pp. 483-496. They are not
reproduced in this present translation.
57 
In Maurolico (1543).
616 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

oppositions they might dodge that point of the sun that is diametrically op-
posite them because the nearness of the sun would be harmful, as that which
gives birth to a reduction of splendour, which is called combustion. Those
which are diametrically opposite are eclipsed by the interposition of the
earth, such as would happen every month to the moon, if it were not inclined
from the ecliptic. Thus nature has contrived to avoid this danger, even greater
for the planets that are around the sun, so the epicycles of Venus and Mars
have been imagined to be enormous, and make them go out from the course
of the sun, and even out of the width of the zodiac; because of this some have
enlarged the zodiac by two degrees per side. We must then believe that the
planets that have a greater epicycle are very close to the sun. But Venus and
Mars are on the sides of the sun, though Venus has the more worthy place,
the centre of its epicycle always being to the north, which is the right side of
the east sun, and consequently more noble. Mercury is always south because
Mercury most closely resembles the moon both in the number of its spheres
and in the variety of its movements. Above the sun is Mars; above Mars is
Jupiter because the epicycle of Jupiter most closely resembles that of Mercury,
while that of Saturn most closely resembles that of the moon. So, the epicycle
of Saturn being smaller than the epicycle of Jupiter, for the reasons stated
above Saturn is very far from the sun, and consequently above Jupiter. This is
the order, number and locations of the heavens.
That which regards movement in the universal has been discussed. As
regards movement in the particular, Vitruvius says that the moon returns to
the sign from which it departed in twenty-eight days and almost an hour,58
and makes the lunar month. A large part of the nations of the world denote
the month by naming it after the moon, saying ‘two moons, three moons,
four moons’, but meaning two, three, or four months. ‘Month’ can have four
meanings. The first is the common month, and according to this sense there
are twelve months; beginning with January, the first, third, fifth, seventh,
eighth, and tenth are formed of thirty-one days, and the remaining have a
day less, except February, which has twenty-eight days in ordinary years
and twenty-nine in bissextile [i.e., leap] years. Bissextile years are counted
by four starting with the millennium. The addition of that day accounts for
the amount beyond the three hundred sixty-five days that the sun makes
in a year’s movement contrary to the first movement, which is a fourth of a

58 
The value given in the table shown in Fig. 9.4.2 below is 27 days and one hour.
pp. 372-374 617

day in one year, which makes one whole day in four years. This is given to
February, which is called bissextile because it counts twice the sixth of the
kalends of March, which is the twenty-fourth of February. Month also re-
fers to that space [p. 373] of time that the sun remains in one of the twelve
signs, thus one month is the twelfth part of the year. A month is also the
interval between one conjunction and the next, which is just over twen-
ty-nine days and a half. Finally, month refers to the time it takes the moon
to travel from sign to sign around the entire zodiac, which Vitruvius says
takes twenty-eight days and almost an hour. This can be called the lunar
year, even though Vitruvius calls it the lunar month. Below I provide a table
(Fig. 9.4.1) that distinguishes all the movements of the heavens according to
the observations of the moderns, who, in order to save the appearances, have
added other heavens after the eighth.59
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.6] The star of Mercury and the star of Venus, revolving
around the rays of the sun and crowning the sun with their travels in the guise of a
centre, make their return and their domiciles [IX.I.7] and also with their stations
by that revolution they reside in the spaces of the signs. That this is true is clear
from the star of Venus, which, following the sun and appearing after its setting
and shining most brilliantly, was called Vesper, but at other times, when going
before, and rising before the day, it was called Lucifer. Because they sometimes
stay more days in one sign and at other times enter more quickly in another, they
don’t complete an equal number of days [p. 374] in the each of the signs, but by as
much as they had delayed, that much again were their courses faster, so that their
delaying and hastening were always perfectly balanced. Thus it happens that they
delay more in some signs, but nevertheless as soon as they get away from the cause of
their delay, they quickly attain the correct circuit. [IX.I.8] The star of Mercury thus
passes its course in heaven, so that running through the spaces of the signs in three
hundred sixty days it returns to that sign from which it first moved, and its voyage
is thus equal to a ratio of numbers of about thirty days in each sign. [IX.I.9] Venus,
when it is free of the impediment of the rays of the sun, passes through the space of
a sign in thirty days. When it remains fewer than forty days in each sign, then it
makes up for that number of days by residing in a sign. When Venus has measured
the entire circuit of the heavens in four hundred eighty-five days, it returns once
again to the same sign from which it began its journey.
59 
The ninth sphere (or heaven, in Barbaro’s terminology) was added to account for the
precession of the equinoxes; the tenth to account for their trepidation, an eleventh to account
for variation in the obliquity of the ecliptic.
618 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.4.2. [p. 373] The movements of the heavens

(Barbaro) In this part Vitruvius is difficult; he doesn’t agree with others,

and perhaps the text is incorrect. Pliny, who often takes entire pages from
Vitruvius, is completely different in this part.60 Vitruvius has the planets
necessarily delayed, and dissolves them from the necessity—as though un-
leashing them, if you will—of having the speed of the course equal to that
journey that they would have performed if they were always granted the
freedom to travel. Nor does he state (as he should) with demonstrations of
proof, whence this necessity arises, and whence their freedom. Thus it ap-

60 
Planetary movements are discussed in Pliny the Elder, Natural History 2.6
p. 374 619

pears to us necessary to shed light on the things which have been discovered
after Vitruvius, based on solid foundations by those who have studied these
things. Thus necessity leads us to do what we would rather have avoided.
Let us then explain some of the terms that serve our purposes, which
are these: epicycles, deferents, eccentric, concentric, aux, 61 opposite aux, the
mean length of the eccentric, the mean length of the epicycle, station, re-
turn, progress, argument, equation. Now, an ‘epicycle’ is that which Ptolemy
called the ‘circle of difference’, which is a small sphere imagined to be tacked
onto the larger sphere, which is what the Greek word means; the astrono-
mers would have it that the body of the planet travels along the circumfer-
ence of the epicycle, the centre of which epicycle is on the circumference of
the sphere that carries it towards the east, called the ‘deferent’. This deferent
does not have the same centre as the centre of the world, and this is why it
is called ‘eccentric’—that is, ‘off centre’; similarly, that circle which has the
same centre as that of the world is called ‘concentric’.
So, since we want to draw the epicycle and the deferent in the plane, we
imagine the centre c from which originates a line, the other end of which is a;
let a be the centre of the epicycle (Fig. 9.4.3). Draw around this end a perfect
circle a, leaving the other fixed at point c. I say that it will form in the plane an
area which is bounded by the circumference of the deferent. In the same way,
the sun forms the ‘ecliptic’, which is like the deferent of the sun, from which
the deferents of the other planets are at some distance and inclined, and the
same line prolonged to the concave surface of the first heaven, draws on it a
circumference of the same name. The centre of the epicycle is always on the
circumference of the deferent. So, when one foot of the compass is placed at
point a, and the compass opened so that the other touches the centre of the
planet d, its turning forms the epicycle. Things being in this way, everyone
can see that the circumference of the deferent and the circumference of the
epicycle are not equally distant from the centre of the world. Afterwards the
astronomers found various terms for the parts of the epicycle, according to
their distances from the centre of the world, f, wishing to show us with these

61 
Barbaro has chosen the lay term giogo, ‘yoke’, as the translation for iugum (a term he
explains below). The terms found in other translations of coeval treatises refer to ‘aux’
(apogee) and ‘opposite aux’ (perigee). Although his intention was to use common words
rather than ‘scientific’ terms in order to render his text more accessible to his readers, these
unfamiliar terms hinder comprehension for today’s readers. Following a discussion with
James Lattis, I have chosen instead to use ‘aux’ (pl. auges).
620 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.4.3. [Construction and elements of the epicycle and deferent]

Image and legend [p. 375]: ab, the deferent; c, the centre of the deferent;
de, the epicycle; a, the centre of the epicycle; f, the centre of the world; a,
the aux of the deferent; b, opposite aux; d, the aux of the epicycle

how the difference of appearances are saved. So, they called that point on the
circumference of the deferent or the epicycle that is furthest from the centre
of the world ‘aux’, meaning acme, though Cicero calls it ‘yoke’.62 The point
opposite they call ‘opposite aux’. Since to the sun they don’t give a epicycle
but instead a deferent, that point on the deferent which is opposite the aux, is
likewise called ‘opposite aux’. ‘Yoke’, ‘apogee’, ‘aux’, and ‘abside’ are all terms
for the same thing. The mean length of the eccentric is half of the diameter.
The mean length of the epicycle is the space [p. 375] that is from one centre
to the other. These are called mean lengths with respect to the point called
aux, which is farthest from the centre of the world and is also said to be the
farthest length. That which is the closest to said centre, called opposite aux,
is said to be the length closest to the eccentric and the epicycle. These two
points are the ends of a straight line which passes through both centres, and
is called the line of the aux: it is the demonstrator of the aux. Therefore, as
in the eccentric the greatest distance is greater than the semi-diameter of the

62 
I was not able to trace the use of iugum in Cicero to any reference of epicycles; he did use
it to refer to the constellation Libra (De divinatione 2.47).
p. 375 621

eccentric by the space that is between one centre and the other, in the same
way the smaller is less than the semi-diameter of the epicycle by that same
space, and the semi-diameter is the mean distance. Similarly, in the epicycle
the greatest distance will be greater than the space that is between one centre
and the other by the semi-diameter of the epicycle, and by that same space
will be greater than the lesser.63 Whereby the space that is between one cen-
tre and the other will be the middle distance, which is called mean length.
Thus it is very reasonable that the mean length is that much smaller than the
larger as it is larger than the smaller. Those who carefully consider what has
been said up to now will understand that, in the eccentric as well as in the
epicycle, the farther any given point lies on the most distant circumference
and the more it is displaced by the greatest length, the closer it is to the
centre of the world. From these things derived all the diversity of movement
that appears to us—that is, with these descriptions the diversity of all the
appearances are saved. So, great caution must be taken in how these terms
are understood because they have been devised to allow us to comprehend
the things of the heavens as far possible, but in reality there are no epicycles,
or auges, or deferents, nor any other things like that in the world. Let us then
see how the diversity of motions are found.
Let us say that the planet is carried directly by its epicycle, even while
it also moves about its centre. It nevertheless appears that it mutates its path
about some other point which is in the circle and likewise on the circle of the
world. This mutation is saved thanks to the rationale of perspective, since is
given that many things move with equal velocity, even though those that are
farther from us appear slower than those which are closer. So, the astrono-
mers understood that the sun moves differently in different locations in the
zodiac, and desiring to save such diversity, and not wishing to attribute any
inequalities to such a noble body, they have imagined various circles, the
centres of which are not the same as the centre of the world. It thus happens
that a star appears slower to us when it is at the aux than it does when it is far
from the aux because when it is at the aux it is farther away.
There is another kind of diversity of movement, because if the planet
were carried by the epicycle, and the epicycle carried by the concentric, there
would be no less diversity, since the planet being carried by both towards

Referring to Fig. 9.4.3, if the greatest distance is dc, and the smallest distance is ec, then
63 

dc is greater than the distance between the two centres ac by the radius of the eccentric ad,
just as the smallest distance ec is smaller than ac by the opposite radius, ae.
622 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the east would undoubtedly move faster than if it were carried only by the
concentric, or by the epicycle if it were to stay still or to turn back, so in the
touching of those lines which originate in the centre and go to the epicycle,
it appears that the star, as far as the movement of the epicycle is concerned,
remains still, but in one half of the circumference it appears to move forward,
and in the other half [p. 376] to move back. Here is the example. Let us im-
agine that a horse runs around an extremely large circle, and a man stands
watching from outside and far away. It is certain that the horse would appear
to move sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes not at all, now to move
forward, now to move backwards, even though all the while he was moving
in the same manner. This occurs because of the nature of the circle, which is
made of opposites, as Aristotle says in the Mechanica.64 Thus when the planet
is in the arc above the intersection of these lines, it will appear immobile to
us, who are down below; in the rest of the circumference opposite the aux,
it will appear to move very fast; and likewise, it will appear slower when it is
in the aux. In the upper arc of the epicycle the luminous bodies are carried
from east to west, but in the lower arc they are carried with the movement.
The other planets are carried in a contrary movement, so that it happens that
the movement of the planet is composed of two movements: one is of the
epicycle, the other of the deferent, as though one were by carried forward by
a galley, and was walking there between the oar-holes. If both movements
are towards east, then, the planet being carried by two movements, the faster
it will move, just as if one were carried forward by the galley and likewise
moved from stern to stem. But if the planet were to go to with contrary
movements, if these were equal—that is, if it were to go forward by one as
much as it went backwards by the other—it would appear to stand still, just
as if one were to walk as much towards the stern as the galley was carried
forward. If the movements are not equal, the fastest will prevail. So, if the
movement of the deferent is stronger than the movement of the epicycle, the
planet will move towards east; if the contrary is true, the planet will move
towards west, and thus will regress; it is as if the one on the galley were to
walk towards the stern by less than the amount that he was carried forward
by the galley; in that case it would likewise appear that he was moving for-
ward, but if his movement was countered by a greater one, he would appear

64 
Aristotle, Mechanics 848a; Aristotle (1936, p. 333). Barbaro will reprise this idea in Book
X, p. 440.
pp. 376-377 623

to go back. So, the standing still and the regress occur with the five planets
when they are in the lower arc of the epicycle because there they are carried
by the epicycle counter to the movement of the deferent. And it occurs that
in some places the movement of the epicycle is equal to, and in others faster
than, the movement of the deferent. For the sun and the moon, the standing
still would occur in the upper arc of the epicycle because there the epicycle
goes counter to the deferent, though it neither prevails over it, nor is equal to
it, since neither the sun nor the moon stands still or regresses, as Vitruvius
mentions. We thus assign to the sun only either the eccentric deferent or the
epicycle with the concentric. So, if the sun, in the upper circumference of
the epicycle, is carried from east to west, and the movement of the epicycle
is as similar to the movement of the eccentric as it is to the concentric, as the
distance of the centres is to the semi-diameter of the epicycle, in either case,
the appearance of movement that results is the same. But since the method
of the eccentric suffices with a single movement, it has been preferred and
more readily elected than that of the epicycle.
How the distance from the centres and location of the aux were known
I will briefly describe. Four principal points are considered in the zodiac:
two attributed to the equinoxes, and two to the solstices, which are halfway
between the equinoxes. From the consideration of the spaces and the move-
ments as well as the times, the distances of the centres and the location of the
aux were known. Here, let us imagine two lines, one that starts at the centre
of the deferent of the sun, and goes to the centre of the sun, and the other
parallel, from the centre of the world out to the zodiac, which is the line of
mean motus (Fig. 9.4.4). It is certain that while these lines rotate around they
will respect the same path because the line of true motus is that which passes
from the centre of the world through the centre of the sun, and goes out to
the zodiac. That arc that is between the line of the true motus and the line
of the mean motus is called the ‘equation’ of the sun. In the aux and in op-
posite aux it is null because the two lines [p. 377] concur in one. In the mean
lengths it is proportionally very big; at the points that are equally distant from
the aux there are equal equations; the closer they are to the longest length,
the larger they are. The mean motus thus starts at the beginning of Aries, and
according to the order of the signs, it goes on to the line of the mean motus,
just as the true motus goes out to the line of the true motus, from where,
commencing, it is conducted. Hence the argument of the sun is that arc of
the zodiac that is intersected by the line of the aux of the eccentric according
624 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.4.4. [The centres and location of the aux] Image [p. 377], legend
[p. 376-377]: Abg, the concentric; d, its centre; ezh, the eccentric; t, its
centre; kz, the epicycle; b, its centre; dt and bz are equal; tz and db are
equal; dz the diagonal of parallelogram; the motus of the concentric is
bda; the motus of the epicycle is khz; and the motus of the eccentric is
zte, which are all equal angles; the sun is seen in both ways in point z
via line dz

Fig. 9.4.5. [The mean motus] Image and legend [p. 377]: abg, the
eccentric; d, its centre; e, the centre of the world; adg, the line of the aux;
b, the centre of the sun; ez, the line of mean motus parallel to line bd; eb,
the line of true motus; bez, the angle is the equation
pp. 377-378 625

to the order of the signs, and the line of mean motus. It is called ‘argument’
because from that is argued the angle of the equation; when it is in the lower
semicircle, the line of the mean motus goes before the line of true motus, but
when it passes the semicircle then it precedes the line of the mean motus. So,
above it is subtracted from, and here it is added to the mean motus, so the
true motus can be derived (Fig. 9.4.5). But for now I will let the reader turn
to Maurolico because unfortunately I seem to have done the work of others.
It is necessary to carefully establish in some starting point the root of
the mean motus, to be used when one wishes in that instant to calculate
the mean motus of the sun. From this root one goes to observing the true
motus, according to the science of plane triangles [i.e., trigonometry]. So,
the three lines that connect three centres—that is, that of the world, that of
the deferent, and that of the sun—form a triangle in which there are three
angles. One is the angle of equation; the other two are those that form the
two lines, [p. 378] one of which is of the true motus, the other of the mean
motus with the line of the aux. The proportion being manifest that two sides
of this triangle have to each other, one of which is the semi-diameter of the
eccentric, and the other that distance from the centre, it so happens that,
given any of the three angles whatsoever, the others will also be known.
Hence we conclude that if we are given either the mean motus, or the true
motus, or the equation individually, as soon as one of these is known, it is
possible to know the other two. All of these things are described in this way
to save the appearances, the irregularity of the movement of the sun about
the centre of the world, and to establish a certain and determined account of
that movement, as is shown in Fig. 9.4.6.
Having spoken about the sun, what follows is a consideration of the
moon, its diversity, and its true location. So, I say that the true location of
the moon is shown by its eclipse. Anyone who has carefully observed the
beginning and the end of the eclipse, has seen the instant in the middle, in
which the moon is exactly diametrically opposite the sun. Since by those
things set forth above the position of the sun is already known, there is no
doubt that we can know the location of the moon, and this is the surest way
there is. The diversity of its movement has been observed, since we have
seen that in the same place in the zodiac the moon was not always equally
fast, and that it was related to the sun in different ways; the first diversity
was attributed to the epicycle, and the other to the eccentric. There are four
points in the epicycle. In one the moon is extremely fast because the deferent
626 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.4.6. [Calculation of the mean motus of the sun] Image and legend
[p. 377]: abg, the concentric; d, its centre; tz, the eccentric; h, its centre;
ez, the epicycle; g, its centre; dh and gz are equal; dz diagonal of the
parallelogram; the motus of the concentric adg; the motus of the epicycle
egz; the motus of the eccentric thz or tdg; the motus of the summit of
the eccentric adz. Angles thz and egz are equal; Angle adg is equal to
angles adt and tdg

concurs with the epicycle in one part. At the opposite point it is extremely
slow because the epicycle is very much counter to the deferent. At two mid-
dle points the moon moves with moderate speed. These four points thus
partition the epicycle, so that in the first part the movement is extremely
fast, in the next it slows down somewhat, in the third is extremely slow, and
in the fourth it speeds up somewhat. This diversity makes it possible to un-
derstand in which portion of the epicycle the moon is moving, and in what
interval of time it revolves around the epicycle. In order to know this time
more precisely, the speculators chose two eclipses of the moon, in which the
moon moved similarly and with equality, observing in both the same diver-
sity of movement, so that they were certain that the moon was in the same
position in the epicycle. From this observation it has been certified that in
the space of two eclipses the moon has provided the number of its complete
revolutions: hence it returned to that same position in the epicycle, and had
finally completed the perfect number of lunar months, having returned to
the position opposite the sun. Thus when we know the time of a revolution,
pp. 378-379 627

we will know the number of revolutions of the epicycle. It might happen that
this is not known very precisely, and so too the number of lunar months can
be hidden from us. Every time that we can have the number of revolutions,
and full moons, dividing the interval of time between one eclipse and anoth-
er by the number of lunar months we have the quantity [i.e., the number of
days] of the lunar month, since in a month the moon makes a revolution of
length to which is added a distance equal to the distance that the sun moves
in that same month. Dividing that entire circle with that movement of the
sun by the number of the days of the lunar month with its minutes will allow
us to comprehend how much the daily movement of the moon is. Further,
to know the daily movement of the moon one can add, to the number of
revolutions made in the given interval between two eclipses, the movement
that the sun has made in that interval, and add together all the movement
that the moon has made in that interval, and divide it by the number of days
in that interval, as well as the entire circle divided by the number of lunar
days and the number of minutes. Similarly, the number of the degrees of
the revolutions of the aforesaid interval divided by the number of days of
that interval shows us the amount by which the moon moves away from
the sun each day, which is the same thing as saying how much greater one
day’s movement of the moon is than the movement of the sun. Likewise, the
number of revolutions of the moon in the epicycle converted into degrees
and divided by the number of the degrees in the interval, will allow us to
know how much the moon moves in the epicycle each day. In this way it can
be comprehended that the movement each day is of length of 15 degrees, 10
minutes, 15 seconds, [p. 379] and the movement of the epicycle is 3 degrees,
3 minutes, 54 seconds. It would take a long time to recapitulate all that could
be said regarding speculations about the moon, so referring the reader to the
authors, we will go on to the other planets, and first to the two planets that
are subject to the sun—that is, Mercury and Venus.
So, I say that the astronomers have observed these two planets depart
from the sun and move away up to certain points in either direction, and in
the middle of their going and returning they join the sun, but when they
were to the sides of the sun in their domiciles they found themselves ex-
tremely distant from the sun. Thus it was concluded that such progress and
regress had to be saved with the epicycle such that the centre of the epicycle
moved around with the sun and that both planets moved as far away from
the sun by as much as the length of the epicycle allowed them to. And
628 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

so by adding together two contrary and extremely large distances of these

planets from the sun, it was found that the same quantity was not used in all
places, and that that sum only increased by the approaching of the epicycle,
and only decreased by the moving away of the epicycle, and hence that the
epicycle now drew closer, now drew farther away from the centre of the
world. So, they conceded to the two inferior planets both the eccentric and
the epicycle, on this condition: that the eccentric always carried the epicycle
around the sun, and that same mean motus of the sun and of the planet and
the epicycle carried the planet here and there, moving it away from the sun.
All this worked very well to save the regresses and the movements of the
widths. Now, in order to know how to determine the quantity of movement,
I say that it is necessary to observe the location of the planet in the point of
the zodiac and wait as long as it takes for the planet to return to the same
place, on this condition: that its distance is equal to the middle place of the
sun in both places. This is because at that moment the planet will have com-
pleted the entire revolution of both movements: first in the eccentric because
the point of the epicycle will have come back to the same point; and then
in the epicycle because the planet, having come back to the same distance
from the sun, will also have found again the same point of the epicycle. By
dint of these observations will be obtained the time elapsed and the number
of revolutions. Therefore for the three superior planets, having the number
of revolutions of the epicycle and the number of revolutions of the eccentric,
adding those numbers together will equal the number of revolutions of the
sun in the same interval of time. In the two inferior planets, the number of
the revolutions of the eccentric is equal to the number of revolutions of the
sun. In the same time, similarly, the number of revolutions will be known for
the epicycle, as soon as we know from the true motus the time of a revolu-
tion. Thus the number of revolutions multiplied by three hundred and sixty
produces the degrees, and the number of degrees divided by the number of
the days of the interval in which the observations were made will give us the
quantity of daily movement.
What order there is in the progresses and the regresses, and what neces-
sity, I will describe briefly, observing first that the diversity or contrariness of
this appearance can be saved in one of two ways: either by giving the planet
only the eccentric deferent, or by the epicycle with the concentric deferent—
that is, in such a way that in each of the three superior planets, when the
movements of the epicycle of the concentric and of the planet in the epicycle
pp. 379-380 629

are added together, they are equal to the mean motus of the sun. The centre
of the eccentric moves together with the sun according to the order of the
signs, and the planet moves with the velocity with which the epicycle moves
in the concentric, such that the line that comes from the centre and is par-
allel to the line drawn from the centre of the eccentric to the centre of the
planet terminates the mean motus of the planet. This can be seen in the three
superior planets. In the two inferior planets, the movement of the epicycle
in the concentric is set equal to the mean motus of the sun. The movement
of the planet in the epicycle and the movement of the centre of the eccentric
are equal to the sum of the mean motus of the sun and that movement that
the planet makes in the epicycle. Similarly, the planet moves with the same
velocity with which the epicycle moves in the concentric, with the same
condition mentioned above—that is, such that the line that comes from the
centre and is parallel to the line drawn from the centre of the eccentric to
the centre of the planet terminates the mean motus [p. 380] of the planet.
This condition is also to be added to all: that the diameters of the eccentric
and the concentric are proportional to the semi-diameter of the epicycle and
to the distance from the centre. In this way, in the wandering stars it is
possible to defend in both ways the rationale of the progress and the regress,
as well as the diversity and variety. But since, thanks to long experience,
the observers of the stars have comprehended that this first diversity varies
from a second diversity, it was necessary to attribute the first diversity to the
epicycle and defend the second with the deferent. That one thing was quite
sufficient to make it so that the deferents of all the planets did not have a
single centre—that is, the singularity of movement—so that the concentrics
communicate the movement, the superior to the inferior. This communica-
tion was not observed in the individual movements of the planets so it was
not possible to give them concentrics.
But so that the reader can understand to which planets the progress is
given, I will say that we must imagine two straight lines drawn from the
centre, one which terminates in the eastern part of the epicycle, the other
in the western part (Fig. 9.4.7). In this way, as regards the movement of the
planet in the epicycle alone, the star that goes along the upper arc between
the two points where lines cross the epicycle will be said to go forward and
progress because in that place it will be carried towards the east; but in the
lower arc it will be said to retrograde or make regress because it will be
return back, moving in the opposite direction. When it is in the aforemen-
630 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.4.7. [Progress, regress and domicile] Image and legend [p. 380]:
HK, the epicycle; B, its centre; H, its aux; N, opposite aux; K, the point
of first domicile; C, the centre of the world; O, the point of second
domicile; HLK, the arc of the first domicile; HKO, the arc of the second
domicile; KNO, the arc of regress; OHK, the arc of direct movement

tioned points, it is said to be stationary, and stand still. So in the eastern

point of the from being direct it will become retrograde, and in the western
point of the regress it will become direct.65 However, the opposite of these
things is considered in the sun and in the moon. This rationale would be
sufficient regarding regress and progress, if the planet found itself with no
other movement other than that of the epicycle. But since while the planet

Barbaro changes terminology here without specifying that ‘direct movement’ is a synonym
65 

for progress.
pp. 380-381 631

revolves in the epicycle, the epicycle is also being carried by the eccentric,
then at the aforementioned points of crossing, the planet, even though it is
stationary as regards the revolution of the epicycle, it is nevertheless carried
by the eccentric towards the east, and hence its movement is still direct. Thus
it is necessary that the points of station be somewhat below those points that
the aforementioned lines make in the crossing; I mean, those lines which we
said originate in the centre. And so those lines, not touching but intersecting
and dividing the epicycle at their intersection, make the points of domicile.
However, it is necessary that those points be in that part of the circumfer-
ence of the epicycle where the retrograde movement of the planet in the
epicycle thus counters the movement of the deferent, so that by the amount
that the planet is carried to the west by the epicycle, the epicycle is returned
by the deferent towards the east. In this way the planet, carried by equal but
opposite movements, appears to be stationary. So, the planet in the eastern
stationary point, which is called the first domicile, begins to return. So, in
that place the movement of the planet in the epicycle begins to increase the
movement of the epicycle in the deferent. But in the point of the western
station, which is called the second domicile, the planet returns to moving
forward, and progress, so that the movement of the planet in the epicycle
slows down. These things are shown in Fig. 9.4.7.
[p. 381] (Vitruvius) [IX.I.10] The star of Mars wandering six hundred and
eighty-three days through the spaces of the signs arrives back to the point where it
first began it to make its course. And in those signs that it crosses more quickly, since
it will have made its domicile, it fulfils the reckoning of the number of days. But
the star of Jupiter ascending by more moderate degrees contrary to the course of the
world, measures each sign in almost three hundred and sixty-five days, and stays
for eleven years and three hundred and sixty-three days, and goes back to that sign
in which twelve years earlier it found itself. Saturn truly for twenty-nine months
and some days more passing through a sign, in twenty-nine years and almost one
hundred and sixty days is restored to that sign it moved away from thirty years
earlier. And from this it comes about, that inasmuch as he is less far from the last
heaven, and making that much more space of circumference, he appears slower than
the others.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius has said is clear from his own words, and
how we are to understand what he has said is known by means of the spec-
ulations given above.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.11] But those planets which make their revolutions above
632 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the course of the sun, especially when they are in that triangle which the sun is in,
do not then move forward, but having to return are stationary until the sun, mov-
ing from that, passes into another sign.
(Barbaro) It appears that here Vitruvius treats the appearances and oc-
cultations of the stars, reasoning about the progresses and the domiciles, and
rendering the causes in his own way, refuting the opinions of others. But we,
in keeping with our intentions, will speak about the appearances and the
aspects, the risings and settings, relying on the learned Maurolico.66 Let us
then consider the sun in four principal locations terminated by the horizon
and the meridian: the first in the east; the second in the middle of the heavens
overhead; the third in the west; the last in the middle of the heavens below.
The sun being in one of these four points, if it is in the east, and the star is
also in the east, we call that state matutinal; if at midday, meridian; if in the
west, vespertine; if in the middle of the night, intempestus,67 to use the Latin
name. In this way each of the four positions of the star refer to the sun. Hence
there are sixteen habits of the stars in relation to the sun. Of the habits, the
meridian exists, but is not visible because the presence of the sun weakens the
aspect, and thus it is called true but not apparent. That with respect to mid-
night exists, and is always seen, except when the star is in the middle of the
heavens below the earth. And I say ‘and is seen’ because in the night each star
can be seen on the horizon or above the earth, so we call it true and apparent.
Finally, the matutinal or vespertine habits of the star above the earth or on
the horizon exist but are not visible because the ray of the sun, which is on the
horizon, takes them away from us. It may well happen that it is visible when
the sun is just far enough below the horizon so that its light, either weakened
and already fading, or just beginning to shine, gives way to the ray of the
star; in that case the habit of the star is called apparent either before or after
the matutinal rising. Therefore, the matutinal rising of the first star to appear
in the morning is called the first matutinal appearance, sight or irradiation,

See Maurolico (1543, pp. 156ff).

66 

For literary uses of these names for the canonical hours, see Hypnerotomachia Poliphili
67 

(Anon. 1499, p. 393): Heu me misero amante, per tuo amore Polia mia audi, continuamente
nel vespero me accendo, nel crepusculo me tuto infiammo, me cremabondo nel conticio ardo, nello
intempesto me consumo, et nel gallicinio como cosa cinerea me sento (my emphasis). The phases
of the night according to the Romans were: vespera (sunset), crepusculum (dusk), concubitum
(hour of going to bed), media nox (midnight), nox intempesta (middle of the night),
gallicinium (cock’s crow), conticinium (between cock’s crow and dawn), diluculum (dawn),
mane (morning).
pp. 381-382 633

and that of the last to appear in the morning is called the last matutinal ap-
pearance, sight or irradiation. Similarly, the first vespertine setting that we
see will be called the first appearance, sight or irradiation, and the last, the
last vespertine appearance, sight or irradiation. Risings and settings are the
names given to when they begin to seen, or not be seen, appearing and disap-
pearing when they either leave or enter the ray of the sun.
Now I will tell to which stars similar effects of appearance occur, since
they either occur to those which are slower or those which are faster than
the sun. So, the fixed stars and the three superior planets, because they are
above the sun, go out after the sun and can be seen just shortly before the
true vespertine setting, but then, as the sun comes nearer to those towards
the east, because the sun is faster, they make the last vespertine appearance
on the western horizon, and they are hidden until after the true matutinal
rising, the sun going towards the east, when they make the first matutinal
appearance on the eastern horizon. The moon, some space of time before the
matutinal rising, can be seen before the rising of the sun, but as it approach-
es the sun towards the east, [p. 382] being faster, it makes the last matutinal
appearance in the east, and disappears from our sight, until after the true
vespertine setting, the sun going away, when it makes the first vespertine
appearance in the west. Venus and Mercury, which are sometimes slower
and sometimes faster than the sun, do the same thing as the three superior
planets, as well as what the moon does, since they make the first and the last
appearances, both vespertine and matutinal. But the three superior planets
make the last vespertine appearance and then right away the first matuti-
nal appearance towards the aux of the epicycle. Venus and Mercury do the
same, when retrograde and in the part opposite the aux, so these two make
the last matutinal appearance and then, shortly after, the first vespertine
appearance near the aux of the epicycle. So does the moon, but at the aux
of its deferent.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.11] And it is pleasing to some that it is like this.
(Barbaro) That is, the progresses, the domiciles, the appearances, the
occultations are this way according to some.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.11] So they say that the sun, when it is farther away by a
certain distance, makes it so that the stars are impeded, wandering with uncertain
pathways, with obscure domiciles.
(Barbaro) They would have it that the remoteness of the sun impedes
and detains the stars, and when the sun comes nearer, they are liberated
634 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

and unrestrained. This reasoning is self-defeating, and Vitruvius refutes it,

saying:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.11] But it doesn’t seem this way to us because the splendour
of the sun allows itself to be clearly seen and is evident without any obscuration in
all the world such that it appears to us even when those stars make their return
and their domicile. If then over such great spaces our sight can observe this, for
what reason do we judge that any obscurity can oppose those divine splendours of
the stars? 68
(Barbaro) This is sound reasoning regarding the appearance of the stars,
but is not satisfactory regarding the domiciles and regresses, as has been said.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.12] Indeed, that rationale will be clear to us, since fervour
itself pulls all things, as we can see that heat makes fruits rise out of the soil and
grow, and that vapours from the waters and fountains are attracted by the heav-
enly arc. Thus for the same reason the impetus and force of the sun send out the rays
and, extending them in a triangular form, draws to itself the stars which follow
behind it, and kind of restrains those which go before it and, holding them, does not
let them pass beyond, but forces them to return to it, and stop in the sign of another
triangle.
(Barbaro) This rationale of Vitruvius is more fit for an architect than
for a philosopher, since who would say that the sun restrains or releases the
movements of the heavens, as with a brake? What necessity would unleash
the planets from that force? If this were the case, then would we not see
all the planets and all the stars gathered into a mass? It is not reasonable to
think that the heavenly bodies are subjected to these events; indeed, it is less
reasonable to think that this occurs than to believe the rationale mentioned
above of those who attribute some secret and obscure pathways to the stars.
Let us leave these things, and go back to Vitruvius, who from the answer
and solution to the question asked earlier takes the opportunity to remove a
doubt which he expresses, and which is this:
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.13] Perhaps some may wish to know the reason why the
sun is quicker to retain the planets in these fervours of the fifth sign farthest from it
than in either the second or the third sign which are closer to it. I will set forth why
this appears to be so. The rays of the sun extend out with lines, as in the form of a
triangle that has equal sides. And this occurs precisely at the fifth sign farthest from

68 
Although the construction of this last sentence is clearly that of a sentence, it is lacking the
final question mark. Such a question mark does, however, appear in Barbaro (1556, p. 216).
pp. 382-383 635

it. If thus spread out, they were to go wandering around throughout the world, and
not extend straight out in the shape of a triangle, the things closest to it would burn.
It seems that the Greek poet Euripides carefully considered this, saying that those
things that were the farthest from the sun burn much more brightly. So he writes in
the fable entitled Phaethon, thus:

It burns the things that are the furthest

And leaves the closer more temperate.

[p. 383] [IX.I.14] If then both the effect and the rationale and the testimony
of the ancient poet show this to be true, I do not think that there is any need to make
any further judgement than what we have said above about this.
(Barbaro) If the sun retains more fervour when it sends the triangular
rays, the reason is (says Vitruvius) that it attracts the stars more strongly,
69

and slows down their courses. But he asks the reason why this happens—
that is, why the sun makes this effect more quickly in the space of five signs,
which is the space of one side of the triangle (excepting, however, the fifth
sign), than in either the second or the third, which are closer—and he him-
self gives the answer. The proof is taken from the effect, from the rationale,
and from the testimony of the ancient poet Euripides. In order that all this
matter be understood from the rationale of Vitruvius, it seems to us that
greater clarity is needed, so we will say what there is in the second book of
Pliny,70 where he talks about the mutation which Vitruvius tries to explain
in this passage, and seeks the reason for it. Of this it is necessary to give a
separate account.
The stars are struck by the rays of the sun on one side, as we have said,
and are retained by the triangular ray of the sun. So they cannot maintain a
straight path and are raised by the force of the heat, but this cannot be readi-
ly understood by sight. It therefore appears that they are in the place that has
been given the name ‘station’. Then the force of that same ray goes forward,
and the vapours force them back up again, as if struck by them again. One
of the moderns71 discusses this passage, and has this to say. We will say

69 
See the interesting discussion of ‘rays of darkness and triangular rays’ in Russo (2013, pp.
296ff).
70 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 2.13-14.
71 
Although unnamed here, Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 293) identifies the ‘modern author’ as
Jacob Ziegler. See Ziegler (1531, p. 191).
636 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

below what else Pliny means to say. To make a long story short, take as an
example Mount Etna, where the vapour of the fire conceived in the depths
of the earth hurls forth fiery rocks; so too the sun hurls the stars that find
themselves in low places and near the earth. But in this part, this is missing
from the example of Etna because the rocks are not subject to any vapours
from anywhere above them, which makes them go down again; rather, they
fall down because of their own nature. But the sun again intervenes with its
vapours, and propels the stars towards the earth. The modern author just
mentioned says that Pliny says that this is his personal explanation, and then
he appears to be astonished by Pliny because the aforementioned opinion
was expressed by Vitruvius in this passage much earlier.72 So much differ-
ence happens to the stars because the rays of the sun at one moment are
under them and hurl them on high, and at another moment are above them
and press them down towards to earth. This opinion, says the aforemen-
tioned modern author, can be refuted with many things that are evident.
Among these, one is that the sun, which is below the spheres of the stars,
catches up with the stars and drives them away, and forces them to return;
if all the stars were on the surface of a sphere, the sun thus being near the
earth at the rising or the setting could attract the star that was above it and
in its station. In addition to this, how can it be imagined that the heavenly
bodies, which by nature have their own movement, are only driven by the
power of the sun, and that that power is not a moderate but a violent one?
As such it is a thing that cannot last forever. Next it is added that it is to no
avail to attribute to fortuitous dispersions those things that are undoubtedly
related to those revolutions, which are as if ordered by means of a compass.
So, Pliny and Vitruvius are quite in agreement in this passage, and Vitruvi-
us’s doubt and the solution he gives are acceptable according to the systems
that we set forth above.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.14] The star of Jupiter, running between the star of Saturn
and that of Mars, makes a journey that is longer than Mars and shorter than Sat-
urn. And likewise the other stars, the farther they are from the last heaven, and the
closer to the earth they turn, the sooner they appear to finish their course. So each of
those making a shorter revolution, entering under, they more often overtake those
that are above; [IX.I.15] it is similar to what would happen if on a potter’s wheel
72 
Pliny claims priority in Natural History 2.13: ‘This is the doctrine of the superior planets;
that of the others is more difficult, and has never been laid down by any one before me’. The
‘modern author’ is Jacob Ziegler; see (Ziegler 1531, p. 191).
pp. 383-384 637

were put seven ants, and as many channels made on the plane of the wheel, first
near the centre and then gradually increasing, with the largest ones near the outer
edge, and the ants were forced to run around in the channels. Walking all the way
around the wheel to the opposite side, it is necessary that those ants travel that much
less contrary to the turn of the wheel; and the one in the channel that is closest to the
centre will be the quickest to make its circuit, and the one in the last and greatest
circumference of the [p. 384] wheel, even though he goes equally as fast, will never-
theless, because of the size of the revolution that he has to make, take a much longer
time to complete his course. Similarly the stars, which go contrary to the course of
the world, of their own movement make their own revolutions, but the heavens
turning with excesses, they are carried backwards by the daily circulation of time.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius says in the passage is simple and beautiful,
and has been usurped by those who came after him to explain the contrary
movement of the spheres of the planets.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.16] There are some stars that are temperate, others fervent,
others cold; it appears that the reason for this is that each fire has its own flame that
ignites. Thus the sun burns with its rays the ethereal side that is above it, making
it red-hot.
(Barbaro) Red-hot—that is, like iron that come out fervent from the fire.
(Vitruvius) [IX.I.16 cont.] In those places Mars has its course, and so that star
is made fervent by the course of the sun. But the star of Saturn, because it is closest
to the extremity of the world and touches the frozen parts of the heavens, is enor-
mously cold. And from this it comes that, since Jupiter must travel between Mars
and Saturn, from their cold and their heat, as in the middle, it maintains effects
that are proper and highly temperate.
(Barbaro) Because Vitruvius reasons like an architect, we needn’t exert
ourselves to contradict him because we know for certain that neither cold,
nor heat, nor other similar qualities or passions are found in those heavenly
and luminous bodies. They are esteemed to be of fire because they shine,
but in truth they are unalterable and cannot be consumed. Nor because they
shine should it be thought that they are of fire, since many animals, many
tree barks, and many fish scales are marvellously shiny, and yet they do not
contain any fire at all. If one star is called fervent, and another cold, it is only
because they have the power of producing such effects here below. Thus the
influence is nothing other than an unknown quality of the heavenly bodies,
which cannot be impeded by any body interposed.
638 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [IX.I.16 cont.] I have explained, as I was taught by my precep-

tors, the zone adorned by the twelve signs, and the seven stars, and their contrary
efforts, with what rationales and what numbers they pass from sign to sign and
finish their courses. Now I will tell how the moon waxes and wanes, in the way
that has come down to us from the great philosophers. [IX.II.1] Berossus, who
came from the city and country of the Chaldeans, went to Asia, and made mani-
fest the discipline of the Chaldeans, has thus confirmed that one half of the moon is
like a shiny, lighted ball, and the other is of the heavenly colour. When, making its
circuit, it enters beneath the circle of the sun, then it is attracted by the rays and the
impetus of the heat and is made red-hot. So its light has property with the light of
the sun, and as though called and turned around, it regards the parts above, thus
the side of the moon appears dark to us, and thus because of its resemblance to the
air, it is not red-hot. [IX.II.2] When it is perpendicular to the rays of the sun, Ber-
ossus said that the whole luminous part was held towards the part above, and then
it is called first moon. But then passing a little beyond it went to the eastern parts
of the heavens, abandoned by the force of the sun. The extreme part of its clarity
with a very slender thread sent its splendour to the earth, and for this reason it
is called second moon. Continuing each day to restore and release its revolving, it
was called third and fourth moons. But on the seventh day, the sun being in the
east, and the moon occupying the middle part between east and west, because its
distance from the sun is half of the length of the heavens, then similarly it will
have half of its clarity turned towards the earth. When the distance between the
sun and the moon is equal to the entire length of the heavens, and when the sun,
setting, faces the circle of the rising moon, so that it is much farther from the rays
of the sun, released in the fourteenth day, it will send its splendour from the entire
wheel of its face. And in the days to come it will continue to wane to the perfec-
tion and completion of the lunar month. With its revolutions, and with its being
recalled by the sun, it will enter under the wheel with its course, and its [p. 385]
rays will make the reckonings of the month. [IX.II.3] But I will set forth how the
mathematician Aristarchus the Samite has left us the teachings about the varying
of that moon with great keenness of mind. It is not concealed from us that the moon
does not have any light at all, but that is it like a mirror and receives its splendour
from the impetus of the sun. Thus of the seven stars the moon makes the shortest
circuit, closest to the earth. Therefore each month it is obscured under the wheel and
the rays of the sun the first day that it passes it, and when it is with the sun, it is
called new moon. The following day, from which it is called second moon, going
beyond the sun, it makes a slender appearance of its roundness; when it has then
p. 385 639

gone three days farther from the sun, it waxes, and is more illuminated. So mov-
ing each day, when it comes to the seventh day, being far from the setting sun by
half the heavens, it is light by half, and that part that faces the sun is illuminated.
[IX.II.4] On the fourteenth day, being removed from the sun by the diameter in
the space of the world, it becomes full and rises when the sun sets, inasmuch as it is
removed from the sun by the entire space of the world and counter to it, and from
the impetus of the sun it receives the light on its entire circle. But when the sun rises
on the seventeenth day, the moon is lowered to the west, and on the twenty-first
day, when the sun rises, the moon occupies almost the middle part of the heavens,
and has that part illuminated that looks at the sun, and is dark in the other parts.
And thus travelling each day, at almost the twenty-eighth day it enters under the
rays of the sun, and completes the reckonings of the months. Now I will say how
the sun, entering into the signs of each month, makes the spaces and hours of the
days increase and decrease.
(Barbaro) To me it seems that the opinion of Berossus agrees with that
of Aristarchus. It is true that there is a difference, because Berossus would
have it that half of the moon is shiny, and that that half is always turned
towards the sun. This might even be so, if he means to say that half is shiny
whether we can see it or not. Aristarchus would have it that all of the light
that the moon has comes from the sun; this is the better opinion, and has
been admitted. I therefore say in sum that the moon conjoined to the sun is
not seen because it has its illuminated face turned towards the sun and its
dark face turned towards us. Moving farther from the sun each day, the sun
strikes a part of the moon with its rays, and since we are in the middle, we
begin to see the illuminated part. In the first days we see only a little, so that
aspect is called lunato, and in Greek monoidis.73 But on the seventh day when
its distance from the sun is equal to a quarter of the heavens, half of that face
is seen, and so in Greek it is called diatomos—that is, bipartite. Moving still
farther from the sun, and turning more than half of the illuminated face
towards us, it is called amphicirtos—that is, curved on both sides. Finally
when it is in opposition to the sun, showing us the entirety of its illuminated
roundness, it is called panselenos—that is, whole or full moon—and we say
that the moon has come round. Returning then to the sun, day by day it
becomes more concealed, until it is once again subjugate to the sun, where

73 
For Greek names of the moon phases and a diagram of positions, see Thomson (1985, esp.
fig. 2, p. 128).
640 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

it is said that the moon is in conjunction. This is sufficient to allow us to

understand this present subject.
This done, Vitruvius proposes to tell us how the days and the hours
grow short and lengthen as the sun goes from sign to sign. By saying that the
spaces of the hours grow longer and shorter, he shows us that the ancients
divided each day into twelve equal parts. Thus it followed that the hours of
the day of the summer were longer that the hours of the day in the winter,
and the proportion used to divide the days was the same as that used to
divide the nights. Those hours agreed with the ordinary hours and with all
the other kinds of hours only at the time of the equinoxes. The hours grew
shorter from the time that the sun entered into Cancer until it went into
Capricorn, and they grew longer from Capricorn to Cancer. This observation
makes it easier to understand what Vitruvius says.

