Although this little treatise is limited to the consideration of
Ancient and Classic Architecture, we may be allowed to explain
briefly what is to be understood by Architecture in its quality of
one of the so-called Fine Arts, if only to guard against confused
and erroneous notions and misconceptions. It will therefore not be
deemed superfluous to state that there is a wide difference between
Building and Architecture,—one which is apparently so very obvious
that it is difficult to conceive how it can have been overlooked, as
it generally has been, by those who have written upon the subject.
Without building we cannot have architecture, any more than without
language we can have literature; but building and language are only the
_matériel_,—neither, the art which works upon that _matériel_, nor the
productions which it forms out of it. Building is _not_ a fine art,
any more than mere speaking or writing is eloquence or poetry. Many
have defined architecture to be the art of building according to rule:
just as well might they define eloquence to be the art of speaking
according to grammar, or poetry the art of composing according to
prosody. Infinitely more correct and rational would it be to say that
architecture is building greatly refined upon,—elevated to the rank
of art by being treated _æsthetically_, that is to say, artistically.
In short, architecture is building with something more than a view
to mere utility and convenience; it is building in such a manner as
to delight the eye by beauty of forms, to captivate the imagination,
and to satisfy that faculty of the mind which we denominate taste.
Further than this we shall not prosecute our remarks on the nature
of architecture, but come at once to that species of it which is
characterized by the Orders.
In its architectural meaning, the term ORDER refers to the system
of columniation practised by the Greeks and Romans, and is employed
to denote the columns and entablature together; in other words,
both the upright supporting pillars and the horizontal beams and
roof, or _trabeation_, supported by them. These two divisions,
combined, constitute an Order; and so far all Orders are alike, and
might accordingly be reduced to a single one, although, for greater
convenience, they are divided into _three_ leading classes or families,
distinguished as Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. It was formerly the
fashion to speak of the FIVE ORDERS, and also to treat of them as
if each Order were reduced to a positive standard, admitting of
very little deviation, instead of being in reality included in many
subordinate varieties, which, however they may differ from each other,
are all formed according to one common type, and are thereby plainly
distinguished from either of the two other Orders. The vulgar Five
Orders’ doctrine is, it is to be hoped, now altogether exploded; for if
the so-called Tuscan, which is only a ruder and bastard sort of Doric,
and of which no accredited ancient examples remain, is to be received
as a distinct Order, a similar distinction ought to be established
between the original Ancient or Grecian and the derivative Roman and
Italian Doric, which differ from the other quite as much, if not more
so, than the Tuscan does from either. Even the Grecian Doric itself
exhibits many decided varieties, which, though all partaking of one
and the same style, constitute so many Doric Orders. The Pæstum-Doric,
for instance, is altogether dissimilar from the Athenian or that of
the Parthenon. Again, if the Composite is to be received as a distinct
Order from the Corinthian, merely on account of its capital being of a
mixed character, partaking of the Ionic, inasmuch as it has volutes,
and of the Corinthian in its foliage, the Corinthian itself may with
equal propriety be subdivided into as many distinct Orders as there
are distinct varieties; and the more so, as some of the latter vary
from each other very considerably in many other respects than as
regards their capitals. Except that the same general name is applied
to them, there is very little in common between such an example of
the Corinthian or foliaged-capital class as that of the monument of
Lysicrates, and that of the Temple at Tivoli, or between either of
them or those of the Temple of Jupiter Stator and the Pantheon, not to
mention a great many others. Instances of the so-called Composite are,
moreover, so exceedingly few, as not even to warrant our calling it the
_Roman Order_, just as if it had been in general use among the Romans
in every period of their architecture. With far greater propriety might
the Corinthian itself, or what we now so designate, be termed the Roman
Order, being not only the one chiefly used by that people, but also the
one which they fairly appropriated to themselves, by entering into the
spirit of it, and treating it with freedom and artistic feeling. In
fact, we are indebted far more to Roman than to Grecian examples for
our knowledge of the Corinthian; and it is upon the former that the
moderns have modelled their ideal of that Order.
What has been said with regard to striking diversity in the several
examples of the Corinthian, holds equally good as to those of the
Ionic Order, in which we have to distinguish not only between Roman
and Grecian Ionic, but further, between Hellenic and Asiatic Ionic.
