know, that we found it difficult to procure a ladder to ascend the
Temple of Theseus, although, by the help of the apsis of the church, one
of about ten feet long, for which we were indebted to M. Fauvel,
answered our purpose. We found a fragment of a marble tile on the top,
but it is not certain that the whole covering was of marble. There are
rows of cramp holes in pairs, on the top of the cornice, near the edge,
having probably supported the ornamental tiles, or antefixæ; and along
the pediment are similar holes, disposed singly at equal distances, and
at the top some larger and deeper holes for fixing the acroterium. At
the bottom of the slope of the pediment there are several small holes,
which perhaps fixed the ornament in that part, and we find vestiges of
this kind, of the insertion of statues in the eastern tympanum. Here was
the original front, for the doorway marked by Stuart at the western end,
did not belong to the temple, but to the church which succeeded it. The
spaces between the internal columns at the west end were filled up with
marble slabs, rising as high as the necking of the capitals, but to what
use the space so inclosed was applied, or what entrance was left to it,
I cannot tell.
LETTER XLVII.
ACROPOLIS.
_Athens, March, 1818._
ATHENS puts one in mind of Rome, from the number of fragments of
architecture and sculpture everywhere scattered about. In the walls, in
the court-yards, in the churches, we are continually meeting with
something too trifling, or too much mutilated, to be of value in itself,
but powerfully impressing the imagination with the idea of what has
been.
The great treasure of Grecian architecture is in the Acropolis, where
there are three buildings, of which the remains are considerable; the
Propylæa, or entrance, the temple of Minerva, and another edifice, which
has been supposed to contain three temples, viz. those of Erectheus, of
Minerva Polias, and of the nymph Pandrosus. The two first-mentioned
buildings are of the Doric order, and it is here you see all the
perfection of Greek masonry; horizontal joints so close, that after the
lapse of 2,000 years, you cannot introduce the finest edge, nor even
follow them everywhere by the eye; and vertical ones, of which you only
see occasional indications; and this on a plain surface of white marble,
a substance in which above all others, the slightest mark is visible.
In order to understand the following description of the Propylæa, I
recommend you to open the second volume of Stuart’s Athens, and lay the
plan of the edifice before you.
After passing two paltry modern gateways, over the inner of which is an
ancient architrave and frieze, you perceive some old substructions on
the right, but to what edifice they belonged it is difficult to say;
they are very far below the level of the temple of Victory without
wings, marked D in Stuart’s plan. Of this temple there are now no
vestiges whatever, except a few scattered fragments built up in the
modern walls, which probably belonged to it. We have evidence that such
a temple did exist thereabouts, but not of its exact position, for
Stuart mentions it as entirely destroyed in his time, to make room for
the grand battery; yet he has marked for it a space more than 30 feet
long, and 20 wide, although Wheeler, in whose time it still existed,
describes it as a small edifice of about 15 feet by 9, dimensions which
hardly admit the supposition of columns between the antæ.
Stuart calls this building the temple of Aglauros, but he is undoubtedly
wrong. Revett has corrected him in the fourth volume, and you will
therefore permit me to call it the temple of Victory without wings, and
to consider the room B, as that which was adorned with the paintings of
Polygnotus. The use of the terms right and left applied to the object
viewed, and not to the spectator, which is the origin of Stuart’s
mistake, seems to be derived from heraldry.
Beyond these foundations, and after having passed under the great
battery, you turn to the right, leaving on the left a tall pier supposed
to have supported an equestrian statue. It is formed of courses,
alternately thicker and thinner, and bears an inscription in honour of
Marcus Agrippa; and though Pausanias seems to have considered it as
ancient (at least he speaks of equestrian statues of doubtful purport in
this part,) our modern connoisseurs pronounce it to be of Roman times.
Similar masonry occurs in the remains supposed to be of the Gymnasium of
Ptolemy, but is not found in any of the earlier buildings of the
republic. The opposite and corresponding pier is entirely destroyed, or
built up, but we may acknowledge that such a one probably existed. Of
the flight of steps represented as extending from one to the other, not
only there are no traces, but it is I believe demonstrable, that there
never were such. The entrance into the Propylæa was formed by an
inclined plane, intersecting the advancing courses in front of the
building, which are not properly steps, but successive plinths, forming
a basement to the edifice. The lowermost of these plinths is of black
marble, in front of the two side buildings, but not so under the central
part. Under this plinth of black marble, there is in the north wing, a
course of white[27] marble, shewing the intention of exposing the
upright face; for the corresponding course in the central building,
which was not intended to be seen, is of rough limestone. These steps
are four in number, instead of three, as given by Revett, and under
these, we see three courses, which in the centre buildings are all, as I
have before said, of limestone; two of the upper ones are broken about
the entrance, but not cut through like the marble plinths; the lowest is
entire. Each plinth advances a little, and reduces the opening to 11
feet 10.9 inches. All this we leave on the left, as not only the
entrance, but all the intercolumniations have been walled up by the
Turks, in order to form another battery; and ascend along the line
marked by Stuart, observing the want of correspondence between the two
wings, and also that from the deficiency of space on the rock, the south
wing could never have been the exact counterpart of that on the north.