Chapter V
On the course of the sun through the twelve signs

(Vitruvius) [p. 386] [IX.III.1] The sun thus, when it goes into the figure of Aries
and crosses the eighth part of it, makes the spring equinox, but continuing farther
to the tail of Taurus and to the Vergillae stars, from which comes forth the first
part of Taurus, it courses in a larger and more ample space of the heavens, from the
half towards the northern part. Then leaving them, when it enters into Gemini,
the Vergillae rising, it grows still higher above the earth and makes the spaces of
the day longer. Then from Gemini, when it enters into Cancer, which occupies an
extremely long space of the heavens, when it arrives to the eighth degree it makes
the time of the solstice and, continuing on, it arrives to the head and breast of Leo,
because those parts are attributed to Cancer. [IX.III.2] From the breast of Leo and
from the terminations of Cancer, the exit of the sun traveling to the other parts of
Leo reduces the length of the days and the revolutions, and returns in distance equal
to those that it made when it was in Gemini. So then, passing from Leo to Virgo
and going farther on to the bodice of the gown of Virgo, there its revolutions are
constricted and are equal to those it made when it was in Taurus. Exiting Virgo
by the bodice of her dress, which occupies the first part of Libra, in the eighth degree
of Libra it makes the equinox of autumn, and that course is equal to the course
made previously through Aries. [IX.III.3] But the sun then entering into Scorpio,
the stars of the Vergillae setting, and going farther on towards the southern parts
pp. 386-387 641

it reduces the length of the days. Then coming from Scorpio to Sagittarius, when
it enters into the front parts of that comes the shortest course of the day. But start-
ing with the inner thighs of Sagittarius, which parts are attributed to Capricorn,
when it arrives at the eighth degree it crosses a very short space of the heavens
and so because of the brevity of the days that time is called ‘winter’ and the days
‘wintry’. But passing from Capricorn to Aquarius the length grows and becomes
equal to the length of the space of Sagittarius. From Aquarius, when it has entered
in Pisces, the Favonius wind blowing, it acquires a course that is equal to Scorpio.
And thus the sun, moving through those signs at certain and determined times,
increases and decreases the spaces of the days and the hours. I will speak of the other
constellations, which are adorned with stars to the left and the right of the zone of
the signs, of the southern and the northern parts of the world.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius provides us with the rationale of the length-
ening and shortening of the days, and briefly and summarily tells us about
the effect that the sun has in the world, entering from sign to sign, seeking
the quantity of days. The rationale is this: the sun, moving over the earth
from sign to sign, covers greater and lesser arcs of the heavens. We will settle
this account as well, giving the entire explanation. When here in our part of
the world the days grow long, in others they are shortened; we must embrace
the entire cause of this effect and not only that which serves us inhabitants
on this side of the equinox. ‘Day’ is therefore understood in two ways. The
first is the space that the sun makes with the world revolving one time in
a period of twenty-four hours; this is the ordinary meaning of that word in
common usage. However, to the revolution of twenty-four hours the expert
astronomers add this much more: it is the space that the sun has made in
that amount of time with its motion in a contrary direction to that of the
world. It is no wonder that this space comprises night as well because with
respect to the whole world the sun is always shining, making it day in some
place. In the other definition, ‘day’ is understood as that space where the sun
is above the horizon in a given place. In the first definition the day begins at
noon and terminates at noon the following day. Thus for inhabitants of the
earth, remaining in the same place every day of the year, the sun arrives at
the midpoint overhead in the same circle that passes from one pole to the
other through the point that is over their heads [p. 387], which is called
the zenith; that circle is called the meridian. So, when the sun, when it is
over the earth, finds itself at any point on the meridian, it is always noon.
Although different places have different meridians, in each place the me-
642 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

ridian is unvarying. But the points of the rising and setting of the sun vary
constantly since it can be seen that the sun sometimes rises at true east and
sometimes on one or the other side of it. So too it sets at different points
on the horizon. In order to know then the diversity of the days, it must be
observed that the sun does not rise equally each day over the earth, whence
it follows that no single day is equal to the next. It is true that in the same
degrees of distance from the equator at which the sun rises each day, in those
it sets in the opposite place, and as short or long as the day may be. When a
man is in one place, the sun comes to him every day (as I have said) on the
same meridian, without its ever inclining in any way. This does not mean I
am saying that at one and the same time it is noon for all the inhabitants of
the earth, but I do say that the farther east one is, the earlier the sun will rise
for him and the earlier noon will arrive for him. Thus it is for this reason that
when to some it is noon, to others the day is just beginning, and to others it
is at its end, and to still others night. Since the earth is, according to some,
six thousand leagues in circumference, the body of the sun for each hour of
the natural day covers a distance over water and land of two hundred and
sixty-two leagues.74 Thus from this account, if we see what time of day it is in
a country that we know, then by knowing the distance in leagues from one
place to the other from east to west we know what time of day it is in all the
other parts of the earth. Now let us suppose the sun to be in the beginning of
Aries, which is the equinoctial point. Vitruvius puts it in the eighth degree
(I will explain what is meant by this later) and says that it begins to rise. Let
us imagine that the beginning and the end of the day are when the centre of
the body of the sun is found on the lip or edge of the horizon in the east and
in the west. I say that the day is equal to the night because the sun traces one
half of its course above the horizon and the other half below, and remains as
much time above as below. Let us then say that by its motion the sun moves
towards the signs that are on this side of the equinoctial line with respect
to us, which are Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, and Virgo, which
Vitruvius calls northern. I say that the days will gradually become longer
until the sun arrives to the sign of Cancer, when it begins to go lower and
turn back. This is called ‘tropic’—that is, the circle of return, which is what
we imagine the sun would do if, when entering into Cancer and turning for

The circumference of the earth was discussed in Book I, Barbaro, pp. 61-62, but using
74 

entirely different measures. For an interesting discussion of the source for Barbaro’s ‘6000
leagues’, see Borchberg (2001, pp. 15-23).
pp. 387-388 643

an entire day, it were to leave a visible trail in the heavens. Similarly, we call
‘equinoctial’ the circle that the sun would mark in a day entering into Aries
or into Libra if it were to show its traces. The sun then begins to descend
from the tropic and does not make such a large diurnal arc. Since the sun at
that time appears to move only a little—as is apparent to us because of the
small variations of the shadows—that time is called ‘solstice’. Thus the day is
extremely long for those who are on this side of the equinoctial and the night
is extremely short. The more inclined and oblique the horizon is, the longer
the day and the shorter the night because the sun rises higher for those who
have a more oblique horizon and remains longer above the earth, and thus
the period of the light is greater. Thus it is easy to correct the text of Vitru-
vius when he says ad Cancrum, qui brevissimum tenet coeli spatium because he
wants to say lungissimum with respect to the sun, which in the beginning of
Cancer makes a longer journey above the horizon with respect to us and the
diurnal arc is the largest of the entire year. Then descending from the solstice
into the signs that follow, the days grow shorter because the diurnal arcs are
lower and smaller, until the sun arrives in Libra, in the beginning of which
the day again becomes equal to the night. This makes the second equinox,
called the autumn equinox, as the first was called the spring equinox. Going
down still lower in the signs that follow, the days become shorter for the
reasons given above until the sun enters Capricorn, where it makes another
solstice, called ‘brumal’ by the ancients sages because of the brevity of the
day. The sun thus being in the winter sign, the nights are the longest of the
entire year for those who are on this side of the equinox and the days are
consequently shorter. But for those [p. 388] who are on the other side of the
equinox the opposite occurs because the diurnal arcs become larger; the sun,
revolving along those, is above the horizon; and the nocturnal arcs become
smaller. Returning then from Capricorn (because there too is the other circle
of return), because the sun begins to go higher, the days become longer, until
once again they become equal to the night, going back into Aries.
This is what Vitruvius wanted to say and along the way he mentioned
many fine things. Among these, one is the order of the signs and the ways
their figures are formed. I say that he did this so that the makers of spheres
could learn to make the heavenly signs correctly. So the sun enters Aries at
its head, behind Aries is the tail of Taurus, and thus and so on, as Vitruvius
said. Another thing is that from Aries in order up to Libra the signs are
called northern, and those that are from Libra to Aries are called southern.
644 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

This is because the former are on this side of the equinoctial line towards
the north, where we are; the latter are on towards the south—that is to say,
with respect to us. Thus the signs that are southern to us, who are on this
side of the equinoctial line, are signs of the pole on the other side; and the
signs that to us are northern, are southern to those on the other side of the
equinoctial line. He says further, that both equinoxes and both solstices oc-
cur in the eighth degree of their signs; how this is to be understood in the
aforementioned place in Pliny is told by the modern author cited above.75
The ancients, in order to know the oblique circle, looked in two different
places to see when the days were equal to the night. They also considered
two extremely large inequalities of the days—one in the winter, the other in
the summer—when the sun once again found itself at the points of return.
This they did wisely and well, reasoning that between these terminal points
the sun would move maintaining the same mode of travel, not interrupt-
ing it more in one place than in another, and thus it seemed to them—and
justly so—that those spaces were conjoined along the circumference of one
continuous circle. And so they had four beginning points of four quarters of
the oblique circle, as was said previously. Basing other arguments upon this,
they divided that circle into twelve equal parts, unchanging throughout the
centuries. Then, to make their invention memorable to themselves as well
as to posterity, they drew that circle with different groups of stars that they
understood it to comprise—not in such a way that each image, as config-
ured, occupied precisely the twelfth part but inasmuch as they were close
to said circle. Thus they named Aries, Taurus, and the other signs. From
this the oblique circle took the name of ‘zodiac’, or orbis signiferum. That the
images do not occupy the third [recte twelfth76] part of the zodiac precisely,
Vitruvius makes clear to us in saying that the head and the breast of Leo are
attributed to Cancer; that the bodice of the dress of Virgo has its first parts
in Libra; and other similar things.
Now, to expound on Vitruvius we say that the first parts of Aries up to
the horns begins at six degrees and thirty minutes—that is, six parts and a
half of the twelve parts into which the zodiac is equally divided—and the
last parts up to the tail of it extend to twenty-seven degrees, so that this
image extends over a total of twenty and a half degrees, of which the eighth

75 
The ‘modern author’ is Jacob Ziegler; see (Ziegler 1531, pp. 218-220).
76 
An error that crept in between editions; cfr. Barbaro (1556, p. 219).
pp. 388-389 645

part is two and a half,77 by which Aries exceeds the equality of the days.
It is similar with the other signs, and even though this in fact is not exact,
the approximation is nevertheless sufficient. Columella, in his ninth book,78
although he approves the opinion of Hipparchus saying that the equinoxes
and solstices occur in the first degrees of the signs, nevertheless follows the
ancient astronomers Eudoxus and Myron [recte Meton79], who said that the
equinoxes and solstices occurred in the eighth degree of the signs, as Vitru-
vius said. The ancients established this following the traditional customs so
that those days were dedicated to certain sacrifices and nominated for sacred
ceremonies, and that opinion came to be accepted by the common man. Also
to be observed in Vitruvius is the correspondence of the days when the sun
is in one sign and when it is in another. Thus he says that Leo corresponds to
Gemini; Virgo to Taurus; Libra to Aries; and so on with the others because
there is a single rationale of going and returning. He concludes that, just as
the days go on lengthening and shortening, so too lengthen and shorten the
spaces of the hours, the proportion of the part to the part being the same as
that of the whole to the whole. In order [p. 389] to give a clear and universal
proof of this we will say that at every horizon, no matter how long or how
short day and night will be, one half of the zodiac ascends and the other half
descends, as we have said. During the day, when one half—commencing
from the place where the sun is found—ascends and moves forwards accord-
ing to the order of the signs, the other half—which finds itself in the oppo-
site place where the sun finds itself—descends. Vice versa, during the night
the first ascends while the other descends. This is reasonable because (as we
have said), the horizon and the zodiac being two of the great circles, both
are necessarily cut into two equal parts. Thus during both day and night, six
signs rise and six set. So, where the horizon is oblique, for those who are on
this side of the equinoctial line, on the day of the spring equinox rises the
half of the zodiac that declines towards the pole that contains the signs from
Aries to Libra; and vice versa, on the day of the autumn equinox, the other
half rising, this half goes down. The half of the zodiac that commences at
the point of the summer solstice goes up in an extremely large space and
goes down in a very short time; in the point of the winter solstice, that which

77 
27.5° – 6.5° = 20.5°; 20.5° ÷ 8 = 2.5625° or 2 9/16° (app. 2.5°)
78 
Columella, De re Rustica.
79 
Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 296, line 32) reads ‘Metonis’ (Meton) instead of ‘Mirone’ (Myron).
646 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

rises in a very short space descends in a very long time. So both the night
of the summer and the day of the winter are extremely short, and both the
day of the summer and the night of the winter are very long. Thus for the
inhabitants under the polar circles, the half of the zodiac that commences
with the point of the solstice rises in the space of twenty-four hours and sets
in an instant; vice versa, the other rises in an instant and sets in the space of
twenty-four hours. Thus the closer a half of the zodiac begins to the highest
solstice, the greater the space of time it rises and the smaller the space of
time it sets. Therefore two halves that commence at a point equally far from
the solstice will rise and set with equal spaces of time, and thus give birth to
equal days and nights. If two halves of the zodiac commence at two opposite
points, in the time that one ascends the other descends; because the same
day that one rises the other sets, and in the same night that one rises the
other sets. Because of this, those halves which rise at points that are equally
distant from an equinox, in the time that one ascends the other descends.
This is what Vitruvius is saying when he says that the days of Gemini are
equal to the days of Leo. Here below is the table (Fig. 9.5.1) that shows de-
gree by degree the length of the days beginning at the equinoctial line and
going to the pole.
And so, the length of the days at the time of the summer solstice is
equal to the length of the nights at the time of the winter solstice such that,
over the course of the year, the space of the day is the same as the space of
the night. Therefore, when we wish to know the longest day in each country,
use is made of the table in Fig. 9.5.1, where the first column gives the height
of the pole, followed by columns that give the hours, minutes, and seconds.
That the earth is inhabited even where there are six months of day and six
of night has already been proved by men’s having experienced it and by the
writings of many. Nature has provided for those who live in such places. The
moon with its shining often visits them; the twilights are as long in the eve-
nings as they are in the mornings; the sun, residing at length over the land,
leaves its impression; the land is protected from the winds by the height of
the mountains. The place is curved so that it better receives the heat; there
is the sea, whose saltiness also gives a hint of aridness. In those places are
found the finest skins; the men are large, vigorous, and robust;80 and just as
80 
Vitruvius contrasted the peoples of the north and south in VI.I.9-11; Barbaro simply
acknowledged the discussion there (p. 276), remarking that it is simple enough to understand,
but that he subscribes to it is shown by his reiteration of it.
pp. 389-391 647

the sea provides them with a great quantity of fish, the earth does not dis-
dain to provide herbs and metals in such great quantities that the ancients,
who had never seen them before, could hardly believe it until they saw it for
themselves.
But let us go back to our subject and relate briefly what has often been
observed from the movement of the sun through the quarters of the zodiac.
So, the sun moves through the first [i.e., the spring] quarter of the zodiac
in ninety-four days and twelve hours, and ninety-three degrees and nine
minutes of its eccentric. It moves through the second, which is the summer
quarter, in ninety-two days and twelve hours, and ninety-one degrees and
eleven minutes of its eccentric. It moves through the third [i.e., autumn]
quarter in eighty-eight days and [p. 391] eighty-six degrees and forty-one
minutes of its eccentric. It moves through the fourth, or winter, quarter in
ninety days, two hours, fifty-five minutes and two seconds, and eighty-eight
degrees and ninety-nine minutes of its eccentric. It travels the northern half
of the zodiac in one hundred eighty-seven days, and the other half in one
hundred seventy-eight days, fifty-five hours, fifty-five minutes, and twelve
seconds. Thus moving through the northern half it takes eight days, eight-
een hours, four minutes, and forty-eight seconds longer than when moving
through the southern half.
(Vitruvius) [IX.III.3 cont.] Now I will tell about the other constellations
which are to the right and to the left of the zone of the disposed signs, depicted by
the stars of the north and the south.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius tells what he intends to do, now that he has ex-
plained the course of the sun, the increase and decrease of the diurnal spaces,
and the hours. He says that he wants to show the location of the stars placed
on either side of the zodiac because, while there are some images within the
width of the zodiac, some are outside. Therefore, having talked about those
that are within the width of the zodiac—which and how many there are, and
what they are like—he now wishes to treat those that are on either side of the
zodiac. First he will deal with those that are on the northern side, using the
term ‘constellation’ to denote an entire image composed of several stars and
the term ‘star’ to denote that which is only a single star.
648 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.5.1. [Table of the length of days] Image [p. 390]

p. 391 649

Chapter VI
On the constellations in the northern region

[p. 391] (Vitruvius) [IX.IV.1] Septentrion, which the Greeks call Arcton, or He-
licen, has the Guardian located behind it, from which is not very far Virgo, over
whose right shoulder is located a very shiny star that the Latins call Provindemi-
ator, the Greeks Protrygetes. Its appearance is brighter than it is colourful. There is
another star opposite between the knees of the Guardian of the Bear, which is called
Arcturus, and here is dedicated.81 At the meeting of the head of Septentrion across
to the feet of Gemini is the Charioteer, lying over the tip of the horn of Taurus.
Likewise at the tip of the left horn of Taurus at the feet of the Charioteer is a star
on one side that is called the hand of the Charioteers, where the Kids and the Goat
Star are.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius not only sets out the heavenly figures, which are
groupings of many stars that he calls ‘constellations’, but he also remarks
certain individual stars. He doesn’t describe all of them, but only those that
are seen and recognised by their rising and setting. This shows that Vitru-
vius intended to set forth what appears in our hemisphere, and so he has
reasoned first about the poles of the world in that way: how by perpetual law
the north is always on top and the south always below. In this part of the
text there are many errors. On the basis of a map made with the counsel and
work of three valiant men—Johann Stabius, Albrecht Dürer, and Volpaia
the Florentine82—and which contain all the heavenly images, drawn with
the utmost diligence according to their position, the number of stars that
adorn them, their quantity and size, and also if there are stars lying outside
the figure. Many that appertain to the other pole have been added for the
benefit of navigators. However, instead of that chart we will refer to a table
that is made, not of images, but of numbers because this will show which

81 
Barbaro’s translation & ivi è dedicato is based on the reading est ibi dedicatus found in
both Fra Giocondo (1511, pp. 88v-89r) and Cesariano (1521, p. CLIIIr). It is in line with
the translations of Morgan (1914, p. 266, ‘dedicated there’); Rowland and Howe (1999, p.
113, ‘enshrined there’); and Schofield (2009, p. 258, ‘enshrined there’). It is at odds with
transcriptions that read est ibi delicates; see Granger (1934, pp. 236-237).
82 
Albrecht Dürer’s woodcuts of the celestial charts for the northern and southern
hemispheres, Imagines coeli Septentrionales cum duodecim imaginibus zodiaci and Imagines
coeli Meridionales, were published in Nuremburg in 1515. Although Barbaro credits the
Florentine Lorenzo di Camillo della Volpaia, a famed instrument maker, with assisting
Dürer and Stabius in compiling the star charts, the star positions were actually based on
earlier maps by Conrad Heinfogel.
650 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

figures are northern and which are southern; their latitude—that is, how far
removed they are from the ecliptic towards the pole of the world—and their
longitude—that is, how far along the length of the zodiac they are from the
beginning of Aries—; and their quantities and qualities, since some shine
more brightly, others less so; some are larger, others smaller; and some move
through the heavens passing through one sign, others through another. This
table was calculated in 1520 with the utmost diligence by the excellent Mr
Federico Delfino,83 my teacher. Out of duty, the affection I felt for him, and
because of his authority, I wanted to reproduce his calculation and bring to
light that [p. 392] honourable effort, thus that table appears at the end of the
book and I refer my readers there.84
The ancients set out forty-eight figures and knew a thousand and twen-
ty-two stars. It is true that some wanted to divide the figures into several
parts and so went beyond the number just mentioned. Ptolemy posited for-
ty-eight. These are named after animate and inanimate things alike—that
is, after things both that have and lack reason85—beasts both wild and do-
mesticated, both of the earth and the sea. I note with great wonder that the
Greeks (if it was the Greeks and not others still more ancient) had so much
authority that with the consent of all they filled the heavens with their fa-
bles, which later became so established that they were never altered in any
way. But finally the adulation of the members of court and the desire of
the first arrangers, such as poets86 and astronomers, to fix some noteworthy
things for eternal memory or to adulate their lords, found spaces in the heav-
ens to situate the things beloved by them where they could never ascend, as
Virgil set the star of Caesar between the claws of Scorpio.87 The amazing
thing is that the Greeks—or others—had the privilege of filling the heavens
with the names of their wicked beliefs88 and that their fables were accepted

83 
Federico Delfino (1477-1547), whose name was Latinised as Delphinus, held the chair in
mathematics at the University of Padua.
84 
These tables were reproduced on Barbaro, pp. 483-496, but are not reproduced in this
present translation.
85 
See the previous note on p. 370.
86 
The title ‘poet laureate’ was awarded to scientists, not solely to poets; Stabius, for instance,
was crowned poet laureate by Maximilian II.
87 
Virgil, Eclogue 9, lines 46-50: ‘See! the star of Caesar, seed of Dione, has gone forth—the
star to make the fields glad with corn, and the grape deepen its hue on the sunny hills’
(Virgil 1938, vol. 1, p. 69).
88 
Sceleratezze, wicked crimes or evil deeds; to Barbaro, non-Christian.
p. 392 651

in the canons and rules of describing the heavens. Even the sacred scriptures
make mention of those names, as where Job, speaking of the power of God,
says: ‘who made Arcturus, Orion, and the Pleiades, the interior parts of the
south’;89 and as where God himself says to Job: ‘Can you gather together
the shining Pleiadian stars, or dissipate the revolution of Acturus? Do you
produce Lucifer in his time, or give birth on the horizon to the star called
Vesperus?’90 So the Greeks, or others, who were the first inventors, fearing
that the recklessness of their ribaldry might not be long-lived, wished to fix
it in the heavens. Thus some sing:

Jupiter, inflamed with amorous ardour,

By the daughters of men set alight,
Annoyed by the immortal fight
Of his too-proud wife and her furor,
Caught sight of Callisto, who was in the flower
Of her beauty. Thus he descended among us
And after the sweet kisses and the remonstrance
Sweet on her part, his was the conquering power.
Juno, jealous and full of disdain,
Took the young beauty, and tormented
Her, into a horrible bear converted her.
The unhappy creature gave with its roar a sign
Through the woods of Arcadia, but raised
Through Jupiter’s pity she arose to the heavens.91

The figures that are towards the north are located first by Vitruvius, who
says that Septentrion—called Arcturus or Helice by the Greeks—is none
other than the Great Bear, which others have called the Wagon because of
its shape.92 It has, behind it, the Guardian of the Bear—or Boötes as it is

89 
Cfr. Job 9:9.
90 
Cfr. Job 38:31-32.
91 
The appearance here of these lines may be proof that Barbaro himself is the author of
the anonymous untitled poem found in Florence Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale ms.
Magliabecchiana II.IV.16; see Bartoli (1883, vol. III, p. 320: 3. Sonnetto anepigrafico, ‘Giove
che spesso d’amoroso ardore’). Certainly the rhyme scheme and metre are consistent with
those of Barbaro’s Meteore; cfr. Barbaro, p. 73 and pp. 332-335. My English translation is
aimed at maintaining the metre, rhyme scheme, and meaning of the original.
92 
Ursa Major, the Wagon; also known as the Great Dipper, the Plough, the Wain.
652 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

called—below which and not very far away is the sign of Virgo, which sym-
bolises Astraea and justice. On her right shoulder is seen a very bright star
called Vindemiatrix93 because its rising—that is, when it emerges from the
sun’s rays—promises the maturity of the vintage, a material sign of which
is given by the changing colour of the grapes. This star is similar to fiery
iron, so Vitruvius says that it is sooner described as candens—that is, burning
hot—than coloured; the writers attribute to it a marvellous splendour. The
Greeks call it Protrygetes, which in Latin is Provindemiator. Beyond this,
between the knees of the Guardian of the Bear is the star named Arcturus,
leading some to call the entire figure of the Guardian by that name. Here
Vitruvius not only touches on the images, constellations, asterisms, signs
and figures—which are all the same thing—but also on individual stars (as
we said). Then comes the Auriga, called the Charioteer, Wagoner, Erichtho-
nius or Orsilochus. It is located in front of the head of the Great Bear and
crosses it in such a way that if [p. 393] the Bear were to slide, the Charioteer
would hit him on the head. It is on top of the right horn of Taurus, between
the feet of Gemini. On his left shoulder this is a star that is called the Goat
Star,94 which appears to look at two small stars to the left of the Charioteer,
which are called ‘the Kids’.95 I would read Vitruvius in this way: Itemque in
summo cornu lævo ad Auriga pedes una tenet parte stellam, quæ appellatur Aurigæ
manus, in qua hædi. capra vero lævo humero; and then he begins Tauri quidem,
& Arietis insuper.96 Thus, over the tip of the left horn the Charioteer extends
a hand in which there are two stars named the Kids; on his left shoulder he
holds a star called the Goat Star. Vitruvius then goes on:
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.2 cont.] Over the regions of Taurus and Aries are found
the right parts of Perseus, entering under the base of the stars named Vergiliae, and
with his left parts over the head of Aries. His right hand is resting on the image of
Cassiopeia and he holds over Auriga the Gorgonian head by its top, placing it at
the feet of Andromeda. Over Andromeda and over her belly are the Horses.
(Barbaro) Here again the text is incorrect because Vitruvius’s words nei-
ther relate to nor construct the truth, which is that over Andromeda there
are two horses: one winged, which represents Pegasus; and the other, the

93 
Epsilon Virginis. Barbaro uses the names ‘Antivindemia’ and (four lines later) ‘Provindemia’
to indicate the same star.
94 
Alpha Aurigae, or Capella.
95 
Zeta Aurigae and Eta Aurigae: the Haedi, or ‘Kids’. 
96 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 89r).
p. 393 653

forepart of a horse—that is, the head and chest97—; the belly of the winged
horse is over the head of Andromeda. That horse also holds a star on top of
its back that is very noticeable98 and Vitruvius could have said so.
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.3] There are also the Fishes over Andromeda and the belly
of that horse that is on top of the back of the other horse, but in the belly of the first
there is a very bright star that terminates said belly and the head of Andromeda.
The right hand of Andromeda is placed over the image of Cassiopeia and her left
over the northern fish. Likewise Aquarius is over the head of the horse, and the
hooves of the horse touch the knee of Aquarius.
(Barbaro) So in the depiction of those valiant men [i.e., Stabius, Dürer
and Volpaia] the horse should have its feet turned in the other direction.
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.3 cont.] Over Cassiopeia high up in the middle of Cap-
ricorn are located the Eagle and the Dolphin, after which there is the Arrow. And
far behind the Arrow is the Bird,99 whose right feather touches the hand of Cepheus
and the sceptre. The left hand of Cepheus is over the image of Cassiopeia. Below the
tail of the Bird the feet of the Horse are covered.
(Barbaro) Here we are to understand the Horse in the middle.
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.4] Then there are the images of Sagittarius, Scorpio and
Libra.
(Barbaro) If Vitruvius had distinguished the two horses with differ-
ent names—calling one Equus and the other Equuleus—that is, Hippou
Protome,100 as the Greeks say—then he wouldn’t have left any difficulties.
However, in saying that the Eagle is very far from the image of Cassiopeia,
that the hooves of the Horse touch the knees of Aquarius, and then that the
feet of the Horse are concealed by the tail of the Bird, he gives us to under-
stand that he is not reasoning about a single horse. This is all clear in the
lessons and drawings of the good authors.
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.4 cont.] Then above that the Serpent with the tip of its
snout touches the Crown, in the middle of which is the Ophiuchus…
(Barbaro) …or serpent-bearer…
(Vitriuvius) [IX.IV.4 cont.] …who holds the Serpent in his hand, treading

97 
Equuleus, the Little Horse.
98 
Alpha Pegasi, or Markab.
99 
Cygnus, the Swan. Indicated as ‘Avis’ on Dürer’s woodcut, later known as ‘Apus’, or Bee,
possibly as the result of a printing error; Kepler referred to it as ‘Apus, Avis Indica’ (Apus,
bird of India) in his Rudolphine Tables (1627).
100 
Ἵππου Προτομή (Hippou Protome) in Ptolemy’s Almagest.
654 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

with his left foot on the forehead of Scorpio. But in the middle of the head of the
Ophiuchus, not far away, is the head of the Kneeler, called Nessus.101
(Barbaro) This is called Hercules, Theseus, Thamyris, Orpheus, Pro-
metheus, Ixion, Caeteus, and Lycata.102
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.4 cont.] The tops of their heads are more easily known
because they are formed of very bright stars. [IX.IV.5] But the feel of the Kneeler
is fixed in the temple of the head of that Serpent, which is between the Bears called
Septentrions.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius says, Parve per eos flectitur Delphinus,103 does
not agree with what others say because the Dolphin is far from the Kneeler,
unless it is perhaps read Ubi parve per os qui flectitur Delphinus contra volucris
rostrum est proposita lyra.104
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.5 cont.] But where the Dolphin bends slightly against the
beak of the Bird is positioned the Lyre. Between the shoulders of the Kneeler, and of
the Guardian is adorned the [p. 394] Crown, and in the northern circle are placed
the two Bears.
(Barbaro) After Vitruvius has reasoned about the stars and images that
are between the tropic and the northern circle, he goes into those that are
inside the northern circle. He does this separately because it is more neces-
sary for those parts to be known, because they are seen to be more useful for
human comforts.105 He thus describes individually the northern circle, the
shapes and the locations of the Bear, Dragon and Swan, saying:
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.5] In the northern circle are placed the two Bears that
turn their shoulders to each other and whose chests face towards different directions.
The smaller of these is called Cynosura, the greater Helice by the Greeks. Both look
downwards, and the tail of one is turned towards the head of the other. Thus ex-
tending out from the top of the heads of both of these and coming forward through

101 
This phrase detto Aesso does not appear in Barbaro (1556); there appears to be a printing
error, and it should be detto Nesso, since in Fra Gioconda we read dicitur nessus (1511, p. 89v).
In Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 299, line 37), Barbaro writes qui dicitur Nysus in genibus.
102 
Alpha Hercules, or Ras Algethi.
103 
This phrase is found in Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 89r); cfr. Granger (1934, p. 238).
104 
This interpretation is precisely the phrase that he translates in the following line of
Vitruvius. The phrase that appears in Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 299, line 46) is Ubi vero parve
per os Equi flectitur Delfinus contra volucris rostrum est proposita lyra.
105 
Stars above the ‘northern circle’ were visible year-round because they never went below
the horizon; today we call such stars ‘circumpolar’.
p. 394 655

their tails is the Serpent, or Dragon as it is called, [IX.IV.6] at the end of which is
the luminous star that is called the Pole Star, which is near the head of the Great
Bear; that one thus being near the Dragon, he winds himself around its head.
(Barbaro) Here we see the error of many who have painted the Bears
and the Dragon, since the figure of the Dragon is not contorted in the way
it is depicted. Those who have diligently observed it have not found that the
stars appear in the heavens in the way they are depicted: the Great Bear is
not near the head of the Dragon, nor is the Little Bear near its tail. To the
contrary, the Great Bear is near the tail and the Little Bear is near the wind-
ings, as Aratus shows, saying:

Here were Jupiter’s wet-nurses, luminous

Helice and Cynosura. One the Greeks’
Guides on high seas, the other the Phoenicians’.
Helice is all bright and her stars are seen
Adorned with greater brightness and magnitude.
And when in the ocean the sun is concealed,
She, ornamented with seven flames, sparkles.
But to mariners more faithful is the other,
Because all in a brief circuit amassed, she
Revolves about the trusted pole and never
(Provided that she is seen) can she be found
To be misleading for the ships of Sidon.
Between these in the form of a broken light
The monstrous Dragon interposes and writhes
First this way, then that way. He advances past
Helice with his tail and then, twisting round,
He bends to Cynosura. And where he points
With his tail, there places her head Helice.
And beyond Cynosura he stretches out
His twisted folds, and raising himself on high
He regards the Great Bear with audacious head.
His eyes are ablaze and his fiery temples
656 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Are kindled with flames, and the tip of his chin

Burns with a lone monstrous light.106

The Pole Star, which is used by our mariners, is the last star in the tail of
the Little Bear. Let us imagine a straight line from the last two stars of the
Great Bear—that is, from the back wheels of the Wagon107—that looks to
the next star that it encounters: there is the star close to the pole of the world,
also called the Star of the Sea (Fig. 9.6.1). The Pole Star is thus the first of
the stars that make up the Little Bear. This is made of seven very bright
stars, three of which make a curve that is taken for the tongue of the Wagon,
and four which then form a square according to the places of the four wheels.
These move around the pole from east to west with an equal distance in peri-
ods of twenty-four hours. The Pole Star makes a smaller circuit because it is
close to the pole; the pole itself being invisible, by this movement is known
the height of the pole above the horizon. The location of the pole is known
by another star, which is the brightest of the two guards named.108 That star
is called a ‘clock star’ because, turning like the dial of a clock, it makes it
possible to know what time of night it is in all seasons, as is shown by the
clocks made for the night (Fig. 9.6.1).109 The three stars that are marked by
hand in Fig. 9.6.2 come into the nocturnal clock along a straight line drawn
with a ruler, which is applied to the centre of the clock.110

106 
The present translation is mine from Barbaro’s Italian. Cfr. the prose translation of these
lines from Aratus, Phaenomena, lines 30-45 (2004, p. 75). An English verse translation
of these lines is found in Aratus (1848, pp. 34-35). I am grateful to Stanley Lombardo
for discussions about this. Unlike the other verses in the treatise these are neither
hendecasyllablic nor in terza rima.
107 
These are the ‘pointer stars’ in Ursa Major, Dubhe and Merak.
108 
These ‘guards’ are two bright stars in Ursa Minor, Kochab and Pherkad, said to guard
the celestial north pole because of their nearness to it; these are also the ‘clock stars’ he
mentions.
109 
One of the problems in Leon Battista Alberti’s Ludi matematici concerns telling the time
by these stars. See Williams et al. (2010, pp. 29-33 and commentary pp. 99-101).
110 
This sentence regarding the figure makes no sense here because the figure that Barbaro is
referring to appears in Barbaro (1556, p. 229) but not in the 1567 edition. It was therefore
decided to reproduce it here as Fig. 9.6.2. Instead, the figure included in both the Italian
and Latin editions of 1567 (Fig. 9.6.1) is practically identical to the one that appeared in
Alberti’s Ludi matematici (see the previous note).
 657

Fig. 9.6.1. Image and captions [p. 395]: [left] Portions of the circle made
by the stars around the Pole Star; [right] the stars of the Wagon that
rotate around the Pole Star

Fig. 9.6.2. Image from Barbaro (1556, p. 229), not shown in either of
the 1567 editions. Above, the Wagon. Below, the ‘nocturnal clock’: The
centre of the circle shown is the celestial north pole; the Pole Star is
shown orbiting the pole on a smaller circle, with Kochab and Pherkad
orbiting it on a larger circle
658 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

[p. 395] (Vitruvius) [IX.IV.6] And the serpent is situated lying around the
head of Cynosura and goes lengthwise straight out to her feet and then, winding
around and curving, it rises up and winds around the head of the Little Bear to
the Great Bear, against the muzzle of that one and touching the temple of its head.
(Barbaro) That is, the Serpent stretches around the head of the Little
Bear and here it curves somewhat, then straightens down to the feet of the
Great Bear and here it curves again and turns its head towards the head of
the Little Bear. Just as Ptolemy describes the turns and twists of the rivers
from their mouths to their sources, so too Vitruvius describes the straight
and curved parts of the Dragon. So I would read Vitruvius in this way: Una
vero (that is, ‘together’) circum cynosuræ caput, iniecta est flexu (that is, ‘the
curved Serpent’) porrectaque proxime eius pedes (that is, ‘of the Little Bear’)
hæc autem (that is, ‘to the feet of the Little Bear’) intorta replicataq; est (that is,
‘the Serpent’) se attollens reflectitur’, and so forth.111
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.6] Also over the tail of the Little Bear are the feet of Ce-
pheus, and here to the top of Aries are the stars that make the triangle of equal sides.
(Barbaro) I understand it thus: ibique ad summum cacumen insuper Arietis
signum sunt stellæ, quæ faciunt triangulum paribus lateribus.112 These words are
put very intricately by Vitruvius to describe with brevity how the stars are.
The Triangulum, because of its resemblance to the Greek letter D, is called
Deltoton.
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.6] There are many confused stars of the Little Bear and
the figure of Cassiopeia.
(Barbaro) By ‘confused’ he means that they don’t compose any figure;
such are the five around Aries, the eleven around Taurus, and the seven
around Gemini. Either that, or he means that they do not shine as brightly
or they are not as large. But I like the first interpretation better. Vitruvius
then concludes his discussion and says what remains to be said.
(Vitruvius) [IX.IV.6 cont.] Up to here I have expounded on those stars that
are arranged in the heavens on the right of the east between the zone of the signs
and the constellations of the north. Now I will explain those that nature has dis-
tributed to the left of the east and in the parts of the south.

111 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 89v). The phrase in Fra Giocondo est se attollens reflectitur,
repeated by Barbaro, does not appear in all editions. See, for example, Granger (1934, p.
240).
112 
Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 89v).
p. 396 659

Chapter VII
On the stars that are from the zodiac to the south

[p. 396] (Vitruvius) [IX.V.1] First of all below Capricorn is the southern Fish,
which from far away faces Cepheus with the tail, and from that to Sagittarius the
place is empty. The Turibulum is below the stinger of Scorpio. The first parts of the
Centaur are close to Libra and to Scorpio. They hold in their hands the image that
the experts call the beast of the stars. Along Virgo, Leo, and Cancer is the Serpent,
which, placing a team of curving stars at the bottom, encircles the space of Cancer,
raising its snout towards Leo. In the middle of his body he holds the Cup, placing his
tail under Virgo’s hand, in which is the Crow. Those stars which are on the shoul-
ders shine equally bright. [IX.V.2] On the inner part of the belly of the Serpent,
below the tail, is placed the Centaur. At the Cup and Leo is the ship Argo, whose
prow is obscured, but the mast and those parts around the rudder appear clearly.
This small ship and its stern are conjoined at the top with the tail of the Dog.
(Barbaro) This is understood to be the Greater Dog.
(Vitruvius) [IX.V.2 cont.] But the Lesser Dog follows Gemini and at the
intersection is the head of the Serpent; the Greater Dog follows the Lesser Dog.
(Barbaro) We have to observe that when Vitruvius says ‘the Lesser Dog
follows Gemini’, he means that the Lesser Dog is opposite over Gemini be-
cause Vitruvius’s order is to situate the images on either side of the zodiac,
accompanying them with the signs of the zodiac, so that their position in the
heavens is known. So we must be aware of this in the entire treatment, both
in the previous chapter and in what follows, because a good grasp of this will
save a great deal of effort in understanding many things.
(Vitruvius) Orion is crosswise below, exhausted beneath the hoof of Taurus,
holding with his left hand the club, raising the other hand to Gemini. [IX.V.3]
Near his foot is the Dog who chases the Hare, a bit further on. Placed below Aries
and Pisces is the Whale. From its head to both Fishes is arrayed in orderly fashion
a thin sprinkling of stars, called Hermidone in Greek.
(Barbaro) What the Greeks call Hermidone,113 Pliny calls commissura
113 
Transcribed from Fra Giocondo’s Greek (1511, p. 89v). Cfr. Harpedonae in Granger
(1934, pp. 242-243) and Schofield (2009, p. 260). See also Allen (1899, p. 342): ‘There
is a sprinkling of indistinct stars between the Fishes and the Whale that Vitruvius called
Ἑρμεδόνη, explained by Hesychios as the Stream of Faint Stars, but by some French
commentator as les délices de Mercure, whatever that may be. Riccioli, calling it Hermidone,
said that it was effusio Aquarii, the classical designation for the Stream from the Urn; but
Baldus, with Scaliger, said that the word was Ἁρπεδόνη, the Cord, although this seems
equally inapplicable here’.
660 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

piscium;114 others have called it ‘belt’ or ‘tie’, and still others ‘flax’ or ‘cord’ be-
cause it appears to knot the northern part to the southern part. ‘Hermidone’
means ‘Mercury’s pleasure’ or ‘delight’, but this is hard to get out of Aratus’s
commentary.115
(Vitruvius) And pressed through the large space towards the inside, the knot
of Pisces touches the top of the crest of the Whale.
(Barbaro) That is, said knot goes very far into the southern part and,
like the windings of the Serpent, arrives at the top of the crest of the Whale.
It might also be that in Latin the word serpentium shouldn’t be there, or that
in place of serpentium it should say piscium.
(Vitruvius) [IX.V.3 cont.] The river Eridanus, with an appearance of stars,
takes the head of its source from the left foot of Orion. That water, which is said to
be poured by Aquarius, runs between the head of the southern Fish and the tail of
the Whale. [IX.V.4] I have set forth these images of stars, which were drawn in the
world by nature and by the divine mind, as it pleased Democritus, the investiga-
tor of nature, to say they were shaped and formed in the world. Not all of them,
however, have been described by me but only those of which we could observe the
rising and setting, and those which can be seen with the eyes. Thus, as the Septen-
trions revolving around the pole of the axis do not set or go below the horizon, so
too, around the southern pole, which, due to the inclination of the world, is below
the earth, revolving and hiding themselves [p. 397] the stars do not rise over the
earth. So their figures, impeded by the earth, are not manifest. Of this we are given
a clue by the star of Canopus, which is unknown in these parts but of which there
are the reports of merchants who have been to the extreme parts of Egypt and to the
farthest ends of the earth.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius excuses himself for not having set out all the con-
stellations and figures, having to speak of them properly without regard for
the horizon and the inclination of the heavens in the regions below the equi-
noctial line. He says that he wished to treat those images and stars that are
known by their risings and settings, saying that there are some that never
rise and some that never set. He takes his argument from the star called

Pliny the Elder, Natural History 18.74.

114 

Aratus, Phaenomena. Barbaro may be referring to lines 746-747: ‘And high in their
115 

meridian splendour shine / The numerous stars on Cetus’ fin and spine’; see Aratus (1848,
p. 62). For ‘Mercury’s delight’, see Jean Martin’s French edition of Vitruvius (1547, p. 129):
La Balene est au dessoubz du Mouton & des Poyssons, mais de la creste part une subtile fusion
d’Estoilles bien ordonnee, qui traverse iusques aux deux Poyssons, / est icelle fusion nommee en Grec
Hermidone, c’est a dire le delices de Mercure.
p. 397 661

Canopus, which is a star located in the rear oar of Argo, named after the
island Canopus where it was first known. Those who depart from Arabia
Petraea and navigate due south towards Azania go towards the star Cano-
pus, which in those places is called ‘Hippos’.116 In that language it is called
Suhayl—that is, ‘fire’—because of its great brightness and rays. It shines (as
Pliny says117) on the island of Taprobane. This is the star that in the time of
Ptolemy was seventeen degrees and ten minutes from Gemini. Its meridian
latitude is seventy-five degrees and its declination is fifty-one degrees and
thirty-four minutes. This star is not visible in Italy. In Rhodes it is very close
to the horizon; it appears a quarter of a sign higher in Alexandria; and so
continues to rise even higher over those who live towards the southern parts.
Those who wish to know what stars can be seen below the inclination of the
heavens, and where they are, should make the plate of an astrolabe at their
elevation at the pole, then place one foot of the compass in the centre of it,
open the other foot out to the edge of it, and draw a circle. That circle will be
the smallest one that can be seen over the horizon; what is outside its range is
what is below the horizon. Four stars placed in a cross are signs of the other
pole. They are mentioned by Dante in the first Canto of Purgatory, where he
calls the northern hemisphere ‘widowed’ because it cannot admire them.118
These four stars are in a smear like the Milky Way; they are not located in
the images described above or within the zodiac; navigators call them the
Crux [i.e., Southern Cross]. The star at the bottom is larger and more bril-
liant than the others; by this is known which is the head and which are the
arms of the cross. When the bottom star is on the edge of the horizon and
the top star is straight up, the bottom star is thirty degrees from the pole.119
From this is taken the height from the other pole. It is taken such that if its
measured height is thirty degrees, the measurer is at the equator; if it is more
than thirty, then he is that much to the south of the equator; if it is less than

116 
Referred to this way by Ptolemy, in Geographia 1.7.
117 
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 6.24.
118 
Dante, Purgatory, Canto I, 22-27: I’ mi volsi a man destra, e puosi mente / a l’altro polo, e vidi
quattro stelle / non viste mai fuor ch’a la prima gente / Goder pareva ’l ciel di lor fiammelle: / oh
settentrional vedovo sito, / poi che privato se’ di mirar quelle! Eng. trans. Dante (1891-1892, vol.
2, p. 2): I turned me to the right hand, and fixed my mind upon the other pole, and saw four
stars never seen save by the first people. The heavens appeared to rejoice in their flamelets. O
widowed northern region, since thou are deprived of beholding these!
119 
The bottom star, Alpha Crucis, is actually some 27° from the south celestial pole.
662 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

thirty, then he is that much to the north of the equator, as navigators of those
seas have observed. Vitruvius then concludes, saying:
(Vitruvius) [IX.VI.1] Of the turning of the world around the earth, and the
arrangement of the twelve signs, and the northern and the southern parts, and
the stars, and how it is perfect, I have provided instruction. So, from the turning
of the world, and the contrary movement of the sun through the signs, and from
the shadows made by the gnomons at the time of the equinoxes are found the ra-
tionales of analemmas. [IX.VI.2] But the other things, that is, what effects the
twelve signs have, and the five stars, and the sun and the moon, which appertain
to the rationale of astrology, must be conceded to the discourses of the Chaldeans,
since discourse on the nativities is proper to them because they can make manifest
both past and future things from the reckonings of the stars. Their findings, which
they have left in writing, show the acuteness and keenness of mind with which
they reasoned and how great were those who came from the Chaldean nation. The
first was Berossus, who resided on the island and in the city of Cos and opened
schools there, teaching their discipline. Later there was the student Antipater and
Archinapolus, who made manifest the rationales of nativities not from the point
of birth but from conception. [IX.VI.3] Regarding natural things, Thales of Mile-
tus, Anaxagorus of Clazomenae, Pythagoras of Samos, Xenophanes of Colophon,
Democritus of Abdera, on what [p. 398] rationales nature is based and how and
what effects they have, left a great deal that was well considered. The findings of
these were followed by Eudoxus, Eudemus, Callistus, Melos,120 Philippus, Hip-
parchus, Aratus, and others, who discovered through astrology the risings and
settings of the stars, the significations of the tempests, and the disciplines of the
instruments called parapegmata, and left them to those who came after. Their
sciences must be admired by men because they took so much care and diligence that
they appear much in advance with divine mind to announce the significations of
the tempests that were to come. Because of these things, to their thoughts and studies
such findings must be attributed.

The names Eudemo, Callisto and Melos (Eudemus, Callistus and Melo) cited in Barbaro’s
120 

translation are also cited in Fra Giocondo (1511, fol. 90r) and Cesariano (1521), and are
repeated in the French translation by Jean Martin (1547, p. 130); today they are now redacted
as Euctemon, Callippus and Meton. Cfr. Granger (1934, pp. 246-247) and Schofield (2009,
p. 262). William Smith (1856, p. 1069), makes an interesting remark: ‘Much emendation
has often been found necessary when an ancient writer enumerates those who have written
on subjects which he had not studied himself: witness the passage in Vitruvius (ix.7), in
which the older texts and versions join Hipparchus and Aratus with Eudaemon, Callistus,
and Melo, for which we must read Euctemon, Callippus, and Meton’.
p. 398 663

(Barbaro) Vitruvius concludes what he has said up to now. We need

not tire ourselves further because in the following chapter he will declare in
detail all that is mentioned here. Parapegmata were clever instruments such
as astrolabe plates, horoscopes, and the like used to find the location of the
stars in order to cast men’s nativities.

Chapter VIII
On the rationales of sundials and the shadows of gnomons
at the time of the equinox in Rome and some other places

[p. 398] (Vitruvius) [IX.VII.1] But we must separate those kinds of studies from
the rationale of sundials and explain the shortening and lengthening of the days
from month to month.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, after a lengthy though necessary digression, begins
to treat the analemma, which is the basis of gnomonics, and though he does
not teach us in this treatment how to make a sundial, he does a good job of
paving the way for us to see how they are made. Ptolemy wrote a treatise
on the analemma, and Federico Commandino very eruditely explained it,121
and for this among other things he deserves our thanks, since he worked for
the common good. In this regard I acknowledge his honourable efforts, but
leaving to him the mathematical proofs, I will focus my efforts on explain-
ing in a way as accessible as possible the analemma and its use. Let us recall
that from the very beginning Vitruvius’s intention was to make it easier to
understand what must be known about this useful, convenient, and straight-
forward operation. Vitruvius thus intends to treat the second principal part
of architecture, which was called ‘gnomonics’ by the Greeks. The reason
for this name comes from the gnomon; ‘gnomon’ means either a set square
or something set up perpendicular. The ancients used to know the parts of
the day and the hours from the lengths of the shadows cast in the plane by
styluses set vertically in them, and this knowledge, from the gnomon, was
called ‘gnomonics’. So, the gnomon, the demonstrator of the shadows, erect-
ed square—that is, at right angles to a given plane—gave an indication of
the hours by means of the shadow because around the gnomon were drawn

121 
In the description of clocks that follows, Barbaro draws heavily on Commandino (1562).
664 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

various shadows at various times of the year and at various hours of the day.
This drawing was called ‘analemma’ by the ancients—as in ‘recapture’—be-
cause before any sundial can be made, it is necessary to capture in a drawing
the effects that the sun and the gnomon with the shadows make in the planes
opposite them; those planes are the places where the sundials are to be made.
Therefore, this knowledge of the course of the sun and the effects that its
rays make on the earth by means of the shadows cast by the gnomon in the
planes of the sundials is called ‘gnomonics’; the description, or drawing, of
those lines made by the tip of the stylus is called the ‘analemma’; the stylus
erected square over the planes is called ‘gnomon’, or schiotir, which means
‘shadow investigator’, as Vitruvius says in the first book in chapter six.122 Just
as in the way of making temples, where one first determines the module by
which everything is measured, so in making sundials it is necessary to make
the analemma, which is like a module for sundials. Now, for more ready
understanding I will discuss that which, when thoroughly meditated and
understood, will shed admirable light on the [p. 399] present discourse, and
be of help in many other worthy things, and especially in perspective, as we
have clearly explained in our treatise on scenographia.123
Among the figures that serve the mathematicians there is one that is
called ‘cone’. So that we can know what shape this is and how it is made,
let us imagine a point under which is a circle. From that point a line falls to
the circumference of the circle; the point remaining fixed, the line moves
around the circumference until it returns to the point where it started. They
say that the cone is made in this way; some have called that figure a pyramid,
although incorrectly. So then, let the point be a and the circle bcd. From
point a, which is fixed, begins line ab and it turns about the circumference
of the circle bcd until it returns to point b (Fig. 9.8.1, left). I say that it will
form the aforementioned figure, which is called ‘cone’. Then there falls from
point a to point e, which is the centre of the circle, a straight line; this is
called the ‘axis’ or hinge of the cone; point a is the apex; and the circle bcd
is the base of the cone. From this is also formed a surface called ‘conic’. And
this is nothing other than a figure made of two surfaces opposite each other
with respect to the apex of the cone, both of which grow infinitely by the de-

122 
See Barbaro, p. 58; Vitruvius I.VI.6. Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 26, ‘shadow tracker’); Granger
(1931, p. 59, ‘indicator to track the shadow’); and Schofield (2009, p. 29, ‘shadow-hunter’).
123 
That is, Barbaro’s own La pratica della perspettiva (1568).
p. 399 665

scription made by a straight line drawn towards the two opposite directions,
as can be seen in Fig. 9.8.1 (right), where the first surface is abcd; the other,
opposite that with respect to the apex, aefg; the two lines drawn towards
two directions are ce and fb, which we imagine to be drawn to infinity. This
whole configuration is called ‘conic surface’.

Fig. 9.8.1. [Conic surface] Image [p. 399]

These things are good to commit to memory and fix in the imagination
because they are marvellously useful in making the analemma. The conic
surface can thus receive various cuts or ‘sections’ (as we call them). So, they
can be cut in two parts, lengthwise along the axis, from the apex to the base.
They can also be cut in other ways. If cut from the axis to the base along the
axis, the opening of that cut124 will be a triangle of straight lines. But if cut
in another way—that is, cut crosswise with a cut parallel to the base—the
opening of that cut will show a circle. If the cut is actually not made either
through the apex along the axis or crosswise, then the opening of it will
show a line that is curved and not straight, which is called by the mathema-
ticians a ‘conic section’. This section can be made in different ways and has
different names, as we will describe in particular here below. We will use the

124 
The ‘opening of the cut’ is the section. Barbaro is speaking of the cone as though it was a
physical object: first it is cut, then opened to reveal the shape formed by the section.
666 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

method proposed by Albrecht Dürer,125 although there are also other ways.
I say then that among the aforementioned sections, or cuts, there is one that
cuts the cone parallel to the axis of the cone; there is another that cuts the
cone with a cut that is parallel to the side of the cone; and finally, another
that cuts the cone crosswise, which does not cut anything away from the
base of the cone, but is closer to it on one side than on the other. The opening
of these three cuts show some curved lines that are neither circles nor por-
tions of circles, and they are called in different ways: the cut which is parallel
to the axis, when opened, makes the line called ‘hyperbola’; that which cuts
the cone with a cut that is parallel to a side of the cone, when opened, makes
a curved line [p. 400] called ‘parabola’; and finally, the third cut crosswise
makes the line called ‘ellipse’.
So let the cone be abcde. When this is cut by fgh parallel to the side of
the cone, I say that the base or plan of said cone will be the circle bced with
centre a, and the opening of the cut will be the line gfh, called ‘parabola’.
Dürer teaches us how this is made (Fig. 9.8.2): let the cut fgh be divided into
twelve equal parts, from point f to point h, and let numbers be placed in the
points of the division 1, 2, 3, 4 up to 11. Let there pass through the points
of the division straight lines parallel to the base of the cone, from which
straight lines are dropped to the base of the cone. There will be formed the
cone with its divisions, all of which will be carried down to the base, or plan
as we want to call it. A circle is made whose diameter is the line bcde of
the cone; let the centre of circle bcde be a. Circle bcde is placed under the
cone so that the axis falls on its centre a and goes up to point e on the base.
Similarly, drop onto that circle all the lines parallel to the axis at the points
at the divisions made in the cut of the cone; let the circle be marked with
the letters and numbers corresponding to the letters and the numbers 1 2 3
4 up to 11 marked in the cone ghf. This done by intersections, it is necessary
to cut those lines with proportion so that the line of the parabola is formed,
which is done in this way. Measure on the cone the length of the line of
the cut marked 11—I mean the length of the line parallel to the base of the
cone—and having placed the point of a compass at centre a of the base, you
will make a circle as large as line 11 on the base. You will do the same car-
rying down from the base of the cone all the other lines marked with other
numbers, up to point 1, and in this way you will have completed the plan

Dürer (1525). For Dürer’s construction of the ellipse, see Fig. 34; the parabola, Fig. 35;
125 

the hyperbola, Fig. 37.

p. 400 667

of the parabola. Its section is derived from the plan in this way: measure on
the plan the length of line gh and carry it to a plane, and let a line equal in
length to that of cut fg in the cone fall at right angles over that; its end is f.
Then partition this line into as many parts as the line of the cut is divided,
and through those pass lines that are parallel to base gh, as you see in Fig.
9.8.2. Onto these parallel lines are to be carried the cuts in proportion to
the base. So, from the base onto the line marked 11 is carried the length
measured on the line 11 of the corresponding circumference, and the same
is done with the other lines. When this is done, you will have marked those
lines in proportion to the parabola. You will connect all those points with a
line, and in this way you will have formed the parabola, as the figure shows.
With this knowledge of the cuts, and from the bases of the other lines you
will be able, just by looking at Fig. 9.8.2, to know what you must do to draw
both the hyperbola (Fig. 9.8.3) and the ellipse (Fig. 9.8.4) proportionally.

