I'm Calder Loth, architectural historian and I'm pleased
to welcome you to part one of our four-part educational video
series on classical architecture. We begin this series
with Roman classicism, the foundation of the architecture of
Western civilization and an important part of our country's architectural
heritage and image. Many of America's great public buildings
such as our nation's Capitol are expressed in this language, also so are many institutional buildings
such as The Metropolitan Museum and many of our older residential
neighborhoods such as
Monument Avenue in my hometown of Richmond, Virginia. Classical architecture is all around us. We live in a time when educated
people are taught very little about architecture. Most can't really see or appreciate a
magnificent classical work such as the Library of Congress. So I hope that at the end of this series
you will have a more informed eye and will be able to read a classical
building such as the Library of Congress, just like a book. With
classical architecture, we learned from the buildings of the past. They are our design resources. Design connoisseurship is thus essential
in determining what is worthy of emulation or what may not be. A masterpiece such as Palladio's
Palazzo Chiericati has much to tell us. Aspiring practitioners of
classical architecture, thus have to be familiar
with the languages, vocabulary and grammar in order to
apply it effectively in one's own works. So where does this language come from?
Well, from the ancient world, of course. We're seeing an image of the Roman
forum as it might've looked originally. This ancient monumental architecture has
inspired works great and small from the Renaissance to the present. However, with the fall of Rome, the rules
for classical design were forgotten. Buildings still got built and many
of them were built with architectural fragments quarried from
ancient structures. This early medieval arcade is made of
salvaged ancient columns and capitals with no attempt to match them correctly with
no understanding of classical design principles. This arcade is
architecturally illiterate. Regrettably, such
illiteracy persists today. This church has classical
columns and moldings, but it's builders are playing the
game without knowing the rules. It just doesn't look right. The Institute of Classical Architecture
and Art advocates for and teaches the use of the classical language. To do that, we have to understand the
language's basic elements. The relearning of ancient Roman
culture occurred in the Renaissance. It began with the study of Roman
literature, philosophy, history, and sculpture. The Renaissance also kindled
interest in ancient ruins, but Renaissance architects were at a
loss on how to design new buildings using or reusing the classical language. That is until an important discovery. The discovery was an ancient Roman
treatise on architecture by an architect named Vitruvius Pollio who lived
during the time of Caesar Augustus. Vitruvius's texts survived as a
medieval copy with no illustrations. It was discovered in 1414 by Vatican
archivist in a monastery in Switzerland. The treatise, titled "The Ten Books on Architecture"
covered a number of subjects, materials, construction, hydraulics and acoustics among others, but most importantly, it contained an explanation of the
fundamentals of classical design. These included detailed explanations of
the elements and proportional systems of the orders of architecture,
the different types of columns. Vistruvius's treatise was transcribed
and published in 1486 first in Latin and later in Italian. It quickly became the ultimate
authority for classical design, a veritable how to book. For example, let's look at just a small portion of
Vitruvius's explanation of how to execute the Corinthian capital , "different portions of this capital
should be fixed as follows that the height of the capital, including its abacus be equivalent to
the thickness of the base of the column. Let the breadth of the
Abacus be proportion so that
diagonals drawn from one corner of it to the other shall be
twice the height of the capitals, which will give the proper breadth
to each face of the Abacus" and so on for a page or two more. Such lengthy detailed instructions at
last gave the Renaissance architects the key to classical design. Nearly all subsequent
architectural treatises used
Vitruvius as their authority. Scores of additions of Vitruvius's
treatise in many languages have since been published. Most of them have included illustrations
based on Vitruvius's written descriptions. Inexpensive reprints of Vitruvius
are easily available today. Vitruvius makes many important
observations. I will mention three. First he talks about harmonic proportions, the idea that beauty derives
from a harmony of parts. This is an illustration from a 17th
century edition of Vitruvius's, treatise by French
architect Claude Perrault, who supplied illustrations
for his edition. Vitruvius states that a well proportioned human
standing straight with arms stretched perpendicular to his torso, describes a perfect square and with
arms stretch diagonally upward and legs apart, he describes a perfect circle
using the navel as center point. You may be more familiar with Leonardo
da Vinci's depiction of the Vitruvian man. Vitruvius makes other observations about
human proportions such as the length of a man's forearm is the same as the width
of his chest and there's also equal to one fourth of his height and so on. These proportional relationships are
analogous to the proportional systems of classical architecture, which