Revett, who made this plan, has marked a column, an anta, and a square
pillar between them, as if they ranged in one line, and one is apt to
suppose that they might have supported a common architrave, but this
does not seem to have been the case; what we have remaining to mark the
place of the column and pillar, are the sinkings prepared for them in
the progress of the work, which I shall hereafter explain; and the anta
and pillar appear to have ranged in one line, but the column did not
range with them. There are marks of a gate between the column and
pillar, and perhaps of a marble slab filling up the space between the
anta and pillar, but I must confess myself unable to comprehend the
arrangement.
We will pass from this into the inside of the building, leaving for a
time its external appearance, towards the Acropolis. The upper part is
now occupied by a battery, and there are no remains of the front columns
rising above it, as there were in Stuart’s time, except one capital at
the angle. Below is a vault, abounding in dust and dirt, where by
digging and scraping, we may see the inclined plane already mentioned,
as giving admission into the Acropolis, part of the old pavement, and
the base of one of the Ionic columns. The inclined plane sinks below the
rest of the pavement, towards the entrance, and rises above it towards
the internal circuit of the Acropolis; it is transversely ribbed, to
give secure footing to the horses in ascending it.
Revett found a piece of the upper part of the shaft of an Ionic column,
2 feet 10 inches in diameter, and conceiving them to occupy a height of
33 feet 7 inches, he concluded from what he conceived to be the
proportions of this order among the Greeks, that they must have stood on
pedestals; but the base above-mentioned proves that they did not; and as
the height seems correctly deduced from the surrounding parts, and we
may add between one fourth and one fifth to obtain the diameter of the
lower part, it follows that these columns must have been about nine and
a half diameters in height.
The doorways which gave entrance to the Acropolis, are five in number,
and placed between piers, towards the back of the edifice. The inclined
plane gave access to the central one, the others were approached by
steps, they bear some marks of having been adorned with architraves of
metal. There is a small sinking, apparently formed to receive it, 1 foot
9.8 inches in width, to the larger opening: and one of 13.7 inches in
width to the two adjacent ones, yet there are no cramp-holes, except in
the upper part; the smaller side doorways are filled up with earth. Over
each opening a stone is placed edgewise, occupying in consequence the
height of two common courses. This plan seems to have been uniformly
adopted above the doorways of the Athenian buildings, and will guide us
in several instances to determine what openings were originally
intended, and what were not. On the eastern side of this wall, the
traces of a metallic architrave are much more certain, since besides the
change of colour in the marble, there is a regular series of
cramp-holes; yet how it was managed is still a subject of some
difficulty. Taking the central opening as my example, (and the two
others are similarly designed) we find on the edge of the opening a
band, not of a very uniform width, in which the surface of the marble
has not been finished, and then one in which the surface made quite
smooth, is of a whiter colour than elsewhere; apparently from having
been sheltered from the air; both these must have been covered by the
architrave, and their united width is 1 foot 10.4 inches. On the highest
stone of the jamb there is a deep and double sinking, which seems to
have been intended to receive a strong block, projecting from the face
of the architrave; my notion is, that this block had a hole on the under
side to receive the pivot of the door, which worked in a corresponding
hole in another block of bronze at the base, and consequently lay when
shut, against the wall, without being let into it. I should perhaps
hardly have ventured to express this opinion, if it were not
strengthened by the appearance of the grooves receiving the metal plate
on which the doors opened, at the entrance of the opisthodomus of the
Parthenon. The centre from which these grooves are drawn is not within
the thickness of the wall.
The jambs of these doorways, viewed laterally, exhibit several sinkings
about two inches deep, which doubtless were made with some object at
present unknown. The height of the centre opening was equal to fifteen
courses,[28] each of nearly 1 foot 7.4 inches in thickness, making in
all 24 feet 1.9 inch, on a width of 13 feet 4.75 inches. The secondary
openings are of eleven courses, or 17 feet 8.5 inches, on a width of 9
feet 3.6 inches. The side doors are of six courses, 9 feet 7.8 inches,
with a width of 4 feet 8 inches. All the piers rest on a continued
course of black marble.