Fig. 9.8.2. [Construction of the parabola] Image [p. 401]

668 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.8.3. [Construction of the hyperbola] Image [p. 401]

Now, in order that you know the reason why we have explained these
figures, I say that the sun, revolving from day to day, sends its rays to the
gnomon, the tip of which we imagine as being the apex of a cone; the circle
that the sun makes is the base of the cone; and the rays that go from the
body of the sun are that line which, turning around, describes the cone. If
we think carefully about this effect that the sun makes with its rays in the
gnomon, we will see that it makes a conic surface because it is a surface made
of two surfaces on opposite sides of the apex of a cone: one is the circle that
the sun makes above the tip of the gnomon, the other is one going down
from the tip of the gnomon in the opposite direction, which would go on
infinitely if it were not opposed by a plane. Since this plane is opposed in
p. 400-402 669

Fig. 9.8.4. [Construction of the ellipse] Image [p. 401]

different ways [i.e., lies at different angles], and cuts those rays of the lower
conic surface, it is necessary to consider the properties of those cuts because
they make different lines. By plane I mean the plane on which the sundial is
made, which may be parallel to the horizon, when we want to make a sun-
dial on flat ground, or erected over the horizon—that is, at right angles—as
are the walls of a building, or sloped like the roof of a house. Because these
planes follow the difference of the horizons, they make different conic sur-
faces. From this it follows that the shadow of the tip of the gnomon in those
planes may describe a straight line, a [p. 402] circle, the parabola, the hyper-
bola, or the ellipse. How this is so I will describe briefly.
670 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The sun is found either in the equinoctial or outside of the equinoc-

tial. If it is found in the equinoctial, it will, moving around that circle and
126

casting its rays onto the gnomon, make it so that in every plane of the sundi-
al the gnomon with the shadow describes a straight line on that day when it
is in the equinoctial. So, in all the sundials with flat planes, the equinoctial
is marked with a straight line. The reason is because the tip of the gnomon is
in the plane of the equinoctial, and the shadows cast by the gnomon do not
move away from this plane at the time of the equinox but are terminated in
the cut [i.e., section] that is common to both the plane of the sundial and the
equinoctial, as can be seen clearly in practice. The sun thus moving in the
equinoctial and sending its rays to the tip of the gnomon, the shadow cast by
said tip describes in each similar flat plane a straight line, which is parallel
to the common cut of the equinoctial and that plane where the shadow lies,
which is the plane of the sundial. Each day the sun, through the movement
of the first heaven, makes a circle parallel to the equinoctial, but it moves
away from the equinoctial through the obliquity of its movement. So, not
being in the equinoctial it can happen that the plane onto which the shadow
is cast by the tip of the gnomon intersects that circle around which the sun
turns, but it can also be that it doesn’t intersect. Let us imagine that the sun
rising and turning each day leaves in the heavens the vestiges of its path like
a blaze of fire, and describes a circle. This circle will either be completely
over the earth, or partly over and partly under. If it is partly under and partly
over—which is nothing other than cutting the plane of the sundial—then
the tip of the shadow of the gnomon will describe the hyperbola in the
plane. If that circle is completely above, it will either touch the plane or not.
If it touches, the shadow of the gnomon will describe in the plane the line
called parabola. If it does not touch it, the plane of the sundial will either be
parallel or not. If it is parallel, the shadow will describe a circle in the plane.
If it is not parallel, but closer on one side than on the other, the shadow of
the tip of the gnomon will describe in the plane the line called ellipse.

Strictly speaking ‘equinox’ (aequinoctium in Latin, equinottio in Barbaro’s Italian) is a

126 

noun; ‘equinoctial’ (aequinoctialis in Latin, equinottiale in Barbaro’s Italian) is an adjective.

Vitruvius uses both words consistently with their role within the sentence, but Barbaro
does not, using in many cases equinottiale as a noun. This of course brings confusion to the
English translation. Equinox means both the time when the sun crosses the equator and the
points of intersection of the equator with the ecliptic, also called the equinoctial points. The
‘equinoctial line’ is the equator. I am grateful to Eduardo Vila-Echague for this clarification.
pp. 402-403 671

One must not be dismayed at the novelty of the terminology, when it is

in our power to understand quite well the things with material examples. So
I will strive with the circles of the sphere [i.e., the great circles] to prove what
I have said, placing them over some plane with the portions that are over
various horizons, and erecting the gnomon, which has a movable eye at its
tip, so that it is possible to pass through it a thin iron wire that we can carry to
the circumferences of the circles of the sphere, while in turning the wire stays
in the eye at the tip of the gnomon. This you can see in Fig. 9.8.5, where a is
the tip of the gnomon, with its eye; bcd the circle over the earth, on which
we imagine the sun to move; f is the iron wire that goes through the eye of
the gnomon that we imagine is the ray of the sun; let the sun be in point e.

Fig. 9.8.5. [Tracking the shadows of the sun] Image [p. 402]

It is certain that the shadow of the gnomon will arrive at point f, so let a
point be made there. Then the sun will move and arrive at point h, and there
similarly be placed at point e of the iron wire in h. It is certain that instead
of point f it will touch another point in the plane, and let that be I. Going
on then to point K of the circle, and putting the sun there, and point of the
iron wire e will touch the plane at another point in L. The shadow becoming
shorter as the sun rises higher, and following the same order placing the sun
in different parts of that circle, as in m, o and q, will be drawn [p. 403] at
various points of the plane which, when connected together, will make the
lines described above, according to the location of those circles and the di-
verse cuts of the plane.
672 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Having laid these foundations, and considered them thoroughly, we can

confidently go on to the description of the analemma. In the description of
the analemma there are some circles that are common to all, others that
are specific. I will say which are which, how they are to be understood, and
what functions they have. So, to reason about them with the greatest ease
possible, I say that everyone should imagine himself to be standing in the
middle of a vast tract of land with his eyes turned straight towards the south,
and standing with the hands outstretched like a cross: it is certain that the
left will show the east and the right the west, and at his back he will have
the north. Let us imagine that the plane he is standing in the middle of ex-
tends far enough to reach the circumference of the heavens; it is certain that
it will divide the universe into two equal parts, one of which is above that
plane, the other below. This plane is thus called the Horizon—that is, ‘ter-
minator’—because it terminates the hemispheres and divides what is above
from what is below. Then let us imagine another circular plane so that its
circumference begins from the left at the point of east, goes to the point that
is overhead, arriving to the right at the point of west, and passes below by the
point that is opposite to the point that is overhead, until it reaches the point
of east where it started. This plane is called the Vertical, whose property is
that it separates the northern part from the southern part, just as the Ho-
rizon separated the part below from that above. Finally, let us imagine that
from the direction towards which the eyes are turned, from the point on the
Horizon, there rises the circumference of another plane that passes through
the point which is overhead and falls north to the plane of the Horizon be-
hind our backs, and turns under the earth until it returns to the place where
it began; this circle is called Meridian, whose property is that it separates
the east from the west. These three circular planes—Horizon, Vertical and
Meridian—intersect each other at right angles: the Horizon and the Merid-
ian intersect at the extremities of the Horizon in front of and behind us; the
Horizon and the Vertical intersect at the points of east and west on the right
and the left; the Vertical and the Meridian intersect at the opposite points,
of which one is overhead, the other below the hemisphere. These imaginary
things are easy and can almost be felt. They are provided to establish certain
terms with which to begin, so that as the sun moves near them we know how
to define its place and to see what effect it makes with its rays going to the
gnomons and changing the shadows from moment to moment, and hour to
hour. Sailors use the same or similar imaginary things for the division of the
pp. 403-404 673

winds, and in the setting of their courses. So then, when we have understood
the functions and the properties of these three circular planes, and see why
we have imagined them thus, we will see that all three are necessary and
common to the descriptions of all the analemmas, thanks to the fixedness
and stability of their terminations. Further, it must be noted that since these
three planes intersect each other at right angles, their imaginary diameters
intersect at right angles, in the centre of the world.
Here there are two marvellous things to consider. The first is that no
more than three lines, or diameters, can be found that fall at right angles at
one point one above the other, and for this reason, in the description of the
analemmas those three planes with their diameters are taken as givens. The
other thing is that divine providence with divine proportion has placed the
sun in such a place and at such a distance that the instruments of which man
avails himself to measure the things of the heavens, without any notable
difference, lend themselves to that use as though man were at the centre of
the world. Thus we imagine that the tip of the gnomon is at the centre of the
world. But let us return to our subject. Of these diameters the intersection of
the Horizon with the Meridian is called the ‘meridian section’ or cut; that of
the Meridian with the Vertical is called ‘gnomon’ for the reason stated [i.e.,
the diameter of the Meridian is at right angles to that of the Vertical]; and
the intersection of the Horizon with the Vertical is called the ‘equinoctial
section’ because it is the intersection of the Horizon, the Vertical and the
Equinoctial, which are the three great circles of the sphere.
These considerations then, together with those of the sections of the
cone, will give us the rules for making sundials, with any kind of hours
whatsoever, turned in [p. 404] any direction you like, in any kind of plane on
which we describe the sundials: some parallel to the horizon, others at right
angles to the horizon, others curved and sloped. Similarly, some face the
four principal winds, others are inclined from facades, still others are truly
flat and level, some sloped, concave, convex, or formed in some other way.
Moreover, some like to mark the hours of the ancients, which were twelve
each day, while others preferred the hours called ‘astronomical’, which begin
at noon.127 There are some people who want the hours to begin at sunset,

127 
The hours of the ancients divide the time from sunrise to sunset into twelve equal hours
each day. The astronomical hours divide the time from noon to noon (or from midnight
to midnight) into twenty-four equal hours each day. I am grateful to Fred Sawyer for his
clarification of the difference.
674 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

others at sunrise. It is in the power of anyone who knows the rationales to

begin the day where they want, whether from tierce or from vespers.128 I
leave to others the discussion of making the instruments for measuring the
facades, the declinations, and the inclinations of the planes because nowa-
days this is clear to anyone who has a halfway decent understanding of the
use of the compass. Let us then get back to Vitruvius, and bearing in mind
what has already been said, let us make the analemma.
Vitruvius thus says that he wants to distinguish between the explana-
tion of those studies that concern men’s birthdays and predict human des-
tiny, and the explanation of sundials, and explain the brevity and length of
the days from month to month. In order to comprehend these things, it is
necessary to imagine that when the sun is in the beginning of Aries or Libra
[i.e., at the moments of vernal and autumnal equinoxes], it rises at the true
point of east, and sets at the true point of west. In the half of that course
from east to west, it gradually rises up to noon, and from noon towards west
it likewise goes down; if it were to leave in the heavens a visible trail of its
course, like a heavenly arc, there would be seen over the horizon a half-cir-
cle, called ‘equinoctial’, and another half-circle below the horizon. Now, de-
pending on the difference of the horizons, at the time of noon the sun will be
sometimes higher and sometimes lower, and thus length of the shadow cast
by the gnomons will be differently proportioned with respect to the height
according to how high or low the sun is at noon at the time of the equinox:
the higher the sun, the shorter the shadow in the given plane; the lower the
sun, the longer the shadow in that plane; when it is just in the middle be-
tween the point of the horizon in the meridian section and the point that is
overhead, the lengths of the shadows are equal to the height of the gnomon.
Thus if one were to measure the shadow at that time when the sun is at a
height of forty-five degrees, which is half of the quarter between the point
that is overhead and the Horizon, he would find that the height of things
that make shadows are equal to the length of the shadows. Nowadays there
are pages full of these observations, so let us return to Vitruvius, who says:
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.1] But we must separate those kinds of studies from the
explanation of the sundials and give a clear explanation of the brevity and lengths
of the days from month to month, inasmuch as the sun at the time of the equinox,
revolving into Aries or Libra, of the nine parts of the gnomon, eight make the
128 
‘Tierce’, the third of the seven canonical hours; usually the third hour after sunrise;
‘Vespers’, the sixth of the seven canonical hours. See note at p. 381 above.
p. 404 675

length of the shadow at that inclination where Rome is. And in Athens, the length
of of the shadow measures three parts of the four of the gnomon; but in Rhodes, to
seven parts of the gnomon, five parts correspond to the shadow; in Taranto, nine
to eleven; in Alexandria, three to five, and so on; in all the other places, there are
other shadows at the equinox divided in other ways by nature.
(Barbaro) At the time of the equinox the lengths of the shadows at
noon vary according to the differences in the inclinations of the heavens. By
‘inclination’ Vitruvius means the position of the pole with respect to the Ho-
rizon—that is, the elevation of the equinoctial or latitude, as we say—and
distance from the point that is overhead, since the farther man is from the
equinoctial line [i.e., equator], the more the pole rises and the line lowers.
This can be seen in Fig. 9.8.6 below, where if we align the diagonals under
point q, which is the point overhead, the poles c and f will be on the rim
of the Horizon, marked gh. But if we align them under the number 10, we
will see that pole c will be raised above the horizon at number 10, which
means 10 degrees, which is exactly the distance by which the point overhead
is removed from the equinoctial. Thus the inclinations of the heavens differ
according to the difference of the horizons.

Fig. 9.8.6. [Establishing the inclinations of the Horizons] Image [p. 405]
676 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Thus in Rome, if the gnomon measures nine parts, or palms, or any

other unit of measure, the shadow that it makes at noon at the time of the
equinox will be [p. 405] eight parts long, or palms, if you want it to be
palms. But in Athens, since Athens is at another inclination, if the gnomon
measures four parts, the shadow will be three. By the same rationale, in
Alexandria and in Rhodes, and in other places, the Meridian shadows at
the time of the equinox will differ. From this it is also possible to know for
whom the sun rises higher at noon because, the shadows being in proportion
to the gnomons, the height of the sun is known from the proportion of the
shadow of the gnomon. So, the shadow of the gnomon in Athens is a third
smaller than the gnomon, and in Rome, it is an eighth smaller. Because the
higher the sun, the shorter the shadow, it can therefore be concluded that the
sun is higher in Athens at noon at the time of the equinox than in Rome, and
further, that it is higher by the amount that the shadow of the gnomon in
Athens, which is a subsequitertian smaller than the height of the gnomon, is
shorter than the shadow of the gnomon in Rome, which is a subsequioctave
smaller than the gnomon.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.2] And thus in every place where we want to make sun-
dials, we must measure the equinoctial shadow.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius begins to teach us how the analemma is made, and
why a single analemma cannot serve for all places—except for what apper-
tains to those circles which are common to all analemmas—because (as I
said above) the equinoctial shadows are different. Thus he selects one exam-
ple, and teaches us to make the one that serves Rome, giving first a general
rule, which is that wherever we want to make a sundial, we must observe the
equinoctial shadow—meaning that shadow which is made by the gnomon at
noon at the time of the equinox—because from that shadow are also derived
the rationale of the Meridian shadows made when the sun enters into the
other signs, as will be explained below.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.2] And if there are, as at Rome, nine parts in the gno-
mon, and eight parts in the shadow, let there be drawn in the plane a straight
line, on which there will be set another at right angles, which is called the gnomon.
From the line on the plane from the foot of the gnomon up to the tip are measured
nine spaces, and at that point where the ninth part terminates, marked with the
letter a is the centre of a circle. The compass is opened from that centre to the line on
the plane at the foot of the gnomon, marked with the letter b, and a circle drawn,
which is called the Meridian. [IX.VII.3] Then of the nine parts which are from the
p. 405 677

plane to the tip of the gnomon, eight are measured on the line drawn on the plane
from the foot of the gnomon, marked with the letter o [recte c]. This will be the end
of the equinoctial Meridian shadow of the gnomon. From that point, marked with
the letter c, to the centre marked a is drawn a line, which will be the equinoctial
ray of the sun.

Fig. 9.8.7. [Construction of the analemma] Image [p. 406]

(Barbaro) The analemma for Rome is made in this way (Fig. 9.8.7). First
a line is drawn in a plane which is not the horizon, but is the plane on which
is erected the gnomon; this is the plane of the sundial that is parallel to the
horizon. On that line of the plane is erected a gnomon of whatever height
one wants, then its end becomes the centre and the compass is opened to the
length of the gnomon, and a circle drawn, which represents the Meridian, on
which is imagined the sun at noon at the time of the equinox. Thus we have,
up to now, the plane where the shadow strikes, the gnomon which makes the
shadow, and the Meridian, on which we find the sun. It is then necessary
to measure the length of the shadow, which is done in this way (speaking
678 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

with reference to the inclination of Rome): knowing that of the nine parts
into which the gnomon is divided, eight give the length of the shadow, the
gnomon is divided into nine parts, and from its foot along the line in the
plane [p. 406] are laid out eight parts, which will be the length of the shad-
ow at noon at the time of the equinox at the inclination of Rome. Then,
from the end of the shadow in the plane to the tip of the gnomon, a line is
drawn which reaches to the Meridian. The point where that line touches the
circumference of the Meridian we imagine to be the sun at noon at the time
of the equinox; for this reason it is called the ‘equinoctial ray’ because it rep-
resents the noon equinoctial ray and determines the length of the shadow.129
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.3] Then, opening the compass from the centre to the line
in the plane, let there be marked with equal distance on the left where there is let-
ter e, and on the right where there is the letter i in the last turn of the circle, and
through the centre let there be drawn a line such that two equal semi-circles are
made: this line is called Horizon by the mathematicians.
(Barbaro) He could have said in two words what he said in many, which
is, wanting to make the Horizon, draw a diameter which passes through the
tip of the gnomon and is parallel to the line of the plane. You will see in Fig.
9.8.7 that the letter e and i because of a printing error, have been altered,
inasmuch as the e should be where the i is, and the i where the e is.130
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.4] Next must be measured the fifteenth part of the entire
circumference, and there where the equinoctial ray intersects the Meridian, let this
be marked with the letter f, here place the compass and mark to the right and to the
left, where there are the letters g and h, and then from those points and through the
centre draw a line out to the line of the plane, where there are the letters r and t,
and in this way one will be the ray of the sun in the summer, the other in the winter.
(Barbaro) [p. 407] Vitruvius wants to locate on his analemma the rays
of the summer and winter solstices, which are the extremes of the course of
the sun, and he finds these by means of the largest declination of the sun,
which he divides into twenty-four parts, which is the fifteenth of the entire
meridian; the meridian being understood as being divided into three hun-

Cfr. Schofield (2009, fig. 18, p. 349).

129 

Barbaro must have been looking at another version of this image. In this present image,
130 

identical to the one in Barbaro (1556, p. 233) and Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 307), the e appears
on the left and the i on the right, as the text says they should. It is true that some of the
images in the 1567 edition appear as mirror images of those in the 1556 edition—compare,
for instance, Fig. 9.4.7 (p. 377) with the central figure in Barbaro (1556, p. 214)—but not
in this case.
p. 407 679

dred and sixty parts, the fifteenth part of it is twenty-four. But those who
came after him found the greatest deviation of the sun, which they call ‘dec-
lination’, to be twenty-three and a half degrees, and which Ptolemy found
to be twenty-three degrees, fifty-one minutes, and twenty seconds. Placing
then the foot of the compass in the place where the equinoctial ray intersects
the meridian, where the letter f is, with the compass opened to the fifteenth
part are marked the points of the tropics on either side of the letter f on the
meridian, of which one is marked g and the other h. And then from those
points are drawn lines such that, passing through the centre, which is the tip
of the gnomon, they reach the line on the plane on one side and the circum-
ference of the meridian on the other. Of these two lines, one represents the
meridian ray, when the sun enters into Cancer, and the other the meridian
ray when the sun enters into Capricorn. Thus one is the ray of the summer;
the other the ray of the winter. The shadow of the summer ray will be br and
that of the winter ray will be bt. Between these two points is encompassed
the declination of the sun. Now we arrive at finding the rays and the shadow
made at noon, when the sun enters into the other signs. But first we place in
the analemma the axis of the world.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.4] Opposite the letter e will be the letter i, where the line
that passes through the centre touches the circumference. Opposite g and h will be
k and l, and opposite c and f and a will be the letter n. So then diameters must
be drawn from g to l and from h to k. That diameter which is below will be the
summer part, and that which is above will be the winter part.
(Barbaro) The ends of the horizon are e and i. The ends of the tropics
are g and h, which must be conjoined with lines to the opposite parts in
points k and l. Vitruvius calls those lines diameters because they will be
diameters of their circles, as we will see. So he says:
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.5] These diameters must be divided into two equal
halves where there are the letters m and o, and these must be marked as centres.
Through those centres and the centre of the meridian circle a must be drawn a line to
the extreme circumference, where there will be the letters p and q. This line will fall
perpendicular to the equinoctial ray, and for mathematical reasons this line will be
called axis. From the same centres, with the compass open to the extremities of the
diameters, two semi-circles are drawn, of which one will be the summer part, the
other the winter part.
(Barbaro) So here Vitruvius gradually shows us the sphere with all the
circles necessary for the analemma. Thus the axis and the pivot of the world
680 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

is qoamp; the tropic of Cancer is on the diameter rok; the tropic of Capri-
corn is on diameter gml; the equinoctial ray is cfan; the Horizon is eai; and
the meridian is fqnp.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.6] Then in those points where the parallel lines intersect
that line that is called Horizon will be the letter s on the right and the letter u on
the left.
(Barbaro) That is, the points where the diameters of the tropics rok and
gml intersect the Horizon eai are marked s on one side and u on the oth-
er. Here it should be noted that those intersections show how much of the
circumference of those circles is above the Horizon and how much below,
from which can be understood the length of the longest day and that of the
shortest in that inclination for which the sundial is being constructed.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.6] From the right part of a semi-circle, where the letter
g is, must be drawn a line parallel to the axis out to the left semi-circle, where the
letter h is. This line is called lacotomus.
(Barbaro) That is, the line that divides or cuts the width, or better, the
depth, inasmuch as it goes from one tropic to another, and encompasses the
entire space of the declination or deviation of the sun from the equinoctial,
in which space the rays of the sun are located from month to month.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.6] And then the centre of the compass must be placed
where that line parallel [p. 408] to the axis is cut by the equinoctial ray, where the
letter x is, and it must be opened to where the summer ray intersects the circumfer-
ence, where the letter h is. From the equinoctial centre to the summer space draw
the circumference of the monthly circle, which is called monachus. And this is how
the analemma is made.
(Barbaro) The line of the distance called lacotomus is the diameter of
that circle from which are found the meridian rays from month to month,
which is called ‘monachus’.131 I think what is meant is minachos, as that which
contains the meridian rays from month to month. What Vitruvius calls men-
struo others have called minæus, and I have called ‘monthly’. This circle is
made by placing one foot of the compass where the line of the distance called
lacotomus intersects the equinoctial meridian ray, and opening it to one of
the points of greatest declination—that is, the deviation of the sun from the
equinoctial. This circle is divided into twelve equal parts, if we want only
131 
The Latin manachus, ecliptic circle, was variously transcribed in Barbaro’s day. Cfr.
Philander (1544, p. 329, manacos); Cesariano (1521, p. CLVIIII, manaco and manacus); Jean
Martin (1547, p. 131r, manachos).
p. 408 681

the meridian rays from sign to sign, but if we want the meridian rays in the
middle of the signs, or every ten degrees, or some greater or smaller interval,
it is necessary to divide this circle into a greater number of parts according to
our aims. So, the circle having been divided into twelve parts, lines must be
drawn, for each division corresponding to the diameters of the other signs,
to the circumference of the meridian, parallel to the diameters of the tropics;
where those diameters touch the meridian, there will be the points from
which lines must be drawn from the tip of the gnomon, and the rays down
to the line of the plane. In this way the analemma is made.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.7] Having described the analemma along with its ex-
planation, either by the lines of the winter or the lines of summer or by the equinoc-
tials, or for those from month to month, now must be drawn the reckonings of the
hours from the analemma. At this point there are many varieties and manners of
sundials, which can be described with these artful rationales.
(Barbaro) Analemmas can be made not only starting from the equi-
noctial rays but from the rays of any other sign as well, because if the me-
ridian height of the summer ray or the winter ray is taken, it is known the
equinoctial ray is twenty-three and a half degrees away from those rays, and
knowing the declination of every ray from the equinoctial, from one ray it is
easy to locate all the others.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.7] But all the figures and descriptions of all the varieties
are aimed at a single effect, which is that the days of the equinox, the winter solstice,
and the summer solstice are divided into twelve parts.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius clearly shows that the ancients used to divide
the day, no matter how long or short, into twelve parts. Thus they made
sundials with this intent, to indicate the twelve parts of the day. This can
also be deduced from the sacred scriptures, where it is written, asking, ‘Are
there not twelve hours in the day?’132 These hours are called chicrichè133 and
are referred to the domain of the planets in those hours; others called them
‘planetary hours’, still others ‘unequal hours’. But let’s not worry about the
names, and get down to the facts. So, all the figures and drawings of all
those varieties are intended to produce a single effect. But what kind of vari-

See John 11:9.

132 

In Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 308, line 50) this term is cited in Greek, which is properly ὥραι
133 

καιρίκαι: horae temporales (inaequales). Barbaro’s transliteration chicrichè is not quite right;
perhaps it is a printer’s error for cairichè, which appears in Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos 76 and 136,
and in his Almagest 4.11 and 7.3. I am grateful to Bill Thayer for help in this matter.
682 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

ety does Vitruvius mean, if only one kind of hour is laid out? I say that even
if they used a single kind of hour, the variety lay in the planes on which the
sundials were made and from the figures that were pleasing to some of the
inventors, as Vitruvius will say in the following chapter. But how this single
effect is produced by the analemma, which he says is when the equinoctial
days—that of the winter solstice, which he calls bruma, and that of summer,
which he calls simply ‘solstice’—are divided into twelve parts, I will describe
in detail, after we see how Vitruvius excuses himself.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VII.8] I have left these things aside, not hindered by laziness
but because I have written so many things I didn’t want to annoy the reader. I shall
only tell who discovered many kinds and many drawings of sundials, since because
I am not able to discover others on my own, it does not seem to me a good idea to
usurp those of others and attribute them to myself. So I will speak of these things
that have been left to us and by whom they have been discovered.
(Barbaro) Here we have Vitruvius’s great modesty and the candour of
his mind, which are very far from our day, where we see many quadrants,
astrolabes, radii, rules, cylinders, horoscopes [p. 409], planispheres, press-
es, hemicycles, globes, sundials, and instruments that have been discovered
hundreds of years ago, and yet with new explanations and names and addi-
tions of trifling importance are brought to light as our own and no longer as
having been conceived by others. Even when they have well understood the
rationales of things, the envy or arrogance of some has led them so far as to
have purposely used obscure means and intricate routes to show, or rather
conceal, the knowledge of gnomonics, and have taken away the pleasure and
ease that there is in learning; indeed, with their difficulties they have driven
readers away from their works. Thanks to the obscurity of their teaching,
they have not achieved that which they desired above all else, which was
to be given credit for knowing. It is for not behaving thus that we must be
grateful to those who have made many observations and have used simple
ways so that men who have no time to study and who are not speculative can
work with and use these findings of theirs when need arises. So, resuming
my discourse, and remaining firmly in the ways of Ptolemy as well as Com-
mandino, mentioned earlier, in as easy a manner as I am able, I will explain
all that appertains to the drawing and use of the analemma, leaving (as I
said) the mathematical proofs to others.
There is no doubt that the sun in different times and hours finds itself
in different positions and at different heights. Do we not see that in the
p. 409 683

summer for two or three hours it is between east and north in the morning,
and then, during the final hours of the day, is for that same amount of time
between west and north?134 Do we not also see that during the space of a few
hours the sun is sometimes higher and sometimes lower between east and
noon, and between noon and west? Thus if we want to know its true position
(which is necessary in order to know the effects that it makes in sending its
rays from the tip of the gnomon to the planes opposite), we must imagine
many lines, various circles both fixed and mobile, and various angles, in
order that by means of these, like the grids that painters use, we can under-
stand the position and location of the solar ray. Thus we can make whatever
sundials we wish in different planes situated in different ways, such as on the
ground, on vertical walls, or sloping—that is, in the Horizon, Vertical and
Meridian planes discussed above. However, it is necessary to know which
circles, which lines, and which angles we need for one plane, and which
for another. Where those three imagined planes which are fixed terms are
placed, we need to imagine others, each of which moves on its diameter, so
that there is a fixed Horizon and a mobile Horizon, and likewise a fixed
Vertical and a mobile Vertical, and a fixed Meridian and a mobile Meridian.
The mobile Horizon turns about the diameter of the fixed Horizon like a
pivot, and likewise the mobile Vertical and the mobile Meridian revolve
around the diameters of their fixed counterparts. We already know what the
diameters are of those planes because the diameter of the Horizon goes from
east to west, the diameter of the Vertical goes from the point that is above to
that which is below, and the diameter of the Meridian is the meridian line
itself. If then the Horizon is to revolve, it is necessary for one half of it to rise
above the earth, and the other to go below. If the Vertical is to move, it is
necessary for one half of it to go forwards, and the other half backwards. If
the meridian is to move, then it is necessary for one half of it to lean towards
the Horizon, and the other half to rise.
These foundations having been laid, let us locate the sun in the south-
east at a height above the earth of forty degrees, and make it so the mobile
Horizon departs from the fixed and rises until it touches the centre of the

In the discussion that follows, Barbaro uses the names of the winds discussed in Book I
134 

to refer to points of the compass: Levant (east), Ponent (west), Tramontane (north), Sirocco
(south-east), Garbino (south-west) and Maestro (north-west). For a review of these, see
Barbaro, pp. 58-60 and Fig. 1.6.3. To facilitate comprehension, I have used the directions
rather than the names of the wind.
684 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

body of the sun. We also make it so that the mobile Vertical, leaving the
fixed, moves forward until it also touches the sun. Finally, let us make it so
that the mobile Meridian moves down until it also touches the sun with its
circumference, like the others. It is certain that all of the mobile planes will
intersect at that point where they intersect the sun—that is, in that point
from which the sun sends its rays.
Now let us see what effects are made by those circles that move, and to
what end we have imagined them. First, let’s say what purpose they all serve.
I say they serve this end: that each moving from its corresponding fixed
plane together with the sun make two angles, one of straight lines, the other
of the planes with those circles—that is, each mobile component makes an
angle with its fixed counterpart. Because the angles can be measured from
the circumference, one circumference will be comprised under the angles
made of straight lines, and another from the angles made by the planes of
those circles [p. 410]—that is, the mobile and the fixed. Both of those angles
are necessary to show the true position of the sun—that is, the height of the
sun and the side where it sends its rays. Now let us take each separately and
look at the example above. Let the sun be in the south-east, and let us make
it so that the mobile Vertical moves forward and meets the sun. I say that
this movement makes two angles, one between straight lines, and the other
between the fixed Vertical plane and the plane of the mobile Vertical. The
angle of straight lines is made by the rays of the sun and the diameter of the
Vertical—that is, the gnomon; the circumference which comprises this angle
is that arc of the mobile Vertical between the point that is overhead and the
sun. There being a quarter-circle from the Horizon to the point that is over-
head, it follows that the remaining portion of the arc from the point overhead
to the point where the sun is, is the height of the sun above the Horizon.
Thus if that arc is fifty degrees, the sun will be at a height of forty degrees,
which is the remainder of the quarter-circle that is from the point overhead
to the Horizon. Therefore knowing this angle leads us to know the height of
the sun, from which we deduce the length of the shadows, as we said.
The angle made by the planes of those circles—that is, of the mobile and
fixed Vertical—is comprised in the circumference of the Horizon, which is
from the point of true east to the point that the mobile vertical makes where
it intersects the horizon; this arc is called the ‘latitude of the sun’—that is,
the Horizontal arc. Knowing this angle serves us for knowing the direction
in which the shadow of the gnomon tends because the shadow always goes
p. 410 685

in a direction opposite that of the rays of the sun. Thus, if the sun is in the
south-east, the shadow goes to the north-west; if it is in the south-west, it
goes to the north-east. These then are the effects made by the mobile Verti-
cal, and why it has been imagined. These two angles are necessary to make
sundials on Horizon planes because in those planes we need the length of
the shadows and the latitude.
Now we come to the mobile Meridian, and let us make it so that this
too meets the sun in the south-east, departing from the fixed Meridian.
This too will make two angles,135 of which that of straight lines is made by
the ray of the sun and the diameter of the Meridian, whose circumference
is comprised in the point of the fixed Meridian at the point where it meets
the sun, which determines the height of the sun above the Vertical plane.
The angle made of the planes of those circles is comprised in the declination
of the mobile Meridian from the fixed Meridian in the vertical circle. Both
of these circumferences are necessary to determine the position of the ray,
as in the Vertical plane, to which both the fixed Meridian and the mobile
Meridian are perpendicular, because from the remainder of the circumfer-
ence comprised in or comprising the angle made of straight lines is deduced
the height of the sun over the plane of the vertical sundial, and from the
circumference that comprises the angle made of the mobile and the fixed
Meridian planes, we know the direction in which falls the shadow made by
the gnomon in the Vertical plane.
Finally we come to the mobile Horizon, and let us make it so that
it moves from the south-east up to where the sun is. I say that it too will
make two angles. That of straight lines will be made by the ray of the sun
and the diameter of the equinoctial, which is the same as the diameter of
the Horizon, and will give us the height of the sun. It is comprised in the
circumference where the sun is found and the point of the diameter of the
Horizon. The one made of those two planes—that is, the mobile Horizon
and the fixed Horizon—comprised in the circumference of the Meridian
between the point where the sun is and the point where the Meridian in-
tersects the Horizon will give us the direction where the shadow falls in the
sundial made in the Meridian plane. This is all that needs to be said about
the effects and necessities of those three planes, mobile as well as fixed, and
135 
These two angles are currently named ‘altitude’ (h) and ‘azimuth’ (A), though the latter
is not measured nowadays from the east but either from north or south. I thank Eduardo
Vila-Echague for this clarification.
686 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of their angles both of straight lines and of planes, and of their use in sundi-
als on different planes.
Now I come to the drawing of the analemma. I will show the way to
make the analemma and its use, according to my primary aim, strongly urg-
ing each reader to think about and practice the things explained above, so
that he can confidently put them to use because he knows the principles of
the things. Let there be made a circle, which serves as the meridian, and let
abcd intersect at the centre and divide it into four equal parts by two diame-
ters, ad [recte ac] and bc [recte bd] [with e the point of their intersection and
the centre of the circle136]. Let ad stand for the diameter of the equinoctial,
and bc for the axis of the world such that b stands for the upper pole and c
for the lower pole (Fig. 9.8.8).

Fig. 9.8.8. [Construction of a sundial for use at the inclination of Venice]

Image [p. 412]137

136 
This addition is necessary because although e is never identified, it appears in the
explanations below.
137 
Cfr. Commandino (1562, p. 48v).
pp. 410-411 687

Let [p. 411] the quarter ab be divided into ninety parts, and from point
a let there be counted twenty-three parts and a half, and there put point f.
Let there also be counted from point a 20 parts and 12 minutes, and there
put point o. Finally, from point a let there be counted eleven and a half parts
and where those end be placed point k. Then let those distances f o k be
carried beneath a, so that af is equal to ah, ao to aq, and ak to am. The same
thing is then done on the opposite side, above and below point d, so that g
corresponds to f, p to o, l to k, n to m, r to q, and i to h. Then let there be
drawn lines fg, op, kl, mn, qr, and hi. These lines serve as diameters of those
circles or revolutions that the sun makes when it is found in the beginnings
of the signs of the zodiac, such that the diameter fg is the diameter of that
circle that the sun makes when it enters into Cancer, and hi is the diameter
of the circle of Capricorn; likewise op is of Gemini and Leo, kl of Taurus
and Virgo, mn of Pisces and Scorpio, qr of Aquarius and Sagittarius. These
distances are taken from the declination of the sun, which is shown in the
table of declinations (Fig. 9.8.10), or from the lacotomus line and from the
circle Vitruvius called monachus. By these same means—that is, from the
table of the sun’s declinations or from the division of the circle called mona-
chus—it is possible to mark all the diameters in any number of degrees—say
five or ten, as you prefer—of all the circles and revolutions of the sun when
it is in the parts of the signs.
It is true that, so as not to create chaos with many lines we use four di-
ameters—that is, the equinoctial; the tropic towards the upper pole; the di-
ameter of Taurus, which is always towards the upper pole; and the diameter
of Sagittarius below—because the rationale of one will be the same rationale
as the other, as I will explain below.
So, let there be drawn on the aforementioned diameters the semi-cir-
cles such that their centres are where the diameters intersect the axis of the
world. Thus s will be the centre of the semi-circle drawn on fg, and t will
be the centre of the semi-circle drawn on diameter [kl and u is the centre of
the semi-circle drawn on138] qr. And these are the circles and the diameters
that are common to all analemmas. But since there are differing inclinations
of the heavens, if it is desired to make the analemma for a given inclination
of the heavens, it is necessary to locate other circles, such as the Vertical and
the Horizon.

The explanation in the text and the resulting Fig. 9.8.8 make it clear that this was an error
138 

of omission.
688 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.8.9. Image and caption [p. 495]: Table of the declinations of the sun
pp. 411-412 689

I will tell how to do this below. It is necessary to know the height of the pole
in the place for which the sundial is to be made, so if we want to make a
sundial for us to use [p. 412] at the inclination of Venice, it is necessary for
us to know how high the pole is. Count that height from point b, which is
the upper pole, towards point d, and make a point on the meridian where
there is the letter x.
Then, by as many degrees as the pole rises at the given inclination, which
in the case of Venice are forty-five, draw a line from point x through centre
e to the opposite side, where the letter y is. The diameter of the horizon will
be xey. Then let there be drawn the diameter of the Vertical, which intersects
the diameter of the Horizon at right angles, and let that be z&. This done, it
is necessary to draw on the diameters of these circles or semi-circles straight
lines at right angles where these diameters intersect the Horizon, because
there are the intersections common to the Horizon and to those portions
of circles; these show how much of those circles is above the Horizon and
how much is below. Let there then be marked 2 where diameter fg intersects
the horizon, and 4 where diameter kl intersects the horizon; and finally 6,
where diameter qr intersects the horizon. From these points 2, 4, and 6,
let there be drawn lines at right angles on their diameters that reach to the
circumference of each of their respective circles, so that line 1-2 falls on di-
ameter fsg, 4-3 falls on diameter ktl, and 5-6 falls on diameter qur. These
are thus the common intersections of those circles and the Horizon. If we
imagine semi-circle g1f139 to be a whole circle, it would represent the entire
circle of the tropic of Cancer, line 1-2 would become part of the Horizon,
and the other part would go to meet the circumference of that circle, so that
all of the portion of that circle that is above said line would be understood
to be above the Horizon, as from 1 to f, and from f to the other end of line
1-2, there where it is intersected by the circle of Cancer, and that part which
would be below is understood to be below the Horizon, as from 1 to g, such
that 1 would be the termination of the upper part and of the part below the
Horizon of that semi-circle. If line 1-2 were extended to the entire circum-
ference of said circle, the part from g to the intersection of said line with the
circumference would show the remainder of that which is below the Hori-
zon, as will shortly become clear. A similar consideration can be made about
139 
In what follows, in the original text the number 1 has been routinely (and incorrectly)
replaced by the letter i. A cross-check with Barbaro (1567 Lat., pp. 310-311) confirms that
this is a printing error. Here in the present translation 1 is used.
690 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

diameter ktl and diameter qur because the portions of those semi-circles are
shown by the intersection of those straight lines that fall on said diameters.
Let us then take in another place the circle made on diameter fsg, and
let there be 1f7s, so that 1 is on the right, f above, 7 on the left, and g below,
with 1 corresponding to east, 7 to west. Now it is necessary to know what
hours you want to mark on the sundial—whether the ancient ones, the as-
tronomical ones, or some other kind—because you will partition that circle
differently according to the different kinds of hours you want to mark. I will
give the example of all sorts of hours in order, starting with the ancient,
which were twelve in each day. [p. 413] You will thus divide the portion
of the circle of the tropic comprised in 1f7 above the horizon into twelve
equal parts, and similarly the portion 1g7 in twelve equal parts, and at point
1 place the mark 12. By that same amount in the first division mark 11, in
the second, 10; in the third, 9; in the fourth, 8; in the fifth, 7; in the sixth,
where there are the letters f and g, 6; in the seventh, 5; in the eighth, 4; in
the ninth, 3; in the tenth, 2; in the eleventh, 1 (Fig. 9.8.10). In this way you
will have divided the portions of the circles of the tropic. Nor should you be
surprised by the fact that the portion 1g7, which is below the horizon, will
serve us for the division of the shorter day; if you consider it as a portion of
the tropic of Capricorn, you will see that the division is correct because the
portion of the summer night is similar to the portion of the winter day. With
a similar rationale you can deduce from the analemma the entire circles of
the signs, and divide them as you did the circle of the tropic, and you will see
how long the day is in each sign, if you want to mark kinds of hours other
than those of the ancients, as will be seen below. Having thus divided the
circle of the tropic as said above, it is necessary to make lines at each division
made in the circumference that fall at right angles on the diameter fg to also
show the intersections of the portions of the hours in the plane.
Thus from 11 and 1 will fall a line to diameter fg in points 11 and 1, and
from 10 and 2 will fall another in the corresponding points 10 and 2, and
so forth until step by step diameter fg is divided [p. 414] into its portions.
We did not want to do this in the analemma in order not to cause confusion
with a multitude of lines. Now it is necessary to derive from the analemma
the heights of the sun at each hour to know the length of the shadows. Take
from the analemma the Meridian at bcd and the diameter of the tropic fg
divided according to the divisions of the previous figure marked O and the
horizon xey such that it lies in the analemma and make lines to the Horizon
p. 414 691

Fig. 9.8.10. [Marking the ancient hours of the day] Image [p. 411]

xey that pass through the divisions of the diameter of the tropic of Cancer;
these lines will touch the circumference of the meridian on one side and
the diameter of the tropic fg on the other side. Then on the Meridian abcd
mark the numbers marked on the tropic, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, at
equal distances above and below the horizon. This division expedited, you
will determine the length of the gnomon, and that length you will mark
below from centre e—understood to be where the tip of the gnomon is—to
point z—understood to be where the foot of the gnomon is—on diameter
z&, which is the diameter of the Vertical, such that the length of the stylus
is ez. Through point z draw the line of the plane on which the gnomon lies,
and let that be TZV. So, to draw the length of the shadow, lines must be
drawn from the hours marked in the Meridian that pass through the tip of
the gnomon, where the letter e is, and arrive at the line in the plane TZV.
The lengths of the shadows are measured from point z, which is the foot of
692 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the gnomon on the line of the plane, as you see marked in Fig. 9.8.11A.140
The diameter of the Vertical shows in the line of the plane the shadow of the
sixth hour, which is the hour of noon. Since this has given the lengths of the
shadows of the tropic of Cancer, the same rationale is used to measure the
lengths of the shadows made when the sun is in the tropic of Capricorn, so
it carries the lengths of the gnomon from the letter e onto the Vertical, and
also carries the line of the plane on which fall the lines of the hours marked
on the Meridian in the part below the Horizon. So, let er be the length of
the gnomon, and z placed in the diameter of the Vertical z&, and a line
drawn in plane SRQ. From the points of the hours marked in the Meridian
under the Horizon xer, let there be drawn lines that pass through the centre
e and arrive at the line in the plane SRQ. Let there be marked the numbers
corresponding to the hours marked on the Meridian, and in this way you
will have the length of the shadows made during the hours of winter. These
are the angles made of straight lines of the Vertical, which move, as we have
said, because the ray of the sun goes into the diameter of the Vertical, which
is the gnomon, and makes it so that the gnomon casts the shadows onto the
plane of the sundial.
Now it remains for us to determine the Horizontal arc—that is, the
latitude of the shadow—which is done in this way. First, in order to avoid
confusion of the lines, make circle abcd as above, in which you place the
diameter of the Vertical ze&, the Horizon xey, and the diameter of the
tropic fg with its divisions taken from the figure marked O. Then from the
divisions of that diameter of the tropic fg let lines parallel to the diameter
of the vertical ze& fall onto horizon xey, where you will note the numbers
corresponding to the numbers of the hours marked on the diameter of the
tropic. These lines arrive at the circumference of the meridian. This done,
you will go to Fig. 9.8.11B where there are the divisions of the whole tropic,
and begin from the eleven marks in the circumference. Having placed one
foot of the compass in the 11 mark of the circumference of the tropic, it is
opened to the 11 mark on the diameter of that tropic, you will carry that
length into the next figure onto the line of the eleventh hour, placing one
point of the compass on the point marked 11 and 1 on horizon xey, and the
other on that line of the 11, and where that ends you will make point 11.

140 
Some elements described in what follows (plane TZV, line er and plane SRQ ) do not
actually appear on the figures.
pp. 414-415 693

A B

Fig. 9.8.11. [Marking the hours] Image [p. 413]

In a similar fashion, take from Fig. 9.8.11B the length of the line of the 10
and carry it in this figure on the line marked 10, and where it ends, mark 10.
And likewise you will carry all the lines of the hours made in Fig. 9.8.11B
into this one, marking as you did from the 11 and 1 and from the 10 and
2. You will do the same thing above and below the Horizon because it will
serve us for the Horizontal arcs of the hours of winter.
Now we need to find the Horizontal arcs, which is done in this way.
Place the ruler at centre e and in point 11 and 1 on the line of the [p. 415] 11
and 1, and where it intersects the Meridian make point 11 and 1. This will
be the Horizontal arc comprised in the circumference z11. Similarly, take
the Horizontal arc of the 10 and 2 and where the ruler crosses the Meridian
694 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

mark 10 and 2: so the arc comprised between z and 10 and 2 is the Horizon-
tal arc of the 10 and the 2. With similar order you will take the Horizontal
arcs of the other hours and note them on the Meridian as you have done
from the 11 and 1 and the 10 and 2. These arcs are comprised between the
fixed Horizon and the mobile Vertical, as I have said, and are the circumfer-
ences that contain the angles made by the two planes—that is, by the mobile
Vertical and the fixed Vertical—as we know by what was said earlier.
Having expedited all these things, we come to the making of the sun-
dial in this way. Make a circle of the size of the Meridian already placed in
the analemma, and let that be abcd. In this circle the diameter ab serves us
as the Meridian line, and diameter ad serves us as the line of the plane, but
we need to draw this as an occult141 line of the plane. Let centre e be where
the line of the plane intersects the Meridian, and where we imagine the
gnomon to be. Then take the distance which is from point z to the 11 in the
Meridian in Fig. 9.8.11C, carry it from point d towards point c in point H,
and then draw an occult line from centre a to point H.142 Similarly, take that
distance from point a towards point c in point M. These distances dH and
aM are the Horizontal arcs of the eleventh and first hours, such that dH
is of the eleventh, and aM of the first. Then take the length of the shadow
of the eleventh hour from the figure where there are marked the lengths
of the hours from point z on the line of the plane towards point T to point
11, and carry it to the sundial from centre e onto the lines eH and eM, and
mark 11 and 1. Then take the Horizontal arc of the 10 and of the 2 from the
preceding figure from point 2 and point 10, and carry it to the sundial under
point d on one side, and under point a on the other in the points N and O,
to which from the centre e you will draw the lines eN and eO. There the
spaces that are from N to d and from O to a are the Horizontal arcs of those
hours—that is, of the 10 and the 2. Then take the length of the shadow of
the 10 and the 2 from Fig. 9.8.11B and carry it to centre c on those lines eN
and eO, and in the points where the length of the shadow terminates mark
10 on eN and 2 on eO. Using a similar rationale you will proceed to place the
other hours, the other Horizontal arcs, and the other lengths of the hours; if
you connect all the points with a line, you will see the line of the hyperbola

141 
By ‘occult’ line, Barbaro means a construction line that is later removed from the finished
figure.
142 
Here again in what follows, there are elements described that do not appear in the figures.
pp. 415-417 695

emerge. The same happens when placing the Horizontal arcs of the hours
of the other tropic—that is, of Capricorn—because these too are taken from
the previous figure I (Fig. 9.8.11C), with the distances from point 2 of the
hours marked from the right of the common intersection of the Horizon and
the plane, as you can see. Thus on the opposite side you will see emerge the
line of the hyperbola opposite that which you made in the hours of Cancer,
and marked as you did with its points, or with the hours of the ancients, as
you will see in Fig. 9.8.12V. If you want to put the hyperbolas made by the
other signs and hours, you can do this according to the same rationale.
The equinoctial will always give you a straight line whose distance from
the gnomon is equal to the length of the equinoctial shadow on the line of
the plane at noon. At the elevation of the pole at the inclination of Venice the
equinoctial line will be as far from the gnomon as the gnomon is high. I have
wanted to make so many separate circles to demonstrate without confusion
how the finished analemma is made, from which derive the rationale behind
and the practice of making sundials. So, if you want to make the entire an-
alemma, you need only draw in some solid material—either stone, wood, or
copper—those circumferences that are required by all analemmas, such as
the Meridian, the diameters of all the parallels—that is, the tropics—and
the other signs, with the diameter of the equinoctial. Then, wanting to make
the sundial at whatever inclination of the heavens you wish, you make the
Horizon and the Vertical and the divisions of both the heights of the sun and
the Horizontal arcs such that they can be erased once you have [p. 417] used
them. You will take the greatest care in carrying the lines of the analemma
to the sundial that you are making. You will learn more by practicing and
thinking about the things said than anyone can describe in words.
With similar rationales you can describe sundials with other kinds of
hours, as you will see in Figs. 9.8.12–13 below. This is enough said regarding
sundials made on planes parallel to the horizon. In Fig. 9.8.12, the figure V
is for sundials of the hours of the ancients; T, E, and F for the hours from
noon; figure G is for the sundial with the hours from noon. In Fig. 9.8.13,
figures H, L, and K are for the sundial with the hours from the sunset; M is
the sundial of the hours from sunset.143

This is what are known today as ‘Italic hours’. The hours are measured from the prior
143 

sunset—hence ‘from sunset’. Again, thanks to Fred Sawyer.