Nor is that all: there is a palpable difference between those examples
whose capitals have a _necking_ to them, and those which have none,—a
difference quite as great, if not greater, than that which is
recognized as sufficient to establish for the Composite the title of
a distinct Order from the Corinthian; inasmuch as the necking greatly
enlarges the proportion of the whole capital, and gives increased
importance to it. The Ionic capital further admits of a species of
variation which cannot possibly take place in those of either of the
other two Orders: it may have either _two faces_ and two baluster
sides, or four equal and similar sides,—the volutes being, in the
latter case, turned diagonally, the mode chiefly practised by the
Romans; but by the Greeks, and that not always, in the capitals at the
ends of a portico, by placing the diagonal volute at the angle only, so
as to obtain two outer faces for the capital, one in front, the other
on the ‘return’ or flank of the portico.
It is therefore unnecessary to say, that to divide the Orders into
_Five_, as has been done by all modern writers, until of late years,
and to establish for each of them one fixed, uniform character, is
altogether a mistake; and not only a mere mistake as regards names and
other distinctions, but one which has led to a plodding, mechanical
treatment of the respective Orders themselves, nothing being left
for the Architect to do, so far as the Order which he employs is
concerned, than merely to follow the example which he has selected,—in
other words, merely to _copy_ instead of _designing_, by _imitating_
his model with artistic freedom and spirit. Our view of the matter,
on the contrary, greatly simplifies and rationalizes the doctrine of
the Orders, and facilitates the study of them by clearing away the
contracted notions and prejudices which have been permitted to encumber
it; and owing to which, mere conventional rules, equally petty and
pedantic, have been substituted for intelligent guiding maxims and
principles.
Having thus far briefly explained the rationale of the Orders with
regard to the division of them into three leading _classes_, each of
which, distinct from the other two, yet comprises many varieties or
_species_,—which, however much they may differ with respect to minor
distinctions, all evidently belong to one and the same style, or what
we call Order,—we have now to consider their constituent parts, that
is, those which apply to every Order alike. Hitherto it has been usual
with most writers to treat of an Order as consisting of three principal
parts or divisions, viz. pedestal, column, and entablature. The first
of these, however, cannot by any means be regarded as an integral part
of an Order. So far from being an essential, it is only an _accidental_
one,—one, moreover, of Roman invention, and applicable only under
particular circumstances. The pedestal no more belongs to an Order
than an attic or _podium_ placed above the entablature. In the idea
of an Order we do not include what is extraneous to the Order itself:
it makes no difference whether the columns stand immediately upon the
ground or floor, or are raised above it. They almost invariably are
so raised, because, were the columns to stand immediately upon the
ground or a mere pavement, the effect would be comparatively mean and
unsatisfactory; the edifice would hardly seem to stand firmly, and, for
want of apparent footing, would look as if it had sunk into the ground,
or the soil had accumulated around it. With the view, therefore, of
increasing height for the whole structure, and otherwise enhancing
its effect, the Greeks placed their temples upon a bold substructure,
composed of _gradini_ or deep steps, or upon some sort of continuous
_stylobate_; either of which modes is altogether different from, and
affords no _precedent_ for, the pedestal of modern writers. And here
it may be remarked, that of the dignity imparted to a portico by a
stylobate forming an ascent up to it in front, we have a fine example
in that of St. George’s Church, Bloomsbury, which so far imitates the
celebrated Maison Carrée at Nismes. Nevertheless, essential as some
sort of stylobate is to the edifice itself, it does not properly belong
to it, any more than that equally essential—in fact more indispensable
part—the roof.
It is not without some regret that we abandon, as wholly untenable,
the doctrine of the pedestal being an integral part of an Order: it
would be so much more agreeable to say that the entire Order consists
of three principal divisions, just the same as each of the divisions
themselves. As regards the entire structure, such triplicity, that of
‘beginning, middle, and end,’ was observed. For ‘beginning,’ there was
substructure, however denominated, or whether expressly denominated at
all, or not; for ‘middle,’ there were the columns; and for ‘end’ or
completion, the entablature. For the whole of a structure, there is
or ought to be such ‘beginning, middle, and end;’ but from the Order
itself we exclude one of them, as not being dependent upon it either
for character or treatment.
The pedestal being discarded as something apart from the Order itself,
the latter is reduced to the two grand divisions of column and
entablature, each of which is subdivided into three distinct parts or
members, viz. the column, into _base_, _shaft_, and _capital_; the
entablature, into _architrave_, _frieze_, and _cornice_; so that the
latter is to the entablature what the capital is to the column, namely,
its crowning member,—that which completes it to the eye. Yet, although
the above divisions of column and entablature hold good with regard to
the general idea of an Order, the primitive Greek or Doric one does not
answer to what has just been said, inasmuch as it has no base,—that
is, no mouldings which distinctly mark the foot of the column as a
separate and ornamented member. Hence it will perhaps be thought that
this Order is not so complete as the others, since it wants that member
below which corresponds with the capital above. Still the Grecian
Doric column is complete in itself: it needs no base,—in fact, does
not admit of such addition without forfeiting much of its present
character, and thus becoming something different. Were there a distinct
base, the mouldings composing it could not very well exceed what is
now the lower diameter or actual foot of the column; because, were it
to do so, either the base would become too bulky in proportion to the
capital, or the latter must be increased so as to make it correspond
in size with the enlarged lower extremity. Even then that closeness
of _intercolumniation_ (spacing of the columns), which contributes so
much to the majestic solidity that characterizes the genuine Doric,
could not be observed; unless the columns were put considerably further
apart, the bases would scarcely allow sufficient passage between them.