Vitruvius discusses at length. Vitruvius also discusses how you can
give a specific character to a temple by the spacing of its columns. Columns closely spaced, make
a temple appear uninviting. Wider space columns are more inviting. This illustration is from that same
French edition of Vitruvius's treatise. However, Vitruvius maintains that the most visually
satisfying spacing is what he called eustyle. Eu means good, as in euphoric, feeling good. Style is another word for
a column as in stylus, a cylindrical object. For Vitruvius, eustyle meant that the center bay of a
temple portico should be slightly wider than the base on either side,
giving emphasis to the entrance. If you look closely at this illustration, you can see that this center
Bay is slightly wider. This principle was followed in many
ancient temples such as the Pantheon. Look carefully and you can see that the
Pantheon's center bay is slightly wider. Andrea Palladio noted this in his
measured plan of the Pantheon portico. The center bay is nine and a fraction
Vincentian feet wide and the flanking base are eight and a fraction
Vincentian feet wide. Eustyle spacing can also
correct an optical illusion. Look carefully at the
portico of Monticello. Doesn't it appear that the center bay
is slightly narrower than the bays on either side. It's not. The
bays are equally spaced. It's an optical illusion. Palladio applied eustyle spacing
for the portico of the Villa Emo. The center bay is wider, but the
portico looks perfectly balanced. We have a similar eustyle Tuscan
portico on an American house. Palladio also applied eustyle spacing
in the porticoes of the Villa Rotonda. The entrance is emphasized
by the wider center bay. Eustyle is not often used
on Corinthian porticoes, but we sometimes find it in very
sophisticated classical works. The center bay of the national
archives is slightly wider. The most important insight we have for
Vitruvius is his definition of the three essentials of a work of architecture
firmitas, utilitas, and venustas, firmness, commodity, delight. A work of architecture must be
firm, that is structurally sound. It must be commodious. That means it must adequately serve the
function for which it was designed and it must offer visual delight.
It must be beautiful. Okay. Let's look again at
this scene of the forum. We see lots of columns. Where did the Romans get
this type of construction? Well, from the Greeks, the temple of Hera, in Paestum in Southern Italy dates
some 500 years earlier than the forum's buildings. Like the Roman works, the temple's dominant
feature is its columns, but we also see that the temple
is structurally very elementary, simple post and beam construction, something vertical holding
up something horizontal. Also such great temples were primarily
an architecture of the exterior. Generally only the priests went inside. Religious ceremonies of sacrifice
were normally held outside in front. We'll take up the special polities of
Greek classicism in the next session, but in contrast to the Greeks,
the Romans were great engineers. They were the original
interior decorators. This restored view of the interior of
Rome's basilica of Constantine displays an extraordinarily rich interior. Basilicas served as public
gathering places and courtrooms. It was important for them
to have grand interiors. We also see in this
image huge round arches, vaulted ceilings and a semi dome.
They were Roman developments, architectural forms made possible
by an important invention- cast concrete. The outstanding example of ancient cast
concrete construction is the dome of the Pantheon the dominant element of one of
the most sublime spaces ever created, a triumph of engineering
and design. The panels, or coffers in the dome,
were not only decorative, they serve to lighten
the weight of the dome. This type of architecture
inspired numerous great spaces, particularly in the decades around
1900 in what we call the American Renaissance. A prodigious example is
Washington's union station, a masterpiece of Roman classicism. Now when we look again at the forum, we note that not all the
columns are structural. The columns on the arch of Septimius
Severus on the right and the tabularium in the upper left are not
structural. They are decorative. Their purpose was to add
character to their buildings. This phenomenon is best
expressed in the Colosseum. The Colosseum's arches and
vaults are its structure. The columns and their moldings are
added to give the building expression, to serve as visual control,
to make it speak. The columns, or really half columns, emphasize
the building's verticality. They draw the eye up. The moldings above each row of columns
emphasize the building's horizontality they lead the eye around the building
and visually tie it together. The use of classical columns or orders
to give character and expression to buildings is seen in
thousands of examples. The classical embellishments
of this college library
serve no other purpose than to lend the building a dignity of
appearance to signal that it houses an important activity. Strip off the embellishments and the
building would resemble a power plant. It would have little visual delight. Thomas Jefferson said that man
has an innate sense of beauty. We may not know why a building
is beautiful, but we know
beauty when we see it. This simple courthouse, was designed by builders who had worked
for Thomas Jefferson and from whom they learned the proper use of
the classical vocabulary. You may know nothing about
architecture, but you would likely say, this is an okay looking building.