696 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.8.12. [Drawing sundials parallel to the Horizon] Image [p. 416],
legend [p. 417]: Figure V is for sundials of the hours of the ancients; T,
E, and F for the hours from noon; G the sundial with the hours from
noon
pp. 417-418 697

Fig. 9.8.13. [Drawing sundials parallel to the Horizon] Image and legend
[p. 417]: Figures H, L, and K are for the sundial with the hours from
sunset; M is the sundial of the hours from sunset

Now I will demonstrate how the way of making sundials in vertical

planes is derived from the analemma. We have already said that the Vertical
plane is that which separates the southern part from the northern, and thus
sundials made in the plane that represents the vertical face southwards and
northwards. Thus, where in describing sundials in parallel planes [p. 418]
we made use of two circumferences in order to know both the length of the
shadows and the Horizontal width, in the description of sundials made in
698 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the Vertical plane we will use two other circumferences. One of these will
show us the height of the sun at each hour on that plane, by which we will
know the length of the shadows of the gnomon, and it is thus called the
hours circumference. The other will serve us for the width of the shadow—
that is, for the distance from the Vertical. So, from these circumferences
comes the way of drawing the lines in the planes of the sundials, which is
nothing other than describing the sundial.
So, the circumferences called the hours circumferences are derived from
the mobile Meridian in this way. First, in the equinoctial. Let abgd be on
centre e such that ab is the common intersection of the Meridian and the
Horizon, gd is the diameter of the Vertical, and zeh the diameter of the
equinoctial. Let tz be one of the quarters of the equinoctial, which is on the
Horizon. Then, let that quarter tz be divided into six equal parts, which are
the divisions of the equinoctial hours, because a single quarter is sufficient
for us. Next, let lines drop down to the diameter of the equinoctial from each
division of the quarter tz, which will divide semi-diameter ze, and let all
those lines be marked Kl. Now, in order to know the circumference or arcs
of the hours, to know how high the sun is each hour above the Vertical plane
so that it is possible to know the length of the shadows, it is necessary from
the points marked L to draw lines parallel to the diameter of the vertical ged
out to the circumference of the Meridian comprised in the letters g2. Where
those lines terminate must be put the numbers of the hours, which here are
notated, for example, according to the hours of the ancients, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7
and 6, to which correspond 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 12, placed then at point g of
the Vertical. The arc which is from point g to the eleventh and the first hour
shows the height of the sun on plane ged of the Vertical at the eleventh and
at the first hour. Similarly, the arc from g to the tenth and to the second hour
shows the height of the sun at that hour on the Vertical. In a similar way
all the rest are understood as well. You will thus have the arcs—that is, the
hours circumferences—that will show you the height of the sun from hour
to hour on the plane of the Vertical when the sun is in the equinoctial. If you
want to mark other sorts of hours you can use whichever ones you wish in
place of the hours of the ancients. Thus you will use the same division, since
all the kinds of hours meet on the equinoctial. So, if you want the hours from
noon, on g mark 6 over 11 and 1; 5 and 7 over 10 and 2; 4 and 8 over 9 and
3; 3 and 9 over 4 and 8; 2 and 10 over 5 and 7; 1 and 11 over 2 and 12, which
is noon. If you want the Italian hours, on g mark 24, and go on using 23, 22,
pp. 418-419 699

21, 20, 19 and 10 [recte 18] on z, and going back mark 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12.
If you want the hours from sunrise, on g mark 12, and following that 1, 2,
3, 4, 5 and 6, then turning back 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. This done, you will draw
the line of the Vertical plane, which is nm, which will intersect line ab at o,
whose distance from point o is equal to the length of the gnomon. From the
hours marked in the Meridian you will draw the lines of the hours, which
pass through the centre, which is the tip of the gnomon, and arrive at plane
nm. According to the rationale that you used in the sundial made on the
plane of the Horizon, those lines will show you the length of the shadows.
Now, to find the Vertical arcs—that is, the circumferences that show
the widths of the shadows on the Vertical plane—it is necessary to draw
from the points L lines parallel to diameter acb so that they fall at right
angles to the diameter of the Vertical ged in the points pb and arrive at the
circumference of the Meridian (Fig. 9.8.14). Then place one foot of the com-
pass in the points L, and the other in the points K and carry those lengths
one by one onto the transverse lines marked p, placing one foot in the points
p and the other on those lines. Where they end mark q. Now the ruler must
be placed on centre e and on the points q one by one, and where the lines
that pass through the points q intersect the circumference ag, there make
point r. Thus the circumferences and the arcs between the Vertical where g
is and the points r are the Vertical circumferences [p. 419] from which are
measured the widths of the shadow; each corresponds to its own hour. This
partitioning will serve us later.144 To know those circumferences—that is,
the hour and the Vertical, which serve us when the sun is in the tropics or
in some other sign—you will make in a separate place the circle agbd with
centre e in which are the same diameters that served us in the preceding fig-
ure. Let there then be drawn the diameters of the tropics tu and xy, on which
are drawn the semi-circles as in the analemma, and let there be made the
divisions according to the kinds of hours, as we said above, on the circum-
ferences and on the diameters. Similarly, let there be drawn, a little ahead,
the line of the vertical plane mon. Let us begin from the semi-circle of the
tropic of Capricorn xy where the line of the ancient hours are marked with
their numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and turning back 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, and the
intersections of the Horizon and of that tropic are marked t and K. Then let
one foot of the compass be placed on point K, and the other opened to point

144 
This will be the ‘figure I’ referred to below.
700 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

t, and the width be carried from point K to the Meridian at point t. Then let
centre K and the distance from K to 11 and 1 be measured. That distance is
carried onto the Meridian, with the compass remaining fixed in point K and
marked 11 and 1, such that this is the hour arc of the eleventh and first hours.
The height of the sun above the Vertical gd is equal to the arc g11. Likewise,
place one foot in point K and the other in the hour 10 and 2, and carry that
width onto the Meridian, as we did before, and let there be marked 10 and 2,
and the hour circumference on that plane will be equal to the distance from
g to 10. In this way you will take all the hours circumferences of the other
hours, and carry them onto the Meridian. From those hours marked on the
Meridian you will draw lines through the centre e, and those will give you
the widths of the shadows of those hours on the vertical plane mon. Now,
having expedited the hours circumferences, next come the Verticals, which
are measured in the following way. Draw lines that pass through the points
marked with the letter i; these lines are parallel to the diameter aeb, fall at
right angles on diameter ged in the points p, and arrive at the circumference
of the Meridian. Let there be carried the lengths 1 to 11–1; 1 to 10–2; 1 to
9–3; 1 to 8–4; 1 to 7–5 on said lines from the corresponding points marked
p; mark those with the letter s, through which from centre e are drawn
lines to the circumference, marked with the letter t. Those arcs comprised
between the letter g and the letters t will be the Vertical circumferences,
which will show the widths of the shadows each hour on the Vertical plane.
In like fashion, having carried the hour and Vertical circumferences from
the semi-circle ru of the tropic of Cancer, taking the lengths and widths of
the shadows, you will then get down to drawing the hours of the ancients on
the sundial in the Vertical plane, which is done in this way.
Make the circle abcd which represents the vertical plane ab and let
the centre be e and the diameters acbd such that ab represents the vertical
plane and e is the centre, with the diameters ac and bd such that a is to the
west,145 and c to the east. Then let the distance oi be taken from the figure I
(Fig. 9.8.14c), and carried to that figure from point e towards b on the line
eb in point f, through which is drawn a line parallel to diameter aec; let that
line be gfh, which will serve us as the equinoctial diameter. Then take from
figure I the arcs—that is, the lowness of the shadows—and carry them from

The text says literally ‘a is to the west, b and c to the east’, but this is a typographical error.
145 

Cfr. Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 315, line 40).

pp. 419-420 701

centre e to that line gfh—that is, the Vertical circumferences on either side
of point d. Those lines which go from point o to the circumference taken on
either side of point d will intersect the equinoctial in the points appropri-
ate to their hours. Note that it is necessary to draw those occult lines and
only mark the points shown on the equinoctial. Now, to mark the hours in
the other equidistant circles, first take the Vertical circumferences from the
preceding figure II146 of the tropic of Capricorn at point g and carry them
from this onto the circumference on either side of point d, and draw the
occult lines from point e to these circumferences in points on either side of
point d. On those lines of point e you will carry the lengths of the shadows
of each corresponding hour. You will make its points, from which, through
the points marked on the equinoctial, you will draw the lines of the hours on
the sundial out to the circumference, except for those which are terminated
by the line [p. 420] of Cancer, which is made with the length of the shadows
taken from figure II147 according to what has been said: In this way on the
line of noon mark from the left 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 and 1, and from the right 7, 8,
9, 10, 11 and 12. This sundial will be in the Vertical plane that faces south.
Because in the summer the sun goes beyond the end of east and west, and
goes towards north, it is necessary in the Vertical plane that faces north to
mark those hours which go there, which will be the first and the second of
the morning, and the eleventh and the tenth of the evening, which are made
with the help of the Meridian. So, if you draw out the line of the hyperbola
which connects the ends of the hours of Capricorn, and similarly draw out
the lines of the eleventh, the first, the tenth and the second hours, you will
have described the hours that go to the northern part of the sundial made
on the Vertical plane. And with the same ordering you can make all other
vertical sundials with whatever hours you please—as you will be able to see
better through practice than can be taught with words—drawing the lines
of the hours that are towards the north in the north-facing sundials and to-
wards the south of the south-facing sundials, the figures of which are shown
in Fig. 9.8.14. Figure I (Fig. 9.8.14, top left) serves us in all because for all
kinds of hours we use the same divisions of the Equinox.

146 
It is unclear from the figures exactly what ‘figure II’ refers to. Similar reference is made in
Barbaro (1567 Lat., p. 315, lines 46 and 48) but no figure II appears there either.
147 
It is unclear from the figures exactly what ‘figure II’ refers to.
702 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.8.14. [Drawing the hours of the ancients on the sundial in the
Vertical plane] Image [p. 421]
p. 420 703

The sundials made in the plane of the Meridian are taken from the ana-
lemma like the others, and as the function of the Meridian is to separate the
eastern part from the western part, so too one of these sundials will face east,
and the other west. To make them we use two circumferences. One of these
(as we have said) will show us the height of the sun over the plane of the
Meridian, from which is derived the length of the shadows. The other shows
us the width of the shadows, according to the distance of the sun from that
plane. The former circumference will be called Meridian; the latter, accord-
ing to the ancients, is called ‘sexpartite’ in our language, and ectemoria148 in
Greek, as in ‘six parts’, in reference to the six locations of the mobile Horizon
with respect to the hours of the ancients. So, let there be made the division
of the tropics, as in the analemma, of both the semi-circles and the diame-
ters, and let the portions of the hours in the semi-circles be numbered with
the numbers of the hours of the ancients. Let the semi-circle of Capricorn
below be marked xy, and the semi-circle of Cancer above be marked z&;
let the points where the lines of the hours terminate on the diameters of the
semi-circles be marked n. So, in order to know the Meridian circumferences
from the width of the shadows, it is necessary be draw lines from centre e
that pass through points n and arrive at the circumference of the Meridian
abcd. For example, draw an occult line from the centre e that passes through
the first point n of the line of the first and eleventh hours, and which arrives
to the circumference at point o: the arc and circumference ao is the Meridian
arc and circumference of the first and eleventh hours. Similarly, if from point
e through the point of the second n, which is of the tenth and the second
hours, passes a line to the circumference at point i, the circumference ai will
serve us for the distance and latitude of the shadow of the tenth and the sec-
ond hours. In this way are derived the circumferences from hour to hour: au
will be the Meridian circumference of the third and ninth hours; al of the
fourth and eighth hours, ar of the fifth and seventh hours. The sixth hour,
which is the meridian hour, does not fall on that plane because it is the plane
itself. The sexpartite arcs and circumferences are taken from the height of
the sun and the length of the shadow in this way. Let the centre be the first
n and the distance be from n to 11–1. With one foot of the compass fixed in
centre n, let the other end be turned towards the Meridian and point 11–1
marked. The circumference that is between 11–1 and the point o will be the

148 
Cfr. Commandino (1562, p. 6r): hectemorion.
704 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

sexpartite circumference of the first and eleventh hours. The centre is then
moved to the second point n and distance n to 10–2 taken; with the foot of
the compass fixed in point n and the other turned, let 10–2 be marked on the
Meridian. The circumference between 10–2 and point e will be the arc of the
height of the sun over that plane. In similar fashion are taken the sexpartite
circumferences of the other hours, both in the tropic of Capricorn below and
in the tropic of Cancer above, as you see in Fig. 9.8.15A.
To situate these circumferences in the sundials and avoid [p. 422] con-
fusion, make Fig. 9.8.15B. Then let there be made the circle opqn which
represents the Meridian, and let it be divided into quarters by two diameters,
on and pq. Let the length of the gnomon be taken on diameter pq, say, from
point e to point t, below and above, and let there be lines parallel to diameter
on which pass through points t, which will be rt and st. These serve for the
planes on which the shadows will fall. So, to locate the lengths of the shad-
ows from hour to hour on those planes, take from Fig. 9.8.15A the sexpartite
circumferences of the hours and carry them onto Fig. 9.8.15B, those of the
tropic of Cancer in the quarter np from point n, and those of the tropic of
Capricorn in the quarter nq from point n. Mark the numbers of the corre-
sponding hours, from which you will draw the lines from the centre e out to
the opposite plane rts, where those of Cancer will be marked on the line rst
below diameter oen, and those of Capricorn on line rst above diameter oen.
So then, if you wish to make the sundial that faces east, you will make the
circle of Fig. 9.8.15C, which is abcd with centre e, and the diameters will
be ac, the common intersection of that Meridian and the Horizon, and bd,
the common intersection of that Meridian and the Vertical, so that point a is
turned south, and point c north. Then let there be drawn another diameter
within the quarter ad which is fg, the common intersection of the equinoc-
tial and the Meridian, the height of which diameter over point a is equal to
the equinoctial located in the analemma on the horizon. In Fig. 9.8.15C you
must carry the arcs—that is, the Meridian circumferences—and first that
of the tropic of Capricorn ao, ai, al, au, ar, from point a in Fig. 9.8.15C
onto the circumference af, and mark points o, i, l, u, and n [recte r], and then
those of the tropic of Cancer co, ci, cl, cu, cr from point c towards point d,
and mark the number of the corresponding hours; all this will you do with
letters and lines that can be erased. Having expedited these divisions in Fig.
9.8.15C, you will draw the lines from points o, i, l, u, and n [recte r] which
pass through centre e, to the opposite sides, both those of Cancer and those
 705

Fig. 9.8.15. [Drawing sundials in the Meridian plane] Image [p. 423],
legend [p. 422]: A, Analemma for the sundials that face east or west, from
which the latitude is derived; B, how to derive the heights of the sun in
order the derive the lengths of the shadows; C, east-facing sundial with
the hours of the ancients; D, west-facing sundial with the hours of the
ancients; E, east-facing sundial with the hours from noon; F, west-facing
sundial with the hours from noon; G, west-facing sundial with the hours
after noon; H, east-facing sundial of the hours from sunset before noon
706 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of Capricorn. Take the lengths of the shadows from figure Fig. 9.8.15B and
carry them to Fig. 9.8.15C from centre c onto the lines corresponding to
the hours that you want to transport: in this way you will make the sundial,
drawing the lines of the hours from the points of the tropic of Cancer to
the points of the tropic of Capricorn, which lines will intersect diameter
fg in their proper places, as you see in Fig. 9.8.15C. With the same ration-
ale are made the sundials in the Meridian plane facing west, but carrying
everything into the quarter ab and marking the hours from noon, which are
11, 10, 9, 8, 7, as you can see in Fig. 9.8.15D.
[p. 424] The sundials made in the Horizon, Vertical and Meridian
planes have already been made with the help of the circumferences and the
angles that show the lengths and widths of the shadows.
Now will be demonstrated the way to make sundials in the equinoctial
plane, which is easy and delightful. Let there be Meridian abcd with diame-
ters ac and bd that intersect at right angles [i.e., at centre e], and let ac be the
diameter of the equinoctial, on which are the diameter of the other parallel
circles, as in the analemma: fk is the diameter of Cancer and of Capricorn,
hm of Gemini and Sagittarius, gi of Taurus and Virgo. Let there be marked
on line eb the length of the gnomon ez. Through point z passes line lo, onto
which fall lines get, hef, and fer, which go from points f, h and g passing
through centre e. Therefore, zr will be the length of the shadow when the
sun is in either the tropic of Cancer or of Capricorn, zf when it is in Gemini
and Sagittarius, and zt when it is in Taurus and Virgo. Then take from Fig.
9.8.16A the space zt and make the circle abcd on centre e, inside of which
you will make another, taking the distance zs from Fig. 9.8.16A, and that
will be fghi, inside of which there be another, taking the distance zr from
Fig. 9.8.16A, and that will be klmn. These three circles represent in the
equinoctial plane the circles of the signs taken from Fig. 9.8.16A according
to the lengths of the shadows made in the line of the plane lzo. Then, let the
smaller circle be divided into two unequal parts such that the greater, klm,
is for the portion of Cancer, which is above the Horizon, and the smaller,
knm, is for the portion of Capricorn. Let there be drawn line km whose
ends touch the outer circumference of the largest circle at points ac. This
line afkmhc will be the common intersection of that plane and the Horizon.
So, to make the sundial, if you want the ancient hours, you will divide each
portion into twelve parts beginning from the intersection of that plane with
the Horizon in the smallest circle from m and the largest circle from c, and
 707

Fig. 9.8.16. [Drawing sundials in the equinoctial plane] Image and legend
[p. 425]: A, [unidentified]; B, according to the hours of the ancients; C,
according to the hours of the astronomers; D, according to the hours
from sunrise; E, according to the hours from sunset
708 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

connect the points of the largest circle to those of the smallest. If you want
the hours from noon, begin your division of the Meridian at b of the largest
circle and l of the smallest.
If you want the hours from sunset, begin to divide from point c of the
largest circle and point m of the smallest both below and above, as was done
in the sundials made in the plane parallel to the Horizon. The reverse of
this sundial will show you the hours taken from sunrise. If you want the
hours of the circle parallel to the equinoctial in the fifteen degrees of Aries
or Virgo, it is necessary to locate in Fig. 9.8.16A the diameter of that circle
where the letter q is, and from point q make a line that passes through centre
e to the line of the plane lzo. Take the length of the shadow, and make a
circle around the others, and divide it in the same way. Extend the line of
the hours out to its circumference. There are two of these sundials: one that
faces the pole above, which is located in the portion abc; the other that faces
the pole below, which is located in the portion adc. In both the gnomon is
placed at right angles in centre e.
Up to this point we have shown how from the analemma are derived
the sundials that are made in the planes parallel to the fixed circles—that is,
the Horizon, the Vertical, and the Meridian. In what follows will be shown
how, in the same planes of the mobile circles described earlier are made sun-
dials that are called sloped or inclined because they are not at right angles
with respect to some of the planes of the fixed circles. Here are examples: the
sundial made on the mobile Vertical plane that is at right angles with respect
to the fixed Horizon, but is not at right angles with respect to the fixed Me-
ridian and the fixed Vertical; similarly, the sundial made on the plane of the
mobile Horizon which is at right angles with respect to the fixed Meridian,
but is not at right angles with respect to the fixed Horizon; finally there is
the sundial made on the plane of the mobile Meridian that does not fall at
right angles to either the fixed Horizon or the fixed Meridian. All these in-
clined sundials are alike in this: they are double—that is, they can be made
in opposite planes: above and below, on this side and that; or right side up
and upside down. First, the sundials sloped to the Horizon and [p. 426] at
right angles to the Meridian have one face that looks upwards, and the other
downwards; the sundials made in the plane of the mobile Vertical have one
face that slopes away from the Meridian on one side, and another that slopes
away from it on the other; and finally, the sundials made in the plane of the
mobile Meridian likewise have a front and a reverse. They are also all alike
p. 426 709

in this, that each is derived from the analemma. The horizontally sloped
sundials use those circumferences that show the lengths and widths of the
shadows used in the sundials made in the plane parallel to the Horizon; so
do the sundials sloped to the Horizon and to the Meridian, and so do the
sundials sloped vertically. It is thus necessary to use instruments to take the
slopes—that is, the inclinations and declinations—of the planes on which
the sundials are to be made. Many have written about such instruments, so
in order not to be too long-winded and cause scholars to tire themselves,
and to leave the others the mathematical proofs, I refer the readers to the
analemma of Ptolemy, eruditely explained by Commandino, cited earlier.

Chapter IX
On the rationale of sundials, their use, invention, and inventors

[p. 426] (Vitruvius) [IX.VIII.1] It is said that Berossus the Chaldean discovered
the sundial that is carved from a square and serves for one inclination of the heav-
ens. The scaphe and the hemisphere, Aristarchus of Samos. The same discovered the
disc in the plane. The spider was the invention of the astronomer Eudoxus, others
say Apollonius. The plinthium, or lacunar, which is also in the Circus Flaminius,
by Scopinas of Syracuse. Parmenion made sundials, according to reports in the
histories. Theodosius and Andrias made sundials for every clime. Patrocles discov-
ered the pelecinum; Dyonisodorus the cone; Apollonius the quiver. Other manners
were found by the aforementioned and others, such as the conical spider, the conical
plinthium, and the antiborean. And so of the manners just mentioned, many left
instructions as to how to make the sundials for travelling and those that are hung.
From their books, if anyone wishes to (as long as they know the drawing of the
analemma), they can discover the drawings.
(Barbaro) The sundials discovered by the ancients and listed here by
Vitruvius can be imagined by those who well understand the circles of the
sphere and know the rationale of analemmas because then each can be ac-
commodated to whatever form is desired. Berossus (I believe) discovered the
sundial carved in a square with parallel circles, and the hours at an eleva-
tion. Aristarchus made one in a half-sphere, which we use as an instrument
to make sundials when we want to make them in differently oriented planes.
The disc was a hollow vessel, round but not round like the hemisphere.
710 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

The spider, trunk, and other sundials that are called by these names—which
represent either natural or man-made forms, such as those made in our day
by some diallers in the forms of tree leaves, crosses, stars, ships, and which
we have made like four-legged animals and birds—are made according to
the rationales of the elevation of the sun, the proportions of the shadows,
and horizontal arcs. The analemmas of these are concealed from the lay-
man, just as the virtues of the wheels and counterweights in instruments are
concealed from him; the layman only sees on the outside their marvellous
effects. Anyway, the spider could have been a sundial that had the lines of
the hours crossed by the circles that would show the heights of the sun ac-
cording to the length of the shadows and the height of the gnomon, as in the
sundials made in the plane of the equinoctial, shown in the figures marked
B, C, D and E in Fig. 9.8.15 above.
The plinthium was a block or trunk in which could be carved various
faces of flat and curved dials. The quiver resembles the east and west dials
made on plane surfaces of the meridian [p. 427], as we have said above. Par-
menion made sundials according to the elevation of the pole in different coun-
tries, which he learned about from reports from people or from writers.149
Theodosius and Andrias also made universal sundials that could be used for
any inclination—or ‘clime’150 as we say—since all fixed sundials that are made
in the plane at the equator, in the elevated plane of the axis of the world, or
lowered over the quarter of the circle at the elevation of the pole and the
equator, and that are divided into twenty-four hours, can be used in all coun-
tries. Also made for every clime are sundials that turn with the course of
the sun, such as that by Johannes Stabius and that by Peter Apian.151 Their
analemmas are the same as the analemma of Vitruvius, with some additions
149 
Parmenion made clocks pros ta historoumena, ‘for places studied’. This is generally believed
to refer to a form of portable sundial that included markings or optional scales for various
specific locations, e.g., for Alexandria, Rhodes, and Rome. These worked for multiple
locations but not for all climes, and are in contrast to the dial type by Theodosius and
Andrias, which was for all climes. For this and other information, I am grateful to Fred
Sawyer.
150 
See the note to Barbaro, p. 277, about ‘inclinations of the heavens’ and ‘clime’.
151 
These dials are universal—that is, usable at any latitude—and work by being pointed
toward the sun to determine its altitude at any given moment. They have no need to be
oriented with respect to north. Johannes Stabius (1450-1522) published the broadside
Horoscopion omni generaliter congruens climati in 1512 and Peter Apian (1495-1552) is the
author of Instrument Buch (Ingolstadt, 1533). Both of these dials are related to the earlier
plate by Regiomontanus (1426-1476), Quadratum horarium generale, which was published in
various editions of the Calendarium (1st ed. Nuremberg, 1474).
p. 427 711

by Sebastian Münster152 and Oronce Finé,153 but this was a thing discov-
ered by the ancients, as were the planisphere of Rojas154 and the things by
Schöner.155 The pelecinum takes its name from the shape of the axe, and I
want to believe these were those sundials that have hyperbolae—that is, the
parallels of the signs—like the sundials that are made on the horizontal and
vertical planes shown above. The cone is made of a stylus that starts at the
centre and extends into the hemisphere below, all the way to the extreme
declination of the tropics; its ends do not terminate in any surfaces opposite.
This might also be the ‘trigon of signs’ described by Münster.156 I think the
ones that Vitruvius calls ‘conical spider’, ‘conical plinthium’, and ‘antiborean’
were sundials made with reference to some heavenly image or regions of the
heavens and to the night—each of which was, however, taken from its own
analemma. The sundial called ‘compass’ is the one that travellers take with
them. The ring, cylinders, quadrants, and plane circles are those that are
hung, of which books on horologiography are full. Thus Vitruvius concludes
the subject of sundials, known as gnomonics.
Besides those of the ancients, we now have clocks with wheels or springs
and those with sand that are amazing—the former due to the ingeniousness
with which they are crafted; the latter due to their convenience and ease of
use. There are also clocks made in lanterns using fire, of which Hero speaks,
which show the time as the oil is consumed.157 There are also clocks made
with water, of which Vitruvius speaks, saying:
(Vitruvius) [IX.VIII.2] Besides this, by the same authors have been sought
the rationales of water clocks, and first of all by Ctesibius of Alexandria, who dis-
covered the natural spirits and things of the winds. It is a worthy thing for schol-
152 
German cartographer and cosmologist Sebastian Münster (1488-1552), author of
Compositio Horologiorum… (Basel: Henricus Petrus, 1531) and Horologiographia (Basel:
Henricus Petrus, 1533).
153 
French mathematician and cartographer Oronce Finé (1494-1555), author of De Solaribus
Horologijs et Quadrantibus (Paris, 1531).
154 
Spanish mathematician Juan de Rojas y Sarmiento (fl. sixteenth cent.), author of
Commentariorum in astrolabium, quod planisphaerium vocant, libri sex (Lutetiae [Paris]:
Vascosanum, uia Iacobaea ad insigne Fontis, 1550).
155 
Probably a reference to Andreas Schöner (1528-1590), who published Gnomonice
(Nuremberg: Ioannem Montanum & Ulricum Neuberum, 1562).
156 
In Münster (1533, p. 140: trigonum zodiacum). For a description of the trigon, see Rohr
(1970, pp. 84-85).
157 
Such oil-lamp clocks, as they were called, were used in the 1500s, and especially in the
1700s, but I can find no mention of their being connected with Hero of Alexandria. I believe
that ‘oil-lamp clocks’ are not to be confused with the ‘oil lamps’ that Hero does cite.
712 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

ars to know how these things were investigated and sought. Ctesibius was born
in Alexandria and was the son of a barber. Excelling the others in diligence and
intellect, it is said that he was greatly interested in artful things. So, wishing to
hang in his father’s shop a mirror such that, when it was taken out and went back
up again, there was a slender little hidden cord that would draw a weight down.
He made the device thus. [IX.VIII.3] He fixed underneath a beam a channel of
wood and there put blocks, or pulleys as they say, and through the channel he ran
the little cord to a corner. There he made the tubes through which the cord sent down
a leaden ball. It happened that, the weight going up and down, by dint of the
narrowness of the channel it pressed, with the velocity of falling, the frequency of
the air, which, solidified by that compression, touching and striking the open air, it
clearly expressed a sound.
(Barbaro) This was a wheel around which were wound two cords in
the same direction, the ends of which hung down on either side. One of the
cords had a mirror attached at one end and to the other end nothing was at-
tached, as it was left free to be pulled in order to turn the wheel. This being
pulled and the wheel rotating, the mirror was also pulled and came down.
But when the end was released, the wheel turned back in the other direc-
tion and so the weight was pulled back up. With regard to how this might
have worked, I say that in the middle of the wheel there was another cord
wrapped in the direction opposite to the other two, to which was attached a
weight. This, weighing more than the mirror, when the end of the cord was
let go, the weight that had first risen up then lowered back down so that its
cord wound around and the mirror rose because its cord was wound up.158
The cord that held the weight was conducted invisibly through a wooden
channel to a corner [p. 428] of the shop and the weight was set in a funnel
such that lowering down it pressed the air in the funnel, and the air, com-
pressed, exited with impetus and caused the funnel to make a sound.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VIII.4] Ctesibius, having thus observed that from the pull-
ing and driving of the air were born spirits and sounds, using these observations
as principles, was the first to set up the hydraulic machines, and the expressions of

The device is a little simpler than Barbaro makes it out to be. The two cords were not
158 

attached to wheels but were reeved over two pulleys. One cord connected the mirror to the
counter-weight; the other was attached to the mirror at one end and the other left free to
be pulled. Pulling the mirror down raised the weight; pulling on the cord raised the mirror
(and lowered the weight). There is a very funny episode in Laurence Sterne’s Tristram Shandy
describing what happens when the leaden weights are removed from similar devices used to
raise and lower sash windows.
p. 428 713

waters that moved by themselves, and the machines drawn from the rationale of
straight and circular motion, and many other manners of delights. Among these he
explained the devices of water clocks.
(Barbaro) Ctesibius made many fine things beginning with those prin-
ciples that he was perhaps shown by chance, having seen that air, driven and
pressed down, came out of funnels into the open with sound and noise. By
using water that was enclosed and had no outlet, he made machines and oth-
er things that moved on their own called ‘automata’; he made water clocks;
he simulated the voices of birds; by raising water, different liquids poured
out of a single mouth of a container; liquids were poured in proportion. He
also made organs.159
(Vitruvius) [IX.VIII.4 cont.] First Ctesibius made a hollow shell of gold or
a gem with a hole in it because those things are not consumed by water striking
them, nor do they receive ugly deposits that clog them. [IX.VIII.5] And through
that hole water flowing evenly raises an overturned bucket, called a phellos, and
a drum to which is attached a shaft, and a wheel with teeth equally spaced around
it that turns. These teeth, pushing each other, make certain little movements and
turnings. Similarly there are also other shafts and other toothed drums made in
the same way which, turning due to a forced movement, make effects and different
kinds of movement by which figurines are moved, metae are turned, little stones
or eggs are thrown, trumpets sound, and other delights are made to happen. [IX.
VIII.6] In these machines too, on either a column or a pilaster are described the
hours, which are shown the whole day long by a figurine with a pointer that comes
out from below; the addition or the removal of the wedges each day and each month
forces it to make the shortening and lengthening of the hours. The enclosing of the
waters so that they temper these instruments is done in this way. Two cones are
made, one solid and one hollow, turned on a lathe so that one can go inside the
other. A single shaft loosening and tightening the cones makes the flow of water that
enters the vase either violent or weak. Thus with these rationales and machinations
are composed the clocks for use in the winter. [IX.VIII.7] If by the addition or the
subtraction of the wedges the shortening or lengthening of the days are not accurate,
because such wedges are often defective, it is necessary to do in this way. The hours
taken from the analemma and their foundation are described crosswise on a little
column; and etched into the column are the lines of the months. The column is made
so that it can turn, and so the column continually turns to the figurine and the

159 
Discussed in greater detail in Barbaro, pp. 465-468; Vitruvius X.XIII.
714 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

pointer, with which pointer the figurine, coming out, shows the hours, and will
make the shortening and lengthening of the hours according to each month. [IX.
VIII.8] Also made are clocks for winter, which are called anaphoric, of another
sort, and they are made according to these rationales. The hours are marked on
copper strips from the centre of the face arranged according to the drawing of the
analemma. In that drawing are encircled the circles that terminate the spaces of the
months. Behind these strips, let there be placed a wheel on which the heavens and
the circle of the signs are drawn and painted. The drawing of that circle should be
configured with twelve heavenly signs, from whose centre is formed the space of
each sign, some larger, others smaller. On the back side, in the centre of the wheel,
is inserted and fixed a pin that turns, and on that axis is wound a flexible copper
chain from which hangs on one side a bucket, called phellos, or drum, which is
raised by the water; on the other side, of a weight equal to that of the bucket, is
a bag of sand. [IX.VIII.9] Thus as high as the bucket is raised by the water, that
much will the counterweight, lowering, turn the pin, and the pin will turn the
drum, whose turning will sometimes make [p. 429] the larger part of the circle of
signs, sometimes the smaller. Through its revolutions shall be drawn in their times
the properties of the hours, so in each sign are drilled the exact number of holes for
the number of the days of each month; the marker, which in the clocks appears to
hold the image of the sun, shows the spaces of the hours. That marker, carried from
hole to hole, makes its course of the complete month. [IX.VIII.10] So, as the sun
travelling through the space of the signs shortens and lengthens the days and hours,
so too the marker in the clocks, by the points contrary to the turning of the centre of
the drum, each day as it is carried into sometimes larger, sometimes smaller spaces
with the terminations of the months makes the images of the hours and the days.
[IX.VIII.11] For the administration of the water, so that it is tempered according
to the rationale, it is necessary to do this. Behind the front of the dial shall be placed,
inside, a castellum…
(Barbaro) …or tank for water…
(Vitruvius) [IX.VIII.11 cont.] …into which water enters through a pipe.
This in the bottom shall have a hole, and to that shall be fixed a copper drum that
has a hole through which enters the water that comes from the tank, and in which
there is a smaller drum made with pivots turned on a lathe, with male and female
fitted together such that the smaller wheel, as in a sleeve, turning within the larger
one, moves smoothly and gently. [IX.VIII.12] The lip of the larger drum shall be
marked with three hundred sixty-five points equally spaced from each other. The
smaller wheel, on the outermost part of its circumference, shall have fixed a tongue
pp. 429-430 715

whose tip is aimed at the side of the points. In that wheel shall be tempered a hole
on that side where the water flows into the drum and conserves the administration.
When thus on the lip of the larger tympanum there are the forms of the heavenly
signs, it shall be immobile and have the sign of Cancer drawn at the top. Perpen-
dicular to this, on the lower part, shall be Capricorn; on the right of the observer is
Libra; on the left the sign of Aries; and so too the other signs in their spaces shall be
drawn as they are seen in the heavens. [IX.VIII.13] Therefore when the sun is in
the wheel in Capricorn, the tongue on the side of the larger drum touching each day
each point of Capricorn, having great weight, the water flowing straight down
quickly through the hole of the wheel will drive it into the vase. Then that, receiv-
ing that water (this being quickly filled), shortens and contracts the smaller spaces of
the days and hours. When with daily turning the tongue of the larger drum enters
into Aquarius, the hole goes to the perpendicular and, by the vehement course of the
water, is forced to send it out more slowly. So with a much slower course the vase
will receive the water and lengthen the spaces of the hours. [IX.VIII.14] Rising
through the points of Aquarius and Pisces as though by degrees, the hole of the wheel
touching the eighth degree of Aries confers the equinoctial hours to the tempered
water, which rises. From Aries through the spaces of Taurus and Gemini rising to
the other points of Cancer, going through the hole of the drum of the eighth degree
and by that returning in height, it weakens in force and thus the water exiting
more slowly lengthens the spaces with the station, and makes the solstitial hours in
the sign of Cancer.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius would have the equinoctial and solstitial lines be
made in the eighth degrees of their signs, and the year begin when the sun
enters Capricorn.
(Vitruvius) [IX.VIII.14 cont.] But when it inclines from Cancer and goes
through Leo and Virgo, returning to points of the eighth degree of Libra and de-
gree by degree shortening the spaces, it shortens the hours and thus, arriving to
the points of Libra, it again renders the equinoctial hours. [IX.VIII.15] Through
the spaces of Scorpio and Sagittarius, the hole going down more steeply, returning
with its turning to the eighth degree of Capricorn with the celerity of the water,
which rises, the shortening of the winter hours is restored. As much as I comfortably
could, I have written diligently about what rationales there are in the drawings of
clocks and their apparatuses, so that they can easily be made. It remains for me to
discourse about machines and their principles, so I will begin to write about these
things in the [p. 430] volume that follows, so that the emended body of architecture
will be perfect and complete.
716 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Many fine inventions were those of Ctesibius, and it was

God’s will that time not steal them from us. We will explain what Vitruvius
has in mind as easily and with as much brevity as possible to explain such
difficult things. The analemma shown above in Fig. 9.8.7 [reproduced here
as Fig. 9.9.1] will be the module for our clock.

Fig. 9.9.1. [Analemma used in the construction of the water clock]

Image [p. 406]

So, take the lacotomus line hg and let that be the diameter of a little
column formed carefully on a lathe. The circle of the months rcg will be the
circumference of the column. You will divide the top end of the column into
twelve equal parts and from each point of the division you will let lines fall
straight down along its length to the other end. This will divide the shaft
of the column into twelve equal parts assigned to the spaces of the twelve
signs. One of the lines falling from the end of the lacotomus line will serve as
the beginning of Cancer; the other, falling from the other side, will serve as
the beginning of Capricorn. Then, drawing a line on the end of the column
p. 430 717

perpendicular to the lacotomus line, one of the lines that falls from one end
of that will serve as the beginning of Aries; the other will be the beginning
of Libra. So too the other lines that fall from the other points will serve as
the beginnings of the other months, as do the lines drawn on cylinders. If
you wish to, you can also draw, degree by degree, the lines for each sign in
the same way. Take then from the analemma the space that goes from a to n
on the equinoctial and divide that into twelve equal spaces. You will do the
same for the space from a to x and carry those parts to the column onto the
lines of Aries and Libra. Likewise take from the analemma the spaces that
are from y [recte u] to k and from s to g—which are equal—divide them into
twelve equal spaces, and carry those from the analemma to the lines of Can-
cer and Capricorn on the column. Those of Cancer you will begin to mark
starting at the bottom, going up, while those of Capricorn you will mark the
opposite way, starting from the top and going down. You will continue to
do this, taking the radii of the other signs from the analemma. The parts of
the diameters that are on horizon line eai you will divide into twelve parts
and those you will carry to their proper lines on the column. Likewise you
will divide the rest of the diameters below the horizon into twelve parts
and carry those, like the others, onto the column. All of the points of the
divisions made will be connected by lines. These lines will be the lines of
the hours increasing and decreasing in length according to the course of the
sun. So you will add their numbers below and the characters or the figures
of the heavenly signs in their proper places, as is done on cylinders. Set this
column upright on a plane and with a pin in the centre of the bottom you
will make a hole such that it can turn. First, however, encircle the foot of the
column with a wheel with 360 teeth in such a way that, the column standing
upright, a wheel similarly toothed and laid flat makes the column turn one
degree each day. That flat wheel is moved by another, also laid flat, that has a
tooth placed on one end of its pin. That wheel is turned by another that has
the same number of teeth but is placed on edge and has the teeth on its face
such that each of them will turn one time a day, according to the motion
of its pin. That pin will have wound about it a rope from one of whose ends
hangs an overturned bucket and from the other a counterweight of the same
weight. The bucket will be in a tank into which water will fall from another
tank. As the water is raised it will raise the bucket; the counterweight will
turn the pin; the pin will turn the wheel that is on edge, and that will move
the wheel laid flat, which with the tooth set in the end of its pin will give the
718 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

movement to that which will move the column by one degree a day. Thus in
the space of a year the column will have made a complete turn. To show the
hours, it is necessary to regulate the waters as follows. Make two metae, or
copper cones, carefully on a lathe. One of these is hollow, and that will be
the female; it will have at its tip a block of gold or a gem in which a small hole
has been bored. The other cone will be solid, and like a male will enter into
the female. The solid cone will have a straight rod attached at the centre of
its widest part; that rod will have in its middle a lengthwise opening, which
will allow the insertion of wedges, larger or smaller according to how the
water needs to be regulated. The female cone will be set in a wooden frame,
[p. 431] as shown in Fig. 9.9.2, and the rod or axle of the male cone will be
upright and governed by two registers and wedges, as shown in the figure.

Fig. 9.9.2. [The water clock] Image [p. 433]

p. 431 719

These cones should be placed so that from a tank above, which Vitru-
vius calls a castellum, water falls into it. I say that the higher the solid cone
is lifted out of the hollow cone with the placing of the wedges, the more the
water will flow into it and with greater impetus, and the more will flow out
through the hole in the piece of gold or gem made for that purpose. So if we
want more water to flow out, then we must either move the wedge a notch or
place one or more larger wedges so that the rod of the solid cone is raised as
much as required. The water thus falling in a tank will cause the overturned
bucket to rise; attached to the bucket will be a moveable rod or pointer on
top of which is a figurine. This figurine—facing towards the hours drawn
on the column and moving up or down according to the regulation of the
water—will show the hours of each day, while the column itself will turn
one degree each day. When the days begin to shorten, water will no longer
be taken from the reservoir, but rather the cones that are in the bottom of
the tank will be opened by means of their wedges being adjusted accord-
ing to the description of the days, and through these cones water will flow
out of the tank. Attaching the bucket to the end of the counterweight, and
the counterweight being attached to the end where the bucket was attached
[i.e., switching the positions of the bucket and counterweight], as the level
of water in the tank falls, the bucket will be lowered, and the figurine will
likewise be lowered and will show the hours and the degrees of the signs day
by day, as we said above.
The other form of a clock is very beautiful, very artfully made, and use-
ful for showing heavenly things (Fig. 9.9.3). It is made as follows. Vitruvius
has divided this treatment in two parts, one of which is the composition of
the clock, the other the regulation of the water. The composition of the clock
is likewise divided into two parts, one of which is the description of the
hours, the other the description of the heavens and the zodiac. The descrip-
tion of the hours is taken from the analemma but Vitruvius does not tell us
how, nor does he tell us the way to describe the heavens and the zodiac. So I
will explain these matters separately, as I understand them.
So, the analemma is taken from the sphere laid out in the plane accord-
ing to the rationale of perspective, in the way that the plate of the astrolabe
is made. It is done this way. Let circle ABCD be divided into four parts by
two diameters, as shown in Fig. 9.9.4 (top). This circle represents the tropic
of Capricorn, inside of which are formed both the equator and the Trop-
ic of Cancer, which circles appear smaller to us by reason of perspective.
720 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.9.3. [The anaphoric clock for winter] Image [p. 435]
pp. 431-432 721

So if we imagine putting our eye at the pole opposite ours and looking to-
wards our pole, it is sure that the circle of Capricorn will be the first we en-
counter, followed by the equator and finally the tropic of Cancer. The tropic
of Capricorn will look larger to us because it is seen under a larger angle and
because it is closest to the eye, while the tropic of Cancer will appear smaller
to us because, being farther away, it is seen under a smaller angle. Thus ac-
cording to the same rationales, the equator will be larger than the tropic of
Cancer and smaller than the tropic of Capricorn. This must be noted because
is it a fine thing and not at all well known.
The rest is made in the same way that the plate and rete of an astrolabe
are made. As to how this is done I refer the reader to those who have writ-
ten diligently about it. Then, to mark the hours, all of the arcs of the circles
drawn above the horizon are each divided into twelve equal parts, and so too
the arcs below the horizon. Using the rule of finding the centre of a circle
when three points are given,160 the points of the tropics are connected with
the points of the equator: the first points of one with the first points of the
other; the second points with the second points, and so forth. In this way
the hours are marked. Vitruvius would have these made of curved strips of
copper, underneath which is to be placed a drum that has the zodiac and
heavens drawn on it; in order for this to be visible underneath, it is neces-
sary to make these strips cut out. In Fig. 9.9.4 (bottom) I have shaded the
interstices between the strips to make it clear that they are cut out and form
holes. After this another drum is made, and on it are painted the stars and
the zodiac. These are likewise taken from the rete of the astrolabe.
Not only will you mark the beginnings of the signs but also the degrees,
and at each degree you will make a hole in the circumference of the ecliptic.
The marker that Vitruvius means to represent the sun will move day by day
from hole to hole, which will show the hours on the clocks. The painted drum
will be placed behind that with the lines of the hours, and every day will
make a complete turn; the marker, remaining fixed for a day in the degree
and [p. 432] hole of that sign where the sun is found, will show the diurnal
arc and the hours according to the lengthening and shortening of the days
and hours. The drum turns (as said above), having an axle attached at its cen-
tre, around which is wound a chain, described by Vitruvius as mollis—that is,
having links that are short and twisted like the letter S so that it winds easily.

160 
See Barbaro, p. 155, Fig. 3.3.12.
722 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.9.4. Image and caption [p. 434]: The drums that serve for the face
of the clock shown in Fig. 9.9.3. The drum shown at bottom is fixed and
the one shown at top turns thanks to the action of the water
p. 432 723

At one end it has an overturned bucket and from the other end a counter-
weight of equal weight. The lifting of the bucket by the water causes the
chain to wind and the axle to turn, and the turning axle moves the drum.
Vitruvius then teaches us how to regulate the water in order to show the
difference in the hours each day.
The regulation of the water is done as follows. Behind the face of the
clock is made a tank for water, which Vitruvius here and elsewhere calls cas-
tellum. A hole is made in the bottom of this tank so that the water can flow
out. To that hole is joined a drum, and it too has a hole through which enters
the water that comes out of the tank. This will be of a size that is sufficient
for the size of the clock; it will be made of copper so that it is not corroded
by the water that it will always hold. This drum is fixed and its circumfer-
ence is marked with as many points as there are days in the year. It can also
be marked with the zodiac, the degrees of the signs of which correspond to
the days of the months, according to how they can be taken from the tables
of the sun’s movement. At the top shall be drawn Cancer; on the observer’s
right, Libra; on the left, Aries; at the bottom, Capricorn. Between these are
drawn in their proper places the other signs and degrees, under which are
the days, numbers and months corresponding to each sign (Fig. 9.9.5).
Then draw a line perpendicular from Cancer to Capricorn, which is like
a diameter of the drum. You will then divide the circumference of this drum
into nine equal parts, and the length of one of these will be taken as the
semi-diameter of another, smaller drum. The circumference of that drum is
divided into eight equal parts. The compass is opened to the length of one of
those parts, a foot of it is placed in the centre of the large tympanum, and a
circle is drawn to that dimension; the same is done in the small drum. This
circle is divided into seven equal parts, one of which is divided into fourteen
parts. One of these is carried from the centre of the small drum onto its
diameter, where a point towards the lower part is made. From that centre is
drawn a circle as large as one of the seven parts, and this is done on the large
drum as well. This circle is like an eccentric, and between this eccentric cir-
cle and the other concentric one of the upper part is made a large round hole
in the large drum. Through this hole will exit the water that then goes into
the smaller drum, on which are drawn the same eccentric and concentric
circles (Fig. 9.9.6).
724 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 9.9.5. [The fixed drum marked with the zodiac] Image [p. 437]

Those will be divided by certain lines so that through them pass great-
er or lesser amounts of water from the larger tympanum as required. The
depths or empty volumes of the drums are made according to the quantity
of water required by the clock. On the edge, or front as it is called,161 of the
smaller drum is made an opening that Vitruvius calls the orbiculus, to which
is attached a tongue (Fig. 9.9.5). From this opening water goes out into a
tank placed below. These drums are joined together such that one enters into
the other, like male and female; the small drum, with its pierced edge, is thus
joined and smoothly fitted to the edge of the large drum so that nothing can
come between them. It is because of this that Vitruvius says that they work

Barbaro will again note the use of frontis, or ‘front’, to mean edge when discussing water
161 

wheels in Book X, p. 460.

pp. 432-433 725

Fig. 9.9.6. [The smaller drum with the orbiculo] Image [p. 436]

like a faucet or stopcock made for that purpose.162 It will thus happen that,
when we want to regulate the water, the tongue connected to the hole in
the smaller drum will go up and down because of the action of the running
water as the days move through the signs. On the current day described on
the larger drum, the hole on the side of the smaller drum—being straight,
inclined, or perpendicular as required by the position of that day—will pour
out a determined amount of water into the tank below where the overturned
bucket attached to the chain is located, as said above. This will turn the axle
each day and the axle will turn the wheel of the clock as necessary. Although
it seems as though Vitruvius would have the marker with the image of the
sun on it moved by hand from hole to hole in a direction contrary to that of
the drum, the ingenious Mr Francesco Marcolini has found a way to do it
so that the hand which shows the hours on the front (which we [p. 433] call
the raggio) goes back by one degree every day. Since Vitruvius would have
Vitruvius uses the word epitonium, ‘faucet’; the smaller drum moving up and down within
162 

the larger one works in the way a compression faucet does to widen or narrow the opening
where the water flows.
726 Book IX of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the drum that shows the ascending and descending of the signs over the
earth marked with the days of the months, of which there are a total three
hundred and sixty-five, Marcolini has made three hundred and sixty-five
equally-spaced teeth around the circumference of that wheel. As Vitruvius
says, and as this author wishes, he has placed in the centre its pin, which
serves as male and female. He has then made another drum (or wheel, as
we say) of the size mentioned above, and on its edge—or circumference we
would say—has put three-hundred and sixty-six teeth, also equally spaced;
this wheel too has its male and female pin. This has not been said by Vit-
ruvius without great consideration. In the hole of this pin is inserted the
main pin, tightened so that when it turns by virtue of the regulation of the
water, the wheel turns with it, as if the two were one. Then on the pin of
this wheel is placed the wheel on which are marked the days of each month
and the heavenly signs. When the pins turn, this wheel moves together with
a rocker moved by said wheels and, turning continuously together, the one
that has one tooth more remains behind by one degree each day, [p. 436]
the pin of which wants to project beyond the face of the clock, being about a
half a foot long. To the top of this is fixed the tongue, as long as it needs to
be, on which will be marked the degrees of the signs from one tropic to the
other, and which will serve to show the hours, the course of the signs, and
the degrees of winter, as Vitruvius says. Putting the tongue on the pin of the
other wheel, which will be shorter by four fingers, will show the lengthening
of the days, the course of the signs, and the degrees and the hours for the
whole summer. Thus as the other wheel, by having one tooth more, shows
the shortening of the days, the one that has one tooth less will show the
lengthening of the days and the shortening of the nights. Note that on the
tongue is placed an image of the sun—a bolla, as Vitruvius calls it—which
is moveable so that it is possible to carry it each day into the degree of the
sign of the current day, as the tongue of the water regulator does on its own.
I see how many difficulties are faced in wanting to describe these things,
but then when I consider—when the thing is understood—how amazingly
delightful it is, I want to believe that all effort is worth it, always entrusting
to better judgement.

The end of Book IX.