Many fragments of the coffers of the ceiling lie scattered about; they
rested on marble joists, 15 inches and a half wide; the longest piece of
these which we could find, is only 3 feet 11 inches in length, but this
was a fragment. The depth being only 7 inches and a half, is not
calculated for a beam of 20 feet, and they must therefore have rested on
larger beams, but I cannot determine how the Propylæa were covered, or
whether the central part was covered at all.
Revett has given a section which includes the northern flank of the
middle building, exhibiting the very curious manner in which the stones
are arranged, as if they were cut away to make room for the roof of a
side building, now destroyed. There are two cornices on this flank, one
of which is continued from that of the outer portico; the lower is an
internal one, that is, it is composed of such members as we find in
Greek architecture to be appropriated to internal decoration.
There are several other particulars relating to these side buildings,
both remaining and destroyed, and to their union with the centre, but it
would swell my letter to an essay, were I to enumerate them all, and
besides, I have not the means of elucidating them satisfactorily. I will
however, observe to you, that the flank wall on each side of the central
building was carried up above the cornice of the wings, and these wings
were not crowned with a pediment, but probably had a flat roof.
The Propylæa are said to have cost 460,000_l._ a sum so enormous in
proportion to the modern extent of the edifice, that some writers have
supposed it must be meant to include the whole of the constructions of
Pericles’s administration in the Acropolis. Buildings in marble will
cost more than those of brick, even though the marble should be found in
the vicinity; and if the distance to the Pentelic quarries was not
great, yet the roads were bad; none of the modern expedients for
facilitating transport were in use, and the expense must have been more
than double what it would have been with us, with our taxes and
turnpikes. Workmanship put together like the nicest operations in ivory,
must also have cost very much more than the clumsy masonry of modern
times; but after all these considerations, the sum still seems very
great, even if we take into consideration that a great extent of
subordinate edifices has disappeared.
There are two particulars relating to the Propylæa, and to the works
about them, which I have not yet mentioned. We see in various places
remains of piers and walls of a very ancient masonry, of limestone, and
not of marble; apparently earlier than the time of Pericles; there is
such a fragment under the north-west angle of the northern wing of the
Propylæa, whose lines not exactly corresponding with those of the work
above, prove that they did not form part of that design. The base of the
pier which contains the inscription to Agrippa, is of a grayish slaty
marble, not used in the upper parts, and this perhaps may also be more
ancient than the pier it supports.
The other circumstance is, that the work has not been completely
finished, and that we are thereby enabled to trace the mode of
execution. It appears that the Athenians worked the marble to an even,
but not a very smooth face, with a toothed chisel, before they placed
the blocks in the work, and that they afterwards went over the whole
exposed surface, and finished it to the greatest smoothness and nicety,
but without polish, taking off in this operation about one fifth of an
inch; and this has been the practice on the horizontal, as well as on
the upright surfaces, for the columns of the Propylæa are sunk in to
about that depth below the general level. The place intended for their
reception was sunk before the lower cylinders were placed, and lest any
inconvenience should arise from the wet remaining there, before the
building was completed, a small channel has been cut from the recess to
carry off the water. In the steps, the adjoining faces are carefully
finished at the internal angles, but both are left rough at the external
angles, by which means the accidents and wear which take place during
the execution of the work, would rarely be of any consequence.
Many of the circumstances which make the temple of Theseus so beautiful,
concur also to the perfection of the Parthenon, and it has some
advantages. It is larger and more magnificent, has been adorned with a
greater quantity of sculpture, and occupies a more commanding situation.
Both buildings look larger than they really are, and the Parthenon the
most so. This effect is, I am persuaded, partly produced by the
simplicity of the design, and the justness of the proportion; and partly
by the situation, especially that of the latter, which occupies the top
of a rock of small extent. This position then would require me to make
some exception to my general rule, that each building is best placed on
an advancing point of ground, and to explain, if I can, what are the
circumstances which form the exception; but in fact, when I come to
examine more minutely into the subject, I find that so far from having
made up my mind as to the choice of situation, there is nothing more
difficult than to lay down any general law upon the subject. I think
however, that a good deal depends upon the intention of the building,
and on the ideas associated with it; and that a public building, and
especially one for the purposes of religion, may occupy, and will even
look better for occupying, an exposed and insulated situation, and one
domineering over all the neighbouring objects, which would be
displeasing in a private dwelling; and this does not depend upon any
notion of convenience, (in the English sense of the word) for such
situations are generally inconvenient for any purpose, but to a certain
perception of character; however, I shall leave this knotty point to
another opportunity, and return to the Parthenon, and again request you,
in reading my remarks, to lay Stuart’s plan before you.