There's something right about it. Likewise, you may know nothing about
architecture, but you would say, this building is funny looking.
It just doesn't look right. Pretty squat. Well, let's
try something skinnier. Well, this doesn't look right either. This is architectural illiteracy. The rules for proportion in classical
architecture were worked out by trial and error over many centuries; rules that made buildings
visually satisfying. This building was
beautiful 2,500 years ago. It still is today. In his treatise, Vitruvius described the rules for
governing the types of columns or orders, specifically the three orders that
the Romans acquired from the Greeks. We know them of course, as the
Doric, Ionic, and the Corinthian. Vitruvius was aware of Tuscan architecture
that is the buildings erected by the ancient Etruscans. But since the Etruscan buildings were
wooden structures and it all disappeared by Vitruvius's time, he didn't include the Tuscan
order in the architectural cannon, nor did he consider the
composite to be a separate order. The Romans regarded the composite as
an enriched version of the Corinthian order. Nevertheless, the Renaissance architects considered
both the Tuscan and the composite to be legitimate orders in their own
right and added them to the Canon. So we get the five orders of
architecture, the fundamentals, or the starting point of classical design. Vitruvius stated that the module is the
basis for the proportioning of an order. The module is the diameter of the
lower portion of the column shaft. The module is the standard by which
the rest of the building's parts are measured. Each part is so many modules
or fractions of modules. The columns of each order generally
range from seven to 10 modules tall. The entablatures of each order, or what the columns hold up are
generally around two modules tall. Each order has its own system
of modular proportions. This illustration shows fairly
typical modular systems. However, they can vary. [inaudible]. We see here how different architects
have determined what should be the ideal proportions of a Doric
order. Each is different, but all within a similar range. It's a matter of personal preference. Some people prefer Palladio's
proportions. Some prefer Gibbs's. The proportions vary for
the other orders as well, depending on which architect's
treatise you are using. So let's now look closely at each of the
orders and familiarize ourselves with their various components. We'll start with a detailed look
at the simplest order. The Tuscan. Now to have architectural structure, you have to have something vertical
holding up something horizontal. The vertical support is the column. The thing being held up is collectively
called the entablature. The term entablature comes from the
Latin word to [tabula], meaning a board or plank from which
we get the Italian tavola or table. The entablature is divided
into three main parts, the cornice, frieze, and architrave. The group of moldings at the top
collectively make up the cornice. The term cornice derives
from the Greek word Coronas, meaning curved. That's
where we get the word crown. Below the cornice moldings, which
I'll talk about in a moment, is a wide band called the frieze. We get the word frieze from the ancient
area of Asia minor called Phrygia. Phrygia was noted for making richly
decorated long bands of cloth, hence frieze. Below the frieze is another
band called the architrave. The term architrave is composed
of two words, arc, a Greek prefix, meaning chief as in Archangel or chief
angel and trave from the Latin word trabes, meaning wooden beam. So if the architrave is the chief beam
or the chief structural element of the entablature, the architrave can be either plain or
composed of two or three overlapping bands called fascia. Fascia is a Latin word
for a band or a bandage. We have two fascias here. Okay, let's now return to the cornice. At the top we have an S shape molding, originally serving as a gutter and
commonly called the crown molding. You can buy yards of crown molding
at any building supply company. The S shaped curve in the crown
molding is also called a Cyma curve. Cyma comes from the Greek word cuma, meaning curvy or billlowy
as in Cumulus clouds, which are billowy. A fancier
term for the crown molding. is cymatium. Below the crown molding, we have a narrow fascia and the underside
of the fascia is the soffit soffit derived from the Latin word [suffigo], which means to fasten beneath the
underside of a window or door head is also called a soffit. From [soffigo].