 The Ten Books of Architecture
by M. Vitruvius
Translated and Commentated by Mons. Daniele Barbaro

Book X

Preface
[p. 438]

t is said that in Ephesus, noble and large city of the Greeks, there
was established by their elders, with hard condition but reasoning
that was not unjust, an ancient law whereby the architect, when
he sets out to make a public work, first promises how much expense must go into it.
Having given the estimate to the magistrates, he pledges his possessions against it
until the work is finished. When it is delivered, if the expense corresponds precisely
to what was said, with decrees and honours the architect is adorned; and similarly
if not more than a quarter is spent, that must be added to the estimate, and restored
by the public funds, and he is held to no penalty. But when more than a fourth
part is spent, he takes the money from his own goods for the furnishing of the work.
[X.Pref.2] Would God, that the immortal gods would have it so that not only for
public but for private buildings that law were given to the Roman people, so that
the ignorant would not get tangled up in it with impunity, and only those who

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 727

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7_11
728 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

with subtlety of learning are prudent would doubtless undertake the profession of
architecture. Nor would the fathers of families be induced to throw away infinite
expense, because these would be subtracted from their possessions; and architects,
constrained by fear of punishment, would more diligently make the account of ex-
pense, so that the fathers of families, to that which they had foreseen or little more
adding, would erect the form of their buildings. Hence he who could provide four
hundred, if increased by another one hundred, would have hope of conducting the
building to completion with delight and pleasure, is retained, but he who is wors-
ened by half of the expense or more, hope being lost and the expense thrown away,
the whole broken, with a desperate mind, is constrained to leave off everything.
[X.Pref.3] Not only is this defect in buildings, but also in the gifts given by the
magistrate to the forum for the gladiators and for the scenes of games, to which
neither domain nor indulgence is conceded and whose furnishing is constrained
by the necessity of predetermined time, such as the places for the spectacles and the
placing of tents and all of those things that are made for the using of the scene and
for people’s viewing with manufacture and apparatus. In these things truly it is
necessary that they be good and well thought out, because none of these things can
be done without industry, and manufacture, and without various and reawak-
ened vivacity of studies. [X.Pref.4] So that these things be ordered in this way, it
does not seem to be out of line, first before the works are begun, that cautiously and
with diligence they are expedited according to their rationales, but neither the law
nor custom can force us to this. Each year the praetors and aediles must prepare
machines for the games, so I deem it not alien, because in the previous books edi-
fices have been discussed, in this, which is the supreme termination of the body of
architecture, to expound with precepts the ordering principles of machines that are
suitable for these ends.
[p. 439] (Barbaro) Now we are led to the last labour, as Dante says,1
and there remains to us the third principal part of architecture, composed of
the cognition and disposition of machines and instruments: beautiful utility
and marvellous practice, since who does not regard with wonder a man who,
in addition to his own strength, is helped by a small instrument to lift with
the greatest of ease an enormous weight, and likewise with slender ropes to
artfully lift a boulder from a ponderous mountain? Who does not read with
awe about the things done by Archimedes? Who does not shrink with fear

From Dante’s Paradise, Canto I: ‘Oh good Apollo, for this last labour make me such a vessel
1 

of thy power…’ (1891-1892, vol. 3, p. 1).

p. 439 729

at the horrible invention of artillery, which, with sound, violence and effects
that imitate thunder, flashes, lightening, and infernal torment, is the death
of human beings? But let us leave terrors aside. How much utility graces us,
how much pleasure is there in the invention of wheels, in the way of raising
water, in the instruments powered by forced air, in things that move by
themselves? And in that which nature does, so that nothing is empty? We
do not then marvel if this is a principal part of architecture. It is therefore of
these things that Vitruvius treats in the tenth and final book, according to
the promise he made to us earlier. We too shall reason about this, as far as
we deem it necessary for the present business. First let us note (as we have
done in the other books) the useful precepts given by Vitruvius in the preface
to this book, in which he says that, would God, since there was once an ad-
mirable provision, that it were observed always, and even today. There was a
law in Ephesus that architects would be praised and honoured when the cost
of buildings was no greater than that which they had foreseen, but would
suffer damages and blame as debtors when the initial estimate was exceeded
by more than a quarter. Men who knew that building would be their demise
would not let themselves begin if either the expense was greater than their
fortunes, or time would not take care of their needs; they would not do that
which in our own day many do, who out of a certain vanity (I believe) begin
regal houses with private fortunes, so that they arrive to the middle of fab-
rication, having provided and adorned the building at the greatest expense
possible with stuccos, gilding, paintings, and like adornments such that if
the whole were to correspond to that beginning, a kingdom would not be
enough to bring it to completion. Thus that which has been made is thrown
away, and that which remains to do is abandoned. But let us leave aside
those opinions, and being like those who give opinions, or wish to. Trusting
instead to the precepts and the opinions of the wise, we believe (as we have
said other times) that the best monies spent are those first payments that are
given to a competent architect, because from that first expense everything
begins well. Having to spend many thousands of scudi, one must not be
miserly with one who gives good advice, thus insuring for ourselves as much
utility and honour as possible. Thus, that law that Vitruvius says was made
in Ephesus, established with hard condition but just reasoning, would be
good for our day, also in those things where there is more immediate occa-
sion for spending, greater risk of deliberating, and less transparency in the
accounts, as in the apparatuses for festivals and public games, in scenes and
730 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

settings that are made for special occasions, on which the Romans spent a
great deal of public money, and where it is necessary to have faithful and
intelligent administrators and bright inventors and architects, experienced
in such things, who find an easy way and don’t draw things out. Now, to
avoid this ignorance and vanity it is necessary to know how all this present
material goes, whereby after the preface we will reason about machines and
instruments, both those studied for times of peace, of which some are for
ease and pleasure, and some regard things of war.
So, in the first chapter Vitruvius defines what a machine is, and what
difference there is between machine and instrument. He distinguishes be-
tween the kinds of machine and treats their origins. From the second up to
the ninth chapter he talks about machines for raising and pulling weights,
and explains the rationale of diverse methods pertaining to weights. From
the ninth up to the thirteenth chapter he gives us instructions for making
many wheels and contrivances for raising and emptying water, for milling,
and for other similarly useful things. After that, from the thirteenth up to
the fifteen chapter he shows us the rationale of making the hydraulis, which
is an organ composed with musical rationales that pleasantly, by means of
water and forced air [p. 440], emits sweet harmonies. He then states the way
of measuring a journey made either by carriage or by ship. Having finished
those reasonings, he goes on to those machines that serve us for the needs
and perils of war, treating from the fifteenth up to the final chapter those
machines that hurl arrows, spears, and stones, and those that shake and
break walls according to the usages of his times. He then concludes and
brings to an end the entire work, having fully achieved that which he had
promised: that the architect would not be condemned by the law regarding
expenses; indeed, he would be praised and honoured. We will, as always,
consider all of the present subject matter in a certain way and distinguishing
the whole part by part and thus with order, we will aid the knowledge and
memory of the reader.
So, nature making some things contrary to the utility of men, and al-
ways operating in a consistent way, it is necessary to find in opposition to
this contrariness a way to bend nature to human needs and use. This way is
found with the aid of art, by means of which nature is conquered in those
things in which nature conquers us. Being, as we are, opposed by nature in
the weights and sizes of things, if we were not guided by the ingeniousness
of art, who could lift, pull, and transport the enormously heavy blocks of
p. 440 731

marble, or erect the columns, metae, and obelisks? Who could launch ships,
or pull them ashore? Who could move the loads of large ships to the ferries?
To be sure, human strength is not sufficient. So it is a fine thing to know the
way to make and operate many varieties of machines and instruments. This
consideration is situated within and alternates between two sciences, inas-
much as it takes into account natural science, receiving from that its subject
because art only works on something material, such as wood, iron, stone,
and other things, and it is situated within mathematics, because it receives
fine and subtle rationales and demonstrations from that. While the subject,
as a thing of nature, is mutable and variable, the rationale, as a thing of the
intellect, is fixed and immutable; it does not change as the material varies,
so that the rationale of a circle (as elsewhere has been said) is the very same
no matter what material it appears in. The defect comes from the subject,
while the perfection comes from the form. Therefore we must consider with
great diligence whence defect and perfection. The qualities of materials are
diverse, born from the mixing of the principles; from those come the rare,
the dense, the heavy, the light, the coarse, the fine, the sour, the soft, the liq-
uid, the hard, the tenacious, and other principal and less principal qualities
which facilitate or impede the material in receiving the qualities of art, as
by evident proof everyone knows. It can also be seen that one shape is more
apt for movement than another. Size as well as weight bring both advantag-
es and disadvantages, because all things are enclosed in their proper terms
and are by their nature subject to eternal laws. From natural science thus
comes the subject and its qualities. But reasoning about form, I say that the
marvellous effects come from marvellous causes. It is not wondrous to lift an
enormous weight by adding still more weight to it? That one wheel moving
in a direction contrary to another transmits its motion to a third wheel?
That over certain distances and in certain sizes a thing succeeds that beyond
those terms could not succeed? These are truly very marvellous things, and
it is not unreasonable, if some wondrous property of nature is found, that a
cause is made of it. But we should know that everything is born of the lever,
and the lever from the steelyard, and the steelyard from the balance, and the
balance finally from the properties of the circle, since the circle embodies
things that nature does not put together anywhere else: many oppositions,
whence come those great effects that can be seen.2 You see, when the circle

2 
Cfr. Aristotle, Mechanica (Mechanical Problems) 848a.
732 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

moves, does the centre not remain immobile? Mobile and immobile, are
these not oppositions? Of the circumference itself, does not one part ascend
and the other part descend? Are up and down not oppositions? The circular
line, isn’t it both concave and convex? Are these not oppositions, the straight
line being between them? Do individual parts of a single line that comes
from the centre not move both fast and slow, depending on whether they are
close to or far from the centre, which is itself immobile? Now, are fast and
slow not oppositions? Indeed they truly are. The circle thus having within it
many oppositions that [p. 441] the natures of other things do not comprise,
is this not marvellous? The layman does not know this so he is even more
awed to see the effects, not knowing whence they proceed, those movements
being artfully hidden. But because we are not laymen, we must understand
that all these effects finally boil down to the rationale of the circle. Thus let
us embrace the delightful and marvellous effects that come from nature and
from art.
We said that of each of the machines and instruments we must consider
its origin, the division, the rules. The origin is from necessity, which moves
man to adopt things to his needs. Nature instructs him or offers to him the
examples of the animals, whence it seems that many devices may have their
origins, and the continuous gyration of the world, which Vitruvius says is
like a mechanism, and is also called ‘the machine of the world’.3 Chance also
contributes, as does man’s ingeniousness, which from chance takes argu-
ment, as can be discussed. This will suffice us for origin.
With regard to division, I say that some machines move by them-
selves—these are called automata by the Greeks—while others do not move
by themselves—these are called stata (that is, fixed) by the Greeks, while
other call them hypagonta—that is, subject to being conducted—because
they have things under them that give them movement. Hero treats both of
these manners.4 He first teaches us to make a round temple in which there
is a Bacchus who holds a cup in one hand and a thyrsus in the other, next to
whom there is a panther and an altar, surrounded by the female followers of
Bacchus with drums and cymbals; and at the top of the temple is a winged
and crowned Victory. When the fire over the altar is kindled, Bacchus pours

3 
Sacrobosco (1490, n.p.) begins the section Que forma sit mundi of De sphaera mundi with the
words Universalis autem mundi machina.
4 
Hero of Alexander, Pneumatica and Automatopoietica.
p. 441 733

milk from the cup; wine flows from the thyrsus over the panther; the female
followers of Bacchus surrounding them dance, clanging the cymbals; and
the Victory sounds a trumpet and turned, flapping her wings. In another set-
up he teaches us to make figurines walk and go back and forth and turn and
stop as need be. But of those machines that do not move by themselves—
that is, do not have within them the principle of their movements—some are
moved by inanimate things, others by animate things. The first are moved
by forced air or by water, such as ironworks, saws, mills, bellows, and others
that avail themselves of water. The second derive their principle from air,
which can be either enclosed or free. If enclosed, many marvellous effects
are shown in inflatable vases, which Hero also treats. If the air is free, it
can be used to make windmills, some hydraulic machines, rotisseries, and
other things of pleasure. If the machines are moved by animals, these are
either without reason, such as oxen and horses that draw carriages and turn
wheels, or with reason, such as men who move many machines and many
instruments, both for the necessities of peace and the needs of war, such as
those treated by Vitruvius and others who have written about military arts.
Thus for pulling, transporting, and lifting weights, there are blocks, winch-
es, steelyards, balances, wheels, and pulleys, and for going up to high places
there are many kinds of ladders, armed and unarmed. For ramming, demol-
ishing, and shooting from afar, in ancient times there were the larger and
smaller crossbows, the ram, the testudo, and towers that went on wheels; in
our times there are the artilleries. In short, there are many machines that
have been invented, many that have fallen into disuse, and many others that
will be invented in the future, the rationales of which are comprised within
the rules and observations that are found in what follows. This is the univer-
sal division of machines, and Vitruvius has dealt with the most important
ones, as we will see in the following first chapter.
734 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter I
On what machine is, how it differs from instrument,
and on its origin and necessities

[p. 442] (Vitruvius) [X.I.1] The machine is a perpetual and continuous conjunc-
tion of material which has enormous power in the movement of weights.
(Barbaro) In this chapter Vitruvius defines and declares what a machine
is, how it moves, how many and what kinds of machines there are, what
difference there is between machine and instrument, where they originated,
and whence man has taken machines and instruments.
With regard to the definition he says that a machine is something that
contains or is a conjunction of material—that is, of wood—which has enor-
mous power in the movement of weights. The demonstrating rationale of the
way to make machines is called the science or art of mechanics. Although it
is not under the name ‘science’ that the layman thinks of it, calling mechanics
a lowly art, it is nevertheless a science because the first making and discourse
is in the mind, and then the contrived workings are regulated to lift weights,
make it possible to ascend to high places, batter walls and do the things
that are helpful to man that nature, operating in the way it does, cannot
help us with. This knowledge then gives us the rules for tying together and
conjoining many timbers to lift the heaviest weights. Though there may be a
piece of iron in those machines, it does not figure as the main material of the
machine. It is thus necessary that the machine be made of wood or of some
material that can be tied together in some way because otherwise it won’t
work to effect, because things that are separate cannot tend to any end in a
united way. Thus the solicitude and thought that goes into bending nature
to our use causes us to make machines. However, if, wanting to haul stones
onto an edifice and raise water, which are all things that of their nature resist
our use and force, we use our imagination, which is the starting point of the
arts, to investigate the composition of an instrument to achieve that end,
then imagination, taking some illumination from the intellect accustomed
to mathematics, comes to find one thing after another and, by tying them
together to communicate movement, does what appears marvellous to the
layman. Then Vitruvius, after the material definition of the machine, says:
(Vitruvius) [X.I.1 cont.] This moves by art with many circuits of turns.
(Barbaro) That is, the form and the principle of the machine is circular
motion. I see this as saying that in all machines there is circular motion.
pp. 442-443 735

However, Vitruvius says here below that the machine for ascending to a
high place is great not in art, but in daring. Likewise we see in that kind of
machine which he calls ‘spiritual’5 that there are neither turns nor circular
motion except in some sorts, such as those seen in Hero. Moreover, the defi-
nition of the machine does not seem to refer to all those sorts. Thus it does
not appear that every machine is for moving weights, nor are they all made
of wood, as it would appear from the definition of machine given above.
If we wish, we can say that Vitruvius has defined those machines which
are composed of circular motions, as we would like to understand it, and
that he has divided those machines into three divisions: one of traction, as
he calls it; one of turning; one of raising. I too would like to maintain this
way of dividing. Therefore, if we understand machine to be a continuous
conjunction of material, and by material we mean not only wood, but any
other thing as well from which a machine is made, this might perhaps be
acceptable. But how can it be that all machines have enormous strength in
the movement of weights, if the name ‘machine’ is also given to those inflat-
able vases? What weight is there in those? I say that by ‘weight’ is meant not
only the heaviness that large, ponderous things have, but also the moment
and natural inclination of each to go to its proper place. When by art a heavy
thing is forced to ascend, because nature more quickly consents to that than
to a vacuum, so that the elements against their inclination either ascend or
descend [p. 443], to be sure this is a great force and strength. This forcing of
the elements has been discovered thanks to the greatest acuteness of art. This
is therefore seen in inflatable machines, as well as in the machines made for
ascending, because it is contrary to natural inclination that a terrestrial body
or water should be lifted up, and that someone with ropes and wheels can lift
himself to the top of very high buildings. Even if such a contrivance glories
more in daring than in art, it is yet not a marvellous contrivance? Thus we
see the diversity of ladders for mounting to the top of walls, built with many
contrivances as defence for those who are assailed and offense against those

5 
The so-called ‘spiritual machines’ take their name from the manuscript by Hero of
Alexandria, Pneumatica seu Spiritalia. Although Barbaro says below, on p. 466, that he has
translated these books, I have not found a trace of this translation. The Greek text was
translated into Latin by Federico Commandino and published after Barbaro’s Vitruvius; see
Hero (1575). Other authors who wrote about ‘spiritual machines’ are Philo of Byzantium (ca.
280 BC–ca. 220 BC), author of Pneumatica. A contemporary of Barbaro and Commandino
interested in such devices was the Turkish Taqī al-Dīn (1526-1585), author of The Sublime
Methods of Spiritual Machines.
736 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

who oppose them, and carrying incredible weights, moving on wheels, and
having what Vitruvius says. To the artilleries likewise can be applied the
definition of machine, as is clearly seen both because there is a conjunction
of materials and because the weights make stupendous effects following the
order of the universe. In sum, there is neither instrument nor machine that
does not in some way participate in straight or circular motion. This too will
be confirmed by Vitruvius with fine induction. However we must diligently
observe the things said by Vitruvius and not lose ourselves at the first stretch
if he does not explain everything. According to Vitruvius, machines are di-
vided in this way:
(Vitruvius) [X.I.1 cont.] One sort of machine is for ascending; this is called in
Greek acrovaticon…
(Barbaro) …as in ‘movement upwards’.
(Vitruvius) [X.I.1 cont.] The other is spiritual, which by the Greeks is called
pneumaticon; the third is by pulling, called vanauson.
(Barbaro) To these three divisions are reduced all machines and all in-
struments. Let us see what each is according to Vitruvius.
(Vitruvius) [X.I.1 cont.] That sort which is for ascending is when the ma-
chines are set up in such a way that, the posts raised on end and connected together in
an orderly way to the rungs, one ascends without danger as regards the apparatus.
(Barbaro) Here he sets out those ladders that lean against the walls,
which are treated in the books of the military. Even today ingenious soldiers
find various ways to make them, so that here too there is no less daring
than art. These are treated by Valturio6 and are for looking to see what the
besieged are doing.
(Vitruvius) [X.I.1 cont.] The spiritual manner is when the forced air is sent
out with expression and blowing, and voices are expressed with the instrument.
(Barbaro) This art encompasses much more than the hydraulis, as seen
in Hero‘s Pneumatica, where in addition to the organs, in addition to the voic-
es and songs of little birds, in addition to the hisses of serpents and the sounds
of trumpets, which he shows us how to make with instruments, there are also
other contrivances in which neither voice nor sound is heard, such as the one
making it possible for various liquids to flow through the same pipe, now in
one proportion, now in another; the raising of water, the spraying of people

6 
Valturio (1534).
pp. 443-444 737

with perfumed liquids and other things that are done without sound but all
of which concur in the fact that ‘spirit’ is in them—that is, air under pressure.
(Vitruvius) [X.I.2] Finally the manner of pulling is that when with ma-
chines weights are pulled, lifted, and set down again.
(Barbaro) And this is easy. Vitruvius then compares these machines to
each other and says:
(Vitruvius) [X.I.2 cont.] The rationale of ascension does not glory in art but
in daring, and is contained in chains, rungs, knotted ties, and supports. That which
the power of spirit combines with the subtlety of art attains fine and select effects.
But that which serves us for the pulling of weights has in itself greater conveniences
and occasions full of magnificence for the use for men and, in operating with pru-
dence, retains the greatest force.
(Barbaro) Thus of these three divisions, one boasts of daring, the other
of subtlety, the third of utility. Of the first Vitruvius does not speak, leaving
it (as he says at the end of this book) to the expert soldiers who make ladders
according to need. Of the second kind he does speak, and he speaks of it
when he teaches us about the force pump of Ctesibius and the hydraulis.
Of the third he speaks in what remains. Thus this third division, which is
called ‘tractive’ by Vitruvius, may require much preparation in its operating
and thus makes greater effects. This is why he says it requires machines. It
can also be that one is content with a single action and has no need of many
fabrications nor great effects. This, says Vitruvius, is done with instruments.
He makes a distinction, saying:
(Vitruvius) [X.I.3] Of these tractive sorts, some move with machines, others
with instruments, and it appears that [p. 444] between machine and instrument
there is this difference: that it is necessary that the machines attain their effects with
several actions and with greater strength, like the ballistae and the presses of those
who operate wine presses. But instruments, with the careful touch of an action,
do what needs to be done, such as the turnings of a scorpion and of unequal circles.
(Barbaro) A single name is given to the machine as a whole, such as
ballista, or press. For both these machines it is necessary that there are other
fabrications, as in the press there is the beam that presses the grapes, called
the prelo; Vitruvius instructed us about the wine press in the ninth chapter of
Book VI.7 A similar thing occurs in the firing of the ballista, with the han-
dles and the pulleys. These are called machines because they require several

7 
See Barbaro, p. 297; Vitruvius VI.VI.2.
738 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

actions, in contrast to the instruments called scorpions and catapults, which

with a single action make their effects.8 Anisocicli are the circles of the screw,
or ‘cochlea’ as it is called. In the scorpions there were several twisted cords,
first gathered and then released when the arrows were launched; Vitruvius
calls them anisocicli. Locks of women’s hair, hanging down, make ringlets
that can be called anisocicli. But I would use this name for the screws.
(Vitruvius) [X.I.3 cont.] Thus necessary for use are both the instruments and
the rationale of machines, without which nothing can be expedited.
(Barbaro) The use of machines and instruments is clear, so let us come
to the origin. Thus Vitruvius says:
(Vitruvius) [X.I.4] Every mechanism is first born of the nature of things, and
ordered by the master versation of the world. Let us first consider the continuous
nature of the Sun, the Moon and the other five stars, which, if they were without
machination revolving, we would not have light on earth nor the maturation of
fruits. Our elders, having well set their mind to this, took their examples from the
nature of things and imitating those things, induced by the divine, have perfectly
explicated many commodious things of life. And so that they could be done more
expeditiously, some things with machines and their turnings, some with instru-
ments were fitted up. And thus those things that were observed to be useful for
the use of mortals, with studies, arts and institutions little by little they tried to
augment by means of learning. [X.I.5] We observe gratefully the first invention of
necessity, which is clothing, with the administration of various instruments. With
the weaving of cloths with weft and warp, not only do we defend ourselves by
covering our bodies, but we also increase the honesty of ornament. Copious food we
would not have had if the yokes and ploughs for the oxen and for all the she-mules
had not been invented; nor the clarity of the oil, nor the fruit of the vines for our
pleasure if there were no windlasses, pressing plates, and handles of the press. And
the transport of those would not have been possible if there had not been invented
the mechanisms of the carts and carriages over land, and the ships over water.
[X.I.6] Similarly, the discoveries of the beams of the steelyards and the balances
with the weights liberate life with just usages from the iniquity of men. And so too
innumerable constitutions of machines of which it does not seem to us necessary to
dispute because they pass everyday through our hands, such as wheels, the bellows of
smiths, carts, screws, presses, and all the other things that by custom have occasions
8 
Barbaro seems to want to make a distinction between what we today call ‘simple machines’
and which he calls ‘instruments’ (lever, wheel and axle, pulley, inclined plane, screw and
wedge), and ‘machines’ which require combinations of these.
pp. 444-445 739

for common utility. But let us commence to explain those things that rarely come
into our hands, so that they are manifest.
(Barbaro) It seems to me that I have clearly interpreted what Vitruvius
has said regarding the origin and use of machines, so we will come to the
exposition of the second chapter.

Chapter II
On the tractive machines of sacred temples
and public works

[p. 445] (Vitruvius) [X.II.1] First we shall order those things that are set up in the
sacred temples and for the perfection of public works, which are made in this way.
Let three posts be set up according to the size of the weights. These, at the upper ends
conjoined with a peg and below splayed, are set up with the chains placed at the
top and with those arranged around remain upright. At the top is a block, called by
some a ricamo. In the block are two wheels which turn on their pins. Through the
upper wheel is passed the rope, which rope is then dropped down and made to go
around the wheel of the lower block, and is taken to the lower wheel of the upper
block and thus goes down to the lower, and in its hole is tied the end of the rope, the
other end of which is taken between the feet of the machine. [X.II.2] In the square
faces of the beams in the back, there where they are splayed, are placed the sockets or
sleeves called chelonia, in which are put the heads of the windlasses, so that with
ease those axles turn. Those windlasses have near their ends holes made such that
in them can be placed the handles. In the lower block are tied iron hooks, the teeth
of which go into the perforated stones. When thus the rope has its end tied to the
windlass, and the handles, being pulled, turn it, this effect is born: that the rope
winding around the windlass tautens, and thus raises the weights to the height that
is desired, and to those places where they are to be set.
(Barbaro) Here Vitruvius shows how to make the instruments for rais-
ing weights and placing them where they are needed in the fabrication of
temples and public works. First he tells us about the block,9 which he calls
troclea or ricamo. The simplest way is to erect a trestle, or gaverna as we say,

A pulley is a single sheave (grooved wheel) that turns on an axis; a block is a system of
9 

multiple sheaves arranged in various ways. The wrapping of the ropes is called ‘reeving’.
740 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

of timbers or antennelle, to use the terminology of our shipbuilding yards so

that the practice of these things is more easily grasped. This trestle is made
by taking three timbers of sufficient size to support the weights. These are set
on end and tied together at the top with pegs, which Vitruvius calls fibula,
and their feet are splayed (Fig. 10.2.1).

Fig. 10.2.1. [Trestle for lifting weights] Image [p. 446], legend adapted
from text [pp. 445-446]: A, lower block; C, where there is the upper
block; D, windlass; E, trestle; F, weight; H, trestles pegged at the top,
where the rope is fixed
This and all images reproduced courtesy of Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin.

Then you take two blocks, upper and lower, sometimes called cuselle,
the form of which is shown in Fig. 10.2.1; these are comprised of several
pulley wheels, which Vitruvius calls orbiculi but are called ‘sheaves’ by us.
These have, around their circumference, a groove, which Vitruvius calls duc-
tario fune, into which the rope is inserted. The sheaves have a hole in their
middle, into which is inserted a pin, called axiculos by Vitruvius, marsione
by us. These pins go through the sheaves, which are placed inside a piece of
wood that is cut and hollowed out [i.e., a cheek], and it is on this pin that
the sheaves turn. Thus, attaching one block above and another below, this
is how it is reeved. The rope is taken and one end of it is passed through
the groove of the upper sheave in the upper block. Then it is dropped to the
p. 445 741

lowest sheave of the lower block, and passing through its groove, it is drawn
up to the lower sheave of the upper block. Making it pass there, it is dropped
to the upper sheave of the lower block, and there it is tied.10 The other end
of the rope is left loose so that it can either be pulled by hand, or attached
to a windlass located at the foot of the trestle, in the holes called chelonia by
Vitruvius and castignole or gattelli by us. This windlass is turned by means of
grips—handles as we say; vectes as Vitruvius says—which are inserted in the
ends of the windlass (Fig 10.2.2).

Fig. 10.2.2. [Types of windlasses] Image [p. 446]

The weights are attached to some hooks, which we call ganzi and Vit-
ruvius calls forcipi (Fig. 10.2.3).

Fig. 10.2.3. [Types of hooks] Image [p. 446]

This is incorrect. After passing through the upper sheave of the lower block (the travelling
10 

or moveable block), the end of the rope is carried back up to the upper block (the standing
or fixed block), where it is tied to a hook affixed to the bottom of that. This scheme is shown
correctly in a pencil sketch that appears in the margins of Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV, 152,
5106, p. 311v).
742 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

These are attached to the lower block, marked A in Fig. 10.2.1. The oth-
er parts are: C, where there is the upper block; E, where there is the trestle,
which is also called a bridge by some; and D, where there is the windlass.
The kinds of windlasses, hoists and winches, which are called succule and
ergata [p. 446] by the Latins and Greeks, are in shown in Fig. 10.2.2. The
sorts of hooks or forceps are shown in Fig. 10.2.3. Having thus explained the
practice of the blocks, I will now come to its rationale in order to show the
thing that is signified and that which signifies. Fabrication is comprised of
the discourse, the effect, and the cause of things. There is no doubt that if to
a simple rope a weight is attached, let us say a thousand pounds, all of the ef-
fort and force together is supported by that rope. If then that rope is doubled,
and to that is added a block with a sheave placed where the weight hangs,
that rope need have only half of the effort and half of the force in order to
lift that weight. Now what will happen if there are two blocks or more, or
if the number of sheaves is multiplied? Will that weight not be divided into
several parts? Will it not be handled with greater ease? Will not less force
be required to pull it? Certainly so, and such that if the first doubling lifted
half of the weight, the second, to which remains a half, will lift the half of
that half, which will be the fourth part of the entire weight, and so by the
fourth part of the initial force the weight will be lifted. If the rope had no
weight, if the sheaves had no roughness, and if there were no retardation of
the motion due to the many turnings of the rope, all of which are defects
not of form but of material, then a lad could easily lift an immense weight.
But by soaping the rope, lubricating the sheaves, making the blocks careful-
ly with straight sheaves, settling the ropes so that they do not twist or rub
together, and the pins being measured and proportioned, they easily make
that effort; even more so with the addition of windlasses, which in their turn
reduce a portion of the weight and the force, as does the multiplying of the
blocks and sheaves. The windlasses are moved even more easily when their
handles are longer, because the length moves away from the centre, which is
immobile and impedes the movement. This is all that needs to be said about
the rationale of blocks.
p. 447 743

Chapter III
On diverse names of machines and how they are erected

[p. 447] (Vitruvius) [X.II.3] This rationale of mechanism carried out with three
sheaves, is called tripastos. But when in the lower block there are two sheaves and
in in the upper one three, pentaspaston. But if for greater weights machines are
contrived, then it is necessary to use beams that are longer and larger, and according
to the same aforementioned rationale at the upper ends tie them and join them with
their fastenings and pegs, and below equip them with windlasses.
(Barbaro) Because (as I have said) the multitude of blocks and sheaves
divides the weight into several parts, then where it is necessary to lift heav-
ier weights, more blocks and more sheaves are required. The names of the
machines come from the number of sheaves. Thus, if the rope wraps around
three sheaves, then that machine is called a trispaston, as in ‘three sheaves
pulled’; if the upper block has two sheaves and the lower block three, then
thanks to the five sheaves it is called pentaspaston. Neither the Latins nor
those who speak in vulgar are as felicitous as the Greeks in composing these
names. Blocks are made with several sheaves; some have one order,11 some
two, and some even more, as can be seen below in Fig. 10.5.2. But the fine
thing is the reeving of the ropes, which is well known to those who practice,
and shown in the figure. Now let us see how these trestles—or gaverni or
bridges or tripods as they are called—are lifted into place.
(Vitruvius) [X.II.3 cont.] Having explicated the aforementioned things let
there be loosely piled in front of the machines those ropes which are called antarie,
and the restraints on the shoulders of the machine arranged. If there is no place
to tie them and connect them, let straight posts be placed and fixed by tamping
them well around, and there let the ropes be tied. [X.II.4] Then a block shall be
tied with a rope to the top of the machine, and from that the ropes shall be carried
to the post. Around that block that is tied to the post, the rope is taken around its
sheave, and then is taken back to the block which is at the top of the machine, and
passing around the sheave at the top is dropped and goes back to the windlass,
which is in the low part of the machine, and let it be tied there. Thus forced by the
handles the windlass is turned, and of itself without peril the machine is raised.

By ‘order’ Barbaro indicates a vertical arrangement of sheaves; by ‘row’, a horizontal

11 

arrangement. The vertical lines are aptly called ‘orders’ because the sheaves differ in radius,
where those in a row have the same radius.
744 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Then the ropes are arranged around, and the constraints are attached to piles in a
more adequate way, and the machine is situated. The blocks and ropes are reeved
as described above.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius teaches us how to hoist the machines into place.
Those who have seen how ships are masted can understand [p. 448] what
he is saying. I will explain what he has in mind in as easy a way as possible.
So, to raise the machine,12 the foot of it is fixed to a post, or to anything else
stable, so that the machine points inwards. To its top are tied no fewer than
two ropes (Fig. 10.3.1), so that one goes to the right, the other to the left;
these are what I believe Vitruvius means by antarie, which the Greeks call
protoni and sailors call ‘shrouds’.

Fig. 10.3.1. Image and caption [p. 447]: Ways of knotting the ropes

Then another rope is stretched out along the length of the machine,
and is inserted into one sheave on top, and another below. This upper sheave
is far from the hoist and windlass, to which is attached the rope mentioned
first, which we call codetta [i.e., hauling line]; the lower block is called pas-
tecca. Thus the windlass being pulled and that rope winding around it, the
machine is raised in the direction of that post and, once raised, can be
fixed however we want with the ropes that are to the right and left, because
by loosening one and tightening the other, it can be inclined as necessary.
12 
The device whose erection is described in this passage is a single-masted crane sometimes
known as a ‘gin pole’, and was described by Hero of Alexandria in the Mechanics. See
Schmidt (1899), vol. I, p. 204.
p. 448 745

But because the ropes need to be connected to something, we must then dig
a very deep square ditch. There a beam is laid out to which is tied the rope
that comes out of the ground. Transversely over that trunk there are other
pieces of wood on which soil is placed, and thus they will hold it firmly.
It is true that Vitruvius seems to want a block to be attached to those
posts that come out of the ground, I believe so that the ropes can be slack-
ened more conveniently.13 The reeving of the ropes and the blocks is done in
the way described earlier.

Chapter IV
On a machine similar to that explained above
with which greater things are done by merely changing
the windlass into a drum

[p. 448] (Vitruvius) [X.II.5] But if we want to place in works things of greater
weight or size, we must not rely on windlasses, but as the windlass is contained in
sockets, then in this case it is necessary that in the sockets be inserted an axle, in the
middle of which is a drum, which some have called wheel, the Greeks ampheu-
resin, others peritrochon. [X.II.6] In this machine the blocks go in another way,
because both the lower one and the upper one have two orders of sheaves, and in
that way the rope is made to pass through the hole of the lower block, that the two
ends are equal when the rope is extended. There along the lower block is wrapped a
little cord, and both parts of the rope are tied with restraints such that they cannot
go out either to the right nor to the left. This done, the ends of the rope are taken back
to the upper block on the exterior part, and are sent down from the perimeter of the
lower sheave of that. [X.II.7] They are taken from the right and from the left to the
drum, which is on the axle, and there are knotted. Then around the drum another
rope is taken to the winch. This, turned around, turns the drum and the axle,
making it so that the ropes tied to the axle are likewise tautened, and thus gently
without danger the weights are lifted. But if the machine has a larger drum either
in the middle or at an end, men pressing down on that, without the manufacture
of the winch, can have quicker effects.

The block on the pole is used to raise it to the position that serves its purpose. Once the
13 

pole is lifted into place, it is fixed with the shrouds, then the ropes used to lift it are unreeved
and re-reeved in the blocks that will serve to lift the weights.
746 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) The whole difficulty of thoroughly understanding the making

of the machine described above lies in the reeving of the ropes. Vitruvius first
says what the machine does, which is to lift weights of greater size than the
machine set out in the second chapter. He then shows how to make it. He
calls collossicotera those things that are extraordinarily heavy or large, because
very large statues are called ‘colossi’ and are of a much larger size than usual.
The trestle of large beams and other beams is erected as described above,
then two blocks are made of four sheaves apiece, two in a row above and two
in a row below.14 The lower one of those, to which the hook is attached, must
have a hole [i.e., becket or thimble] low down [p. 449] that passes in the di-
rection perpendicular to that of the pins of its sheaves, while the other must
be tied to the upper end of the machine. The reeving is like this. The rope is
passed through the becket of the lower block such that its ends hang down
equally on either side. These must be carried to the upper block and threaded
into the outer part of the lower sheaves.15 But in order that they remain fixed
and the blocks held straight, before the sheaves are reeved, it is necessary to
tie the blocks with a little twisted, knotted cord. So, having passed the two
ends from outside to inside of the lower sheaves of the upper block, they
are dropped down and made to pass through from inside to outside of the
upper sheaves in the lower block. Then they are again drawn up to the upper
block and made to pass from outside to inside of the upper sheaves, then
dropped down and made to pass through from inside to outside of both of
the lower sheaves of the lower block. Then they are tied tightly to the axle of
the drum. Then another rope is wrapped around the drum and taken to the
winch, and it follows that when the winch is turned, it will turn the drum
and the axle; the ropes tied around the axle will likewise be drawn taut, and
will thus gently lift the extremely heavy weights. If the drum is large the
manufacture of the winch can be eliminated, because men can tread inside
it and turn it easily that way. In the largest wheels, with men treading inside
them, extremely large weights are moved with a winding rope; the ratio of
the diameter of the wheel to the diameter of the axle is in proportion to the
ratio of the weight lifted to the weight and the force of men who are inside
the wheel. But the handles of the winch must be long, because in proportion

14 
This kind of compound block, known as ‘chock-a-block’ or ‘two-blocked’, is when sheaves
are placed in a row as closely as they will go.
15 
The ‘outer’ or ‘inner’ part of the sheaves refers to whether the rope passes from behind or
in front with regard to the cheek.
p. 449 747

to the length each of the ends reduces the weight. Where they are doubled,
the weight is reduced by half; increased by four, the weight is reduced to the
fourth part. Thus, if with a handle that is one braccio long four men move a
hundred pounds of weight, it will happen that with four handles of six brac-
cia the same four men will lift two thousand four hundred pounds, minus,
however, the additional weight of the handles, which is of little account. Fig.
10.4.1 shows the machine in its place.16

Fig. 10.4.1. [The machine used to lift large weights] Image [p. 459]

16 
The better figure of this appears in Barbaro (1556, p. 256, A-B-D).
748 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter V
On another sort of machine for pulling

[p. 449] (Vitruvius) [X.II.8] There is another sort of machine that is very art-
ful and arranged for quickness but setting it up for use is the work of experts. So,
there is a beam that is set upright and held on four sides by restraints. Below the
restraints are inserted two handles to which a block is tied with ropes, under which
is placed a list two feet long, six fingers wide, and four thick. The blocks have
along their width three rows of sheaves, and so three ropes are tied at the top of
the machine, and then brought down to the lower block, and made to pass through
the inner part of its upper sheaves, then taken to the upper block, and reeved from
the outer to the inner part of its lower sheaves, when it will be dropped down on
the inner part [X.II.9] and through the second sheaves taken in the outer part and
through the second sheaves is taken to the outer part, and taken back up again to
the second sheaves, reeved, return to the lower block and from the lower taken up
again to the top, and reeved through the first sheaves above, they return to the foot
of the machine. But at the bottom of this is placed the third block, called epagon by
the Greeks, by our people artemon. This is tied to the bottom of the machine, and
has three sheaves. The ropes reeved through these, they are given to the men that
pull them, and thus pulling the three hauling lines the men without a winch readily
lift the weight. [X.II.10] This sort of machine is called polyspaston, because by the
many circuits of sheaves it gives us both great quickness and ease. The raising of a
single post brings with it this usefulness, that first however one wishes, and where
one wishes, to the right and to the left, the weight can be placed. The rationales of
the above-described machine are not only arranged for the said things, but also for
loading and unloading ships. There being some of these straight, others placed flat in
the parettoli that turn, and even without raising the beams in the plane, the ropes
being arranged according to the same rationale, the blocks pull the ships ashore.
[p. 450] (Barbaro) It is a fine and subtle rationale and invention of ma-
chine that Vitruvius offers to us. He instructs us in the way of making it, the
reeving of the ropes, the setting it up to lift weights, the terminology and
uses of it. He then points out to us the many ways and to what effects the ra-
tionales of the above-described machine can be of use to us. He presupposes
that we erect the machine as he has instructed us to, and says that its purpose
is to do things quickly, that it is artful, and that it is the work of experienced
people. Erect a pole, at the top of which are tied four ropes, which he calls
retinacoli, and we call ‘shrouds’. These are dropped down to the ground, and
are tied to stakes, as above (Fig. 10.5.1).
p. 450 749

Fig. 10.5.1. [Another sort of machine for pulling] Image [p. 459]; legend
[p. 458]: D, stakes; L, where the pulley is attached, called the artemon or
pastecca; C, sockets; F, list; B, shrouds; E, the place for the ropes

These ropes serve to hold the machine straight, so that it does not lean
one way or the other. Below these ropes (or shrouds, or restraints, as you
wish), at the top where they are tied, are inserted into the sides of the pole
two handles, between which are placed a block, and those are tightly tied.
Under the block, like a bed, is a list that is two feet long, six fingers wide,
and four fingers thick. The purpose of this is to hold the block straight and
far from the pole, so that the ropes can be reeved easily.
Three blocks are placed, two of which have three rows of sheaves in
their width, as the figure shows (Fig. 10.5.2).17 The reeving of the ropes is
done as follows. Three ropes are taken and tied to the top of the machine at
the beam.18 The ends of these are let fall, and each is made to pass, from the
17 
The blocks in this device have nine sheaves each, three horizontally (rows), and three
vertically (orders).
18 
It would appear that those three ropes would be better attached to the becket at the
bottom of the upper block than to the trestle of the machine.
750 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

inner to the outer part, through one of the upper sheaves (that is, the first
[i.e., smallest] order) of the lower block. When reeved there, they are then
taken to the upper block and reeved from the outer to the inner side of the
lowest [i.e., smallest] order of sheaves of the upper block. Thus dropping
down on the inner side, they are reeved in the second order of sheaves and
pass to the outer side. They are again taken up to the upper block, to the sec-
ond [i.e., middle] order of sheaves and, reeved there, drop down. From the
third [i.e., largest] order of sheaves, they are taken to the top of the machine,
and when they are reeved through the upper sheaves of the upper block, they
are dropped down to the foot of the machine, where the third block is tied;
this is called epagon by the Greeks and artemon by the Latins, but we call it
pastecca. This has only three sheaves in a row, in which go the three ropes,
or hauling lines as they are called; these are given to three people, each of
whom pulls one end, so with ease the weights are lifted. Fig. 10.5.2 shows
one layer of the sheaves, exposed so that they are more clearly understood,
and to those who are experienced they will be clear.
This sort of machine, because of the multitude of the sheaves, is called
‘polyspaston’. The effect is such that by suitably slackening those restraints,
or shrouds, the pole can be tilted in whatever direction is desired, and the
weights set where you want them. But the use of all the machines described
above, when they are set up in the right way, extends to other purposes. Thus
they are good for loading and unloading ships. The ship’s masts and ropes
serve us, and when the weight is lifted to the height of the side of the ship,
the ship is allowed to lean to one side, and thus the weight is unloaded either
to the ground or to a smaller ship. The same machine laid out on the ground
and reeved in the same way can launch ships or pull them ashore. The whole
thing depends on carefully setting them up and securing their handles, and
on those tools that Vitruvius calls carchesia, which are, as far as I can make
out, certain tools where the handles are inserted that turn the axles of the
wheels, or drums or reels as others call them, that have the shape of the letter
Δ. But perhaps they are similar to those that we call parettoli,19 on which a
gun barrel turns to fire in all directions, as are seen in ships and galleys, and
in the figure.

19 
For parettoli, see Orsini (1801), vol. I, p. 127.
 751

Fig. 10.5.2. [Block and tackle] Image [p. 459]; caption [p. 458]: F, upper
part of the block, and the place where it is tied; L, lower part of the block,
called artemon, pastecca, and epagon in Greek
752 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter VI
On an ingenious rationale of Ctesiphon
for transporting weights

[p. 450] (Vitruvius) [X.II.11] It is not alien to our institution to explain an in-
genious invention of Ctesiphon. So, wishing to transport the shafts of the columns
from the workshops of the stonecutters in Ephesus to the Temple of Diana, not
trusting in wagons because of the size of the weights, and fearing the softness of
the paths through the fields, that the wheels might [p. 451] sink down too much,
he attempted to do it in this way. He set together four pieces of very well cut wood
measuring four fingers thick, two cross pieces put between two that were as long as
the shafts of the columns, and at the ends of the shafts he set pins of iron in lead…
(Barbaro) …which were called cnodaces, as in ‘little axles’.
(Vitruvius) [X.II.11 cont.] In those pieces of wood he set the rings into which
the said pins were to enter, and with sticks of holm oak he tied the ends. The pins thus
enclosed in the circlets could rotate freely, so that when the yoked oxen pulled, the
shafts of the columns turned continuously on the pins and in the circlets. [X.II.12]
Having in this way moved all the shafts, and it being necessary to move the ar-
chitraves as well, the son of Ctesiphon, named Metagenes, transported that ratio-
nale of moving the shafts to the moving of the architraves. Thus he made wheels
twelve feet wide, and with the same rationale of the pins and circlets he fixed the
ends of the architraves in the middle of those wheels, and thus those pieces of wood
being pulled by oxen, enclosed in the circlets, the pins turned the wheels, and the
architraves fixed like axles in the wheels, with the same rationale that the columns
shafts were moved, they arrived to the place where they were built. The example of
this thing is as when the places where you walk in the palaestrae are levelled with
cylinders; however this could not have been done if the place had not been nearby,
because between the stonecutters and the temple there are no more than eight miles,
nor is there any ascent, but all is flat countryside.
(Barbaro) The interpretation, and practice, make clear what Vitruvius
says. The cylinder was a stone in the shape of a column for levelling and
rolling, as we say for our terraced gardens. But how much consideration
we must first give this before we begin to carry out such an undertaking of
transporting large things Vitruvius shows us with a fine example, saying:
(Vitruvius) [X.II.13] But in our days, to the temple where there was the colos-
sus of Apollo, the base being broken because of age, and fearing that the statue would
come to ruin and break, those who were to cut the base from the same stone quarry
pp. 451-452 753

would also have to transport it. Paconius took the job. This base was twelve feet
long, eight wide, six high. This Paconius, swollen with vainglory, not as Metagenes
had attempted to move, but with the same rationale in another way, ordered a great
machine to be made. [X.II.14] Thus he made wheels 15 feet high, in which he en-
closed the ends of the stone, then around the stone from wheel to wheel he arranged
spindles measuring two fingers such that between spindle and spindle there was
no more than a foot. In addition to this around the spindles he wound a rope, and
the oxen yoked there pulled the rope, and thus the spindles unwinding turned the
wheels. But he could not pull it straight, because the machine moved now close to one
side and now the other, so that he was forced to pull it back again. And thus Paconius
pulling and re-pulling consumed the money, so that he had no money to pay with.
(Barbaro) This passage too is easy, because Paconius made a rocker, as
we would say, in which he fixed the stone, and the rope that was around this
rocker turned back and forth. However, it couldn’t pull straight, because the
machine twisted around by the same amount as it pulled forward, so that in
order to straighten it, it had to be pulled back again, and thus the effort was
in vain, like that of Sisyphus, because of his vanity. Read the sixth chapter of
the sixth book of Leon Battista Alberti.20

Chapter VII
How the stone quarry was found,
from which the Ephesian Temple of Diana was built

[p. 451] (Vitruvius) [X.II.15] I will depart somewhat from the purpose and say
how those quarries were found. Pixodarus was a shepherd and worked in those
places. The Ephesians, thinking of making a temple to Diana and deliberating
whether to avail themselves of the marble of Paros, Preconessus, Heraclea and Tha-
sos, it happened at that time that Pixodarus took the sheep to [p. 452] pasture in
those places, and there two rams, facing off to butt each other, passed without col-
liding, and with impetus one struck the rock with its horns, of which there chipped
off a stone of the whitest colour. From that it is said that Pixodarus left the sheep in
the mountains and carried, running, this chip to Ephesus at a time when they were

20 
See Alberti (1485, 6.6) and (1988, pp. 164-167) for a discussion of heavy weights and
various means of moving them. The story of Sisyphus is told in Book VI of Homer’s Iliad.
754 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

especially conferring about this. Thus they deliberated about honouring him greatly,
and they changed his name, so that instead of Pixodarus he was called Evangelus.
(Barbaro) That is, ‘good news’.
(Vitruvius) [X.II.15 cont.] Even today, every few months the magistrate of
Ephesus goes to that place and makes sacrifices to him. In case that he omits to do
that, he is subject to punishment.
(Barbaro) Vainglory deceived Paconius; art aided Ctesiphon and
Metagenes; chance favoured Pixodarus. Vitruvius has entertained us with
this digression, seeing that we have wearied and confounded the imagina-
tion with wheels, ropes, drums, winches, and pulleys. Now he moves on,
after describing the making of the machines, to the discourse and makes a
most beautiful consideration on these things he has said, saying:

Chapter VIII
On the straight and circular motions
that are required to lift weights

[p. 452] (Vitruvius) [X.III.1] Of the rationales by which weights are pulled I
have briefly expounded those things that I have deemed necessary.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius, in the first chapter of this book, said that a ma-
chine is a continuous connection of timbers that has great force in moving
weights. This up to now he has demonstrated. He has also said that a ma-
chine moves with the artifice of many turns. This is the part he will now
expound for us. We must pay attention to this, because it is the foundation
of all devices and, further, will allow us to understand many fine things of
Aristotle’s Mechanica. So he says:
(Vitruvius) [X.III.1 cont.] Of the rationales of pulling weights, I have briefly
expounded those things that I have deemed necessary, the motions and the forces of
which are two different things, and between themselves dissimilar as is proper, as
they are the principles of two operations. One of those principles is straight motion,
called euthia by the Greeks. The other is the circular motion, called cyclotis. But in
truth neither the straight without the circular nor the circular without the straight
can be made that will move weights.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius’s proposition is this: that straight and circular mo-
tion, although two different things which bear no resemblance to each other,
pp. 452-453 755

nevertheless work together to make for us the marvellous effects that we see
every day in the lifting of weights. Nor can there be one without the other;
how this happens Vitruvius himself tells us, saying:
(Vitruvius) [X.III.2] So that what I have said is understood, I will expound
it. The pins insert into the sheaves like centres, and are placed in the blocks so that
through those sheaves the rope turns with straight pulls. And placed in the wind-
lass, the turning of the handles makes it so that the weights are lifted up, and the
axles of the windlass, like centres of the straight motion, are located in the sockets,
and the handles, placed in their holes, turning the ends around like a lathe, lift the
weight.
(Barbaro) By induction Vitruvius proves that straight and circular
motion enter into the movement of things, first of all in the instruments
of blocks, handles and windlasses, because the turns, the sheaves, and the
winding correspond to the circular motion, while the ropes, the handles and
the axles correspond to the straight motion, both in the machines described
above, and then later in other instruments as well, as he shows below, saying:
(Vitruvius) [X.III.2 cont.] Similarly as the shaft or lever of iron, when it is
opposed to the weight that cannot be raised by many hands, placed underneath in
the guise of centre, directly in line with the lever that is set on top of it, that which
is called hypomochlion by the Greeks…
(Barbaro) …as in ‘under-lever’…
(Vitruvius) [X.III.2 cont.] …and the lever, or tongue of the lever, placed un-
der the weight and the end of that pressed down, by the strength of one man alone,
that weight is lifted.
[p. 453] (Barbaro) Many problems addressed in the Mechanica of Ar-
istotle are set out in few words and resolved by Vitruvius here. However,
it is necessary to consider the general rules and principles of all. In each
contrived movement there are four things: the weight; the force that moves
it; the instrument with which it is moved, called vectis in Latin, mochlion in
Greek, ‘lever’ in the vulgar; and that on which the lever rests, hypomochlion
in Greek, pressio in Latin, and I would say ‘fulcrum’21 in the vulgar.
All of these things can be traced back from the steelyard to the balance,
and are reduced from the balance to the rationale of the circle. Observe,
then, that the parts that are farthest from the centre make a greater, more
immediate, and more evident effect than those that are closest to what is

21 
The English ‘fulcrum’ comes from the Latin fulcire, to prop or support.
756 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

to be moved, and participate less in the nature of the centre since, being
far from the centre, they are less impeded; the weights that are at the ends
farthest from the centre, tending downwards by their natural inclination,
are less impeded and sooner raised to the perpendicular than those that are
closer. So, in each instrument it is necessary to consider either the centre or
that which functions as the centre. So, in the balance and in the steelyard the
centre is that point of the beam that passes through the socket, close to the
short end of the beam, called ansa, tongue, or examen. This place of the cen-
tre is like the fulcrum, because the beam is set on top of it; in the balance the
arms, or radii, which the Latins call scapi, represent the lever, and are like
lines whose starting point is in the centre. So, when these arms are equal in
length and weight, the balance is set up so that neither of its ends tilts more
than the other, and the beam is parallel to the plane. But when weight is giv-
en to one of the ends the force is such that the balance tilts. It will tilt more
quickly, and with less weight, when the arm is longer and the weight farther
from the centre, because of the aforementioned reason. However, it says in
the Mechanica22 that balances that have the longest beams are more relia-
ble—that is, quicker;23 they balance with less weight and indicate the weight
with greater certainty because they move for each slight addition, and in
equal or smaller intervals of time, they make greater intervals of length. But
it is necessary to understand that all things must be equal and that the mate-
rial must be uniform and equal for the entire weight and length. Taking the
length of the arms from the point in the middle, which functions as centre
or fulcrum, and extending two equal arms, the end of one moving towards
the bottom and the other towards the top, they will begin to draw a circle
simultaneously, and each will complete its half of the circle when it arrives to
the place of the other. But if the arms of the balance are not of equal lengths,
then moving in the way just described, they will draw unequal circles, since
the larger arm would make a larger circumference if it were to leave a mark,
and thus both ends moving at the same time, the faster movement will be
made by the larger end. This is understood from the balance, whether it is
suspended from above, as it is used in most cases, or is supported on a base,
as the figure shows (Fig. 10.8.1).

