History of Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture

by J. S. Memes

And now to Priam's stately courts he came,
Raised on arch'd columns of stupendous frame;
O'er these a range of marble structure runs,
The rich pavilion of his fifty sons,
In fifty chambers lodged; and rooms of state,
Opposed to these, where Priam's daughters sat;
Twelve domes for them, and their loved spouses shone,
Of equal beauty, and of polished stone.

This, and indeed almost every other passage referring to the practical arts of antiquity, is very incorrectly translated. From a comparison of various original descriptions of palatial buildings, a tolerable idea of the highest efforts of architecture during the Homeric and succeeding ages may be obtained. They appear universally to have been placed so as to enclose a court, along the sides of which ran an open corridore, formed by pillars; for the word corresponding to column does not once occur in the Iliad. These pillars, as may still be seen in Egyptian buildings, were united by flat epistylia or architraves, for the phrase, 'arched columns,' is nonsense. During the times of the Iliad, no division of stories appears to have been practised; and the expression lofty chamber, so often occurring, seems to imply that the whole was open to the roof; for the apartments, with the exception of the great hall, do not otherwise induce the idea of great magnitude. In the Odyssey again, to this mode of division distinct reference is made, a circumstance which, with many others respecting the arts, points to a later as the age of that poem. The roof itself may be inferred from incidental remarks to have been pointed, composed of wooden beams inclined towards each other, and supported in the central angle by columns or shafts of wood; for wherever the word occurs in the early poetical literature of Greece, an internal member is implied, and from the casual introduction, one of necessity, not ornament, the only adjunct being lofty or tall, exactly corresponding with the distinction here supposed.

It is evident, then, that we must examine elsewhere for the origin of ornamental architecture in Greece. And the only other department of the art refers to buildings for sacred purposes. But even here, mighty and graceful as are the existing ruins, many ages elapse before we reach the era of the temple—where

The whole so measured true, so lessen'd off,
By fine proportion that the marble pile,
Form'd to repel the still or stormy waste
Of rolling ages, light as fabrics look'd,
That from the magic wand aerial rise.

Throughout the whole of the Iliad no mention occurs of a temple in Greece, except in the second book, evidently incidental, and the interpolation of some vainly patriotic Athenian rhapsodist. The passage, indeed, might be condemned, on the grounds of philological discussion, but it contradicts both the history of art and of religion in that country. In Troy, the temple of Minerva appears to have been a mere shrine, in which a statue was enclosed, and probably, in Tenedos, a temple of Apollo is merely alluded to. During the age of Homer, then, the primeval altar, common both to Europe and Asia, was the only sacred edifice known. This differed little from a common hearth; the sacrifice being in fact a social rite, the victim, at once an offering to heaven, and the food of man, was prepared by roasting; the first improvement upon this simple construction appears to have been the addition of a pavement, an obvious means of cleanliness and comfort. Yet even this appears to have constituted a distinction at least not common, since, in particular instances, the pavement is mentioned as a peculiar ornament. Subsequently, in order to mark in a more conspicuous manner, and with more dignity, the sacred spot, while the rites should be equally exposed to the spectators, an open colonnade was added, enclosing the altar and pavement. Thus the roofless temple might be said to be finished; but whether this primeval structure existed in his native country during the age of Homer, does not appear. We remark here a very striking resemblance between the ancient places of devotion in Greece, and the Druidical temple of the more northern regions. In fact, the astonishing remains at Stonehenge present the best known, and perhaps one of the most stupendous examples ever erected of the open temple. This species of religious erection appears to have been co-extensive with the spread of the human race, and not, as generally supposed, limited to the northern portion of the globe.

The revolutions in Greece, which abolished the regal, while they respected and increased the pontifical authority, the gradual additions of magnificence and convenience to the places of sacrifice, producing at length the regular temple; the change of design from the circle to the quadrangle; all these can now only be conjectured as to their causes and progressive vicissitudes. One thing appears certain, that the earliest approaches to the perfect temple were erections of wood; and this materially contributed to fix the character of later architecture: yet there still remain temples of stone, whose date transcends the epochs of known history. During this interval, Grecian architecture assumed regularity and science, for the earliest dawnings of authentic information light us to monuments of a systematic style, differing from the Egyptian in the rejection of all variety of ornament, yet, like it, solemn, massive, and imposing. This is the order which, subsequently, under the name of Doric, extended over the whole of Greece and her colonies. To this the most ancient species of the art, various origin has been assigned; but from our imperfect knowledge of contemporary events, and from the impossibility of extending research, it is plain that nothing can with certainty be known. The most ably supported, but not less improbable theory, is that of Dr Wilkins, already referred to, who supposes the order to have been directly introduced from Syria, and Solomon's temple; his reasonings and calculations on this subject present a rare combination of ingenuity, learning, and practical science. The premises, however, are assumed, namely, that the word translated 'chapiter' in the common version of the book of Kings, means not only the capital, but includes the entablature also; a gratuitous assumption, opposed by the dimensions still visible in the parent source of Egyptian columns, and which, even granted, would not prove an identity in purpose and proportion with the Greek order. The hypothesis of Vitruvius is fanciful, namely, that the proportion of the human foot to the height of the body, was adopted as the rule for the proportion of the base to the elevation of the column. The most probable view seems to be, that this order sprung up as the fruit of continued observation on the practice of Egyptian art, as compared with the methods of wooden erection employed among the early Greeks themselves. This would necessarily give an intermediate style in simplicity and lightness; the pine, common in the ancient forests of Greece, truncated for any purpose, gives at once a very near approximation to the shaft; the same tree converted into a squared beam, gives the horizontal binding or architrave; the merely ornamental or subordinate members would be suggested in progressive operations of experience, or they might be introduced by selection; for, as already noted, every ornament of succeeding art, though not under the same combinations, is to be found in the Egyptian modes. The whole history of taste, even as touched upon in these pages, favors this slow and native growth of an art among every people remarkable for its successful cultivation. The three orders—the Doric, the Ionic, and the Corinthian, exhibit also this gradual process of discovery and advance to perfection. It is historically, as well as poetically true, that

