Part 1

Transcriber’s Notes: Underscores “_” before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_ in the original text. Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals. Illustrations have been moved so they do not break up paragraphs. The advertisement for the book “ARCHITECTURE OF THE METROPOLIS” has been moved from the beginning of the book to the end of the book.

RUDIMENTARY ARCHITECTURE: FOR THE USE OF BEGINNERS.

THE ORDERS, AND THEIR ÆSTHETIC PRINCIPLES.

BY W. H. LEEDS, ESQ.

London: JOHN WEALE, ARCHITECTURAL LIBRARY, 59, HIGH HOLBORN.

M.DCCC.XLVIII.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

The Orders generally 3

First Order: Ancient Doric 14 Modern Do. 25 Tuscan 28

Second, or Voluted-capital, Order: Greek Ionic 30 Roman and Modern 46

Third, or Foliaged-capital Order: Corinthian 53 Composite 62

Columniation: Forms and Denominations of Temples and Porticoes 68

Intercolumniation 77

Glossarial Index 82

PREFACE.

It is important that an elementary treatise,—more particularly if it profess to be a popular one, intended for the use of beginners as well as for professional students,—should not only give rules, but explain principles also; and unless the latter be clearly defined, the memory alone is exercised, perhaps fatigued, owing to the former being unsupported by adequate reasoning. To confine instruction to bare matter-of-fact is not to simplify, much less to popularize it; since such mode entirely withholds all that explanation which is so necessary for a beginner, who will else probably feel more disheartened than interested. Any study which is presented in its very driest form by being divested of all that imparts interest to the subject, will soon become dry and uninteresting in itself, and prejudice may thus be excited against it at the very outset.

Those who pursue the profession of Architecture must of course apply themselves to the study of it technically, and acquire their knowledge of it, both theoretical and practical, by methods which partake more or less of routine instruction. Others neither will nor even can do so. If the public are ever to become acquainted with Architecture,—not, indeed, with its scientific and mechanical processes of construction, but in its character of Fine Art and Design,—other methods of study than those hitherto provided must be furnished, as it appears to have been assumed that those alone who have been educated to it professionally can properly understand any thing of even the _Art_ of Architecture,—a fatal mistake, which, had it clearly perceived its own interest, the Profession itself would long since have attempted to remove; it being clearly to the interest of Architects that the public should acquire a taste and relish for Architecture.

The study of Architecture, it may be said, has of late years acquired an increased share of public attention; but it has been too exclusively confined to the Mediæval and Ecclesiastical styles, which have consequently been brought into repute and general favour,—a result which strongly confirms what has just been recommended, namely, the policy of diffusing architectural taste as widely as possible. As yet, the taste for Architecture and the study of it, so promoted, has not been duly extended; for next to that of being acquainted with the Mediæval, the greatest merit, it would seem, is that of being ignorant of Classical Architecture and its Orders; which last, however ill they may have been understood, however greatly corrupted and perverted, influence and pervade, in some degree, the Modern Architecture of all Europe, and of all those countries also to which European civilization has extended. Nevertheless, no popular Manual on the subject of the Orders has yet been provided,—a desideratum which it is the object of the following pages to supply.

W. H. LEEDS.

RUDIMENTARY ARCHITECTURE.

THE ORDERS.

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.