22 
See Aristotle, Mechanica (Mechanical Problems), Problem 1.
23 
As Parkinson (1863, p. 113) expresses it, they are ‘more sensible’.
p. 453 757

Fig. 10.8.1. Image [p. 459]; legend [p. 459]. X, the standing balance

There is another manner of balance that can be more aptly called

‘half-balance’, and it is the steelyard. This has unequal arms, and the weight
is attached where the arm is shorter. In this there is the centre, or fulcrum,
as in the balance, close to the short arm. The other arm is longer, and is
marked with various points, along which plays a moveable weight called a
‘rider’, equipondium by the Latins and sferoma by the Greeks, so that it lifts
heavier or lighter weights according to whether it is closer or farther away
from the centre. These weights correspond to the moving force, 24 which, like
a strong hand, presses down: the rider on the longer arm of the steelyard,
and similarly the second weight on the shorter arm. If the locations of the
fulcrum and tongue of the steelyard are altered, it can be said that it would
make several balances, and a single steelyard can be used in place of many
balances by varying the locations of the fulcrum and the hooks in order to
raise different weights (Fig. 10.8.2).25

24 
In Aristotle’s theory of motion, there was no motion without a force, thus there was a
‘moving force’ and the object that was moved.
25 
See Aristotle, Mechanica (Mechanical Problems), Problem 20.
758 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 10.8.2. [Parts of the steelyard] Image [p. 459]; legend [p. 458]:
V, the rider, in Latin called equipondium, in Greek sferoma; Q , S, hooks;
R, short arm, or examen; [S, fulcrum for weighing heavier weights, turning
the steelyard upside down so that the centre is farther from the hook]

Thus, the closer the fulcrum is to the short arm—that is, to the hook
and chain from which the weight is suspended—the higher the weight that
hangs from that short arm will be lifted, and the longer will be the line that
is from the fulcrum to the rider.26 Here then is how the steelyard and the
balance reduce back to the rationale of the circle. In a similar fashion the
lever reduces back to the same rationale, because the lever is like the arm of
the balance; the fulcrum, like the centre; the weight corresponds to the thing
moved; and the hand that presses down, to that which moves. The longer
the beam from the point where the rider stops, the more easily moved is the
[p. 454] weight, by the rationales stated. From this it follows that holding a
piece of wood over the knee and holding the ends of it with the hands, the
farther the hands are from the knee, which is like a centre, the easier it is
26 
The concept that ‘the shorter the arm, the higher the weight is lifted’ does not appear to
make sense, because if Barbaro is basing his explanation of the lever on circular motion, then
we would say that the arc traced by the short arm being smaller than that traced by the long
arm, then the shorter the arm, the less high the weight is lifted. He repeats this argument on
p. 455, saying ‘Thus when we weigh anything, the closer the centre—where the fulcrum is—
to the weight, the higher it is raised, because the line (that is, the beam) from the centre to
the rider is longer.’ In order to explain this, I would reason that the shorter the short arm, the
greater the upward force it is subjected to, but not that it is raised by a higher amount; in fact,
it need never be raised above the point where the steelyard is horizontal. Below, however, on
p. 455, he uses a different argument regarding the pole carried by two bearers, saying that
‘the one most weighed down is the one who is closest to the weight, because the one who is
farther away lifts his part higher, because it is easier for him to lift it’; this can be correctly
interpreted as saying that the one who carries the longer part of the pole, exerts a greater
downward force on the one carrying the short end of the pole, who thus bears more weight.
p. 454 759

to break the piece of wood. A similar effect would be had if one stepped on
one end of the piece of wood with the foot, and held the hands far from that.
And again, inserting a wedge a little ways into a large, hard stump of wood
and pounding the wedge with a mallet, the wood is easily split, because the
wedge is like the lever, or better, like two levers, one underneath and the
other above (Fig. 10.8.3).

Fig. 10.8.3. Image [p. 459]; legend [p. 458]. 8, Wedge

The parts of the stump that are touched by those are like centres and
fulcrums. The force of the one who strikes is the mover, and that part of the
root that is touched by the point of the wedge corresponds to the weight
to be lifted. Similarly, the scissors that have the largest blades cut or break
hard things more readily than the shorter ones. In the final analysis, all the
mechanical problems surrounding weights are reduced to these rationales,
as will be clear to those who consider them. But since we have had enough
discourse about the present chapter, let us follow Vitruvius, who, having
demonstrated straight motion in the lever and said what effect it has, goes
on to give the rationale.
(Vitruvius) [X.III.3] And this comes to be because the shorter front part of
the lever enters under the weight on one side of the fulcrum, which is like the cen-
tre; and the end of the lever that is farthest from the centre, when it is pressed on,
making the circular motion, constrains an enormous weight to rise in the balance,
with the pressing of little force.
(Barbaro) The straight motion demonstrated above has need of the cir-
cular motion. This Vitruvius demonstrates in the lever, which is clearly seen
because both the end of the smaller arm and that of the greater draw circles,
as has been shown in the balance.
760 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Vitruvius) [X.III.3 cont.] Similarly if the tongue of the iron lever is placed
underneath the weight and the end with pressing down is not lowered but, to the
contrary, is raised, the tongue pointing itself in the ground will take the place of the
weight, and the corner of the weight will take the place of the fulcrum and thus,
not very easily as when it was lifted by the fulcrum but nevertheless in opposition
to the weight in the load, it will be raised.
(Barbaro) What Vitruvius says, although it is said in a difficult way,
can be understood in this way: not only is the lever used by pressing one of
the ends down below the lever and raising the weight, as he said above, but
sometimes it is used for pushing a weight. The tongue of the lever is pointed
downwards into the ground; that tongue, being made of iron, is properly
the lever. The other end is raised by the hands, such that that point of the
weight that is to be pushed is like the centre, or fulcrum, and the earth is like
the weight and load. Although a weight can be pushed in this way, it is not,
however, as easily moved as when short end is raised. The figure of what has
just been said is shown in Fig. 10.8.4.

Fig. 10.8.4. [Parts of the lever] Image [p. 459]; legend [p. 458]: 1, the
fulcrum, called hypomochlion and pressio in Latin; 2, the lever or handle,
called vectis in Latin, mochlion in Greek; 3, the weight;  the weight.
[The figure shows both ways of using a lever: in the foreground, with
the fulcrum below the lever; in the background, with the tongue placed
under the weight and the lever pushed up rather than down]
pp. 454-455 761

From what has been said above Vitruvius concludes:

(Vitruvius) [X.III.3 cont.] If the tongue of the lever is placed over a fulcrum,
the larger part of the beam goes under the weight, and the end of the tongue is
pushed down, being closer to the centre, it cannot lift the weight, unless (as was
written above) the balance and the long arm of the lever are longer at the part of
the head, and are not made close to the weight.
(Barbaro) In the lever, as I said, the end is that part that is pressed down
with the hands, and the tongue is that part that is inserted under the weight,
the tip of which is made of iron. The lever as a whole is divided into two
radii at that point where it touches the fulcrum. If then from that point to
the tongue is formed a longer arm than from that same point to the end, the
weight cannot be lifted. The reason is readily seen: because the longer arm
represents the longer line from the centre, which makes a greater movement.
This is demonstrated by Vitruvius, when he says:
(Vitruvius) [X.III.4] And this can be considered from the steelyard, because
when the fulcrum is close to the end where the weight hangs, in which place the
fulcrum is like the centre, and the sliding weight, or rommano,27 called equipon-
dium, in the other part of the beam moving about among the marks of the scale, the
farther away it is moved from the other side, even if it is near the end of the beam,
again with less weight it will equal the weight that is on the other part, even if it is
extremely large, and that occurs because of the balancing of the beam [p. 455] and
because the lever is far from the centre. And the smallness of the lightest rider rais-
ing in an instant greater force of weight, without vehemence it sweetly constrains
it to rise from low to high.
(Barbaro) This too is understood by the things that we have said above,
where we showed what the steelyard is, what its parts are, and what effects it
has. Aristotle, in the twenty-fifth problem, 28 asks by what cause the steelyard
with a small rider weighs extremely heavy weights, for all that the steelyard
is nothing other than a half-balance, since the chain from which the weight
hangs is on one side only, and the other is without a hook. The problem is
resolved in that the steelyard represents both the balance and the lever, since
it is similar to a balance in which each centre and hook can change locations
according to the quantity of weight that we wish to raise, changing the loca-

27 
According to Parkinson (1863, p. 114): ‘The name of this [Roman] steelyard has often led
to a mistaken idea of its origin—Romman is an Eastern word for pomegranate, and the form
of the weight gave rise to its name’.
28 
Actually Problem 20 in Aristotle’s Mechanica (Mechanical Problems).
762 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

tion and making different centres. On one side is the chain where the weight
hangs, while on the other side, in place of the other chain, is the rider, which
pulls the weight hung on the chain. In this way the steelyard is like the bal-
ance, so it makes the same effects by the same rationales. One steelyard can
be various balances, if different fulcrums and chains are placed—that is, if
the locations of the centres where it is held are altered. It is true that when we
weigh a thing it is like a single balance because it has a single centre and two
arms, but altering the weight we alter the centre, because the rider does not
press down equally, being closer or farther from the centre. Thus when we
weigh anything, the closer the centre, where the fulcrum is, to the weight,
the higher it is raised, because the line (that is, the beam) from the centre to
the rider is longer. Here then the rationales of the balance are found once
again in the steelyard, which is called phalange by Aristotle. It also resembles
the lever, and is like a reverse lever, because on top it has the fulcrum, or
pressio as it is called, which is the place where there is the centre; it has the
force that moves, which is the rider, which presses the beam down. Pressing
down, the weight which is on the other side is necessarily altered, and it can
be that altering the centres makes different levers, just as different balances
were made. It is true that for ordinary uses of the steelyard no more than two
centres, or trutini, are made—that is, the centre can only be changed be-
tween two places. When that centre is nearer the hook, we say that it weighs
according to the large scale, because the marks and crosses on the beam are
farther apart; but when we use the centre that is farther from the hook, we
say that we use the small scale, because the marks are closer together. This
is called ‘steelyard’ because in place of the other hook there is the rider. And
that is all there is to say about the steelyard.
(Vitruvius) [X.III.5] And again like the helmsman of a large cargo ship,
holding the tiller of the rudder, which is called oiax by the Greeks, in a moment
with one hand by reason of the centre pressing down artfully turns the cargo ship of
enormous weight of goods and other necessary things.
(Barbaro) Aristotle, in the fifth problem of the Mechanica, asks how it is
that the small rudder placed at the end of the ship has such force that when
a man holds the tiller in his hands and turns it dextrously, he can make such
great movement in the ships carrying enormous loads. He answers saying
that this occurs because the tiller and rudder are like the lever; the sea like
the weight; the helmsman like the moving force; the fulcrum is the hinges
on which the rudder is placed; and the hinge is like the centre of the circle
pp. 455-456 763

that is drawn from one end of the tiller to the other. The tiller thus cuts the
sea along a straight line, and pushing it to one side moves the ship to the
other. So, the water being like the weight, the tiller which points in the op-
posite direction turns the ship, because the centre, its support, was turned in
the opposite direction. The ship, being conjoined to it, necessarily follows it,
such that if the sea is pushed to the right, the hinge goes to the left, and the
ship follows the hinge. However, the tiller must be placed in the stern at the
end of the ship and nowhere else, because any small movement that is made
from one end results in a greater space being described at the other end,
making much greater movement there. This is because, regarding the bases
that terminate those lines that come from an angle, the longer the lines are,
the bigger the bases are. Let there be angle A. The lines that come from that
angle are AC and AD, the base CD. There is no doubt that if the lines are
extended as from A to F and from A [p. 456] to H, then base FH can only
be longer than base CD (Fig. 10.8.5).

Fig. 10.8.5. Image [p. 459]

When therefore there is a small movement at the stern, then along the
length of the ship from stern to stem, the extremity of the stem will have
traced a large portion of circle, greater than that which will have been traced
from the length of the stern to the mast. Thus it is well that the tiller, which
is the principle of the movement, is like an angle placed at the end.
(Vitruvius) [X.III.5 cont.] And again the sails raised halfway up the mast
do not give as much speed to the ship as when the heads of the sails are raised to
the top. The reason is this: because being at the top they are not close to the foot of
the mast, which in that place serves the function of the centre, but in the top they
are far away, and from that more remote place the sails take the wind. [X.III.6]
764 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

When the lever is placed under the weight, if by half it is pressed down it is harder
in the work, but when its far end is pressed down, and stricken, it easily raises the
weight. So too the sails being at half-mast have less force, but those that are located
at the top are far away from the centre, so that even if the wind is no longer strong
but pressing down the same or pushing the top it forces the ship farther forward.
(Barbaro) With the same wind and the same sails, the ship will go
faster when the head of the sail is hoisted to the top of the mast than when
it is hoisted half-mast. The reason for this, as we see in the sixth problem of
Aristotle’s Mechanica, is because the mast is like the lever; the foot, where it
is fixed, is like the centre and fulcrum; the weight is the ship; the motion is
the wind. If then the moving force presses down or pushes the parts that are
far from the centre, it moves more easily than when it is close to the centre.
(Vitruvius) [X.III.6 cont.] Again, oars with loops tied to the tholes, pushed
and pulled with the hands: the blades of these moving farther from the centre in the
wave of the sea push the ship which is above forward with great force, while the
stem cuts through the rareness of the liquid.
(Barbaro) The oar is like the lever; the thole like the fulcrum; the sea
like the weight. According to what is seen in the fourth problem of Aristot-
le’s Mechanica: one of the arms of the lever is from the thole to the water, the
other from the thole to the hands of the sailor. The effect is the same as that
of the lever and the balance regarding the longer and shorter arms, as has
already been shown.
(Vitruvius) [X.III.7] Likewise the great weights, when they are carried by
four or six bearers who carry the litters, are placed in balance by the centres at the
middle of the poles, so that the load is divided with a certain proportion and each of
the bearers bears with the neck an equal part of the entire weight. Thus in the parts
in the middle of the poles, there are straps fastened to the collars of the bearers and
fixed with nails so that they do not slide here and here, because when they move
beyond the confines of the centre, they press on the neck of the one who is closest to
it, as in the steelyard the rider, when it, with the beam, has the terms of weighing.
(Barbaro) Aristotle asks, in the twenty-ninth problem of Mechanica,
how it is that if two bearers carry the same load on a pole, they are not equal-
ly weighed down unless the weight is in the middle, and why the one who is
closest to the weight toils harder (Fig. 10.8.6).
pp. 456-457 765

Fig. 10.8.6. [Weight balanced in the middle of a pole] Image [p. 459];
legend [p. 458]: 7-9, pole; 10, weight

He answers that the pole takes the place of a lever whose reverse ful-
crum is the weight, while the ends of the lever are the parts of the pole that
extend towards the bearers, one of whom takes the place of the weight that
must be moved by the lever and the other of whom takes the place of the
moving force. Since the longer arm of the lever is the one that is pressed
down, and the other one is the one that is under the weight, then although
both are weighed down, the one most weighed down is the one who is clos-
est to the weight, because the one who is farther away lifts his part higher,29
because it is easier for him to lift it, his part of the pole being longer and
farther from the centre. If the weight is placed in the middle, the labour will
be divided with equal proportion and one will lift as much as the other, both
being equally far from the centre.
(Vitruvius) [X.III.8] By the same rationale, the mules that are under the yoke
pull weights with equal labour when they are tied in such a way that their necks
are equally distant from the middle, where the yoke is tied. But when the forces
of those are unequal and one, being stronger, presses the other, then by letting the
leather strap pass through, one part of the yoke is made longer [p. 457], which helps
the weaker mule. Thus as in the levers so too in the yokes: when the straps are not
in the middle but made so that one part from which the strap passes is shorter and
the other longer, when the one and the other end of the yoke turn around, the longer
part will trace the greater circle and the shorter part the shorter the shorter circle.
29 
See the earlier footnote about this, in which it was noted that the bearer farther away from
the weight does not lift his end higher, but does apply more downward force on the bearer
closest to the weight, thus increasing his load.
766 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) This is easy to understand because of the things said above,

but since Vitruvius wants to give a conclusion universally proved by first
principles, he says, continuing his induction:
(Vitruvius) [X.III.9] And as smaller wheels have their movement harder and
more difficult, so too the poles and yokes in those parts that have less distance from
the centre to their ends press harder on the necks, and those that have spaces more
distant from the same centre will lighten the weight on the bearers. In short, these
things already said in the aforesaid way receive their movements with straight and
with circular, and so too carts, wagons, drums, wheels, screws, scorpions, ballistae,
the beam of a press, and the other machines, with the same rationales, by the straight
centre and by the circular rotation, make the effects according to our intention.
(Barbaro) It appears to me that Vitruvius, by the principles he has
set forth, has expounded the rationale of all the machines already found
and those that can be found, regarding the lifting, pulling, and pushing
of weight. These are all encompassed by the name ‘tractive machines’. He
leaves this fine consideration to intelligent ones: that straight and circular
motion is the principle of all the things said. He who is able to recognise
in them the weight, the lever, the fulcrum, and the moving force, relating
these things to each other, will be able to understand and satisfy all prob-
lems posed in the present material. There remains to us to say a few things
regarding cart wheels and regarding the screw, which has enormous, almost
incredible force.
I will report what Cardano says in the seventeenth book on the subtlety
of things.30 So, he says that the screw is made with similar rationales. Let
there be the hollow tube ab—that is, that which is called a cochlea—and
the male insert—that is, the screw cd, which turns about in the usual way
(Fig. 10.8.7). Let the handle joined to the male part be ef, which is turned
easily with handle GH, thanks to the rationale of the handles, already dis-
cussed.31 Let there be added plumb below the male part a 100-pound weight
M, so that handle GH, turning, will pull shaft KL upwards, and weight M
will rise. When handle GH is turned in the opposite direction, by the same
rationale KL will be pushed down and bend the iron opposite it, though it
be of an incredible thickness. It remains for us to demonstrate that weight M
can be moved, and by what rationale. So, there being one hundred thousand

30 
Cardano (1550, p. 274r).
31 
That is, that the longer the handles, the more easily turned is the pin.
p. 457 767

pounds of weight, and each thread or ring of the screw supporting its portion
of weight, if ten threads or spirals are made, then on each thread there will
be ten thousand pounds. The amount of weight supported by each thread is
equal to the proportion of the circumference to the chain on which weight
M is suspended. Thus, when there are a greater number of threads and they
are more closely spaced and greater, then weight M will be lighter and the
movement easier, albeit slower. Thus in the space of two braccia can be made
a screw with the spirals sufficiently wide and low that the weight M can be
raised by a lad ten years old. But as I said, the more easily it moves, the slow-
er it moves. When thus the weight is pulled near the length KL it will be
necessary to hang the weight from those things that sustain the machine at
points N and O. Thus lowering the screw by contrary motion distance KL,
we will reattach the weight, and again pull and raise it a distance equal to the
space KL until, by often tying the weight (or it may be a boat that we pull
from the sea or river or something of the like) we achieve our end. We have
to think that this or something similar was the instrument that Archimedes
used to earn for himself the admiration and praise of the Greeks, allowing a

Fig. 10.8.7. [The screw] Image [p. 459]; legend [p. 458]: O, N, hollow
tube (cochlea) or screw; H, G, handles or beams; M, weight; [KL, shaft]
768 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

lad to pull a loaded ship that groups of yokes of oxen could not move.32 The
screw is of the hardest metal, so that it does not warp; extremely light, so
that it is not impeded; solid and lubricated with oil, because the oil makes it
slide and does not allow it to rust. The smaller the instrument is, the more
there is to marvel.
But let us go on to carts. Those which have larger wheels roll with ease
in soft earth and move more quickly because the mud that is pulled up touch-
es the smallest portion of the wheel and impedes it less. Further, the larger
wheel [p. 458] covers a greater distance; where it is sufficient to the weight
that the wheels be fewer in number, the journey will be more quickly made,
since many wheels, when they are smaller, cover less distance because of
their smaller circumference. If large, to the force they also add the weight,
but while they cover a greater distance, they are slower in their movement.
The Roman emperors had themselves carried in carriages with two wheels
because, the weight being not so heavy and the carriage being pulled by more
than one horse, the journey was made faster. This is why pieces of artillery
are pulled on two wheels. The rationale of facility is completely contrary to
this, because on hard ground more and smaller wheels make for facility be-
cause the weight is divided among the wheels, from which addition is made,
and not the multiplication of those proportions. Here is the example. Six
doubles multiplied by themselves, render the proportion of sixty-four to one,
but the same added together make a duodecupla, 33 so there is a great differ-
ence between adding and multiplying ratios.34 If one wheel thus carries the
weight of sixty-four pounds, then for six wheels the amount is twelve times
that much.35 Similarly, help is derived not only from the number but also
from the small size because the slower they are, the more easily they move.
There is also a third reason for the ease: when the axle is not so weighed
down, being freer [i.e., less subject to friction], it turns more easily, and so it
continues on. But here below we will place the figure of the things discussed
above, in both the present and earlier chapters.
32 
Plutarch recounts this in Parallel Lives, in the Life of Marcellus 14.7.
33 
Duodecupla is a ratio of 12:1. See Tartaglia (1556-1560, vol. I, p. 112).
34 
Mathematically, Barbaro is contrasting repeated addition (which is multiplication)
with repeated multiplication (which is exponentiation). Six ‘doubles’ added together is
2 2
+ + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 = 12 . Six doubles multiplied together is 2 × 2 × 2 × 2 × 2 × 2 = 26 = 64 . I am
1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1
grateful to Stephen R. Wassell for discussions about this.
35 
This conclusion is erroneous. If one wheel supports 64 pounds, six wheels support six
times that amount, not twelve times.
 769

Fig. 10.8.8. [The full image from which the individual illustrations have
been taken] Image [p. 459]
770 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter IX
On the sorts of instruments for raising water,
and first the water wheel

[p. 460] (Vitruvius) [X.IV.1] Now I will speak about the instruments which have
been found for raising water, expounding their variety. First I will explain about
the water wheel. These do not raise water very high, but they very quickly raise a
great quantity of it. An axle is made round on a lathe or with a drawknife and
the ends covered in iron. In the middle there is a wheel of boards that are fixed and
placed together, and placed there are some straight pieces of wood, which at their
ends have certain circlets made of sheets of iron, where the axle is placed. Inside,
in the hollow part of that wheel, are placed crosswise eight boards which, with one
of their ends, touch the axle and, with the other, the extreme circumference of the
wheel. These boards divide the inner part of the wheel into equal spaces. [X.IV.2]
Around on the front…
(Barbaro) …that is, on the edge of the wheel…36
(Vitruvius) [X.IV.2 cont.] …are attached certain boards leaving there an
opening of half a foot, so that the water can enter the wheel. Similarly, openings…
(Barbaro) …called columbaria…
(Vitruvius) [X.IV.2 cont.] …are left along the axle, carved out like channels
in the space of each of those compartments. This wheel, when it is well smeared
with pitch and caulk, as is done with ships, is turned by men pressing on it. And
receiving the water through the openings that are in the front of the wheel, it sends
it down through the holes of the columbaria to the axle. This, placed under it a lip,
from which comes out a channel…
(Barbaro) …or gorna as it is called…
(Vitruvius) [X.IV.2 cont.] …gives a great copiousness of water, and this pro-
vides water for the gardens and the saltworks (Fig. 10.9.1).

36 
Barbaro noted the similar use of frontis, or ‘front’, to signify ‘edge’ in the discussion of the
water clock for winter in Book IX, p. 432.
p. 460 771

Fig. 10.9.1. [The water wheel] Image [p. 463]

[X.IV.3] But when it is necessary to raise water higher, the same rationale
is adapted in this way. We will make a wheel around the axle of the size and of
the height that are convenient to the needs. Around the outer side of the wheel are
attached buckets, called modioli. These must be square, and made solid with wax
and pitch. Thus the wheel being turned by those who turn it, the buckets, which
will be taken full to the top, once again return to the bottom emptying themselves in
the reservoir set up for this, which is called castellum. They will empty, I say, that
water that they have carried with themselves up high (Fig. 10.9.2).
772 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 10.9.2. [The water wheel for lifting water higher] Image [p. 463]

But if to even higher places water must be given, in the axle of the same wheel
will be placed an iron chain, which is doubled, folded, and lowered to the low level
of the water. To this chain will be attached hanging copper buckets, each holding a
congius. Thus the turning of the wheel turning the chain on the axle will raise to
the top those buckets, which, raised above the axle, will be forced to pour out and
empty into the reservoir the water that they carried (Fig. 10.9.3).
p. 460 773

Fig. 10.9.3. [The water drum] Image [p. 464]

(Barbaro) The interpretation and the figures, the having understood the
things that are more difficult, and the seeing the examples in proper order
spare me the effort of commenting on this and other chapters of Vitruvius.
However, I will say that in this last wheel the chain with the buckets can be
placed on the rim of the wheel, so that they will lift the water even higher, as
I have seen in Bruges, in the land of Flanders. That one is turned by a horse,
with other wheels.
774 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter X
On the wheels and drums for milling flour

[p. 460] (Vitruvius) [X.V.1] Wheels are also made in rivers with the same ratio-
nales that we have written above. Around on the front of them are attached fins
which, when touched by the impetus of the water, are forced to move forward so
that the wheel turns and so too the buckets receive water, carrying it up without
[p. 461] requiring the work of men who press on it. They do by the thrust of the
water that which is necessary for use. [X.V.2] With the same rationale also turn the
machines called hydraulic, in which are found all of the things that are in the other
machines, except that at one end of the axle they have a drum that is toothed and
enclosed, which is set on edge and turns along with the wheel. Along that drum
there is another, larger one, also toothed, and placed flat. This contains the axle
which has a dovetail of iron at its end…
(Barbaro) …called subscude…37
(Vitruvius) [X.V.2 cont.] …which holds the millstone. Thus the teeth of the
drum that is around the axle, pushing the teeth of the drum that is placed flat, make
the millstone go round. In this machine, there is nearby a hopper…
(Barbaro) …which is called infundibulum…
(Vitruvius) [X.V.2 cont.] …which supplies the grain to the millstone, and
with the same turning crushes the grain and makes the flour.
(Barbaro) Here in similar fashion, experience and Fig. 10.10.1, along
with the clarity of the interpretation, shows us what the above passage says.
Now we will come to more ingenious inventions.

The texts of Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 101r) and Cesariano (1521, p. CLXX) contain a
37 

phrase here that is not found in other versions: Secundum id tympanum, maius item dentatum
planum est collocatum, quo continetur axis habens in summon capite subscudem ferream,
qua mola continetur. Ita dentis tympani eius… (my emphasis). Cfr. Granger (1934, p. 306):
Secundum id tympanum, maius item dentatum planum est collocatum, quo continetur. Ita dentis
tympani eius…
 775

Fig. 10.10.1. [The wheel for milling flour] Image [p. 463]
776 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter XI
On the screw that raises great quantities of water,
but not very high

[p. 461] (Vitruvius) [X.VI.1] There is also the rationale of the screw which collects
much water but does not raise it as high as the wheel. The form of this is ordered
in this way. Take a beam that is as many fingers thick as it is feet in length, and
make it round with a drawknife. Its ends around their circumference are divided
into fourths, or rather into eighths, if you want, drawing the lines from one end
to the other. These lines thus placed, when the beam is set upright, will make the
ends correspond directly from one to the other. And then from these lines made on
the ends, from one end to the other along the length of the beam are drawn suitable
lines such that, however large is the eighth part in the circumference of the head of
the beam, lines that far apart are drawn along the length of the beam, and thus
both in the circumferences of the ends and in the length there will be equal spaces.
Then in the lines described along the length must be marked those spaces and termi-
nate them with crossing lines and visible marks. [X.VI.2] This having been done
with diligence, take a board of willow or vitex…
(Barbaro) …called agnocasto…
(Vitruvius) [X.VI.2 cont.] …which board is like a flexible bark. Coated then
with liquid pitch, it is hammered into the first point of one of those lines drawn in
length, then taken to the second point of the next line, and so on gradually you go
turning in order, touching all the points. Finally, going from the first point and
coming to the eighth of that line into which its first part was hammered, it occurs in
this way: as obliquely as it goes through the space and through the eight points of the
circumference, then that much in the length it comes towards the eighth point. With
that same rationale, through every space of the length and through each mark of the
twisted rotundity, hammer the rods for the eight divisions made in the thickness of
the beam. The oblique channels make a correct and natural imitation of the screw.
[X.VI.3] Then along the same path other boards are hammered one over the other,
coated with liquid pitch and raised until the thickness of that ridge is equal to the
eighth part of the length. On those around are hammered several boards that cover
that integument and are copiously covered with pitch and are tied with circles of
iron, so that the force of the water will not undo them. The ends of the beams are
enclosed and contained by sheets and nails of iron, and in those are hammered pins
or styluses of iron. On the left and right of the screw are fixed poles which from one
end to the other have their cross-pieces close together, in which are the holes that are
pp. 461-462 777

enclosed and covered with iron, in which go the styluses, and thus the screw, men
pushing it, turns. [X.VI.4] But the erecting of it and sloping of it as much as need-
ed is done in the way of a Pythagorean triangle which has a right angle. That is,
following the rationale [p. 462] of the set square, it corresponds such that the length
of the screw is divided into five parts, and by three of those is raised the end of the
screw. Thus it follows that from a point straight down, from the upper end to the
point of the lower end, the space will be four parts. The rationale with which that
needs to be done will be shown at the end of the book with its figure.
(Barbaro) I have seen this instrument make a most admirable demon-
stration in our marshes for drying the waters that drain into them, and
moreover I have seen that, in the marshes near the Brenta River, the wheel
that turns the screw was placed upriver such that the water, turning the
wheel, also made other wheels and rockers move, even though these were
very far away from its axle. These in turn gave movement to the screw which,
raising the water from the marsh, let it pour into a cistern out of which
came a wooden channel, so that the water that was raised drained into the
river. Others would have it that it is possible with the same water to move
a wheel that turns the screw continuously after the first movement, so that
there would be perpetual motion, but I believe that other considerations are
needed. We can avail ourselves of these screws to water the fields, as the
Egyptians did, according to what Diodorus reports in the first book;38 he
says it was an invention of Archimedes. The making of this machine as set
out by Vitruvius is as fine as it is easy, and as easy as it is useful. It can be
understood by our interpretation and by the figure we describe (Fig. 10.11.1).
(Vitruvius) [X.VI.4 cont.] I have written as clearly as I was able to, so that
such things are manifest, of what materials are made the instruments for raising
water, and with what rationales they are made, and with what things receiving
the movement with their turns they provide infinite conveniences.

38 
Diodorus Siculus (or Diodorus of Sicily), Bibliotheca historica, Book I: Egypt.
778 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Fig. 10.11.1. [The screw for raising water] Image [p. 463]
pp. 462-464 779

Chapter XII
On the machine made by Ctesibius that raises water very high

[p. 462] (Vitruvius) [X.VII.1] It follows that we make the demonstration of the
machine by Ctesibius, which raises water very high. That is made of copper, at the
feet of which there are two small cylinders that are very far apart, which have their
pipes or funnels (and are like little pistons) attached in the same way, both running
together in a basin placed in the middle between them. In this basin must be placed
the flaps of wood or hide placed at the upper mouths of the tubes carefully joined,
so that, blocking the holes of said mouths, they don’t allow to exit that which the
blowing will gradually send into the basin. [X.VII.2] Above the basin there is a
pot like an inverted hopper, which is sealed with a fastener with a wedge passing
through the basin there, so that the force of the swelling of the water does not force
it to raise up. Above there is a nozzle (called a trumpet) that is sealed and straight.
The cylinders well below between the nares have hinges and flaps over the holes of
those that are in their bottoms. [X.VII.3] Thus the pistons, made on a lathe, and
greased with oil, enclosed and well tested, entering from above in the cylinders,
are turned with handles. These are pressed back and forth with rapid movements,
while the axles block the air and the water, which finding themselves there make
force on the holes and drive the water through the nares of the pipes into the basin,
blowing because of the pressure that they make. From the basin the pot receiving the
water, the forced air sends out the water through the nozzle above, and so placed
below holds it. The capacious place for receiving the water administers it to the
saltworks. [X.VII.4] Nor is this the only rationale of Ctesibius that is said to have
been quickly found and fabricated, but there are more and other various manners
that show themselves to be forced by the water with the pressure of the air sending
to the light of day the effects borrowed from nature, such as the merle that, with
movements, sends forth sounds, and the things that draw near,39 which finally
move the figurines that drink and other things which with pleasure delight the eyes
and ears. Of these I have selected the ones that I have deemed greatly useful and
necessary, and those that are not [p. 464] useful and convenient for the necessity of
life but for the pleasures of delight can be found by those who so desire in the com-
mentaries of Ctesibius.

This phrase, ‘the things that draw near’ (le cose che si avicinano in Barbaro’s Italian) is the
39 

subject of the final line of this chapter. See the note at p. 465.
780 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) Ctesibius, very highly praised in various places, invented an

admirable machine [i.e., force pump] for raising water, and these are collocat-
ed among the spiritual machines. Vitruvius first gives the demonstration of
the practice, and then commends Ctesibius for various inventions. As far as
the making of it is concerned, I say that you place a basin, or rather a vessel,
of copper, which has a copper cover that Vitruvius calls a paenula. This is
like an upside-down pot, out of the top of which comes a funnel. The whole
is well soldered and sealed together so that the violence of the water cannot
open or break it. In the bottom of the basin are the two mouths that Vitru-
vius calls ‘nares’, capped with leather or wood such that the leather or wood
can raise and lower, as is seen in bellows. Vitruvius calls these wooden flaps
asses; we call them ‘flap valves’. They raise up towards the cover, but when
they are pressed by the water that is inside the basin, they block the mouths.
To the mouths are attached two pipes that Vitruvius calls fistulae, located
on either side, and inserted and soldered near the bottom of some buckets,
which Vitruvius calls modioli, in the bottom of which are flaps, as in the ba-
sin. Then a piston, turned on a lathe, well-greased, and precisely fitted, enters
from above into each of the said cylinders, as we see in the little pumps for
inflating balls. On the tops of their handles these pistons have rods, levers,
and other things that raise and lower them, as Fig. 10.12.1 shows.
Vitruvius leaves exactly what these things are up to the those who are
making the machine. When then one piston is raised, the other one remain-
ing down, the water, flowing through a mouth of the cylinder where the flap
is in the bottom, enters from below, following the air, so that there is no a
vacuum and, almost as though absorbed, fills the cylinder, while the air goes
out through the pipe. When then the piston is lowered, it presses the water,
which cannot to go out through the lower hole, that being blocked by the
flap; the more it is pressed, the higher it rises in the pipe and goes into the ba-
sin. In the meantime the piston of the other cylinder is raised, the water goes
in through its mouth, and fills it, and once again, lowering, presses the water
[p. 465] and makes it rise through its pipe into the basin. Finding the other
water there, and not being able to flow back down, because the leather blocks
the holes, it rises and really roils, and goes out through the upper nozzle and
is made to go where men want it to. This is how the force pump discovered by
Ctesibius is built. In its likeness are made the bilge pumps that bail out ships
when they take on water. It is a fine and useful invention. Just as delightful
are those that Vitruvius says were invented by Ctesibius for pleasure, where
p. 465 781

birds are made to jump and sing, and the representation of other things, such
as animals that drink and figures that move, as Hero shows. Nevertheless,
the word engibata40 is either incorrect or means something else.

Fig. 10.12.1. [The force pump of Ctesibius] Image [p. 464]

The word engibata (see Fra Giocondo 1511, p. 103) which Barbaro grapples with here,
40 

and which he transcribes as ‘drawing near’, is a corruption of the Greek word that was
rendered in Latin as angubatae. Cfr. Granger (1934, p. 313, ‘walking automata’); Rowland
and Howe (1999, p. 125 and n. 3, ‘bucket-climbers’); Morgan (1914, p. 298) and Schofield
(2009, p. 296) do not translate it but transcribe it as angobatae. Barbaro obviously puzzled at
length over it. In Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV, 152, 5106) the space for that word is left blank;
in Barbaro (1556, p.264, line 33) he translates it as here (si avicinano, or things that draw
near), but only in this present edition does he add this last line admitting that its meaning
has eluded him. See the comment in Philander (1544, p. 353-354). Some light is shed on
the topic thanks to Knapski (1621, p. 357); Knapski refers to both Philander and Hero. I am
grateful to Richard Schofield for discussions that helped clarify this passage.
782 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter XIII
On the hydraulic machines used to make organs

[p. 465] (Vitruvius) [X.VIII.1] I will not omit to touch on, as briefly as I can
and with writing, to attain precisely that which pertains to the rationale of the
hydraulis. This is made on a base of wood well connected and assembled together,
in which is placed an ark of copper. Over the base, on the right and the left, are
erected several bars placed together like a ladder. In these are enclosed several copper
cylinders with their moveable circles finely made on a lathe. These in their centres
have iron arms driven in, and their spindles joined with the bars and covered
in wool skins. Then in the upper board there are the openings about three fingers
across, near to which, placed on their pins, are the copper dolphins, which have
chains from their mouths from which hang the cymbals that go down under the
holes of the cylinders [X.VIII.2] in the ark where the water is kept, where there is
a kind of upside-down hopper, under which there are certain boards three fingers
high, which level the space set low down between the lower lips of the hopper and
the bottom of the ark.
(Barbaro) The fabrication of this machine is difficult and hard to under-
stand, as Vitruvius confirms at the end of the present chapter, even though
he says that he has clearly explained it.41 In the beginning of the chapter
he promises that he wants to touch on the thing as precisely as possible but
with supreme brevity, and I believe that he has done so and carried out his
aim. It happens that others say that this form of Vitruvius’s is more suitable
as a model than as a precise demonstration. They say that Nero so very much
enjoyed these water organs (which contained water, and by means of several
pipes emitting air and water simultaneously made a trembling sound) that
in spite of the danger threatening his life and that of the Empire, in spite
of the mutiny of the soldiers and of the captains, he never left off think-

41 
Barbaro’s understanding of Vitruvius’s description of the hydraulis, or water organ,
developed a great deal between what he had initially written in Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV,
152, 5106) and what appeared in the published edition of Barbaro (1556). In ms. 5106 (p.
324v) he began his commentary with these words: ‘We shall explain the building of a water
organ according to what has been left to use by the aforementioned Hero, thus it will shed
light on the usages of Vitruvius, leaving to those who wish to exert themselves the way to
build the machine’. He then goes on to explain the organ according to Hero. In the 1556
printed edition, however, this is removed, and he proceeds to undertake the explanation of
what Vitruvius has written, which also appears here.
pp. 465-466 783

ing and caring about them.42 Then, once Vitruvius’s books were distributed,
Nero no longer held them so dear, since they were fabricated on the basis
of well-known rationale. To me it seems that even though Vitruvius does
not explain to us in detail all the things that enter into this machine (just
as he did not do in the others), presupposing them to be quite apparent,
he nevertheless sheds much light for us on how what he teaches us can
be made with industry and diligence. Even if we wished to describe the
manufacture of our organs that we use today, we know well that we cannot
demonstrate in such detail how they are devised so that there remain no
difficulties for those who in these similar instruments are not professional
and have no experience with them. Even stranger must those of antiquity
appear to us, because of both the terminology and the novelty of the things
that have fallen out of use. Nevertheless, Vitruvius’s organ has many things
in common with the organ that we use. In both there is the same intention
to make sound by means of air; both provide a pathway for the forced air by
means of certain channels that go into the pipes, which close and open as
we wish, which are tuned in proportion to music, and are of different sizes
and make different sounds; and have other such things that are necessary in
these organs and in others, though they be made in a different way. Thus I
do not find that the ancients used bellows, although they availed themselves
of things that produced the same [p. 466] effect, receiving forced air and
emitting it according to need, as we have shown in the force pump of Ctesi-
bius. Hero likewise describes a hydraulis, which together with other things,
is practically within reach of every scholar. For pleasure we have translated
the books of that author into our language.43 So, to explain what is meant by
Vitruvius’s words and Fig. 10.13.1, which has been drawn by the ingenious
Marcolini with industry and illumination, I say that to make the hydraulis
it is first necessary to make a wooden base on top of which the entire appa-
ratus of the organ can be fixed, and a special ark or vase of copper, in which
water is to be placed.

This is recounted by Suetonius, Life of Nero 41.2.

42 

I have not found a trace of this translation; it may be that the explanation that appears in
43 

Barbaro (ms. Marc. It. IV, 152, 5106) is drawn from the translation of Hero that Barbaro
alludes to.
784 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
p. 466 785

Facing page:
Fig. 10.13.1. [The hydraulis] Image [p. 471]; legend [pp. 470-472]:
A, water in a lowered ark; B, air dolphins; C, the copper cylinders; D,
posts in the form of a ladder; E, boards, three fingers high; F, chains
and cymbals; G, hopper, called phigeus; H, pipes through which the
air of the cylinders go into the hopper; I, levers; K, handles, that every
time that the keys are pressed they turn and open the nares that send
the wind into the organ pipes, which play; L, keys, or tongues; O, rod
between the soundboard, called pinax, and the registers; P, a pressed key;
Q , the soundboard; R, a detail showing the keys separately so that it is
better understood; S, tongue, key; T, neck, or pipe; V, the water driven
up through the ark the hopper by the wind of the cylinders; X, parts of
the ark. Those dots shown in the detail of the keys are the holes of the
soundboard, which give the wind to the channels

Then, on top of the base on both sides of the ends are erected some rods
held together by others placed crosswise like a ladder; these are like a frame
for the machine. To these rods are attached some copper cylinders, like those
of Ctesibius’s force pump described above. At the bottom of the rods are
little moveable circles [i.e., the cymbals], carefully turned on a lathe, and
they are like pistons that go into the cylinders; or rather, like those wood-
en pieces that go into the pumps used for inflating balls. They are covered
with wool or felt and fabric, like the pumps. These cylinders are straight and
relate to the copper ark. On top of them they have handles and chains that
go down into them, like the bilge pumps of ships. These chains go out from
the mouths of several dolphins, shaped that way for ornamentation. They are
called ‘dolphins’ because of the way they move, which resembles the effect
that dolphins make when they surface and then dive back into the water.
This is true, and so too we give the name ‘rooster’44 to that instrument [i.e.,
stop valve] that turns in the pipe and opens the way for the water that comes
out of some vases. So, the dolphin was an instrument from the mouth of
which hung the chains. Those chains were attached to a handle, which was
balanced (‘perched like a bird’, we say) in the middle of a straight rod. In the
copper ark there was a kind of upside-down hopper raised off the bottom of
the ark by about three fingers by certain boards; this was done to keep the
hopper off of the bottom of the ark, so that the water could enter into it from

44 
The Italian term gallo (rooster) is still used to day to indicate a stop valve.
786 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

underneath. This hopper had no bottom, and the water that was in the ark
served to press the air, which went through some pipes into the hopper, as
the leather that holds the breath is squeezed in the bagpipes of shepherds.
Thus this water, pressed by the air, was squirted with force upwards through
a funnel that was in the top of the hopper. That funnel carried the forced air
into a little box [i.e., the windchest], which Vitruvius describes in this way:
(Vitruvius) [X.VIII.2 cont.] At the top end is a little box that is well sealed
and put together that supports the top of the machine, called the ‘musical canon’,
along whose length there are four channels if the instrument must be of four chords,
six if of six, eight if of eight. [X.VIII.3] In each channel are placed its mouthpieces
enclosed with iron handles. These handles, when they twist or turn, open the nares
of the ark into the channels, and from the channels the canon, crosswise, has its
openings, or holes, arranged so that they correspond to and intersect the nares that
are in the top board; this board is called pinax in Greek…
(Barbaro) …and soundboard45 by us.
(Vitruvius) [X.VIII.2 cont.] Between the board and the register are placed
some small rods with holes bored in the same way and greased with oil so that they
are easily pushed out and pulled in again. The effect of these is to block the holes, and
because they are on the sides, they are called pleuritides by the Greeks. [X.VIII.4]
The going and returning of these blocks some of those holes and opens others. Sim-
ilarly these rods have their iron rings attached and closely conjoined to the fins…
(Barbaro) …(which we call ‘keys’)…
(Vitruvius) [X.VIII.4 cont.] …which, when they are touched, move the rods.
On the top of the board are the holes through which the forced air comes out from
the channels. To the rods are glued the rings in which are inserted the tongues, as
in all organs.
(Barbaro) A fine device is this, and worthy of consideration. At the top
of the pipe of the hopper is fixed the windchest. This receives the air that
comes from the trumpet or pipe of the hopper, and contains it in order to
send it up into some channels made over a rod that is as wide as the num-
ber of the registers. These channels, which are as long as the canon, have
several holes crosswise. Over the component of this rod with the channels
and holes is a board that covers everything, [p. 467] seals (I would say) the
whole thing, and covers the canon. This is called the ‘soundboard’, and it

I thank organ builders Marco Renolfi and Massimo Elice, and organist Paolo Tarizzo for
45 

discussions clarifying the soundboard and the windchest.

p. 467 787

has as many openings as there are in the surface above it, the same num-
ber as the openings made in the channels, and they correspond completely.
These openings are made according to the number of pipes that make sound,
which pipes are upright in the holes of the soundboard, so that we have the
channels with holes bored in them, and the board above with holes that
correspond. Between the board and the channels we place some rods that
move from side to side and are likewise bored with holes that correspond
to the holes of the channel and the soundboard. These are made such that,
when their handles, which protrude, are pressed, they can turn, and with
their turning they make their holes meet the holes of the channels and the
soundboard, so that the wind can come out from the organ pipes. Actually,
the handles are like sliding bolts with three members. To these handles are
attached some rings into which are inserted the tongues of all these instru-
ments—that is, of all keyed instruments. These keys were like pendulums,
made of stiff blades of horn, and were arranged in order along the instru-
ment and situated obliquely. Made in the shape of a leek leaf, the Greeks
called them spatelle; Vitruvius, because of their shape, calls them ‘tongues’.
At their ends were attached some small cords or chains, which were tied to
the handles of the rods. When touched and pressed down, the end of the
tongues pulled the chains, and opposition to their bending turned the rods,
and then, when let go, the handles returned to their place. Turning, the rods
made it so that their holes no longer met up with the holes of the channel
and the soundboard. Thus, touching them, those handles turned the rods
and once again brought the holes into correspondence with each other and
with those rods, so that those who use them call them keys.
(Vitruvius) [X.VIII.4 cont.] But the pipes are continuously conjoined to the
cylinders with the ends of the wood that arrives to the nares, which are in the box,
in which are the lathed piston plates, and placed there so that, the box receiving the
wind, blocking the holes they don’t allow it to go back. [X.VIII.5] Thus when the
rods are raised, the handles pull down the bottoms of the cylinders and the dolphins,
which are in the spindles, lowering the cymbals down into the mouth, fill the spaces
of the cylinders. The handles, raising the bottoms inside the cylinders by dint of
the great force, and by the beating itself, blocking the openings that are on top of
the cymbals, force the air that is constrained there by the lowering, into the pipes,
through which it goes into the wooden tops, and through their necks into the ark.
But by the strong movement of the handles the forced air, densely compressed, enters
by the openings of the mouthpieces and fills the channels with forced air. From this
788 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

it is born that when the keys are touched with the hand they push out and pull back
the rods continuously, blocking the openings of one, and at the same time opening
the openings of another, making the sound come out according to musical rules with
much variety of modules and harmony. I have exerted myself as much as I could,
so that an obscure thing could be clearly written. But this is not an easy rationale,
nor quickly to be understood except by those who are practiced in such things. But
if some from what is written have but little comprehended, when they know the
thing as it really is, they will discover the whole to be subtly and curiously ordered.
(Barbaro) The cylinders have their pipes connected on the sides, which
pipes open into the hopper, so that they carry the air into it. These cylinders
have their flaps placed first in the bottom inside, by which the air is drawn,
as by the holes of bellows, then from the bottom where they are attached, the
pipes have other flaps in their mouths that open so that when the air is drawn
into the cylinders and then pressed down with the pistons, the flaps in the
bottom close and those of the pipes open. The air goes into the pipes that go
into the hopper; the ends of these must be soldered into the hopper, as was
described in Ctesibius’s force pump. Thus raising the handles that have the
chains that support the cymbals that go into the cylinders, the air is sucked
by the valves below, and then, being pressed, it is pushed through the pipes
into the hopper, and goes up by the pipe of the hopper to the box, where it
goes inside. The mouthpieces from the box to the channels into which the
air goes, which Vitruvius called epistomiorum,46 open but this does not make
the organ pipes play until the fingers touch the keys—that is, the handles of
the rods—because [p. 468] it is necessary to touch those handles to turn the
rods that go in between the windchest and the soundboard so that the holes
line up and the air flows freely into the organ pipes. I will say that Vitruvius
has not left anything pertinent out of this description except the description
of the keys. However, what these were and how they were made was known;
he presupposes this, and in saying ‘tongue’ he is speaking of a thing that was
well known at the time. The water drives the air, and makes that effect that
leaden weights make on the bellows in our organs today.

46  Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 103v, epistomiorum); Granger (1934, p. 318, epitoniorum).
p. 468 789

Chapter XIV
The rationale for measuring a journey
made by carriage or by ship

[p. 468] (Vitruvius) [X.IX.1] We will now transport our thought into writing
about a rationale that is not without use and was given to us by our elders with
great quickness of wit, on the way that, travelling by carriage or navigating, we
can know how many miles we have gone. And it is done like this. Let the wheels
of the carriage be four feet and two fingers wide along the diameter. This is done
so that the wheel, having on it a certain and determined place, and from that be-
ginning to go forward, turning and arriving back to that certain and determined
mark where it began to turn, it will also have completed a certain and determined
distance of twelve and a half feet. [X.IX.2] Then, these things so arranged, on the
hub of the wheel on the inside part let there be firmly encased a drum, on the front
of the rotundity of which is placed a prominent tooth. Then, above the body of the
carriage let there be attached a box which has a drum that moves placed on edge
and is set on its axle. In the front of said drum let the teeth be evenly spaced in a
number of four hundred, and fit finely onto the teeth of the lower drum. Then on
one side of the upper drum there is another tooth that protrudes beyond the other
teeth. [X.IX.3] A third drum is also made toothed with the same rationale, and
placed flat in another box that has teeth that correspond to that tooth that is fitted
onto the side of the second drum. Then, in the drum that is laid flat, holes are to
made for as many miles as can be covered in a day’s journey, a few more or a few
less pose no obstacle. In each of these holes shall be placed some round pebbles, and
in the box of that drum a hole shall be made that has a channel through which the
pebbles pass into the body of the carriage. I say that the pebbles that are placed in
that drum, when they arrive directly above that place, will each fall into a copper
vase placed below, and [X.IX.4] thus, when it is that the wheel going forward,
moving together the lower drum with its tooth at each revolution, it forces the teeth
of the drum above to move, and will make it so that, the lower drum being turned
four hundred times, the upper one will turn only once. The tooth which is driven
into its side, will make a tooth of the wheel placed flat go forward. When thus for
four hundred turns of the lower drum, that above will turn once, the going for-
ward will make five thousand feet, and a thousand paces. With that, the number
of falling pebbles making a sound will allow us to understand how many miles we
have gone. And the number of the pebbles collected from below will show us the sum
of the miles covered in a day’s journey.
790 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

(Barbaro) The above explanation is quite simple when it is understood

according to arithmetic rationale, but for greater clarification it can be said
that this device47 for measuring a journey made in a carriage consists in the
size of the wheels, which must be fixed to a known measurement. So, since
the circumference of the circle is known from the diameter, it is necessary
to make the wheel of a diameter that is certain and measured. Vitruvius
makes the diameters of the wheels four [p. 469] feet and two fingers (of
which twelve go to make a foot, so two fingers is the sixth of a foot), so
that the circumference of the wheel is known; he means by this that the
circumference turns twelve feet and a half, the diameter going three times
into the circumference of a circle.48 The wheel being thus twelve and a half
feet in circumference, and a mark being made where it touches the ground,
it is made to roll along the ground until the mark returns to its original
position, at which point it will have covered a distance of twelve and a half
feet. Thus if every roll of the wheel gives me twelve feet and a half of terrain,
then turning the wheel four hundred times will give me five thousand feet;
if there are twenty-five [recte five49] feet per pace, it will give me a thousand
paces; a thousand paces gives me a mile. But in order to know how many
times the wheel goes around, not only with the eyes but with the ears as well,
Vitruvius teaches us easily, as can be seen in the text and as the figure shows
more clearly (Fig. 10.14.1).