——First, unadorn'd,
And nobly plain, the manly Doric rose;
The Ionic then with decent matron grace
Her airy pillar heaved; luxuriant last
The rich Corinthian spread her wanton wreath.

The character of genius in Greece likewise favors these views, more exquisitely alive to beauty, to propriety, to decorous simplicity and grandeur, than distinguished for those qualities that more decisively belong to invention—fire, impetuosity, wild irregularity, or rude majesty.

Neither then were the primitive elements invented, and thence without aid of more ancient knowledge, the orders or systems of architecture brought to perfection in Greece; nor was any one of these introduced wholly or at once in a state approaching to perfect symmetry and arrangement. In this, as in all their arts, no less than in their literature, the Greeks borrowed, imitated, selected,—and yet they created—they assimilated discordant variety to one solemn breathing harmony—they brought out every latent germ of beauty that lay overwhelmed in the mass of more ancient thought. From the dark yet mighty accumulations of Eastern knowledge and skill, their genius spake forth that light and that perfection which, in human wisdom and taste, still guides, corrects, and animates. Yet their improvements were but so many—important indeed—intermediate gradations in the universal system of obligation which nations owe to each other. But while sound judgment constrains the rejection of the exclusive pretensions of the Greek writers on the particular subject in question, it must be confessed there is in these something more than pleasing. They are not selfish; they are deeply connected with the sympathies and the feelings—the truest, best associations in objects of art. Though we find all the elements of composition in Egyptian architecture, and must believe that the Greek orders were in their origin thence derived; yet the very idea, that the sedate grandeur of the Doric borrowed its majesty from imitation of man's vigorous frame and decorous carriage; or that the chaste proportions of the graceful Ionic were but resemblances of female elegance and modesty,—the belief of all this, so carefully cherished, was calculated to produce the happiest effect upon living manners. So also, though the origin of the Corinthian capital is apparent in an object emblematic over the whole East, and not unknown even in some Christian forms, the mysterious lotus, whose leaves so frequently constitute the adornment of the Egyptian column; still, how dear to the heart the thought of most perfect skill receiving its model from the humble tribute of affection placed on the grave of the Corinthian maid, round which nature had by chance thrown the graceful acanthus! If, in the sober inquiries of history, such opinions are removed, the act is done with regret. Yet in this onward path of truth, if one blossom planted there by human feeling must be beaten down, how grateful the incense even of the crushed flower!

The three orders now mentioned constitute the whole system of Greek architecture. The Doric appears to have been the most ancient, and continued down to the period of the Roman conquest to be most extensively employed in the European states of Greece, as these were colonized chiefly by the Dorians—hence the name. Of this order are the most celebrated remains of ancient art, which may be divided into two great classes, namely, those of Greece, and of the Greek settlements in Sicily and Southern Italy. The first class of buildings comprehends a space extending from the earliest traditions, when Æachus, in the commencement of the tenth century before Christ, is reported to have built the temple of Jupiter still remaining in Ægina, to the erection of the Parthenon, the noblest monument of this order, which, from its beauty, and the predilection in its favor, has been termed the Grecian. Subsequently, decline appears so early as the era of the Macedonian empire; but the latest erection is supposed coeval with the reign of Augustus. Within the ten centuries thus comprehended between the first and last application of the Doric order, must have been erected those magnificent structures whose ruins still adorn Greece. The probable ages of these are as follow: commencing with the Æginetic ruin just mentioned, whose date is lost in remote antiquity, and which seems to have formed the second remove only in the march of art westward from its primeval sources, to Crete, Ægina, Greece. Next, the celebrated four columns near Corinth. The temple of Jupiter at Olympia either precedes or follows, the architect Libon, and the roof, the first of the kind, formed of marble tiles, the invention of Byzes of Naxos. An interval occurs here, carrying us forward to the Athenian structures, the most ancient of which, the temple of Theseus, belongs to a much later period than any of the preceding. The date of the Propylea and the Parthenon crowning the Acropolis, and placed in situation as in excellence eminently conspicuous, is fixed by the most splendid names in Grecian art;—they were built under the direction of Phidias, the former by Mnesicles, the latter by Ictinus, encouraged by the patronage of Pericles.