The only way of escaping from these objections and difficulties is by
making the shaft of the column considerably more slender, so that what
was before the measure of the lower diameter of the shaft itself,
becomes that of the base. That can be done—has been done, at least
something like it; but the result is an attenuated Roman or Italian
Doric, differing altogether in proportions from the original type or
order. The shaft no longer tapers visibly upwards, or, what is the same
thing, expands below.
Before we come to speak of the Orders severally and more in detail,
there are some other matters which require to be noticed; one of which
is the origin of the Greek system of columniation, or the prototype
upon which it was modelled. Following Vitruvius, nearly all writers
have agreed to recognize in the columnar style of the ancients the
primitive timber hut, as furnishing the first hints for and rudiments
of it. Such theory, it must be admitted, is sufficiently plausible, if
only because it can be made to account very cleverly for many minor
circumstances. Unfortunately, it does not account at all for, or rather
is in strong contradiction to, the character of the earliest extant
monuments of Greek architecture. Timber construction would have led to
very different proportions and different taste. Had the prototype or
model been of that material, slenderness and lightness, rather than
ponderosity and solidity, would have been aimed at; and the progressive
changes in the character of the Orders would have been reversed, since
the earliest of them all would also have been the lightest of them
all. The principles of stone construction have so evidently dictated
and determined the forms and proportions of the original Doric style,
as to render the idea of its being fashioned upon a model in the other
material little better than an absurd though time-honoured fiction.
Infinitely more probable is it, that the Greeks derived their system of
architecture from the Egyptians; because, much as it differs from that
of the latter people with regard to taste and matters of ornamentation,
it partakes very largely of the same _constitutional_ character. At any
rate the doctrine of a timber origin applies as well to the Egyptian
as to the Hellenic or Grecian style. Indeed, if there be any thing at
all that favours such doctrine, it is, that construction with blocks
of stone would naturally have suggested _square_ pillars instead of
round ones; the latter requiring much greater labour and skill to
prepare them than the others. But, as their pyramids and obelisks
sufficiently testify, the most prodigal expenditure of labour was not
at all regarded by the Egyptians. That, it will perhaps be said, still
does not account for the adoption of the circular or cylindrical form
for columns. We have therefore to look for some sufficiently probable
motive for the adoption of that form; and we think that we find it in
_convenience_. In order to afford due support to the massive blocks
of stone placed upon them, the columns were not only very bulky in
proportion to their height, but were placed so closely together, not
only in the fronts of porticoes, but also within them, that they would
scarcely have left any open space. Such inconvenience was accordingly
remedied by making the pillars round instead of square. Should such
conjectural reason for the adoption of circular columns be rejected,
it is left to others to propound a more satisfactory one, or to abide,
as many probably will do, by the old notion of columns being so shaped
in order to imitate the stems of trees. It is enough that whatever
accounts for the columns being round in Egyptian architecture, accounts
also for their being the same in that of the Greeks.
Among other fanciful notions entertained with regard to columns and
their proportions, is that of the different orders of columns being
proportioned in accordance with the human figure. Thus the Doric
column is said to represent a robust male figure, and those of the
two other Orders, female ones,—the Ionic, a matron; the Corinthian, a
less portly specimen of feminality. Now, so far from there being any
general similitude between a Grecian Doric column and a robust man,
their proportions are directly opposite,—the greater diameter of the
column being at its foot, while that of the man is at his shoulders.
The one tapers _upwards_, the other _downwards_. If the human figure
and its proportions had been considered, columns would, in conformity
with such type, have been wider at the top of their shafts than below,
and would have assumed the shape of a terminus,[1] or of a mummy-chest.
With regard to the other two Orders, it is sufficient to observe,
that if so borrowed at all, the idea must have been preposterous. We
happen to have a well-known example of statues or human figures, and
those, moreover, female ones, being substituted for columns beneath
an entablature; and so far are they from confirming the pretended
analogy between the Ionic column and the proportions of a female, that
they decidedly contradict it, those figures being greatly bulkier in
their general mass than the bulkiest and stoutest columns of the Doric
Order. At any rate, one hypothesis might satisfy those who will not be
satisfied without some fancy of the kind, because two together do not
agree: if columns originated in the imitation of stems of trees, we can
dispense with the imitation of men and women, and _vice versá_.