We also get the word suffix, which is an ending fastened to a word. Beneath the soffit, we have some moldings that collectively
form what we call the bed moldings. Thank of them is being
embedded beneath the soffit. The Tuscan bed moldings are the simplest. The top one is a convex quarter round
called an ovolo as in oval or ovum, meaning egg. An ovalo is sorta egg shaped. It is supported by a
cavetto, a concave molding. The term comes from the Latin Cavus, which means hollowed out as in cave. These cornice moldings were ultimately
based on wooden construction and they serve to encase the framing
members between the roof
framing and the top of the wall as in this demonstration of a
colonial American vernacular structure. Here we see crown molding, fascia, soffit and bed moldings
just as in the Tuscan order. Now separating the frieze from the
architrave is a very narrow projecting van called the taenia, which is
the Greek word for a ribbon. It's also the ancient name for a sweatband
as well as the medical term for a tapeworm. The Egyptians wrap their mummies
in yards of taenia. That is ribbon, not tapeworms. Alright, we've
covered the entablature. Let's now look at the column. At the top of the column
shaft is the capital, from the Latin word caput meaning head. It's where we get the term decapitate. At the top of the capital is a feature
resembling a square board called the abacus. Now we know that an abacus is a bunch
of beads on a frame that people use for counting or figuring,
but in ancient times, Greek students were given a square board
on which they sprinkled sand or dust in which they used their
fingers to write or figure. That board was called an abacus. It comes from the ancient
word, meaning sand or dust. So an abacus is something you figure on
the top piece of the capital resembled that board, hence its name. That's the way we named things. They resemble familiar objects
as with a computer mouse. Beneath the abacus encircling the capital
is a quarter round circular molding called the echinus. The word
derives from the Greek word achinos, which means a sea
urchin. As you could see, the echinus in a Greek capital is more
elliptical and does resemble the shape of a sea urchin's shell. Below the echinus is the neck and then a
half round molding called the astragal. It comes from the Greek word astragalos, the term for the ankle bone, the half round protrusion on
either side of your ankle. You may have noticed some plain thin
moldings on most of these features. They are called fillets, which are common on Roman orders
but not so much on Greek ones. The word comes from the
Latin fillum, meaning thread, so fillum means something very thin as
in camera film or slick on water or a thin piece of meat. Finally at the base of the column is
a large half round molding called the torus. Torus is the Latin word for muscle. The torus on a column base
resembled a swelling bicep muscle. The torus is set on the
column's bottom element, a square block called the
plinth from the Greek plinthos, the word for a brick which it resembles. Having dealt with the elements
of the column and entablature let's see if a typical classical
building now looks more familiar to us. Can we now better read
this Charleston church? Starting at the top, we have
crown molding, fascia, soffit, bed moldings, frieze, taenia,
and a one fascia architrave. In the capital we have the
abacus, echinus, and astragal, and at the base, the torus and plinth. Notice in the pediment, the front gable, that the crown molding is not carried
across the base as a pediment. Why? Because it looks
better that way. Also, since the crown molding
was originally a gutter, there would be no need for a gutter
here since little water would collect in that area. What happens when you ignore this
rule about the pediment? Well, it doesn't look right. That's just one of the many rules
ignored in this illiterate building. The next order to examine is the Doric
order. It's named for the Dorians. The Renaissance architects felt it one
of the best ancient examples of the Roman Doric order was the lower level of
the theater of Marcellus in Rome. Marcus, Claudius Marcellus was a favorite nephew
and son-in-law of Caesar Augustus. He died at age 19. This theater, which could hold some 20,000
people, was named in his honor. The theater got pretty
beat up over the centuries, but enough of it was intact for
a 17th century French architect Fréart de Chambray to record its orders
in his book on Roman architecture. The theater's Doric order became a
prime model for the Roman Doric order. Note that the Doric capital
is similar to the Tuscan. Note also that the column has no base. Ancient Roman Doric columns
may or may not have a base. The ancients considered the Doric to
be a masculine order and didn't need a base, like real guys don't wear shoes. Greek Doric columns as we will
see, never ever have a base. Thomas Jefferson admired the theater
of Marcellus's Doric order and use the order on pavilion 10 at
the University of Virginia. It's a very strong order
and note no column bases, but that doesn't mean it's
Greek. It's Roman here. Renaissance architects, however, believed that the direct column
should always have a base. Nearly all Renaissance and later treatises
show the Doric order with a base. Jefferson demonstrated this Renaissance