The temple, to speak technically of it, is peripteral, octastyle, and
hypæthral. The proportions every body acknowledges to be highly
beautiful. This is easily stated in words, but the feeling arising from
the perception of that beauty is incommunicable. In the front, the
proportion of every part seems exactly what it ought to be, but I
believe in the flank, that I prefer the proportions of the temple of
Theseus. Why a continued colonnade, crowned by a straight entablature,
should require more slender proportions than one supporting a pediment,
I cannot tell; but such seems to be the fact. Yet, as in the Parthenon,
the height of the column is five diameters and fourteen twenty-fourths,
very nearly, and in the Theseum the height is only five diameters, and
fifteen twenty-fourths; the difference seems too small to produce any
sensible effect; but the intercolumniations in the Parthenon are only
equal to about one diameter, and two sevenths of the columns, while in
the Theseum they are one and two thirds, and to this greater space is
doubtless owing the lighter appearance of the latter. The whole is, as
you know, of Pentelic marble; the part exposed to the action of the
south wind, which probably carries with it saline particles, is white,
and somewhat corroded; the other parts are stained exactly of the hue of
burnt terra Siena, but some places take a dingier tint, perhaps from the
effect of the explosion, while the north side is partially varied with
the sulphur yellow of the _Lichen candelarius_. The western end, which,
though the part opposite to the entrance of the Acropolis, is in fact
the back of the temple, represented the contest of Neptune and Minerva;
and the relative position of the deities, and of the benefits they
offered to the Athenians, is well explained by Wilkins by reference to a
medal. Behind the statues the tympanum is faced by upright slabs of
marble, some of which are hollowed out at the back, I do not know why,
and you might, perhaps, creep behind the two figures which remain, which
are those said to be of Hadrian and Sabina; but though all these statues
were finished all round, as you know, by having seen them in London,
there was certainly no provision made for a close inspection after they
were up in their places.
These two remaining statues have lost their heads, and consequently all
that entitled them to their appellation, and the remaining fragment of
cornice has fallen from its first position, and rests upon the figures.
The metopes of this front are almost obliterated, but the sculpture of
the inner frieze is exquisite, perhaps the finest piece of the whole
circuit. Sometimes when this is lighted by the declining sun, the effect
is inconceivably beautiful; but this effect never could have had place
in the perfect state of the building, because it is only owing to the
want of ceiling and roof in the peristyle, that it is ever illuminated
by the direct light of the sky.
You would imagine from the way in which Wilkins endeavours to correct an
error which Wheeler never made, that the columns of this temple were in
five pieces, but this is not true; the number of _drums_ or _frusta_ is
eleven or twelve, but the junction in those which have suffered no
violence is so beautifully fine, that it is frequently impossible to
trace it, even on the smooth surface of white marble.
The inner range of columns is more shattered than the outer, and here we
begin to be sensible of the immediate effects of the explosion
occasioned by the bombs of the Venetians in 1687. The space between the
internal columns, forming the pronaos, appears to have been filled up
with a metal grating resting on a sill of marble. The holes for
fastening it still remain, and the situation of the plinth, on which
this grating rested, is indicated by the parts cut away to receive it at
the foot of the columns. The doorway is 16 feet 8 inches wide in the
original work, but it has been contracted by blocks of marble, at some
more recent period; probably when the edifice was converted into a Greek
church, and this has misled Stuart. Besides the evidence of this being a
posterior contraction, arising from the inferior nature of the work, and
its total want of connexion with the wall of the cell, we may observe
also that some of the stones used are covered with inscriptions. No
ornamental architrave remains to the door, but there are vestiges whence
we may conclude that this part was of metal, as in the Propylæa.
When you have once entered the building you see the manner in which it
has suffered. The powder must have been near the middle; and on each
side, both the wall of the cell, and the columns of the peristyle have
been thrown down. At the eastern end, the walls and the inner range of
columns are destroyed. Perhaps towards the west, the walls still existed
between the ancient temple and the opisthodomus, and protected in some
degree the western end; but that wall is now entirely destroyed, and the
surface of the wall of the cell everywhere shattered, exposing a raw
white fracture.
But we are not yet fairly within the temple; we must first consider the
Opisthodomus. It is paved with slabs of white marble 8 inches thick, 5
feet 8 inches long, and 3 feet 11 inches wide, all bedded in rough
masonry, or on the native rock. There are four square blocks of a larger
size, being 5 feet 10 inches square, and 14 inches thick; placed in
corresponding situations, so as to divide the area of the room into nine
equal parts, and appearing to have received the columns which supported
the roof. Stuart has imagined six such columns, but without sufficient
reason.