[1] The species of statue so called, and consisting of the upper part
of a human figure growing out of a pedestal which tapers downwards, and
appears to enclose the rest of the body.
Some may think that it is hardly worth while to notice such mere
fancies; yet it is surely desirable to attempt to get rid of them by
exposing their absurdity, more especially as they still continue to
be gravely brought forward and handed down traditionally by those
who write upon the Orders, or who, if they do not actually _write_,
repeat what others have written. It is worth while to clear away, if
possible, and that, too, at the very outset of the study, erroneous
opinions, prejudices, and misconceptions. We do not pretend to explain
and trace, step by step, the progress of the Doric Order, and of
the columnar system of the Greeks, from their first rudiments and
formation. We have only the results of such progressive development
or formation; of the actual formation itself we neither know nor can
now ever know any thing. The utmost that can now be done is to take
the results themselves, and from them to reason backwards to causes
and motives. Adopting such a course, we may first observe, that there
is a very striking and characteristic difference between Egyptian
and Grecian taste and practice in one respect: in the former style
the columns are invariably _cylindrical_, or nearly so,—in the other
they are _conical_, that is, taper upwards, and in some instances so
much so, that were they prolonged to double their height, they would
be almost perfect cones, and terminate like a spire. This tapering
greatly exceeds that of the stems of trees, taking for their stem the
trunk, from above which the branches begin to shoot out. It appears
to have been adopted for purely artistic reasons, certainly not for
the sake of any positive advantage, since the diminution of the shaft,
and the great contraction of the diameter just below the capital, must
rather decrease than at all add to the strength of the column. What,
then, are the artistic qualities so obtained? We reply,—variety and
contrast, and the expression of strength without offensive heaviness.
The sudden or very perceptible diminution of the shaft,—it must be
borne in mind that our remarks refer exclusively to the original
Greek style or Doric Order,—produces a double effect; it gives the
column an expression of greater stability than it otherwise would,
combined with comparative lightness. What is _diminution_ upwards, is
also _expansion_ downwards; and similar difference and contrast take
place also with respect to the intercolumns, although in a reverse
manner, such intercolumns being wider at top than at bottom. So far the
principle of contrast here may be said to be twofold, although one of
the two sorts of contrast inevitably results from the other. Were it
not for the great diminution of the shaft, the columns would appear to
be too closely put together, and the intercolumns much too narrow, that
is, according, at least, to the mode of intercolumniation practised by
the Greeks in most of their structures in the Doric style; whereas such
offensive appearance was avoided by the shaft being made considerably
smaller at top than at bottom,—consequently the intercolumns wider
above than below, in the same ratio; so that columns which at their
bases were little more than one diameter apart, became more than two,
that is, two upper diameters apart at the top of their shafts, or the
neckings of their capitals. In this style every thing was calculated to
produce a character of majestic simplicity,—varying, however, or rather
progressing, from heaviness and stern severity to comparative lightness
of proportions,—for examples differ greatly in that respect: in some
of the earlier ones the columns are not more than four diameters in
height, while in some of the later they are upwards of six, which
last-mentioned proportions not only amount to slenderness, but also
destroy others. The capital itself may be proportioned the same as
before relatively to the diameter of the column, but it cannot possibly
bear the same ratio as before to its height. The average proportions
for that member are one diameter for its width at its abacus, and
half a diameter for its depth: consequently, if the entire column be
only four diameters in height, the capital is ⅛th of it, or equal to
⅐th of the shaft; whereas, if the column be six or more diameters,
the capital becomes only ¹/₁₂th of the column, or even less, so that
the latter appears thin and attenuated, and the other member too
small and insignificant. Yet though the original Greek Order or style
exhibits considerable diversity with respect to mere proportions, it
was otherwise very limited in its powers of expression, and moreover
something quite distinct from the nominal Doric of the Romans and the
Italians, as will be evident when we come to compare the latter with it.
Before we enter upon this part of our subject, and previous to an
examination of the details of the several Orders, it should be observed
that the diameter, that is, the _lower_ diameter of the column, is
the standard by which all the other parts and members of an Order are
measured. The diameter is divided into 60 _minutes_, or into two halves
or _modules_ of 30 minutes each; and those minutes are again subdivided
into parts or _seconds_ when extreme accuracy of measurement is
required; which two last are noted thus: 5′ 10″, for instance, meaning
five minutes and ten seconds.