preference in his design for the university's pavilion four. He gave these Roman Doric columns bases. A defining feature of a Doric
entablature is the frieze. It displays triglyphs
and metopes. Triglyphs are the brackets showing
grooves or glyphs. Now we see only two
glyphs in each triglyph. Why call them tri or three? Well, note the half glyphs in
either side of each triglyph. Put the two halves together and
you would have the third glyph. The spaces between the
triglyphs are called metopes. Metope is a combination
of two Greek words. Meta means in between as in metamorphosis, an in between state and Ope, which means opening or hollow. It's
where we get words relating to the eyes, such as optical. The eye is an
opening to one's inner self. Metopes can be plain or
have sculptural decorations, but they should always be square, a rule not to violate. Below each triglyph under the taenia
is a row of six pegs called guttae. That's plural. Guta singular is the
Latin word for a drop. So what does all this mean? Scholars have claimed that
classical architecture is
a sculptural representation in stone of wooden construction. I think that's particularly
true with the Doric order. As we see in this diagram, the triglyphs might be derived from
three boards bound together to form the joist. The architrave here is composed of two
thick boards to form the chief beam. The triglyphs are set on a
horizontal board, the taenia, and are fastened into place
with wooden pegs, the guttae. The roof rafter ends, called mutules, project to form a deep soffit and
likewise are fastened with guttae. The term mutule is believed
to come from an Etruscan word, meaning a projection. It his 1562 treatise on the orders, the Renaissance architect Giacomo Vignola
promoted the use of what he defined as the mutualar Doric order, which has its mutules project
boldly below the cornice soffit. We see 36 guttae in the
reflected plan of the mutules. In Vingnola's version, each
mutule is wrapped with a band. Vignola wrote that he developed
this version of the Doric order, the mutular Doric from architectural
fragments he found in Rome. Vignola's treatise soon became a
textbook for many European architects, especially in France, well
into the 20th century. Since many Americans studied
architecture in France, they learned to use
Vignola's mutular Doric. Hence the mutular Doric is quite common
in America as we see on this museum building in Washington DC. The mutular Doric was further promoted
in this country by a textbook called the American Vignola, by William
Ware published in 1902. Ware used Vignola's
orders as his authority. The American Vignola became the textbook
for nearly all American architectural students for the next 50 years. So it's not surprising to see textbook
correct versions of Vignola's mutular Doric on a country school or on a front
porch that could be anywhere in America. We now move to the next order, the Ionic. It's believed that the Ionic order was
developed in the Greek areas of Asia minor now Turkey in what was called
Ionia on the Eastern side of the Aegean. The name Ionia comes from
the legendary Greek King Ion, who around 1100 BC brought settlers to
the area who were fleeing the Dorian invasion on the other side of the Aegean. Vitruvius said that the Ionic
order is a feminine order. The scrolls in the capital suggests
the curls in a woman's hair. The column has a base reflecting
the notion that women wear sandals. The theater Marcellus also provided the
Renaissance architects with what they considered to be the best
example of the Roman ionic order. Again, enough of it was intact for Fréart to
make a detailed representation of it in his treatise. The Ionic order is enriched
with additional moldings. Its bed moldings are
decorated with dentils, so-called because they
resembled teeth of course, and with an egg and dart molding below it. The taenia here has a supporting molding
and the architrave has three fascias, but keep in mind there
are always variations. The order's distinguishing
feature of course is its capital with its spiral
scrolls called volutes. Volute comes from the Latin volvo,
which means to row or turn around. It's where we get such words as revolve
and revolution or Volvo automobile. Their form probably derives from a
ram's horn or possibly a spiral mollusk shell. The ionic capital's echinus is nearly
always decorated with an egg and dart molding. Also note the astragal is tucked up tight
against the echinus in the ionic order and ionic cornice can be decorated
either with dentils or modillions. This illustration is from an 18th century
English pattern book by an architect named Batty Langley, a book much used by
colonial American builders. The dentil cornice is shown on the left. Modillions are larger and more
widely spaced than dentils. Shown are scrolled modillions since
their undersides are cut with an S curve, but modillions can also be
flat on their undersides. The term modillion comes
from the same root as module, which means spacing. Modillions are more widely
spaced than dentils. As with triglyph, modillions
and dentils symbolized, wooden framing members. Notice that both entablatures
have a bulging frieze, termed a pulvinated frieze. Pulvinate comes from the Latin word
Pulvinus meaning a cushion or bolster. A pulvinated frieze is an option.