47 
The modern name for this device is odometer, while an older name is hodometer. It is
described in other treatises of the Renaissance, such as Leon Battista Alberti’s Ludi
matematici; see Williams et al. (2010, pp. 62-63).
48 
This particular passage was obviously a matter of some concern for Barbaro. In Barbaro
(ms. Marc. It. IV, 152, 5106, p. 344r) the phrase et due diti (and two fingers) is crossed out in
the text, then added again in the margin with the addendum about 2 fingers being the sixth
of a foot. The mathematical situation is this: the circumference of a circle is 3.1415… times
(pi, or p) times the diameter, and thus a circle of diameter 4 has a circumference of 12.566,
or about 12 1/2 feet. However, the Bible alludes to a value of 3 for p: ‘And he made a molten
sea, ten cubits from the one brim to the other; it was round all about … and a line of thirty
cubits compassed it round about’ (I Kings 7:23), and ‘Also he made a molten sea of ten cubits
from brim to brim, round in compass … and a line of thirty cubits did compass it round
about’ (Chronicles 4:2) (King James version). Using that value make it necessary to add the
additional 2 fingers in diameter, since 4 times 3 equals only 12, and the distance needed is
12 1/2. The addition & sextantis is found in Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 103v) and in Cesariano
(1521, p. CLXXIIIr). Cfr. Morgan (1914, p. 301); Granger (1934, pp. 319-320); Rowland
and Howe (1999, p. 127); and Schofield (2009, p. 300). See also the comment and criticism
of Barbaro in Perrault (1673, p. 301, n. 1).
49 
This error was rectified with a erratum on p. 495.
p. 469 791

Fig. 10.14.1. Image [p. 470]

(Vitruvius) [X.IX.5] Similarly, in navigating, these devices are made by

changing some things, so that an axle is made to pass through the sides of the hull
of a ship, which axle with its ends protrudes beyond the exterior sides of the ship,
on which is placed the wheels four feet and a sixth in diameter. These wheels have
fins on their front that touch the water, in the middle of the axle. Inside the ship, in
the middle, is a drum, with a tooth that protrudes from its circumference. By that
is a box with inside a drum toothed with four hundred teeth equally spaced and
corresponding to those of the drum that is placed on the axle. It also has a tooth on
its side, that protrudes beyond its rotundity. [X.IX.6] There is another flat drum,
inserted into another box, toothed in the same way. Thus the tooth fixed on the side
of that drum that is placed on edge striking the teeth of that drum that is flat, for
every time that it goes around, it makes one of those teeth turn the drum that is
flat, in which are the holes where the round pebbles are. In the box of said drum is
made a hole, which has a channel by which the pebble, liberated from the obstacle,
falling into a copper vase, will make a sign with its sound. [X.IX.7] So, the ship
792 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

being propelled either by oars or by wind, the fins of the wheel touching the water
that opposes them, forced by great thrusts backwards, will turn the wheels. These,
turning, make the axle turn. The axle will turn the drum, which being turned by
the tooth, for every turn that it gives around striking the tooth of the second drum,
it will make it make moderated turns. Thus when the wheels are turned by the
fins four hundred times, they will make the drum placed flat turn only one time by
striking the tooth placed in the side of that drum that is on edge. Thus the turning
of the flat drum a number of times will come by means of the whole to send out that
many the pebbles into the channel, and thus both sound and number will show the
distances of the miles navigated.50
(Barbaro) This device is similar to that of the carriage, but I see that
the turning of the wheels can be impeded by either the water or by other
accidents, so I will let a trial of it provide confirmation. Figures 10.14.1 and
10.13.1 show us what is written, both of the organ and of the measurement
of a journey. Because these are things that writing cannot fully show, it is
necessary for drawing to set them before our eyes. A good mind can under-
stand much more from what drawing shows; if to a good mind is added the
experience of making other similar mechanisms, there is no doubt that writ-
ing alone is sufficient, but in truth it is necessary to be born into and have a
natural inclination for and delight in carrying them out.
Here Vitruvius does well to treat these things that appertain to the use
and delight of men at a time when they are above suspicion and at peace.
To these I could add many others that were set out by Hero. It seems to me
that similar devices must be held in esteem, although by many who do not
understand they are held to be base and of little value. Such people, how-
ever, do not know how greatly useful it can be to know how to give account
of them, and how many things that are not written down by authors can be
found for the benefit of the world by the writings of those, there being (as I
said in Book I51), great virtue and great power [p. 470] set in the principles,
as has been made clearly understandable in the discourse given above in
the present book regarding machines, such as that in all of them are found
50 
A final sentence appears in some versions of Vitruvius that does not appear here. Cfr. Fra
Giocondo (1511, p. 104v): Quæ pacatis & fine metu temporibus ad utilitatem & delectationem
paranda quemadmodum debeant heri peregisse videor. It also appears in Cesariano (1521, p.
CLXXIIIIr). It appears in some modern translations: cfr. Granger (1934, vol. II, p. 325);
Morgan (1914, p. 303); Schofield (2009, p. 303). It does not appear in Rowland and Howe
(1999, p. 128).
51 
See Barbaro, p. 3.
pp. 470-472 793

the rationale of circular and straight movement, and that the marvellous
nature of the circle availing, itself of many oppositions, gives us cause to
make those marvellous works that bend nature to the will of men. Thus I
cannot sufficiently exhort architects and those who want to make many fine
and useful machines for people’s comfort, that they must continually think
and rethink and ‘machinate’ (I would say it this way) on the principles set
out by Vitruvius and by us, and much earlier by Aristotle in his Mechanica,
which seem to have been lifted up and transported by Vitruvius into a sin-
gle chapter, although with extreme brevity, according to this author’s ways.
This was also found in Book IX, in the discourse on the movements of the
heavens and the treatment of clocks, and just above in the description of the
hydraulis, in which admirable judgement is seen (as I have said more than
once) in the selection of things, because the minute, the ordinary, the usual,
and the easy have been omitted, while the fine, the important, the difficult,
and the special have been selected and proposed and expounded so people
can understand it. But it is time to continue with our task, and execute the
final part that remains to us to furnish the body of architecture, which is that
part regarding the machines that serve for the purposes of war.

Chapter XV
On the rationales of catapults and scorpions

[p. 472] (Vitruvius) [X.X.1] Now I will expound the measures with which are
prepared those things that have been discovered for the purposes of war and for the
necessities of preserving the health of mortals, which are the rationales of the scorpi-
ons, catapults, and ballistae. First I will speak about catapults and scorpions. From
the proposed length of the arrows that are shot from those instruments, all of their
proportions are reasoned about. First of all the size of the holes that are in their
heads is the ninth part of that. These holes are those through which are stretched the
twisted sinew which must tie back the arms of the catapults. [X.X.2] The capitals
of those holes must be of the height and width described in what follows. The boards
that are above and below the capital, which are called parallels, are as thick as one
of those holes, as wide as one and nine parts, and at the ends a hole and a half.
But the stanchions on the right and the left, those, which are called parastatae,
excluding the tenons are four holes high, five thick; the tenons a half hole and a
794 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

quarter; from the hole to the middle stanchion likewise the space shall be half a
hole and a quarter; the width of the middle stanchion a hole and ‒ ‒ the width of
a hole. [X.X.3] The space where the arrow is placed in the middle of the limb is the
fourth part of a hole. The corners that are around the sides and on the fronts must be
hammered with sheets of iron, or pegs or nails of copper. The length of the channel,
which in Greek is called strix, must be of nineteen holes; the length of the channels,
which some call cheeks, that are attached on the right and left of the channel must
be eighteen holes and one hole high, and so too the thickness. Two rods are affixed,
in which goes a windlass, which is three holes long and one half wide. The thickness
of the cheek which is affixed, called camillum or according to some loculamentum,
has tenons and is one hole, its height is half a hole. The length of the windlass is nine
holes, the thickness of the scutula nine holes. [X.X.4] The length of that part called
epitoxidos is a half hole and an eighth of the half, the thickness an eighth. Likewise
the claw, or trigger, is three holes long, and half hole and a quarter wide and thick.
The length of the bottom of the channel is sixteen holes, the width of nine parts, and
the width of the half and a quarter. The column and the horizontal base, eight holes.
The length of the plinth where the column is placed is a half hole and an eighth of
the half, the thickness is of the twelfth and the eighth part of a hole. The length of
the column to the tenon is twelve holes and nine parts, the width a half hole and a
quarter of the half, the thickness a third and a quarter of a hole. It has three trestles
and tie-beams, the length of which is nine holes, the width a half and nine parts,
the thickness an eighth. The length of the hinge of nine parts of a hole, the length of
the end of the column of a hole and a half. And ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ the thickness of
a hole. [X.X.5] The smaller column behind, which is called by the Greeks [p. 473]
antibasis, is of eight holes, the width of ‒ ‒ holes, the thickness of ‒. The support is
twelve holes, and let it be of the same thickness and width. Over the smaller column
is a socket, called a bed or cushion, of ‒ ‒ holes, the height of ‒ ‒ holes, the thickness
of ‒ ‒ holes, the ‒ ‒ of the reels are of holes, the thickness of a hole. ‒ ‒ the width of
‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ and the thickness of ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ but to the crossbeams with the tenons are of the
length of ten holes, the width of fifteen ⋮⋮⋮ and the thickness of ten ‒ ‒. The length
of the arm of holes ‒ ‒ the thickness of the bottom ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ ‒.52 [X.X.6]
These things are made by either adding or subtracting such proportions. Thus, when
the capitals are higher than wide, which are said to be anatona, something must
be taken away from the arms, because the more the tone is reduced, because of the

52 
A phrase is omitted here. Cfr. Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 105r): in summo foraminis ūz
curvaturae foraminum octo.
p. 473 795

height of the capital, the shortness of the arms will make a greater strike. When the
capital is less high, which is called catatonum, since it is stronger, the arms must be
longer, so that they are held more easily. Just as the lever, when it is four feet long,
is raised by five men but when made eight feet long can be raised by only two, so
too the arms, the longer they are the easier they are, and the shorter they are, the
harder they are to handle.
(Barbaro) Here it is really necessary that the good Lord help us, because
neither Vitruvius’s writings nor anyone’s drawing nor example from antiqui-
ty can be found of this machine—I mean, in the way that Vitruvius describes
it. Trying to imagine how it might be is risky, since by carefully discoursing
some instruments of this kind for throwing stones or arrows could be made,
but it would be surprising if these were exactly as Vitruvius describes them
to us. Furthermore, the rationales of these instruments, with the passing
of time after Vitruvius, have changed because the trial and use of things
of war bring about changes in the instruments, as in many other things. In
our own day these machines have all fallen into disuse, and I believe I am
justified in excusing myself if I do not use my imagination to expound those
things whose difficulty—indeed, whose impossibility—are such that men
of much greater ingeniousness and wider experience than myself have been
discouraged from undertaking this. I will say that all instruments are found
from the end—that is, the effect that we want to create—as in the present
occasion. Ballistae, catapults and scorpions are instruments for hurling large
stones and shooting arrows. To be sure, for that intention and end that we
can prepare similar instruments, considering that for making strikes that are
stronger and farther away and to hurl heavy weights, great forces are need-
ed. Such forces are attained through art because in moving weights nature
opposes man, as we have said. To art thus pertains the ordering of these
instruments that, drawn with force and released with violence, hurl weights
a great distance. This cannot be done without trestles, loaders, and levers,
which must be appointed and built with the proportion corresponding to the
weight that is to be hurled. Thus the nature of the weight dictates proportion
of size in all parts of the instrument. Therefore, a module of the kind used in
the fabrication of buildings is also used in the part of machines. Symmetry
and order are also required in this part, and likewise disposition, decorum,
beauty of appearance, and the other things set out by Vitruvius in Book I.
Therefore, it is with reason that the size of these machines are drawn from
the length of the arrow or from the weight of the stone to be thrown, just as
796 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

the artillery of our own day is made according to the size of the cannonball.
It is necessary that there be proportion between that which moves and the
thing that is moved. This is clearly proved by the fact that neither a blade of
straw nor an immense weight can be thrown by a man without instruments,
because in the former there is a small weight and in the latter there is a great
weight with no proportion between the mover and the moved. Thus the
arrow and the stone must be accommodated to certain parts, such as a bed
for the stone or a channel for the arrow; and in proportion to that the rope,
sinew, or what have you that pushes the arrow must be stretched, drawn,
and knotted to something; and that likewise, in proportion to another part
that constrains it, must be fixed and connected to other parts to some effect
that conforms to the definition of the machine. This need arises in all parts
of instruments, such as the crossbars, stanchions, trestles, boards, tenons,
channels, bars, [p. 474] reels, levers, handles, arms, capitals, columns, holes,
mouthpieces, and other things that Vitruvius cites. Their sizes, through ei-
ther the passing of time or the negligence of many, have been lost, but the
rationale and the why of them remain to us, all of which are drawn from the
rationale of the lever and the balance. Actually, the names and the terminol-
ogy of these instruments or machines are taken, or are made up, from their
resemblance to either things or effects. So today we use the names schioppo
[i.e., hand-cannon] and bombard because of the booming sound they make;
arquebus because its shape; culverin, basilisk and falconet because of their
effects. Thus, the ballista was so named from its throwing; the scorpion, be-
cause it brought death with the slender point of an arrow, perhaps one that
was poisoned. Similarly the catapult, because of its swiftness in striking; the
arcuballista and other similar things were named after their shape and their
effects. In imitation of one such instrument, by now many years ago, there
was one made entirely of iron (in a small form with cords of sinew) which
in many parts conforms to Vitruvius’s narration; this is in one of the halls
of armaments of the most excellent Council of Ten.53 I will thus allow time
to shed some light for us, because nothing good be gleaned from the Greek
authors, not even the ones that Vitruvius cites.

53 
The hall of the Council of Ten and the armoury are found in the Palazzo Ducale in Venice,
but the instrument is no longer there.
p. 474 797

Chapter XVI
On the rationales of ballistae

[p. 474] (Vitruvius) [X.XI.1] I have spoken about the rationales of catapults,
and of what members and with what proportions they are made. But the ration-
ale of ballistae are various and different, though all are aimed at a single effect.
Some are drawn with beams, others with windlasses, some with many blocks and
many sheaves, some with winches, and others with wheels and drums. But for all
this no ballista is made if not according to the proposed size of the stone that such
instrument must hurl. But the rationale of these is not easy and it is not a simple
thing to explain it, except to those who have the art of numbering and multiplying.
[X.XI.2] So, there are made in the ends several holes, through the spaces of which
are drawn and loaded, with women’s hair especially, or with sinew, the ropes,
which are taken from the proportion of the size of the weight of that stone which is
to be launched by the ballista. This is as from the length of the arrow we have said
that the size of the catapult is taken. But in order that also those who do not have
the rationales of geometry and arithmetic can work expeditiously, so in the perils
of war they are not busied with thinking about it, I will explain by reducing to
the rationale of our weights those things that I know for certain, and those which
in part I have learned from my teachers, and with which things the weights of the
Greeks have with respect to the modules briefly I am going to expound.
(Barbaro) We can give a good amount of credence to Vitruvius in this
matter, since he was in charge of the artillery and the apparatuses of the
ballistae, scorpions, and catapults, as he himself affirms in the dedication of
this treatise. We can also see how necessary to the architect is knowledge of
arithmetic and geometry, as he said in Book I. This is because the propor-
tions of the numbers and the solutions to things that cannot be found with
numbers but can be found by means of lines, as we have proven in Book IX,
come from the art of numbering and the art of measuring. Here we make
use of that problem of finding the lines of mean proportionals between two
given magnitudes, according to what Archimedes and Vitruvius say about
their rationales.
798 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Chapter XVII
On the proportions of the stones that must be thrown
to the hole of the ballista

[p. 475] (Vitruvius) [X.XI.3] That ballista which must send forth a stone of two
pounds will have the hole of its head of five fingers; if of four pounds, six fingers;
if of eight, seven fingers and nine parts; if of ten, eight fingers and nine parts; if of
twenty, ten fingers and nine parts; if of forty, twelve fingers and a half and K; if
of sixty fingers [recte pounds], thirteen and the eighth part of a finger; if of eighty,
fifteen fingers and nine parts of a finger; if of one hundred and twenty, one foot
and a half and a finger and a half ⋮⋮⋮ if of one hundred and eighty, two feet and
five fingers; if of two hundred pounds, two feet and six fingers; if of two hundred
and ten, two feet and seven fingers ⋮⋮⋮ if of two hundred and fifty, two feet and
eleven and a half fingers. [X.XI.4] After determining the size of the hole is made
a scutula, called peritretos by the Greeks, which in length is two holes and the
twenty-eighth part of a hole, the width two holes and the sixth part of a hole. Di-
vide the half of the drawn line, and when it is divided the last parts of that shape
will be redrawn and tapered so that that line has its shape curved by the sixth part
of the length, but the width at the place of its bend has the fourth part. But there
where the curve is, there the angles with their ends will project out, and the holes
must be turned and the tapering must turn back by the sixth part of the length. The
hole is made of a shape as long as the epyzigis is thick. This having been done, it is
divided around such that it has at the ends a gently turned curvature [X.XI.5] ⋮⋮⋮
the thickness is one hole. The cylinders are made 11 holes and a half, the width 59
⋮⋮⋮ the thickness larger than that which goes in the hole is of 51 holes, at the end of
the width is of 15 holes. The length of the stanchions is of VS5 holes. The curvature
by half a hole, the thickness u. of a hole and LX parts. As much more is given to
the length as is made near the hole in the description in width and thickness the V
part of a hole. The height the fourth part, [X.XI.6] the length of the bar that is in
the shelf is of eight holes, the width and the thickness by half a hole. The thickness
of the hinge 112 ⋮⋮⋮ the thickness of the hole 199 ⋮⋮⋮ the curvature of the bar 15 K,
the width and thickness of the outer bar as much as the length that is given by the
turning of the formation and the width of the stanchion and its curvature K. But
the upper bars will be equal to the lower bars, K. The shelves that go crosswise of
holes uuK. [X.XI.7] The length of the shaft of the climaciclos is of thirteen holes
⋮⋮⋮ the thickness of three K. The space in the middle is a fourth of a hole wide ⋮⋮⋮
the thickness an eighth ⋮⋮⋮ K the upper part of the climaciclos that is closely joined
pp. 475-476 799

to the shelf along its entire length is divided into five parts, of which two are given
to that member that the Greeks call chilon ⋮⋮⋮ the width 5. The thickness 9 ⋮⋮⋮ the
length of three holes and a half K. The projecting upper parts of the claw of a half
hole, that of the plenthigomatos of 3, of a hole and a sicilicus. And that which is
to the tenons, which is called the front crossbar, is of three holes. [X.XI.8] The width
of the inner bar 5 of a hole, the size 3K. The filling of the socket that is to cover the
securina54 is understood to be K. The shaft of the climaciclos 25, the thickness of
the holes twelve K. The thickness of the square that is near the climaciclos FS of a
hole, at the ends K. But the diameter of the round axle will be equal to the claw at
the trestle, 5 minus a sixteenth K. [X.XI.9] The length of the anteridion of F1119
holes, the width 5 ⋮⋮⋮ of a hole, the upper thickness 2K. The base, called eschara, in
length is of ⋮⋮⋮ holes, the counterbase of four holes ⋮⋮⋮ the width and the thickness of
one and of the other ⋮⋮⋮ of a hole. In the middle is placed a column of height [p. 476]
K, whose width and thickness is of a hole and a half. The height does not have a
proportion to the hole, but will be made sufficiently high for the use ⋮⋮⋮ Of an arm,
the length is of VI holes ⋮⋮⋮ The thickness at the bottom of the ends F. I have set forth
those symmetries in treating of ballistae and catapults which I have deemed to be
most highly expedient, but how they are loaded and drawn with twisted ropes of
sinew and hair, as much as I can embrace in writing I will not omit.
(Barbaro) And here what can we say about a text so full of errors, with
so much confusion of numbers and such obscure terminology? This was cer-
tainly a wonderful machine, hurling a weight up to two hundred and fifty
pounds, and required great workmanship for its parts and members.

Chapter XVIII
On the tempering and loading of ballistae and catapults

[p. 476] (Vitruvius) [X.XII.1] Take extremely long beams, on top of which are
hammered the pieces inside which go the reels. Cut inside in the middle spaces of
those beams are the forms into which are inserted the heads of the catapults. These
are blocked with wedges and fixed so that in loading and launching they do not

It is unclear what meaning Barbaro assigned to the term securina. Written securiculae by
54 

Fra Giocondo (1511, p. 106v), translated as securicula by Cesariano (1521, p. CLXXVIIr),

and today understood to mean a dovetail joint, Barbaro used this altered form in his other
editions as well. See Barbaro (1556, p. 271, line 52); (1567 Lat. p. 357, line 41).
800 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

move. Take then the cylinders of copper and place them inside the capitals, into
which go the little wedges of iron, called by the Greeks epischidis. [X.XII.2] After
this are placed the loops of the ropes, which are made to go through to the other side,
and there are taken to the reels. The handles are turned so that the ropes, stretched
by those and pulled, when touched with the hands, have equal correspondence of
sound on one side and the other. When this is done, then the holes are plugged with
wedges such that they cannot loosen any more. In the same way they are made to
pass through to the other side. With the handles they are stretched by the reels until
they make the same sound. Thus by the plugging of the wedges catapults are tem-
pered according to sound with musical hearing and ear.
(Barbaro) Vitruvius mentions this in Book I, where he wants architects
to have some knowledge of the rationale of music.55 Because the proportion
of sound to sound is like that of space to space, we must not seal the holes
placed in the heads through which the twisted ropes are pulled until they
render the same sounds, and they will render the same sounds when there is
a parity of spaces and equal tension on the ropes on both sides. When this
is heard by the ear, then the loader will be very finely tempered and the shot
will be straight and true, as reason shows us.

Chapter XIX
On things for assailing and defending,
and first on the invention of the ram and its machine

[p. 476] (Vitruvius) [X.XII.2 cont.] I have said what I could about these things.
It remains for me to speak about the machines for ramming and assailing in such a
way that captains can be victorious and cities can be defended. [X.XIII.1] First,
as to what pertains to assailing, this is how it is said that the ram was discovered.
The Carthaginians, to assail Gades, formed a camp. Having first taken the castle,
they exerted themselves to raze it to the ground, but then not having any ironware
to destroy it, they took a wooden beam and holding it with [p. 477] their hands
and ramming one end continuously they went demolishing the top of the wall, and
breaking down the first courses of stone. Little by little they removed the entire
defence. [X.XIII.2] Then it happened that a certain ironmonger from Tyre named

55 
See Barbaro, p. 19; Vitruvius I.I.8.
p. 477 801

Pephasmenos, led by this rationale and invention, raised an antenna from which
he suspended another piece crosswise and balanced, and thus, pulling back and
pushing forward, with great blows he destroyed the wall of the Gadesians. But
Ceras the Chalcedonian first made a base of wood placed on wheels and then on
that built a stockade with straight boards and trestles and crosspieces. In this he
suspended and hung the ram. The cover was made with ox hides, so that those who
were placed inside the machine could batter the walls in greater security. This sort
of machine, because of its being so very slow in its actions, was named by him the
tortoise ram. [X.XIII.3] The first of these steps towards that sort of machine having
been taken, it then occurred, when Philip, the son of Amyntas, set himself to assail
and batter Byzantium, that Polyidus the Thessalonian added many strengths and
many facilities, from which then learned Diades and Charias, who went to soldier
with Alexander, since Diades in his writings shows that he invented the towers
that moved around, which, dismantled, could also be carried with the army. In
addition to this he also invented the terebra, and the machine that ascended, with
which from the flat foot it was possible to pass to the wall. He also discovered the
corvus, which destroys walls, called crane by some. [X.XIII.4] Similarly he used
the ram with the wheels underneath, the rationales of which he has left to us in
writing. He says that the smallest tower must not be less than sixty cubits high, 17
wide, tapered above by the fifth part of its width at the bottom, and that the lower
posts must be made ten parts of a foot, and the upper ones a half foot. It is necessary
to make that tower of ten wooden floors, and each side must have its window.
[X.XIII.5] But the largest tower must be 120 cubits high, 22 and a half wide ⋮⋮⋮
and tapered above similarly by a fifth part. ⋮⋮⋮ its uprights or stanchions at the bot-
tom of a foot, at the top a half foot. This height he made of twenty floors, and each
floor had a circuit of three cubits. He covered it with rawhide, so that they would be
safe from all blows. [X.XIII.6] The apparatus of the tortoise ram was made with
the same rationale, because it had a space of thirty cubits, the height over the top
of 16, but the height of the top of its floor of seven cubits. It opened at the top, and
over the middle peak of the roof there was a little tower no less than 12 cubits wide,
and above it was raised in height by four floors, on the upper floor of which were
placed the scorpions and catapults. In the bottom part was collected a great quantity
of water for extinguishing fire, in case it was thrown. Also placed in this is the
machine of the ram, called criodocis by the Greeks, in which was placed a torus…
(Barbaro) …or morello…
(Vitruvius) [X.XIII.6 cont.] …made on a lathe on which the ram was
placed, which, by force of the ropes pulled forward and back, did marvellous things.
802 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

This too like the tower was covered with rawhide. [X.XIII.7] As for the terebra, he
left these rationales in writing for us. He made that machine like a tortoise which
had a channel in the middle of its limbs, as it is usual to make in ballistae and
catapults. This channel was fifty cubits long, one high. In it was placed crosswise a
reel, and from the top on the right and the left two blocks of pulleys, by which that
beam was moved, with its end covered in iron. There were inside, under the same
channel, those who were safely enclosed, and made the movements of the machine
quicker and stronger. On top of that beam were built arches and vaults to cover the
channel, so that they supported the rawhide with which that machine was covered.
[X.XIII.8] Of the corvus he did not think that there was anything to write, hav-
ing noticed that that machine was of no value. But of the machine for drawing
near, called epibathra in Greek, and of the machines of the sea that could enter into
ships, he has only promised to write. I have well noticed that he has not explicated
its rationales for us. I have written those things that appertain to the apparatus of
the machines [p. 478] written about by Diades. Now I will speak of those things
which I have learned from my preceptors, and which seem to me to be useful.
(Barbaro) The things treated in the present chapter—the invention of
the ram and how it is built, and the towers and tortoises and terebrae and the
other machines—are well understood, so it does not seem necessary to me to
attempt to explain them better. Mention of these is made by the historians,
and they speak copiously of the effects and names of these machines, some
of which are taken from their forms and their effects, as can easily be under-
stood without any effort on our part.

Chapter XX
On the apparatus of the tortoise for ditches

[p. 478] (Vitruvius) [X.XIV.1] The tortoise, which is set up for the congestion of
ditches, and which can also be used to get close to the walls, must be made in this
way. Make a base called eschara by the Greeks, and let it be square, twenty-five
feet on all sides. Its crosspieces are four, and these will be contained by two other
crosspieces that are 5 feet thick and 5 feet wide. These crosspieces will be far from
each other by a foot and a half, and under every space of those will be placed some
trunks of young trees, called amaxopodes by the Greeks, in which turn the axles
of the wheels, encircled by sheets of iron. Those trunks will be tempered so that they
pp. 478-479 803

have their dovetails and holes where the handles passing through can turn them
around, so that, forward and back on the left and the right and obliquely at an
angle, wherever they need to go, by moving the trunks, they can. [X.XIV.2] On
top of the base will be placed two small beams that project on one and the other side
six feet, around those projections will be hammered two more that project seven feet
beyond the front, as thick and wide as are those that are described in the base. On
top of this assembly must be raised the conjoined doors, of nine feet excluding the
tenons, thick on all sides a foot and a palm, one far from the next a foot and a half.
Let these at the top be enclosed among the morticed beams. On top of the beams
are placed the struts and tie-beams morticed into one another, raised to a height of
nine feet. On top of the trestles is placed a square beam that ties and conjoins the
beams. [X.XIV.3] These on their inner sides hammered around will be contained
and well covered with boards, especially of palm wood, but if that cannot be done,
take another sort of strong wood that is good for that effect, other than pine and
alder, since pine and alder are fragile and easily catch fire. Around the floors will be
placed the wattles of very thin sticks very densely woven, and especially green and
fresh; rawhide doubled and filled with algae or straw steeped in vinegar will cover
the machine all around, and thus by these things the blows of the ballistae will be
deflected, and the impetus of fires repelled.

Chapter XXI
On other tortoises

[p. 478] (Vitruvius) [X.XV.1] There is another sort of tortoise that has all the other
things that the tortoises described above have, except for the trusses. But around
them they have a parapet and merlons made of boards and over them sloping eaves
that are contained by boards and hides firmly hammered down. On top of that is put
clay beaten with hair that is so thick that fire [p. 479] can in no way damage the
machine. It can also be that, when needed, this machine is made with eight wheels,
the nature of the place permitting. Those tortoises that are made by digging down,
which are called oryges by the Greeks, have all the other things (as described above)
and the front of those are made like the corners of triangles, so that when the arrows
shot from the walls strike it, no blows are received on a flat face, but slide along the
sides without peril, and those who are inside and digging are defended. [X.XV.2]
It does not seem to me out of keeping with our aims to expound the rationales of the
804 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

tortoise that was made by Hagetor the Byzantine. The base was 60 feet in length,
18 in width, on top were erected 4 posts, composed of two beams, each 36 feet high,
a foot and a palm thick, a foot and a half wide. The base had eight wheels, and it
was moved on those. The height of the wheels was of u 15÷ feet, the thickness of 3
feet, and made of three layers of material, placed together with alternating pins
and tied with sheets of iron. [X.XV.3] These turned on the trunks of young trees, or
amaxopodes as they are called. Then above the floor of the crosspieces that were on
top of the base were raised doors [recte stanchions] of 18÷ feet, 5÷ wide and two
feet thick, 15÷ feet apart. On top of those beams hammered all around contained
all that connection and compaction. ⋮⋮⋮ I÷ foot wide 5÷ thick over which the rafters
were raised 12 feet. Over the rafters was placed a beam that conjoined the dovetails
of the rafters. It further had on its side pieces attached crosswise, around which was
boarding that covered the things below. [X.XV.4] In the middle of the floor were
some small rafters where the scorpions and catapults were placed. Also erected there
were two stanchions set together, morticed at their tops, of 36 feet ⋮⋮⋮ a foot and
a half thick ⋮⋮⋮ two wide, morticed at their heads to a crossbeam with tenons…
(Barbaro) …or dovetails, as we say…
(Vitruvius) [X.XV.4 cont.] …and another crosspiece however between the
two shafts, it too with its tenons, and tied with sheets of iron. On top of this were
placed alternating timbers between the shafts. The crossbeam was firmly enclosed
between the sockets and the handles. In that wood there were two axles turned on
a lathe, to which were tied the ropes that sustained the ram. [X.XV.5] Over the
heads of those who held the ram was a parapet adorned like a little tower so that
two soldiers standing there could, without danger, keep watch all around and re-
port what the enemies were trying to do. The ram of that had a length of ciy feet ⋮⋮⋮
a width at the bottom of a foot and a palm ⋮⋮⋮ of thickness a foot ⋮⋮⋮ the tapering at
the top in width I ⋮⋮⋮ in thickness 5÷ . [X.XV.6] This ram had the beak and point
of hard iron in the way that long ships usually have. From the beak four sheets of
iron about 15 feet were attached along the wood. From the head to the foot of the
beam were drawn four ropes eight fingers thick, as the mast of the ship from stern
to stem is restrained. The ropes were wound around that beam with crosspieces such
that they were a foot and a palm apart. On top the entire ram was covered with
rawhide. And as for those ropes from which it hung, their ends were made of four
iron chains, also wrapped in rawhide. [X.XV.7] Similarly its projection had a
box made of boards and hammered with large stretched ropes, by the roughness of
which, the feet not sliding easily, the top of the walls could be reached. That machine
could move in six ways: forwards and backwards, to the right and left sides, up-
pp. 479-480 805

wards and downwards. It could be raised in height to destroy a wall 100 feet high,
and running to the right and left it embraced no fewer than 100 feet. A hundred
men controlled it and it weighed four thousand talents, that is, four hundred and
eighty thousand pounds.

Chapter XXII
The peroration of the entire work

[p. 480] (Vitruvius) [X.XVI.1] I have explicated all that seemed appropriate to
me about scorpions and catapults and ballistae, and likewise of the tortoises and
towers: by whom they were discovered, and how they must be built. But no need
has constrained me to write about ladders and carchesia and of those things whose
rationales are simple and of little account, since soldiers make these things by them-
selves. Nor are they the same in all places, nor do they serve themselves with the
same rationales, because one defence differs from the next, as does the might of na-
tions, so that the machines against the audacious and fearless must be set up accord-
ing to one rationale, and according to another against the diligent and fearful.
[X.XVI.2] If one were to attend to the things already written, choosing from
among the variety of those and, reducing them into a preparation, conferring them
together, he would have no need of help but could dispatch this for any circumstance
with those rationales and those places, which will be good without having any
doubts about them. But of machines for defence we must not speak so that the enemy
cannot set up offences according to our writings. Often their machinations, taken
unawares, are thrown into confusion not with machines but with swift thinking;
it is said that this happened to the Rhodians. [X.XVI.3] Diognetus was a Rhodi-
an architect, to whom each year from public funds was given a certain commission
for his art. In his time, there came from Arados to Rhodes a certain architect named
Callias, who made a high tower and there dictated a display of walls. On top of
that he made a machine in a carchesium that turned, with which he captured a
machine called helepolis, from ‘taking the city’, that drew near to the wall, and
moved it inside the wall. The Rhodians, impressed by such a marvellous example,
took away Diognetus’s commission and gave it to Callias. [X.XVI.4] In the mean-
time King Demetrius, who because of the obstinacy of mind was called Destroyer
of Cities, preparing the war against Rhodes, took with him Epimachus the Athe-
nian, noble architect. He had him make a tower, at a very large expense and with
806 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

industry and effort, a hundred and twenty-five feet high, sixty wide, and then
reinforced that with goatskins and rawhide so that it could resist the blow of a stone
weighing three hundred and sixty pounds launched from a ballistae. That machine
weighed three hundred and sixty thousand pounds. Callias, being begged by the
Rhodians to prepare a machine to oppose that tower and bring it inside the walls,
as he had promised, denied that he could do it, [X.XVI.5] because not everything
can be done with the same rationales, since there are some things that succeed in
small models as well as in large forms; others that cannot have models but are made
for themselves; still others that resemble the models but when they are made larger
do not succeed. This, from what I am going to say, can be seen clearly. An auger is
used to bore and makes a hole of half a finger, of one finger, and of a finger and a
half; if according to the same rationale we want one of a palm, it cannot be done;
one of a half a foot is completely unthinkable. [X.XVI.6] Thus in a similar way
anything can be made in a form that is not very large, taken from a small model,
which in the same way in a much larger size cannot be carried out. These things
having been taken note of by the Rhodians, who had treated Diognetus with inju-
ry as well as insult, they then saw the enemy angry and obstinate, and that the
machine was going to assail the city. Fearing the danger of enslavement and seeing
that nothing awaited them but a city in ruins, they humbly begged Diognetus to
help the nation in that case. [X.XVI.7] He at first denied that he wanted to do it,
but then innocent virgins, noblemen, and youths came with the priests to beg him.
Then he promised, with this condition: that if he took that machine, it would be his.
[p. 481] These things agreed upon, he had the walls broken on that side where the
machine was to draw near, and he commanded in public and in private all those
who had water, manure, and mud to throw these out through that opening, through
the channels that emptied in front of the wall. Then since for the space of a night a
great quantity of water, mud, and manure was widely distributed, the following
day, the tower drawing near, before reaching the wall it was forced to stop in the
humid, muddy pit, where it could neither go forward nor ever turn back. Thus
Demetrius, seeing that he had been tricked by the wisdom of Diognetus, turned
back with his fleet. [X.XVI.8] Then the Rhodians, freed from war by the acuteness
of Diognetus, publicly thanked him and honoured him with all honours and deco-
rations. Diognetus then drove that machine inside the city and placed it in public
with this inscription: Diognetus from the spoils has made this gift to the
people. And thus in defence not so much the machines but also thinking must be
prepared. [X.XVI.9] Thus it was in Chios, the enemy having placed on the ships
the machines of the sanbucas. In the nighttime those of Chios threw earth, sand,
p. 481 807

and rocks into the sea in front of the walls; the next day, the enemy, wanting to
draw near with the fleet, ran into the sandbank and could neither draw near the
wall nor turn back, and there their ships were pierced with flaming darts and they
were burned. So too Apollonius being besieged, the enemies were thinking to enter
by mines in the earth without being suspected. This city having been warned by
spies, upon learning this the Apollonians, upset by the sad news and out of fear
needing counsel, could not know for certain on what side the enemy were going to
come out. [X.XVI.10] Then Trypho the Alexandrine, who was an architect there,
had many mines dug within the walls, and digging the earth came out less than an
arrow’s throw away outside the walls. In all those empty spaces he suspended many
copper vases. Of these in one ditch that was opposite the mine dug by the enemy, by
the percussions of the irons the vases began to sound, from which it was understood
what side the enemy, digging, wanted to penetrate inside the walls. The limits thus
known, he had vases of boiling water and pitch prepared over the head of the ene-
mies, along with human faeces and burning hot sand. During the night he made
many holes over the mine, and through those suddenly pouring the things prepared,
he killed all the enemies who were in the mine. [X.XVI.11] A similar warning was
when Marseilles was under siege; more than thirty mines were made, of which,
those of Marseilles suspecting all of the ditch that there was in front of the walls,
dug with higher mines such that all of the mines of the enemy came out into that
ditch. Where there could be no ditch, inside the walls they made a very deep hole,
and made a kind of pool opposite that part where the mines were dug. This they
filled with water from wells and the port, and thus the mine opening, they imme-
diately opened the nares and sent a great force of water, washing away from un-
derneath the supports and the shelters so that all those who were inside, by the col-
lapsing of the mine, were killed. [X.XVI.12] Similarly when against the same city
of Marseilles a bank was made in front of the wall, and by placing felled trees the
work was raised by the assailers, launching flaming iron bars from ballistae they
made all of the munitions burn. And when the tortoise ram drew near the wall to
batter it, they dropped down a noose with which they caught the ram, and turning
a winch with a suspended drum holding the head of that, they did not allow the
ram to touch the wall. Finally, launching burning darts with a ballista, they de-
stroyed the entire machine. And thus these cities, not with machines, but against
the rationale of machines, were victoriously liberated by the diligence of architects.
I have reduced at the end of this volume those rationales that I was able to advance
of machines both in the time of war and in time of peace, and that I deemed to be
of the greatest use. So, in the first nine books I prepared what appertained to each
808 Book X of Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

manner and to every part, and thus the entire [p. 482] corpus has explicated and
declared all of the components of architecture, in the number of ten volumes.
(Barbaro) The things said in this final chapter of the tenth and final
book of the Architecture of Vitruvius, even though they are simple, must nev-
ertheless be diligently considered by each ingenious mind, since it is often
seen that the proverb that says ‘brain is greater than brawn’ is true. This is
illustrated by that countryman who wanted to carry many cartloads of soil
onto the bridge at Verona so that, the weight pressing down on it, the water
of the Adige River, which was rising impressively, would not carry it away;
he had first consulted with many ingenious minds, who with their art did
not know what to do. Thus ends, praise God, our effort, which I have made
willingly for the benefit of many, giving an opportunity for others to do bet-
ter, with my work of precisely nine years.

THE END
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 Index of Names and Places

Note that this Index refers only to the commentary of Barbaro, and does not take
account of proper names and places mentioned in the Vitruvian text unless they ap-
pear in the commentary. For an index of Vitruvius the reader is referred to Schofield
(2009, pp. 427–440).
Page numbers in Barbaro (1567) appear in red bold characters: [145]
Page numbers in this present edition appear in normal characters: 249
Figures appear in italic characters: 3.3.10

A
Adige (river) [482] 808
Aegean Sea [54] 96
Aelianus, Claudius [67] 119
Aenus (island) [57] 100
Africa [67, 332] 119, 543
Agesipolis [16] 37
Agricola, Georgius [78] 138
Alberti, Leon Battista [13, 41, 42, 44, 46,
75, 83, 94, 129, 142, 149, 164, 201,
207, 208, 214, 215, 222, 223, 245,
252, 269, 283, 316, 317, 322, 451]
31, 78, 79, 83, 86, 133, 146, 168,
223, 246, 255, 277, 329, 341, 343,
347, 352, 359, 361, 407, 414, 441,
458, 515–516, 525, 753
Alexandria [61–62, 397, 405] 107, 661,
676, 1.6.5a–b
Alighieri, Dante. See Dante
al-Kindi [103, 104, 107] 186, 188, 194
Altino [224] 363
Ancona
Arch of Trajan [140] 241–242
Andrias [427] 710
Andronicus of Cyrrhus [58] 102
Antwerp [208] 343
Apian, Peter (Petrus Apianus) [427] 710
Apollo [97, 348] 174, 571
Aquileia [224] 363
Aratus [394, 396] 655, 660
Arcesius [171, 309] 288, 502
Archemoros (Opheltes) [348] 571
Archimedes [15, 33, 348, 353, 354, 364,
439, 457, 462, 474] 34, 64, 571, 581,
583, 600, 728, 767, 777, 797
Archipelago [54] 96
Archytas of Tarentum [348, 354, 355,
357–359] 571, 581–584, 590–592,
9.3.5
Arezzo [74] 132
Argelio. See Arcesius
Aristarchus [25, 385, 426] 51, 639, 709
Aristippus [274] 448
Aristotle [18, 25, 45, 65, 67, 72, 327, 368,
376, 452–453, 455, 456, 470] 39,
51, 82, 115, 119, 128, 526, 607–608,
622, 754, 755, 761–762, 764, 793
Asia [69] 122
Asty [336] 554. See also Athens
Athanasius of Alexandria [129] 224
Athenaeus [15] 35
Athens [58, 336, 405] 102, 554, 676
Athos, Mount [67] 120
Augustine, Saint [28, 79] 56, 140
Augustus [1, 5, 6, 35, 209, 221, 225]
10, 17, 18, 69, 344, 358, 365–366

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 829

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7
830 Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

B Didymus the Blind [129] 224

Baie [301] 491
Barbaro, Hermolao [94, 336] 168, 554
Basil, Saint [129] 224
Berossus [385, 426] 639, 709
Boethius [19, 227, 228] 40, 370, 371
Brenta (river) [462] 777
Budé, Guillaume [290] 466–467
Buonarroti, Michelangelo. See Michelangelo
Dinocrates [67] 119–120
Diocles [364] 600
Diodorus Siculus (Diodorus of Sicily)
[462] 777
Dione of Byzantium [364] 600
Domitius, Gnaeus [120] 213
Dürer, Albrecht [352, 391, 393, 399–400]
578, 649, 653, 666

C E
Callimachus [165] 277, 279 Egypt [61] 107
Campania [85] 151 Ephesus [439] 729
Candia (Crete) [44, 135] 82, 235 Temple of Diana [165] 279
Canopus (island) [397] 661 Epicurus [72, 289] 128, 464
Caranto [165] 277 Eratosthenes [61–62, 348, 354, 356–357,
Cardano, Girolamo [110, 225, 457]  359] 106–110, 571, 581–583,
200, 365, 766 586–587, 594, 1.6.5a–b, 9.3.3, 9.3.4
Caria [89] 159 Etruria [76, 129] 137, 224
Cato, Marcus Porcius [85, 92, 298, 299] Euclid [20, 355, 357–358] 43, 585,
152, 165, 484, 487 589–590
Chrysermus [16] 37 Eudoxus [355, 388] 584, 645
Cicero [7, 374] 20, 620 Euripides [383] 635
Civitavecchia [302] 491 Eusebius of Caesarea [129] 224
Cleombrotus [16, 17] 36, 37
Columella, Lucius Junius Moderatus [92, F
298, 299, 388] 165, 484, 487, 645 Fano
Commandino, Federico [v–vi, 398, 409, Basilica of Fano [217–218] 353–354
426] 6, 663, 682, 709 Finé, Oronce [427] 711
Constantinople [68] 120 Francesco di Giorgio Martini [301] 490
Corinth [165] 277 Friuli
Crete. See Candia Basilica of Julia Aquiliana [215] 352
Ctesibius [428, 430, 433, 464–465, 466,
 467] 713, 716, 737, 780, 783–785, G
788, 10.12.1 Galen [7, 8, 9, 11, 25, 39, 56, 57, 273] 20,
Ctesiphon [452] 754 21, 23, 27, 51, 74, 100, 101, 447
Cyzicus [294] 479 Glaucus [354] 583
God [1, 5, 11, 35, 97, 110, 182, 202, 271,
D  392, 482] 9, 16, 28, 68, 174, 198,
Damophilus [129] 224 302, 331, 443, 651, 808
Dante [3, 96, 183, 397, 439] 13, 173, 304, Gorgasus [129] 224
661, 728 Gortyn [44] 82
Delfino, Federico [391] 650 Greece [34, 69, 208, 294] 66, 132,
Delos [355] 584 343, 478
Democritus [72–73, 203, 365] 128–129, Guarico, Pomponio [110] 200
334, 603
Index of Names and Places 831

H Menaechmus [355, 364] 584, 600

Heraclitus of Ephesus [72] 128 Metagenes [451] 754
Hercules [34, 326, 393] 66, 532, 654 Meton [388] 645
Hermogenes of Priene [121, 131, 172] Michelangelo [11] 26
216, 228, 288 Modena [74] 132
Hero of Alexandria [346, 427, 441, 442, Münster, Sebastian [427] 711
443, 464, 466, 469] 568, 711, Mussidius, L. [6] 18
732–733, 735, 736, 781, 783, 792
Hesiod [92] 165 N
Hiero [353] 581 Nero, Emperor [301, 465] 491, 782–783
Hippocrates [56–57, 203, 355] 100–101, Nicomedes [359–364] 594–600, 9.3.8–9.3.11
334, 583 Niger (river) [332] 543
Hispaniola [69] 122 Nile (river) [332] 543
Honoratus, Maurus Servius [283] 458
Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) [183, O
297] 304, 482 Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso) [224, 289]
364, 465
I
Ion [164] 276 P
Ippolito II d’Este [i] 3 Paconius [450, 452] 753, 754
Isidore of Seville [62, 283] 108, 458 Palaemonius [348] 571
Italy [64, 69, 129, 140, 208, 292, 397] Palladio, Andrea [64, 303] 113, 492
113, 122, 224, 242, 343, 360, 661 Palladius, Rutilius Taurus Aemilianus
 [75, 95, 264, 298, 299, 319, 329, 330,
J  346] 133, 135, 170, 433, 484, 487, 520,
Julius Caesar [1, 6, 222] 10, 18, 360 538, 541, 568
Pappus [364] 600
L Paris [68] 120
Leonardi, Giangiacomo [47] 87 Parmenides [25] 51
Lesbos [54] 96 Parmenion [427] 710
Livy (Titus Livius) [120, 222] Pausanias (Greek general) [16–17] 36–37
210–213, 359 Pausanias (Greek geographer) [164] 276
Lucullus [299] 486–487 Pergamum [74] 132
Lyon Philander (Guillaume Philandrier) [23,
Great Theatre [225] 365  75, 110, 128, 141, 183, 184, 186, 193,
Macedonia [67] 120 215, 292, 293, 313, 345, 365] 48, 135,
Marcellus, Marcus Claudius [35, 120, 200, 221, 244, 304, 305, 310 319, 352,
225] 69, 213, 365 475, 509, 567, 603
Marcolini, Francesco [225, 432, 466] Philoponus [364] 600
365, 725–726, 783 Piccheroni, Alessandro [51] 95
Marius, Gaius [120] 213 Pisa [34] 66
Martini, Francesco di Giorgio [301] 490 Pitane [76] 137
Maurolico, Francesco [61, 372, 377, 381] Pixodarus [452] 754
107, 615, 625, 632 Plato [5, 6, 13, 15, 25, 348, 354, 359]
Mausolus, King [89] 159 16, 19, 30, 34, 51, 571, 583, 592–594,
Melissus of Samos [25] 51 9.3.6, 9.3.7
832 Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Plato, Academy of [355] 584 Golden Milestone (Milliarium Aureum)

Pliny the Elder [18, 44, 62, 75, 78, 81, 82, [207] 341
92, 94, 95, 164, 165, 183, 225, 260, Marphurius [209] 344
290, 319, 321, 324, 330, 346, 365, Pantheon [350] 577
374, 383, 388, 396, 397] 39, 83, Sweating Meta (Meta Sudans)
108, 134, 135, 138, 143, 145, 165, [207] 341
168, 170, 276, 279, 303, 365, 426, Theatre of Marcellus [35, 176, 222,
466–467, 520, 524, 530, 541, 568, 282] 69, 297, 359, 456
603, 618, 636, 644, 659, 661 Theatre of Pompey [128, 223, 225]
Pliny the Younger [87, 209] 156, 345 221, 360, 365
Plutarch [16–17, 214, 457] 36–37, 347, 768 Theatre of Scaurus [225] 364–365
Pompey (Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus) [128,
223, 225] 211, 360, 365 S
Ptolemy, Claudius [v–vi, 23, 277, 374, 392, Sagunto [74] 132
395, 398, 407, 409, 426] 6, 48, 454, Salviati, Iseppo [149] 255–256
619, 650, 658, 663, 679, 682, 709 Samos [74] 132
Ptolemy, King [354] 583 Sansovino, Jacopo [146, 220] 253, 358
Purpureo, Lucius Furius [120] 210 Scaevola [299] 486–487
Pythagoras [15, 34, 205, 206, 349] 34, 66, Scaurus, Marcus Aemilius [225] 364
337, 339, 574 Schöner, Andreas [427] 711
Pythagoreans, the [72, 73, 205–206] 128, Scipio (Publius Cornelius Scipio
129, 337–339 Africanus) [248] 411
Pythius [22, 25, 172] 45, 46, 51, 285 Scotland [268] 438
Scribonius, L. [248] 411
R Senegal (river) [332] 543
Rethymno [44] 82 Serlio, Sebastiano [133, 140, 193]
Rhodes [397, 405] 661, 676 231, 241, 319
Rome [ii, 68, 75, 78, 81, 84, 133, 140, Serranus, Gaius Atilius [248] 411
 207, 222, 282, 304, 321, 328, Servilius, Caius [119] 210
350–352, 404–406] 4, 120, 133, 139, Socrates [97] 173–174
143, 151, 231–232, 241, 341, 359, Spain [74, 78, 323] 132, 138, 530
455, 495, 525, 537, 577, 676–678 Spanish Island. See Hispaniola
Amphitheatre of Titus [208] 342 Sporus of Nicaea [364] 600
Arch of Camillo (Arco di Camigliano) Stabius, Johann [391, 393, 427] 649,
[207] 341 653, 710
Arch of Constantine [140, 207] Strabo [67, 77, 164, 176] 119, 137,
242, 341 276, 297
Arch of Domitian [208] 342 Stribonius, Caius [120] 213
Arch of San Vito [208] 342 Syene [61] 107, 1.6.5a–b
Arch of Septimius Severus [140, 207]
242, 341 T
Arch of Titus [140, 208] 242, 342 Taprobane (island) [397] 661
Church of Santa Martina [209] 344 Tartesio. See Arcesius
Circus Maximus [129] 224 Thales of Miletus [72] 128
Colosseum [140, 207] 241, 341 Theodoret [129] 224
Columna Maenia [208] 343 Theodosius [427] 710
Index of Names and Places 833

Theophrastus [92, 94] 164, 168 Volpaia, Lorenzo di Camillo della

Thrace [67] 120 (Volpaia the Florentine) [391, 393]
Thucydides [16, 17] 36, 37 649, 653
Tiber Island [120] 210
Tivoli [ii] 4 W
Tuscany [162, 193, 283] 272, 318, 458 Werner, Johannes [364] 600

U X
Urbino [301, 352] 490, 577 Xenophon of Athens [67] 120
Palazzo Ducale [352] 577 Xerxes [16] 37

V
Valturio, Roberto [443] 736
Varro, Marcus Terentius [283, 298] 458, 484
Venice [67–68, 85, 135, 167, 207, 208, 221,
 224, 268, 270, 412] 120, 152, 235,
282, 340, 343, 358, 363, 438, 443, 689
Arsenale [167, 221, 270–271]
282, 358, 443
Basilica of San Marco [221] 358–359
Biblioteca Marciana [146] 253, 358
foundations in [85, 135] 152, 235
Mint [221] 358
Piazza San Marco [221] 358–359
Rialto [208] 343
Verona
Arco dei Gavi [140] 241
bridge (not identified) [482] 808
Vespasian (Titus Flavius Vespasianus) [120,
208] 214, 342
Vicenza [64] 113
Teatro Berga [259] 424
Vitruvius, about
his brevity (few words) [19, 197, 366,
367, 370, 395, 453, 465, 470] 41, 323,
604, 607, 611, 755, 782, 793
his knowledge [13, 14, 20, 89] 30, 32,
42, 159
his mind and character [1–2, 6, 12, 15,
26, 70, 97, 408] 10–11, 18, 29, 35, 52,
124, 174, 682
his skill in writing [2, 26] 11, 52
order in the text of [2, 32, 69, 71, 134,
141, 203, 229, 235, 288, 301, 328] 11,
63, 121, 126, 233, 244, 334, 373, 385,
463, 489, 538
834 Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567