A frieze is normally flat. Although dentils and modillions are
shown in two separate versions here, it's okay to use both
in a single composition. We find them both happily together
on this 18th century Charleston, South Carolina porch roof, and note its flat frieze. This detail of the entablature
on Palladio's Villa Rotonda
shows that Palladio favored the Ionic order
using parallel volutes. That is a capital with a pair of volutes
facing forward and a parallel pair on the backside. Notice well Palladio's use of a pulvinated
frieze and scrolled modillions but with a plain echinus in the capital. Now when you use ionic columns on both
the front and sides of a building, you have to deal with how
the volutes are to face. As you can see here, it can create an awkward situation
when you use parallel volute capitals. The Greeks and Romans dealt with this
issue by using what's called a two sided capital for the corner
column. Seen in plain. The two sided capital has volutes
adjacent to each other on one corner, the capital and a single volute projecting
at a 45 degree angle on the opposite corner. The result is that
when used on the corner column, the two sided capital looks sorta okay
from the front and sorta okay from the side, but it's not ideal, but it works. This mausoleum in a California
cemetery illustrates the point. Note how the two sided capital addresses
both the end and the sides of the structure. However, the Romans found another way to deal with
the situation as seen in the temple of Saturn in the Roman forum outlined in red. Only its portico columns remain today, but looking at its capitals, we see that all four of a
capital's volutes project
at a 45 degree angle forming what we call angle volutes. We're indebted to the
Renaissance architect, Vincenzo Scamozzi for popularizing the
angle volute. Ionic capital. Scamozzi was a pupil of Palladio and became
his assistant. Later in life, he published his own
treatise on the orders. In seeking ancient examples for precedent, we're pretty certain that he examined
the 12th century church of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome. Like many
early Christian churches, it's built of fragments
taken from Roman ruins. Inside the church are two
columns salvaged from the nearby Baths of Caracalla with
angle volute ionic capitals. This became the model for Scamozzi's
version of the ionic order and it is the only version of the ionic that
Scamozzi published in his treatise. This illustration greatly popularized
the use of this form of the ionic. We also know that Scamozzi made the
acquaintance of the English architect, Inigo Jones, and we also know that Jones purchased
a copy of Scamozzi's treatise. Jones introduced Italian Renaissance
Palladianism to England in the early 17th century. His premier work is King James
I Banqueting House in London, a splendid Palladian style
edifice completed in 1622. Here we see it today. It could pass as a work by Palladio, but we see that Jones made
use of Scamozzi's angle
volutes in its columns and pilasters rather than
Palladio's parallel volutes. Because the banqueting house
was a Royal commission, it made angle volutes fashionable. It became the standard version
of the ionic order in England. In the early 18th century, British architect James Gibbs published
his own treatise on the orders in which he offered only the angle volute
version of the ionic order. Since Gibbs's treatise was used by
many builders in colonial America, it's not surprising to see
numerous 18th century examples. Here is on King's Chapel in Boston. Later on, Thomas Jefferson was persuaded to use
Scamozzi type ionic capitals on the Virginia state Capitol
because they visually unified
the front and side columns. In the early 20th century, Scamozzi type ionic capitals became very
popular for porticoes and porches on American homes. Building supply
companies produced them by the thousands. In my own neighborhood in Richmond, we owe deed on Scamozzi ionic capitals. We now move to the Corinthian order. The Corinthian order is based
on a plant, the acanthus plant. The acanthus plant thrives
in the Mediterranean region. In ancient times, it was a symbol
of regeneration and immortality. Every spring, it's root vigorously
regrows this lush leaf plant. A charming legend recounted in Vitruvius's
treatise explains the origin of the Corinthian order. It tells that in the ancient
Greek city of Corinth, a freeborn maiden became ill and
died before she was able to marry. Her grieving nurse gathered some of the
young maiden's favorite possessions, and put them in a basket and placed them
on her grave as a gesture of morning. Unwittingly, she set the basket
on the root of an acanthus plant. The plant grew, spreading its leaves around the basket
and artist and poet Callimachus later passed by the grave and was so taken by
the beauty of the leafy basket that he drew it and developed the
image for the Corinthian order. And thus we have the Corinthian
capital swathed with acanthus leaves. We see a new Corinthian capital here
in the process of being created by the artisans of Carrara, Italy. This is one of the new capitals being
card for the rotunda at the University of Virginia to replace the badly eroded ones
dating from the rotunda's restoration of 1900. These were installed in 2017. Such artistry can still be done. Well, let's now examine the Corinthian
order's distinguishing features. Each element of the cornice and architrave
is enriched with decorative moldings. A carved acanthus leaf is usually
attached to the underside of each of its scrolled modillions. Each of the four sides of the Corinthian
abacus is concave and highlighted by a central fleuron or flower. The main body of the capital is enriched
with three rows of acanthus leaves. Springing from the middle leaves are
stems called caulicoli from the Latin word calus meaning a stalk
or stem as in broccoli. Certainly not all Roman
Corinthian orders were the same. As with the ionic, there are many
variations. We'll look at two of them. The first is a particularly interesting
one found on what has long been called the Temple of Vesta in Tivoli, although it is uncertain to which
deity it was actually dedicated. As seen in this Piranesi
engraving and a photograph, the temple is picturesquely perched on
the edge of a cliff several miles from Rome. A distinguishing feature of its capitals
is the oversize fleuron or flower on each side of the abacus. It probably is a stylized hibiscus
blossom with spiraled pistal. When we compare the Tivoli capital
to a standard Corinthian capital, we see that on the Tivoli capital, the rows of the acanthus
leaves are compressed, shortening the capital's overall height. Note also that the flutes on the column
shaft are squared off at the top rather than rounded as on the
standard Corinthian. Modern versions of the temple's Corinthian
are rare but can add distinction to a classical work. A conspicuous replication of the order
is seen on the Haier building or former bank building on Broadway
near Times Square in New York. The order is also used for a colonnade
in the Getty Villa museum in Malibu, California. A modified version is seen in a
stairwell of one of the mid 19th century additions to the Louvre Museum in Paris. It retains the distinctive
oversize fleuron. Finally, an inventive adaptation of the Tivoli
order decorates the pilasters of the Brooklyn Historical Society in New York. This demonstrates that if you're well
versed in the classical language, it's okay to undertake a creative
interpretation of an ancient motif while respecting its integrity. We'll look at one more variation
of the Corinthian order. It's more subtle than the Tivoli version, but it's one that we should be aware of
because it's ancient source is one of Rome's most familiar landmarks and
its capitals have appeared in numerous classical style buildings. The structure in question consists of
three columns and their entablature, standing isolated in the middle
of the Roman forum. Piranesi showed them dominating his view of the
forum in his mid 18th century engraving. The columns were long sought to be the
remnant of the temple of Jupiter Stator or Jupiter the steadfast. Scholars have since identified the
columns as belonging to the temple of the demi-god twins Castor and Pollux. Palladio recorded the columns in book
four of his four books on architecture along with a conjectural image of
the temple's elevation and its plan. We see his conjectural but
pretty reliable elevation here. A closeup of the temple's
capital's reveals unfortunate, but not unexpected damage, but a closer look at the central capital
displays the capital's distinguishing feature, the intertwining of the
central stems or helicies. It's not certain whether this detail
was used on other ancient Corinthian capitals, but the Castor and Pollux capital is
the only one to have been published. Their most reliable published image of
the Castor and Pollux temple is from Antoine Desgodetz's days.
Les Edifices Antiques de Rome of 1682. Desgodetz was a French
architect commissioned by
Louis the 14th to study Roman ruins. He personally measured all the
architectural features he recorded, so we're reasonably
certain of their accuracy. The capital is beautifully ornamented
with this central intertwining stems, clearly evident. Compared
to Desgodetz's version, Palladio's published drawing of the
capital is not as carefully depicted. However, Palladio's elevation and plan inspired
a reasonably credible facillime of the temple for England's Birmingham Town Hall of 1834. Even so further research along with
archeological examination have shown that the temple originally had 11 columns
along its sides rather than 15 as illustrated in Palladio's plan
and in the Birmingham Town Hall. Perhaps this country's earliest use of
the Castor and Pollux temple is found on the pilasters of Robert Mills's Post
Office building in Washington completed in 1842. The capitals are reduced by having only
one row of acanthus leaves rather than the normal two, but the intertwining stems
are clearly depicted. The building is one of Mills's
rare uses of Roman orders. He's better known for
his Greek revival works. Another mid-19th century example of
the capital's use is on the Trinity Methodist church of 1850 facing
meeting street in Charleston. The church's form, was
inspired by the Maison Carée, an ancient temple in France,
which we'll see in a minute. The column capitals closely
match Degodetz's published image. A monumental use of the Castor and Pollux
order is in the Portico of the Museum of Natural history on
the mall in Washington. The capitals are beautifully