Index of subjects

Note that this Index refers only to the commentary of Barbaro, and does not take
account of subjects in the Vitruvian text, which may or may not be mentioned in
the commentary. For an index of Vitruvius the reader is referred to Schofield (2009,
pp. 427–440).
Page numbers in Barbaro (1567) appear in red bold characters, such as [145]
Page numbers in this present edition appear in normal characters: 249
Figures appear in italic characters: 3.3.10

A
Acroteria [145, 151, 159] 250, 252, 260,
3.3.10
Abacus, mathematical. See Instruments,
mathematical
Abacus [142, 144, 145, 146, 149, 150, 151,
 155, 157, 158, 166, 172, 184] 246,
247, 249, 252, 255–257, 259, 261,
262, 265, 266, 280, 288, 305, 3.3.6,
3.3.9, 4.6.1
Aeolipiles [55] 98
Aerarium [203, 214, 221, 223] 333, 347,
358, 361
Aerostyle. See Species of temples
Agent [9, 11, 27, 37, 38, 40] 23, 28, 54,
71–73, 76
Air (as a principle or element) [55, 72, 73, Antepagmentum
 74, 236, 244, 353] 97, 128, 129, 130,
131, 385, 402, 580
Air [41, 42, 55–57, 62, 441, 443]
79, 96–100, 108, 733, 737
and sound [226, 428, 439, 465–466] Annulets [144–145] 249–250, 3.3.7
367, 712–713, 730, 782–783
effects on columns [14, 132, 158,
181] 33, 230, 266, 300
See also Spirits
Albaria. See Marmorino
Altars
in temples [121, 182, 201] 217, 302, 329
in churches [201–202] 329–330
Amphitheatres [40, 223, 225] 76, 362, 365
Amphitheatre of Titus [208] 342
Analemma [v, 366–367, 398–399,
403–408] 605–606, 663–665,
672–681, 9.8.7, 9.9.1
finding hours from [408–414]
681–690, 9.8.8–9.8.11
making sundials from [415–426]
694–709, 9.8.12–9.8.16
Ante-temple (pronaos) [120, 174, 180, 217]
 216, 296, 298–300, 353, 1.1.2, 5.5.5,
5.1.6
wing walls in [120, 176] 216, 297
columns in [193, 200, 217] 318–319,
327, 353
as the frame of a doorway [183, 186]
303, 308, 311, 4.6.1
as the covering for ends of beams
[129, 196] 224, 319
Apophyge, apothesis [142–144, 150]
244–248, 259, 3.3.6, 3.3.7
Appearances of temples
‘face with pilasters’ (in antis) [117, 119,
130] 209, 210, 226, 3.1.1, 3.1.2
‘face with columns’ (prostyle) [120,
130, 131, 172, 178] 213, 226, 227,
289, 298, 3.1.3, 3.1.4, 4.4.1, 4.4.2

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019

K. Williams (ed.), Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-04043-7
Index of subjects
‘both faces with columns’ (amphipro-
style) [120, 130, 131, 172, 178] 213,
226, 227, 289, 298, 3.1.3, 3.1.4
‘winged around’ (peripteral) [120–121,
128, 130, 131, 135, 136, 172] 213,
216, 221, 226, 227, 236, 289, 1.2.1,
1.2.1, 3.1.5, 3.1.6
‘double wings’ (dipteral) [121, 128,
130, 131, 140, 261] 216, 221, 226,
227, 228, 241, 428, 3.3.7, 3.1.8
‘false double wings’ (pseudodipteral)
 [121, 130, 131, 158, 180] 216, 226,
227, 228, 266, 298, 3.3.7, 3.1.8
‘unroofed’ (hypaethral) [121, 131, 132]
217, 228, 229, 3.1.9, 3.1.10
Arch, shapes [45] 84, 1.5.1
Arches, architectural 45, 75, 84, 86, 129,
135, 263, 305, 316] 84, 133, 149,
222, 234, 432, 495–496, 515–516
Arches, triumphal
at the end of a street [207] 341
composed of three arches [207] 341
Arco dei Gavi, Verona [140] 241
Arch of Trajan, Ancona [140] 241
Arch of Septimius Severus, Rome
[140, 207] 241, 242, 341
Arch of Titus, Rome [140, 208]
242, 342
Arch of Camillo (Camigliano), Rome
[207] 341
Arch of Constantine, Rome [140, 207]
242, 341
Arch of Domitian, Rome [208] 342
Arch of San Vito, Rome [208] 342
Architect
architect and aims [38–40, 71, 202]
72–77, 126, 331
cannot do anything on his own [274]
449
conditions of the architect [12, 18, 37,
38, 115, 274] 28–29, 39, 71, 72, 209,
448
consideration of expense [37, 439, 440]
72, 729, 730
derivation of name [6, 70] 19, 124
835
general discourse on the office and aims
[vi–vii, 5, 6–10] 6–7, 16, 19–26
habits in the mind of [26, 36] 53, 71
knowledge of the architect [12–26, 28,
 30, 34, 39, 40, 73, 96, 207, 226,
274, 282, 474] 28–53, 56, 60–62,
66, 75, 76, 130, 173, 341, 368,
448–449, 455–456, 797
must use the same ideas in ordering
public and private buildings [282] 455
relation to patrons [303–304] 493–494
should strive to imitate nature [37–39]
72–75
the capable/competent architect [282,
439] 456, 729
the prudent/wise architect [15, 26, 35,
 38, 40, 65, 115, 293] 34, 53, 68, 73,
76, 114, 209, 477
those who unjustly call themselves
architects [8, 274] 23, 449
use of judgement [7, 22, 30, 134, 202,
 221, 282] 20–21, 45, 61, 233, 330,
358, 455
Architecture
and appearance [115] 208
birth (origins) of [10, 68–69]
26, 121–123
defined as a science [37] 72
divisions of (public, common, private)
[203] 333
general discourse on [6–10] 19–26
on writing about [203–204] 334–336
principles of defined [71] 126–127
the six underlying forms [26–27]
53–55. See also Compartition;
Decorum; Disposition;
Distribution; Order; Eurhythmy
three principal parts of (fabrication of
edifices, gnomonics, making ma-
chines) [20, 37, 40, 96, 347, 439,
 470] 43, 71, 77, 173, 570, 728, 793
Architraves
Aerostyle [129] 223
Corinthian [155, 158, 163] 262,
266, 274
836
danger of breaking [130] 225
Doric [145–146, 174] 250–252, 294,
3.3.7, 3.3.8
in Corinthian/Egyptian halls [293,
294] 476–478
in fireplaces [301–302] 491
in round temples [197] 324
in the atria of houses [290, 291,
293–294] 466–467, 470, 476–478
in the basilica [214, 217] 347, 354,
5.1.6
in the forum [208] 342
in the theatre [261] 428
Ionic [35, 151] 69, 259, 3.3.10
measures of, general [176, 193] 297, 319
optical correction of [160] 269, 3.3.13
replaced by arches/fornixes in rustic
work [305] 496
Tuscan [144] 247
Armoury [221, 260, 289] 358, 427, 465
Arsenale, Venice [167, 221, 270, 271]
282, 358, 443
Arts
aims of [11] 27
all arts subject to architecture [7, 11]
19–21, 27
architect’s knowledge of many arts
[25] 51
architecture formed of the arts
[71] 126
arts of speaking [321] 524
contribution of the ancients [236] 386
developed over time [231] 375–376
general discourse on [4–5] 14–17
human senses and the arts [19] 40
imagination as the principle of
[442] 734
imitation in the arts [37] 71–72
kinds of [5, 7, 11] 15, 19, 26–27
liberal arts (trivium and quadrivium)
[5, 322] 16, 525
mathematics and the arts [13] 31
painting [i, 5, 11, 13, 14, 44, 129, 181,
 289, 310, 317, 321] 3, 16, 26, 31, 33,
82, 224, 301, 464–465, 504, 518,
524–525
Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
practices are not true arts [14] 33–34
sciences and arts used synonymously
[23] 47
sculpture [i, 5, 11,] 3, 16, 26
six things necessary for the arts [36] 70
spoken arts [321] 524
written arts [13] 30
Astragal [141, 145, 149, 150, 157, 162,
 183, 184] 244, 250, 253–254,
257–259, 265, 273, 303–304, 305,
3.3.5, 3.3.6, 3.3.9, 4.6.1, 4.6.2, 4.6.5,
4.6.6
Astrology/astronomy [5, 13, 20, 24, 38,
366] 16, 31, 43, 49–50, 73, 604
useful for the architect [19, 20–21] 42,
43–44
Astrology (casting nativities) [20, 398]
43, 663
Atoms [72] 128
Atria. See Courtyards
B
Balance (scale), standing or suspended
 [453–454, 455] 755–759, 761–762,
10.8.1, 10.8.6
Ballistae [474, 476] 797, 799
Basement [134, 135, 140] 233, 234, 241,
3.3.1. See also Pedestal
Bases, column [128, 130, 134, 136,
 140–141] 221, 227, 234, 237,
241–244, 3.3.5
Attic [144, 183] 247, 303, 3.3.7
Corinthian [135] 234
Doric [144] 247, 3.3.7
Ionic [134–135, 149] 234, 253–254,
3.3.9
Tuscan [142] 244–246, 3.3.6
Basilicas [64, 101, 203, 214–215, 217, 223,
 270, 293, 294] 113, 182, 333,
347–352, 354, 361, 441, 476–477,
478, 1.5.3, 5.1.1, 5.1.2–5.1.6, 6.4.1
Fano [217-281] 353-354
Julia Aquiliana [215] 352
Baths [40, 203, 262–264, 297, 353]
76, 333, 430–433, 482, 581, 5.10.1,
5.10.2
Index of subjects
Beams, structural [151, 167, 172, 183,
 195–196] 260, 282, 288, 304,
319–320, 4.7.2
cladding [129, 145, 172] 223, 250, 288
everganee [217] 354
in fortifications [48, 50–51] 89, 94–95,
1.5.2, 1.5.5, 1.5.6
in roofs [167, 169, 195–196] 282, 284,
319–320, 4.2.1, 4.7.1
lintel beams (liminares) [290] 467
lintel beams (supercilia) [304] 495
master beam [145, 301] 250, 489
pavements over beams [312–313]
507–508, 510, 511
ridge beam (columen) [167] 282
sloping in courtyards (interpensiva)
[283–288] 458–461
tie-beams [316, 317] 516–517
wood for [93] 166–167
Beauty [i, 33, 34, 36, 37, 44, 69, 71, 84, 97,
115, 124, 128, 140, 164, 165, 182,
205, 273, 282, 288, 303, 312, 318,
347, 473] 3, 65, 66, 69, 72, 83, 122,
125, 148, 174, 209, 221, 242, 276,
277, 278, 302, 337, 448, 455, 456,
463, 493, 508, 520, 570, 795
Bell towers. See Towers
Blocks (systems of pulleys) [445–446,
 447–448, 450] 740–742, 743–746,
749–750, 10.2.1, 10.4.1, 10.5.1–
10.5.2, 10.8.8. See also Wheels
Brevity [5, 37, 162, 203–204, 205, 230, 430]
15, 71, 272, 334, 336–337, 375, 716
Vitruvius’s brevity [19, 197, 366, 395,
 465, 470] 41, 323, 604, 658, 782, 793
Bricks [74–76, 83, 85, 86, 89, 141, 207, 263,
319, 328] 131–137, 147, 152, 153,
159, 243, 341, 432, 520, 536, 2.3.1,
2.3.2, 2.3.3
Bridges [21, 39, 40, 50, 51, 134, 482] 44,
75, 76, 91, 94, 233, 808
Building sites
for buildings [45, 46, 54] 85, 86, 87, 96
for habitations [67–68, 299] 119–122,
485–487
837
healthy sites for cities [41–42, 45]
78–80, 85
Buttress [305] 497
C
Capitals, column
Composite [166] 280
Corinthian [16, 155, 158, 159,
162–163, 166, 183] 37, 261, 262,
265, 268, 273–274, 280, 303, 3.3.11
Doric [144–145, 183] 247–250, 303,
3.3.7
Ionic [14, 149–151, 158, 162–163, 166,
183] 32, 253–260, 265, 273–274,
280, 303, 3.3.9
measures of [173, 193, 197, 199,
 255, 290] 291–292, 319, 324, 325,
416, 466–267
optical corrections of [158–159]
265–266
Tuscan [142–144] 244–247, 3.3.6
Caryatids [15] 35, 1.1.1
Catapults [473–474] 795–796
Causis [324] 529
Ceilings [263, 293, 294, 316, 317]
431–432, 477, 478, 516, 517, 518
Cellae
in temples [109, 120, 176–180,
193, 197, 199, 200, 201] 197, 216,
296–299, 318, 319, 323, 324–325,
327, 329
in houses 6.3.1, 6.3.2, 6.3.4
Cemeteries [202] 330
Churches [35, 39, 129, 200, 201, 202]
68, 76, 223–224, 327, 329, 330, 331
Cimbia [142–144, 145, 149, 162, 166]
244–249, 250, 253–254, 273, 279,
3.3.5–3.3.7, 3.3.9
Circle (geometric figure) [13, 14, 45, 111,
 155, 226, 440–441, 453, 469, 470]
31, 32, 84, 202, 262, 367, 731–732,
755–756, 758, 790, 793, 1.1.3, 1.6.1,
1.6.2, 3.3.12
Circuses [223-224, 270] 362–363, 441
Circus Maximus, Rome [129] 224
838
Cities
distribution of public places in [65]
114–115
municipium [44] 83
public squares in [207] 340–341
selection of sites for [41–42, 45]
78–80, 85
Climes. See Heavens, inclination
Clocks (mechanical)
anaphoric clock [430–433] 716–726,
9.9.3–9.9.6 Ionic [149–151, 162] 253–260, 273
powered by wheels, springs, oil, sand
[427] 710–712
water clock of Ctesibius [430–437]
716–726, 9.9.1–9.9.2
with counterweights [202] 330
Clocks, sun. See Sundials
Cognition [3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 13, 15, 18, 20, 21,
22, 28, 71, 115, 124, 132, 165, 348,
355, 439] 13, 15, 19, 20, 21, 25, 30,
34, 39, 42, 44, 46, 56, 126, 127,
208, 220, 230, 278, 570, 584, 728
Coins [114, 215, 221] 206–207, 352, 359
drachma [114] 207
obolo, divisions of [114] 207
Collar. See Hypotrachelion
Colours
anularian paste [326] 533
Attic sil [323] 527
indigo [324] 530
marine purple [326] 532–533
milenum [323] 527
minium [324, 365] 530, 532, 603
ochre [322–323] 526–527
paraetronium [323] 527
Punic wax used to preserve colours
[324] 530
rubia [326] 533
Selinusian chalk [326] 533
Columns
Corinthian [162, 165] 273, 277–279
corner columns [14, 132] 33, 230
Doric [144–146, 173] 247–253,
291–292
flutes [14, 109 , 160–161, 181] 33, 197,
269–270, 300, 3.3.14, 4.3.4
Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
heights [193 , 197, 215, 165] 319, 324,
352, 277
inner vs. outer rows [131, 180–181,
193] 228, 298–301, 318–319
intercolumniations [121, 128, 130, 131,
132, 133, 172, 173, 176, 180, 193,
199, 208] 217, 221, 225, 227, 228,
229, 230, 231, 288, 291, 297, 298,
299, 318, 325, 343
invention of [140] 242
multiple orders of columns in the
forum [214] 345
numbers of [130] 225–226
taperings and swellings [133, 157]
231, 264
Tuscan [142–144, 193] 244–247, 319
Comitium [222] 360
Compartition (underlying form of
architecture) [27, 28, 29, 41, 46,
54–55, 65, 146, 163, 166, 172, 176,
186, 193, 229, 233, 289, 296] 55,
56, 57, 79, 85, 96–103, 114, 252,
274, 279, 287–288, 298, 308, 318,
373–374, 381–382, 464–465, 481
Composite order. See Manners
Conclave [293] 475–477
Conic sections/surfaces [399–403]
664–673, 9.8.1–9.8.4
Consonance [23, 24, 33, 101, 109, 124,
165, 227–234, 238, 240–245]
48, 49, 65, 183, 198, 221, 278,
369–384, 390, 394–404
Constellations. See Stars, fixed
Contignation [51, 167, 196, 283] 95, 282,
320, 458, 4.7.2
Copper
material [244, 432] 402, 723
coins [114] 207
Corinthian order. See Manners
Coronae
in architraves [35, 85, 140, 145, 146,
 155, 163, 214] 69, 152, 242, 250,
252, 253, 262, 274, 347, 3.3.8, 3.3.10
in doorways [184] 305, 4.6.2–4.6.6
Index of subjects
Costs [30, 75, 439–440] 61, 133, 729.
See also Expenses
Courtyards and atria [195, 283–285,
 288–292, 297, 301] 319, 458–459,
460–470, 482, 489, 6.3.1–6.3.4
Crane, one-masted (gin pole) [448–449]
744–747
Cuba. See Cupola
Cube, numbers [204–205] 335–338
Cube, solid [206, 354–355, 364] 338–339,
582–584, 601–602, 9.3.1,
9.9.12–9.9.13
Cupola (cuba) [14, 199, 201, 316] 32, 325,
330, 516
Curia [39, 203, 214, 222, 223, 293, 294,
295] 76, 333, 347, 360, 361, 476,
478, 5.1.1
Cyma/Cymatium [136, 144, 145, 146, 149,
150, 151, 157, 183, 184, 187, 188,
255] 237, 249, 250, 252, 253, 255,
256, 257, 259, 260, 265, 303, 304,
305, 312, 313, 314, 416, 417, 4.6.1,
4.6.2, 4.6.3, 4.6.5, 4.6.6
Cyma, raked (sima) [145, 151] 250, 260,
3.3.8, 3.3.10
Cyzicene [294] 478–479
D 291–292, 296, 311, 313, 318,
Dado [136, 140, 142, 144–145, 158]
237, 242, 246, 249, 266, 3.3.7, 3.3.9
Decoration [172, 183, 256] 288, 304, 420.
See also Ornament
Decorum (underlying form of architecture)
 [vi, 27, 34–36, 39, 40, 41, 65, 67, 71,
96, 165, 182, 201, 202, 204, 273, 282,
295, 296, 297, 319, 321, 473] 6, 55,
67–70, 76, 77, 78, 114, 119, 126, 173,
278, 302, 329, 331, 335, 448, 455,
479, 480, 481, 482, 521, 524, 795
Deferent [374–376, 379–380] 619–623,
625, 626, 628–631
Dentils [35, 151, 169, 170, 171] 69, 259–260,
284, 285, 286–287, 3.3.10
Diastyle. See Species of temples
839
Discourse (ratiocinatio) [9–10, 11, 15, 22,
 40, 45, 67, 71, 97, 274, 442, 446,
452] 23–26, 28, 34, 46, 77, 85, 120,
126, 174, 448–449, 734, 742, 754
Disposition (underlying form of
architecture) [29–30, 31, 33, 39, 67,
96, 282, 439, 473] 58–62, 64, 75,
120, 173, 455, 728, 795
Disputations of terminology
Barycae / barycephalae [129] 223
cerostata /clatrata (or clathrata) [188] 314
cirocinnauos /chirocmeta [365] 603
Dinocrates/Chirocrates [67] 119–120
engibata [465] 781
Itemque in summo cornu lævo [393] 652
Lesbian cymatium [183] 304
minachos/monachus [408] 680
parettoli (carchesium) [450] 750
Parve per eos flectitur Delphinus
[393] 654
quadrifluviis disparatur [94] 168
scamilli impares [136–140] 237–238
serpentium/piscium [396] 660
Distribution (underlying form of
architecture) [36, 71, 96, 131, 172,
173, 176, 186, 193, 224, 271, 282,
295] 70, 126, 173, 228, 288,
362–363, 444, 455, 479–480
Diversity of aspect (parallax) [371–372]
614–615, 9.4.1
Divisions (organising categories)
of building (edificatione) [40, 96]
77, 173
of habits of the intellect [3] 12
of machines according to movement
(stata and hypagonta) [441] 732–733
of machines according to use (traction,
turning, raising) [442] 735
of melody [229] 373
of the composition of clocks [431]
719–721
Doors and Doorways [183, 186–188,
296–297] 303–304, 308–314,
481–482
840
Attic [183, 187, 188] 303–304,
3 12–313, 313–314
Corinthian 4.6.5, 4.6.6
Doric [183–184, 187] 303–305,
311–313, 4.6.1, 4.6.2
Ionic [186] 308–311, 4.6.3, 4.6.4
Doric order. See Manners
Drawing [13, 30–32, 46] 31, 60–63,
85–86
E Fire (as principle or element) [55, 72, 73,
Earth (principle or element) [72–74, 236,
353] 128–131, 385, 580
Earth (planet). See World
Earth (soil). See Terrain
Echinus [142, 143–145, 150, 151]
246–247, 249–250, 257, 259, 3.3.6,
3.3.7, 3.3.9
Elements. See Principles
Elevation (kind of drawing) [30, 33, 37,
 64, 119] 60–62, 64, 72, 113, 210,
1.2.2, 5.6.2, 6.4.2
Ephesus
Temple of Diana [165] 279
Epicycle [369, 372, 374–376, 378–380,
 382] 609, 615–616, 619–623,
625–631, 633, 9.4.3, 9.4.4,
9.4.6, 9.4.7
Eurythmy [27, 29, 33, 34, 40, 132, 162,
 176, 282] 54–55, 58, 64–66, 77,
230, 296, 456
Eustyle. See Species of temples
Everganee beams [217] 354
Expenses [14-15, 37, 86, 131, 135, 271,
 299, 439–440] 34, 72, 153, 228,
234, 443, 486, 729-730.
See also Costs
F 31–34, 47–50, 62, 84, 108, 262, 448,
Fabrication (first principal part of
architecture) [8–10, 15, 22, 26,
39–40, 274, 446] 22–26, 34, 46, 52,
76–77, 448, 742
Fascia [145, 146, 151] 250, 252, 259–260,
 3.3.8, 3.3.10, 4.4.5, 4.6.6
Fastigium. See Pediment
Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
Femur [145, 146] 250, 252, 3.3.8
Fillets
in capitals [136, 141, 144–150]
237, 243, 247–250, 252, 254–255,
259, 3.3.5–3.3.9
in doorways [187] 312
in flutes [160–161, 181] 270, 300,
3.3.14
Finishes, walls and floor [85–86, 263,
310–319] 152–154, 432, 504–521
 74, 79–80, 236, 353] 97–98, 128,
129, 130, 131, 141, 385–86, 580
Fire [68, 69, 78, 79, 84, 93, 384] 122, 123,
138, 139, 140, 141, 148, 166, 637
Fireplaces [301–303] 490–493, 6.10.1
6.10.2
Flower (of cupola) [199] 325
Flutes. See Column
Force pump of Ctesibius [464–465]
783, 10.12.1
Fortifying and fortifications [41, 46–54,
63, 64, 120, 186, 270] 79, 87–95,
111, 113, 210, 311, 442–443,
1.5.2–1.5.6
Forum [207–209, 214] 340–344, 345, 5.1.1
Foundations [46, 84, 134–135, 150, 304]
86, 149, 233–235, 257, 494–495
Frieze [14, 145, 151, 155, 163, 184, 187,
 199, 214, 217, 290] 33, 249,
259–260, 262, 274, 305, 313, 325,
347, 354, 466–467, 3.3.7, 3.3.10,
4.6.1–2, 4.6.5–6, 5.1.6
Fusaioli. See Guttae
G
Geometry [13–14, 23–24, 30, 45, 61, 155,
 274, 349–350, 355–363, 474]
574, 585–599, 797, 1.1.3, 3.3.12,
4.5.3, 6.1.1, 9.1.1–9.1.2, 9.2.1,
9.3.1–9.3.13, 10.8.5.
See also Mean proportionals
Index of subjects
Gnomonics (second principal part of
architecture) [20, 40, 347–348, 398,
409, 427] 43, 77, 570–572, 663–664,
682, 711
God [1, 5, 11, 35, 97, 110, 182, 202, 271,
 392, 482] 9, 16, 28, 68, 174, 198,
302, 329–331, 443, 651, 808
Gods, ancient [35, 182, 201, 209, 256, 277,
348] 68, 302, 329, 345, 420, 453, 571
Grammar [5, 13, 25] 16, 30, 51
Granaries [221] 358
Guttae [145–146, 163] 250–252, 274,
3.3.7, 3.3.8
H
Habits [2–4, 11, 20, 26, 34, 36, 229, 234]
12–15, 26–27, 42, 53, 66, 71, 374, 383
Harmony [33, 227–230, 232, 233–237]
65, 369–375, 379, 381–387
Harbours [268–269] 438–439
Heavens
inclinations (climes) [19, 61, 277, 397,
 404, 411, 427] 40–42, 107, 452,
660–661, 674–675, 687, 711, 9.8.6
number of [371, 373] 613, 617,
movement of [223, 366–369, 371,
381–385] 362, 605–609, 613,
631–639, 9.4.2
Hooks [445] 742, 10.2.3
Horizon (terminator) [57, 275, 276–277,
 369, 403] 102, 452–454, 610, 672
Horizontal (Great Circle) [410, 414–415]
684, 692–695
Hours [40] 76
24-hour cycles of the heavens [223,
 369, 386, 394] 362, 610, 641, 656
astronomical [404, 412] 673, 690, 9.8.6
Italian [418] 698
unequal (of the ancients; a day divided
into twelve equal parts) [385, 388,
404, 408, 413, 415–420] 640, 673,
681-682, 690, 695-703, 9.8.12,
9.8.14, 9.8.15, 9.8.16
841
Houses
origin of [69] 122–123
private, in the city [277–294, 296–297]
 452–478, 480–482, 6.3.1–6.3.4,
6.4.1–6.4.4
private, in the country [298–302]
484–492
Human body [164, 274, 276–277]
276–277, 448, 452
measures of [110–111] 200–202
Hydraulis. See Organ, water
Hypothyron [183] 304
Hypotrachelion [133, 142–144]
230, 246–247, 3.3.6
I
Ichnographia (drawing of the plan) [30, 44]
60, 83, 1.2.1
geometric elements necessary for
[45] 84
Imagination [5, 203, 399, 442, 541, 473]
16, 335, 665, 734, 754, 795
Imitation [141, 145, 149, 160, 167, 169,
192, 223, 230, 282] 242–244, 250,
255, 269, 281, 284, 318, 362, 374,
455
of nature [37–38, 46, 84, 133, 164,
192] 71, 86, 149, 231, 276, 318
in painting [321] 524
Inclinations. See Heavens, inclinations
Instruments, mathematical
abacus [13, 14] 31, 34
compass and straightedge used in
architectural plans [30] 60
compass used in drawing the Ionic
volute [149–150] 253–259
compass used in drawing the round
temple [197] 323–324
compass used in drawing the Tuscan
base [142–144] 244–249
instrument of Archytas for finding the
mean proportional [357–358]
590–592
instrument of Nicomedes for finding
the mean proportional [359–363]
594–598
842
instrument of Plato for finding the
mean proportional [359] 592–594
mesolabium [354] 581–583
mesolabium of Erastothenes [356–357]
586–589
parapegmata [398] 663
quadrant [350] 575
radius astronomicus [350, 354, 408]
575, 582, 682
reason why the compass is called sesta
[370] 612
set square [13, 146, 160, 161, 349-350,
352, 359, 398] 31, 252, 270,
574–575, 577–578, 593–594, 663,
9.2.1, 3.3.14
uses of the compass in geometry [13] 32
Instruments simple machines
[40, 442–443, 444] 76, 734–737, 738
lever [454, 455–456] 759–761,
762–765, 10.8.4, 10.8.8
pulley. See Wheels, pulley
screw [457, 461–462] 766–768,
776–777, 10.8.7, 10.8.8, 10.11.1
wedge [454] 759 10.8.3, 10.8.8
Ingeniousness [12, 33, 37, 70, 96, 225,
 271, 304, 427, 440, 441, 473]
 29, 64, 72, 124, 173, 365, 443–444,
494, 711, 730, 732, 795
Intellect [3–4, 9, 10–11, 28, 32, 33, 37, 38,
 124, 204, 366] 12–14, 23–24,
26–27, 56, 63, 64, 71–72, 73, 220,
336, 605
Intercolumniations. See Columns
Interpensiva (sloping rafters) [283–288]
458–461
Ionic order. See Manners)
J Manners [164–166] 276–280
Jetty, construction of a [269] 440
Judgement [6, 7, 8, 11, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23,
 30, 32, 37, 63–64, 157, 160, 165,
214, 227, 231, 257, 282, 321, 350,
436, 470] 18, 20–21, 22, 26, 40, 42,
44, 45, 61, 63, 72, 112–113, 264,
269, 277–278, 345, 369–370, 378,
421, 455, 524, 575, 726, 793
Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
the architect’s use of [7, 22, 30, 134,
 202, 221, 282, 350] 20, 45, 61, 233,
330, 358, 455, 576
K
Knots 10.3.1
L
Laws (civil rationale) [vi, 15, 20, 89, 274,
439, 440] 6, 34, 43, 159, 448, 729,
730
Lime [38, 39, 79–80, 84, 85, 86, 263, 268,
299, 312, 313, 314, 317, 319, 328]
73, 74, 139–141, 149, 152, 153, 154,
432, 439, 485, 508, 509–511, 512,
517–518, 521, 536,
Lute (instrument) [245] 403
Lute (mud) [86] 153
Lyon, Roman theatre [225] 365
M
Machine, celestial [371, 441] 613, 732
Machine making
principal part of architecture [40, 439]
77, 729
general discourse on [439–441]
728–733
Machines [441, 442–443, 444, 452, 454,
 457] 732–733, 734–737, 738–739,
754–755, 759, 766–767. See also
Instruments (simple machines)
Maker (artisan or builder) [3, 4, 5, 6-8, 9,
 10, 11–12, 20, 23, 27, 28, 38, 40,70,
71, 97, 274] 14, 15, 16, 19–22, 23,
25, 27–29, 43, 47, 54, 73, 77, 124,
126, 175, 449
Maker, divine [37, 38] 72, 73
Composite [165, 200] 278–280, 327
Corinthian [155–158, 162–163, 165,
 183, 282] 261–265, 272–274,
277–278, 303, 456, 3.3.11
in the Arco dei Gavi in Verona
[140] 241
in the Arch of Trajan in Ancona
[140] 241
Index of subjects
as top order in multi-storey porticos
[192, 214] 318, 345
in the basilica [217] 353
in cavaedia of houses [288] 461
Doric [14, 34, 35, 144–146, 164–165,
 171–174] 32, 67, 69, 247–253,
276–278, 287–296, 3.3.7, 3.3.8,
4.3.1–4.3.3
as lowest order in multi-storey
porticos [192, 214] 318, 345
strong to bear weight [282] 456
Ionic [14, 35, 149–151] 32, 69,
 253–260, 3.3.9, 3.3.10
volute [14, 149–151, 155, 157–158,
162, 166, 186, 352] 32, 255–259,
261, 264–265, 273, 280, 308,
578, 3.3.9
as middle order in multi-storey
porticos [192, 214] 318, 345
a middle way between Doric and
Corinthian [282] 456
Tuscan [142–144, 192–196] 244–247,
317–320, 3.3.6, 4.7.3, 4.7.4
Marmorino [222, 263, 314, 316, 317]
361, 432, 512, 515, 517–518
Masonry [39, 46, 84–85, 134, 181, 196,
 263, 269] 74, 86, 151, 233, 301, 320,
432, 440, 2.3.3, 2.8.1, 2.8.2, 2.8.3.
See also Bricks
Materials [38, 71] 73, 126
Materiatio. See Wood
Mathematics [vi, 11, 13, 19, 72, 227, 440,
 442] 6, 27, 31, 40, 128, 368, 731,
734. See also Arithmetic; Geometry
Mean proportionals [241–242, 354–365,
474] 396–398, 583–603, 797
the method of Erastothenes [355–357]
586–589, 9.3.2–9.3.4
the method of Archytas [357–358]
590–592, 9.3.5
the method of Plato [359] 592–594,
9.3.6–9.3.7
the method of Nicomedes [359–363]
594–599, 9.3.8–9.3.11
843
Measuring [13, 14, 15, 62, 110, 114, 133,
 404, 440, 468, 474] 31, 32, 34, 108,
198–199, 206, 231, 674, 730, 789,
797, 10.4.1
Measures, human body [109, 110–111, 115]
196–198, 199–202, 207
Measures, units of
actus [346] 568
as [23–24, 113] 48–49, 205
cubit [114] 207
finger or digit [114] 207
greater and lesser palms (palaeste and
spithame) [114] 207
jugerum [346] 568
league [387] 642
metretes [355] 584
mile [61] 106–107
modii [355] 584
pace [61] 106–107
palm [114] 207
stade [61] 106–107
Medicine, a necessary art [5, 11, 20]
16,27, 42
Meridian (Great Circle) [59, 62, 277, 367,
 381, 387, 403–410, 414–426]
103–104, 110, 453, 606, 632,
641–642, 672–686, 690–710, 1.6.1
Metopes [14, 145–146, 169, 172, 173, 232]
 32, 250–253, 284–285, 288, 292,
379, 3.3.7–3.3.8, 4.2.2, 4.3.1
Mint [215, 221] 352, 358–359
Mirror, counter-weighted of Ctesibius
[427] 712
Modules [28, 34, 109, 130–131, 132, 398,
473] 57, 66–67, 198, 226–227, 229,
664, 795
Moon
light and phases [92, 202, 289, 385]
165, 330, 464, 639
movement of the moon [369, 371, 372
 373, 378–379] 609, 613–614,
615–617, 625–627
Movement
characteristic of animals [124] 220
circular and straight [452, 454, 457]
755, 756, 767
844
contrary movements of planets
[384] 637
in epicycles, deferents [375–380]
621–631, 9.4.3
in waves of air and water [55] 96
machines classified according to
movement [441] 732–733
of sound [226, 228, 236] 367, 370, 386
of the earth on its axis [367] 607
of the heavens [40, 368] 76, 609, 9.4.2
of the rudder of a ship [455] 762–763
of the signs of the zodiac [370–371]
611–613
of the voice [226, 228] 368, 370–371
of the wind [456] 764
Moving force [453, 454, 455, 456, 457,
473] 755, 760, 762, 763, 767, 795
Music [19, 226, 227–243, 277] 40–41,
368, 369–401, 453, 5.4.1–5.4.7, 6.1.1
Mutules [169, 171, 194] 284, 286–287,
319, 4.2.2
N Periacta [256] 421
Nave [120] 216
Necking [133, 143] 230, 246, 3.3.6
Number (underlying form of architecture)
[33] 64–65
Numbers
types defined [112] 203
perfect numbers [112–113] 203–205
cubic numbers [205–206] 337–339
music as considerations and operations
of [227, 232, 233] 369, 380, 381–382
O 362, 609–637, 681
Oeci [293, 294] 475–476, 478
Optics. See Perspective
Oration [36, 115] 70, 208
Orator [7, 11, 25, 115, 321] 20, 27, 51,
208–209, 524
Order (underlying form of architecture)
 [28–29, 30, 71, 96, 130, 303, 473]
55–59, 62, 126, 173, 226,
493–494, 795
Orders. See Manners
Organ, water [465–468] 782–788, 10.13.1
Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
Orientation [182, 201, 262, 263, 295, 299]
302, 329, 430, 431, 479–480,
485–487
Ornament [34, 36, 115, 140, 150, 157,
 158, 169, 171, 187] 67, 70, 208–209,
241–242, 257, 264, 265, 284, 287,
312. See also Decoration
Orthographia (drawing of the elevation)
[30] 60
P
Paintings [289, 293, 321] 464, 476, 525
Palaestrae [265–267] 435–437, 5.11.1
Pandects [20] 43
Pavements [263, 311–313] 431–432,
505–509, 7.1.1–7.1.3
Pedestals [109, 134–141, 158, 197, 199]
197, 233–242, 266, 324–325
Pediments [14, 109, 117, 129, 145, 146,
 151, 155, 171, 176, 196] 33, 197,
210, 223–224, 252, 253, 260, 262,
286, 297, 320, 3.3.8, 3.3.10
Persians. See Telemons
Perspective [14, 30, 32, 159–160, 209,
256–257, 282, 352, 375, 431]
33, 62, 63, 268–269, 344, 421,
456, 578, 621, 719, 3.3.13
Philosophy [13, 14, 18, 20, 25, 42, 141]
31, 33, 38 – 39, 42, 51, 79, 244
Pinacothecae [289, 292, 293]
464, 475, 476
Planets (wandering stars) [20, 21, 24, 56,
 223, 368–384, 408] 43, 44, 50, 99,
Platforms
in temples [83, 85, 135, 136–140, 158]
147, 152, 234, 237–241, 266, 3.3.2,
3.3.3, 3.3.4
in theatres [140] 241–242.
See also Podium
Podium [140, 255] 241–242, 416
Poetry [204] 335
Index of subjects
Poetry, citations of
Aratus, Phaenomena [394] 655–656
Barbaro
Echo [260] 426
Meteore [73, 332–335] 129, 543–552
Dante, Divine Comedy
Hell [96] 173
Purgatory [3, 183, 397] 13, 304, 661
Paradise [3, 439] 13, 728
Epigrams
Chios [339] 559
spring of Melampus [339] 559
Susa [339] 559
Ovid
Ars Amatoria [224] 364
Fasti [348] 571
Unattributed (Barbaro?), Jupiter,
inflamed with amorous ardour
[392] 651
Poets [11, 62, 96, 223, 274, 321, 328, 348,
 392] 27, 108, 173, 362, 448, 524,
537, 570, 650
Poles (terrestrial and celestial) [62, 277,
 366-370, 389, 391, 394, 404]
110, 452–454, 605–613, 645–646,
649–650, 656, 675, 9.5.1, 9.6.2
Porticos [207, 208, 209, 215, 217, 223,
227, 252, 261, 289, 297, 301]
341, 342, 344, 347–352, 353, 362,
368, 414, 427–428, 465, 482, 489
Posticum [180, 187, 201] 298–299, 311,
330, 3.5.1
Pozzolana [78–81, 268–269] 139–143,
439–440
Precepts, Pythagorean (acusmata)
[205] 337
Principles (elements) [72, 73–74, 236, 327,
353, 440] 127–128, 129–131, 385,
536, 580, 731
Principle (natural rule, law, starting point)
 [3–5, 37, 71, 115, 228, 231, 235, 442,
457] 12–15, 71–72, 126, 209, 370,
377, 384–385, 734, 766
Prisons [221–222] 358–360
845
Profile (kind of drawing) [30–33, 119,
184, 188, 248, 255] 60–64, 210,
305, 314, 411, 416, 1.2.2, 3.1.8,
4.6.2–4.6.6, 5.1.6, 5.6.3, 5.7.1,
5.10.2, 6.4.2
Pronaos. See Ante-temple
Proportions [97, 100, 109, 115, 133, 164–
 165, 222, 350–352] 174–175,
179–180, 196–198, 208–209, 231,
277–279, 359, 575–578
of human body [38, 110–111]
73, 199–202
relations between six quantities
[104–108] 187–196
invention of [164–165] 277–279
Pycnostyle. See Species of temples
Pythagorean theorem [349–350] 574–577,
9.2.1
Q
Quadrivium (liberal arts) [5, 322] 16, 525
Quadrivium (intersection of four streets)
[207] 340
Quantity [27–29, 98, 228]
55–57, 175–177, 372
R
Rams [441, 478] 733, 802
Ratiocinatio. See Discourse
Ratios [98–99, 100, 232, 240–241]
176–178, 179–181, 379, 394–397
musical (diesis, tone, semitone,
trisemitone, ditone) [23, 231–232,
240–241, 242] 48, 337–380,
394–397, 398–399
operations with [101–103, 242]
181–186, 398
Rationale, about [3-5, 7–11, 13–14, 21–23,
26, 28, 33, 37, 39, 67, 71, 97, 128,
165, 230, 304, 322, 347–348, 440]
13–16, 20–27, 31–32, 44–47, 52–54,
55–56, 65, 71–72, 74, 120, 126, 174,
222, 278, 494, 525, 570, 731
of perspective [14, 24, 159–160, 209,
375] 33, 50 268–269, 344, 621
of proportion [10, 28, 97] 25, 57, 175
846
of measuring/measures [15, 29, 35,
109-110, 114, 322] 34, 58-59, 68,
196-199, 206, 525
of music [19, 24, 227, 231, 439, 476]
40, 50, 368-369, 376, 730, 800
of the cube [205–205] 338-339
Replum. See Frieze
Right angle [14, 23–24, 45, 62, 349–350]
32, 48–49, 84, 108, 574–575, 9.2.1
Rocker [436, 462] 726, 777
rocker of Paconius [451] 753
Roofs [145, 151, 167, 196, 199, 255, 283,
 288, 290, 317] 252, 260, 281–283,
320, 325, 416, 458, 459–462, 466,
517, 4.2.1, 4.7.1
S and the meridian line [59] 104, 1.6.1
Sand [38, 74, 78, 80, 82, 84, 85, 313, 317,
324] 73, 132, 138–139, 141, 145,
148–151, 153, 509, 511, 517–518,
530
Scaenae [224–225, 247, 248, 255, 256,
257, 259, 260] 364–365, 408,
409–410, 415–416, 420–421, 422,
424, 427
Scenographia [14, 30, 257, 399]
33, 62, 421, 664
Sciences, defined [2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 11, 12, 18,
 21, 22-23, 25, 231, 442] 12, 13, 16,
19, 21-22, 27, 28, 39, 45, 47, 51, 375,
734
for architecture/architects [7, 28, 30,
37, 65] 19–20, 56, 61, 72, 114
mathematical [3, 5, 13, 14, 377] 13,
16, 31–32, 33, 625
commonality among [21–25, 28]
45–51, 56
natural [18, 25, 440] 39, 50, 731
Sciographia [30–32] 61–63. See also Profile
Scales. See Balance; Steelyard
Scamilli impares [136–140] 237–238
 See also Disputations of terminology
Scorpions [473–474] 795–797
Scotia [141, 142, 144, 149] 243, 244,
247–249, 253–254, 3.3.5, 3.3.7,
3.3.9
Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
Scrolls (on doorways) [186] 308
Semitone, not divisible in two [173, 232]
292, 379–380
Semivowel, not divisible in two [173, 232]
292, 379
Sepulchres [40, 201, 202, 321, 354]
76, 330, 525, 583
Signified and signifying [11, 15, 22, 26,
 71, 97, 446] 27, 34, 46–47, 53, 126,
147, 742
Silver [76, 208, 221, 289, 353] 137, 343,
358, 464, 581
Simulacra [182, 201] 302, 329
Shadows
in drawings/paintings [13, 119] 31, 210
and perspective [256–257] 421
and the circumference of the earth
 [61–62] 107–108, 1.6.5a-b
in stairways [350] 577
in sundials [20, 366, 367, 387, 398,
 400–407, 410, 414–415, 418–426]
43, 604–605, 606, 643, 663–664,
669–679, 684–685, 690–692,
690–695, 697–710, 9.8.5
Species of temples [128–129] 221–223
araeostyle [128, 129, 130, 132, 193,
 196] 221, 223, 225, 229, 318, 319
diastyle [128, 129, 132, 172, 173]
221, 223, 229, 289, 291–292
eustyle [128, 130, 132] 221, 226, 229
pycnostyle [128, 132, 186, 208]
221, 229, 311, 343, 3.1.5
systyle [128, 132] 221–222, 229,
3.1.7, 4.4.3
Spectacles (both place and performance)
 [207–209, 223, 248, 259] 340–344,
361–362, 410–411, 425
Spirits (air sent forth with expression)
 [19, 62, 226, 302, 353, 443] 41, 108,
367, 492, 580, 737
Squares, city (campi) [39, 47, 54, 207–209,
 221] 75, 88, 96, 340–345, 358–359,
1.5.3, 5.1.1
Index of subjects
Square (geometrical figure) [100, 111,
 142, 201, 205, 206, 209, 289,
349–350] 180, 202, 244–246, 330,
337–338, 344, 464–465, 572–575,
2.3.1, 9.1.1–9.1.2
Stairways [350–352] 575–578, 9.2.1–9.2.2. notions basic to [366–367] 604–607
See also Steps
Stars, fixed [20, 23, 24, 35, 56, 367, 370–
 371, 384, 391] 43, 48, 50, 68, 99,
607, 611–614, 637, 647, 9.6.1–9.6.2
constellations, northern region
[391–395] 649–658
constellations, southern region
[396–397] 659–660
Stars, wandering. See Planets
Statues [67, 93, 121, 140, 145, 165, 207,
 289, 291, 292, 302, 448] 120, 167,
217, 241, 252, 278, 341, 464–465,
469, 470, 491, 746, 3.3.8
Steelyard [453–454, 455] 755–756,
761–762, 10.8.2, 10.8.8
Steps [136, 225, 248, 252, 350–352]
236–237, 366, 409–410, 414–415,
576–577, 578. See also Stairways
Stereobate [85, 134, 135, 140]
152, 233, 234, 241
Stone [82–85] 145–153
Streets [39, 40, 47, 54, 59, 207, 256, 297]
 75, 76, 88, 96, 105, 340–341, 420,
482
Struttura. See Masonry
Stylobate [134, 135, 140] 233, 234, 241
Sun
and sundials [402–420] 670–704
declinations of 9.8.9
effects and properties [40, 55, 58, 61,
 84, 94–95, 224, 329, 381–383,
400–403] 76, 97, 102, 107–108,
148, 167–170, 363, 538, 632–636,
668–673
gnomons and the shadows of
[366–378] 604–643, 9.8.5
in the zodiac and variation of the
length of days [388–391]
643–647, 9.5.1
847
mean motus [376–379] 623–629,
9.4.5, 9.4.6
Sundials
making from the analemma [417–426]
695–710, 9.8.12–9.8.16
types of [403–404, 426–427] 673–674,
708–711
Symmetry [27, 29, 34, 40, 71, 96, 109,
 110, 166, 172, 214, 222, 289,
473] 54, 57–59, 66, 77, 126, 173,
196–197, 198–199, 279–280, 288,
347, 360, 464, 795
Systyle. See Species of temples
T
Taenia [145–146] 250–252, 3.3.7
Tecton. See Architect
Telemons 1.1.2
Temples [115, 130, 131, 135–136, 182,
200–201] 208, 225–226, 228,
234–237, 301–302, 327–330. See also
Appearances; Species; Manners
Temples, round [197-199] 323–325,
4.7.5, 4.7.6
Temples
Temple of Aesculapius [120] 210
Temple of [Divus] Augustus [217] 353
Temple of Ceres [129] 224
Temple of Diana at Ephesus [165] 279
Temple of Faunus [120] 210
Temple of Gn[aeus or Cnaeus]
Domitius [120] 213
Temple of Honour and Virtue
[120, 309] 213, 504
Temple of Jupiter [121] 217
Terebrae [478] 802
Terrain (kinds of earth) [39, 45-46, 78,
134-135, 271, 311-312, 319, 329,
346] 74, 85–86, 138–139, 233–235,
444, 507, 520, 538, 568
Tertiarium (peaked roof in wood)
[196] 320
848
Theatres [223–226, 243–248, 252–255,
257, 259, 260] 361–368, 401–411,
414–417, 420, 421–423, 424–425,
425–430, 5.6.1, 5.6.2, 5.6.3, 5.8.1
copper vases in [243–245]
401–404, 5.5.1
Great Theatre, Lyon [225] 365
of the Greeks [247, 257-259]
408, 421-424
of the Latins [247–255, 257, 259]
408-416, 422, 424, 5.6.1–5.6.3
revolving [225] 365
Teatro Berga, Vicenza [259] 424
Theatre of Marcellus, Rome [35, 176,
 222, 282] 69, 297, 359, 456
Theatre of Pompey (Theatre of Stone)
[128, 225] 221, 365
Theatre of Scaurus, Rome [225]
364–365
Time [8, 19, 23, 40, 63, 97, 98, 100, 128,
 209, 228, 270, 271] 22, 40–41, 47,
76, 112, 174–175, 176–177, 179–180,
221, 344, 372, 441–442, 443
lengths of days, months, years
[372–373] 615–617, 9.5.1
See also Hours
Torus [141, 142, 144, 149] 243, 244–246,
247–248, 253, 3.3.5, 3.3.6, 3.3.7,
3.3.9
Towers
in fortifications [39, 44, 46, 47, 48, 50,
 51] 75, 83, 87, 88, 89, 94, 95, 1.5.2,
1.5.3
of the wind [58] 102
siege towers [441, 478] 733, 802
in churches [201–202] 330
Tradition, a poor teacher [303] 493
Triangular machines (periacta) [256] 421
Tribunals
in basilicas [215] 347
in round temples [197] 324
in the Pantheon [352] 577
in theatres [255] 417
Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567
Triglyphs [14, 34, 35, 145, 146, 151, 163,
169–173, 232] 32, 67, 69, 250,
252–253, 259, 274, 284–292, 379,
3.3.7, 3.3.8, 4.2.2, 4.3.1
Trivium (liberal arts) [5] 16
Trivium (intersection of three streets)
[207] 341
Tuscan order. See Manners
Tympanum
in temples [145, 151, 196] 250–252,
260, 320, 3.3.8, 3.3.10
in doors [187] 312–313
V
Vaults [294, 316–317] 478, 515–517
Vertical (Great Circle)
defined [403] 672–673
in sundials [409–426] 683–709
Voices (human) [226, 228, 259, 260, 277]
366–368, 370–372, 425, 426,
452–453
Volutes [14, 149–151, 155, 157–158, 162,
166, 186, 352] 32, 255–259, 261,
264–265, 273, 280, 308, 578, 3.3.9
Voussoirs [305] 495–496
W
Walls
exterior [83, 84–85, 86] 146–147,
149–153, 154–155, 2.3.3, 2.8.1,
2.8.2, 2.8.3
interior [30, 78, 181, 317, 319] 61–62,
139, 301, 516–518, 520–521
wing walls [120, 176, 180] 216,
297, 298
Water (element) [72, 73, 74, 236, 353] 127,
128, 129, 130, 131, 385, 580–581
Water [19, 76, 145, 151, 226, 263,
268–269, 283–288, 328, 329–330,
342, 465–468] 41, 136–137, 250,
260, 367, 431, 438–441, 457–462,
536–537, 538–541, 562–563,
780–788, 8.6.1–8.6.2
Wells [45, 330, 346] 85, 540, 568
Index of subjects 849

Wheels
carriage or cart [457–458, 468–469]
766–768, 789–792, 10.14.1
for lifting water [269, 460, 462]
439, 770–773, 777, 10.9.1–10.9.3
for milling [460–461] 774, 10.10.1
in clocks [430–436] 717–726
pulley wheels (sheaves) [225, 444, 445]
365, 737, 740, 1.5.2, 10.2.1, 10.5.1
Windlass [445, 446, 447, 452] 741, 742,
743–744, 755, 1.5.2, 10.2.1, 10.2.2
Winds [55–61] 96–106, 1.6.3, 1.6.4
Wood, material [92, 93–94, 442]
163, 165–169, 734–735
Wood, in buildings [167, 196, 217, 222,
268] 281–282, 320, 354, 361, 439,
4.2.1. See also Contignation
World (earth)
circumference of [61–62, 387]
106–108, 642, 1.6.5a, 1.6.5b
World (universe) [367–368] 606–608
centre of the [277, 367, 368, 371, 374,
 375, 378, 379, 403] 453, 607, 608,
614, 619, 620–621, 625, 628, 673,
9.4.3, 9.4.5, 9.4.7

X
Xysti [266] 436

Z
Zodiac [58, 197, 223, 369–378, 388–391]
102, 324, 362, 609–625, 628–650,
9.9.5
Zophorus. See Frieze