crafted in light granite. Like the Trinity Church capitals, they closely match published
images except both cases, the abacus lacks the egg and dark carving
on its top molding and the foliage just below it. We should note that the Corinthian order
in general was the favorite order for buildings throughout
Rome's Imperial period. The majority of the Roman ruins date
from the Imperial era and the majority of the era's buildings use
the Corinthian order. Roman ruins employing the Doric and
ionic orders are exceptionally rare. The Maison Carée in France seen here is
the most intact of all Roman temples. It was dedicated to the
grandsons of Caesar Augustus. It displays the richest
use of the Corinthian order
from Rome's Imperial period. The Supreme Court has a matchless
dignity and monumentality. Ancient temples were
designed to house gods. They were meant to command all. They did in ancient times and such
temple like buildings still do today, especially when expressed
with the Corinthian order. We have to be impressed with a
building that looks like this. It conveys the message that it
houses an important institution, which indeed it does. Likewise, the New York stock exchange, our main temple of finance conveys the
message that our investments are secure and properly managed. The Corinthian order on a residence can
signal the importance of its occupants. We've now reached the last of
the five orders. The composite, the Roman saved the composite for their
most special buildings and structures. As its name implies, the composite is a combination of
Roman ionic and Corinthian orders. Its capital is very similar
to the Corinthian except
that instead of helices or caulicoli, its capital is topped by a fully developed
ionic capital with diagonal volutes resembling Scomozzi's ionic. This combined with the two rows of
Corinthian style acanthus leaves makes the capital a combination or
composite of the two orders, Ionic and Corinthian. The differences between the composite
and the Corinthian are more apparent when the two orders are placed side by side. Since the composite is the
highest of the five orders, it's entablature is normally enriched
with a variety of decorative moldings and its frieze can be decorated as well. In some versions of the
order its modillions consist
of a two part block with a flat soffit. However, the order is often seen with
Corinthian type scrolled modillions. The arch of Titus in the Roman forum is
considered the earliest intact example of the composite order it's
inentablature is heavily ornamented. Its frieze displays figures participating
in the Emperor's victory procession. Probably the best preserved
ancient composite capitals
are found on the interior of the Baths of Diocletian, a monumental late Imperial edifice. Its vast frigidarium was converted to a
church by Michelangelo in the 1560s and is now known as Santa Maria Degli Angeli. The granite column shafts are original
as are their composite capitals, which are in near perfect condition. The composite order was used
infrequently in later classical works, but we ought to be able to recognize. Palladio used the composite on the
facade of the Logia Del Capitaniato conspicuously located on
Vincenza's main square. It is one of Palladio's
rare uses of the composite. Interestingly, Palladio's logia was replicated in
the 1930s on huge scale for a Moscow apartment house near red square
for high ranking Soviet officials. Its composite capitals
are textbook examples. What are likely the largest composite
capitals in existence are found on Rome's Basilica of St John Lateran. This massive facade was
added to the ancient Basilica
in the early 18th century. The capitals are nearly eight feet
tall. Compare them with a human figure. Possibly a unique colonial American use of the
composite order is found in the tiny church of St James Goose Creek
near Charleston, South Carolina. Pairs of composite columns with correctly
detailed capitals are part of the church's altarpiece. As with
the other classical orders, composite capitals were mass produced by
building supply companies in the early 20th century, so it's not unusual to find commercially
manufactured capitals on colonial revival houses or apartment buildings, all contributing to the visual interest
of our cities and towns and connecting us to an ancient tradition. With this look at the composite order. We've completed our examination of the
basic elements of the five orders of Roman classicism. The orders are the foundation of the
classical language of architecture. Properly applying the orders can
still make our buildings speak, speak eloquently and with
the wisdom of tradition. And it does happen. As we see in a quick look at
several new classical works. These and many other examples of new
classicism demonstrate that the classical language of architecture has validity
for today and can add beauty and variety to our built environment. The Institute of Classical Architecture
and Art is dedicated to keeping the language alive and to promote its use
according to design principles perfected centuries ago. In concluding this session, I think we should be grateful to the
Romans for giving us such inspiring architecture to emulate.
So thank you Romans, and thank you for joining us in
the first of this four part series. I'm Calder Loth and I'll see you
for part two: Greek classicism.
