C O N T E N T S
CO VER : A black-figure vase from Rhodes ; now in the British Museum. Reproduced from Hans Schaal, Griechische

Vasen (Schwarzfigurig) Leipzig.

S O M E A S P E C T S O F D O R I C T E M P L E A R C H I T E C T U R E
I. O r i g i n a n d P u r p o s e o f t h e T e m p l e 55

II. T h e D e v e l o p e d T e m p l e .... ... ... . ... __ 56

III. T e c h n i q u e a n d M a t e r i a l .............. ... 62
IV. S t a n d a r d s a n d V a r i a t i o n s i n T e m p l e D e s i g n 65

V. T h e P r o p o r t i o n s o f t h e P e r i s t y l e a n d t h e
S i g n i f i c a n c e o f t h e C r e p i d o m a 68

VI. P o l y c h r o m y ... 71

VII. O p t i c a l R e f i n e m e n t s i n t h e F i f t h C e n t u r y B . C ............ 75

VIII. T e m p l e S c u l p t u r e ... ... ... ... ...... 77

IX. C o n c l u s i o n ._... ............. .. ... ... ... ............... ... 82

L E C O R B U S I E R A N D T H E U . S . S . R . ............. .................................. __ 84

S O U T H A F R I C A N A R C H I T E C T U R A L R E C O R D
T h e J o u r n a l o f t h e C a p e , N a t a l , O r a n g e F r e e S t a t e a n d
T r a n s v a a l P r o v i n c i a l I n s t i t u t e s o f S o u t h A f r i c a n A r c h i t e c t s
a n d t h e C h a p t e r o f S o u t h A f r i c a n Q u a n t i t y S u r v e y o r s

61 I , K e l v i n H o u s e , 7 5 , M a r s h a l l S t r e e t , J o h a n n e s b u r g .

P h o n e 3 4 - 2 9 2 1 V o l u m e T w e n t y S e v e n , N o . T h r e e , M a r c h , 1 9 4 2

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H o n o r a r y E d i t o r s : G. E . P e a r s e , R. D. M a r t i e n s s e n

S O M E A S P E C T S O F D O R I C T E M P L E
by R.

A R C H I T E C T U R E
D. M a r t i e n s s e n , D .L i tt .

Some time ago a paper was published in the " Record " in which a broad integration of the town-planning elements of the Greek City was attempted.
In the study that follows, one unit in the city, the temple, is discussed at some length, and examples in Greece, Magna Graecia and Sicily are
illustrated. In many ways one of the most significant expressions of the Greek attitude to plastic art, the Doric temple has, during the past hundred
years, been the theme for many works in the principal European languages; but a brief survey of its most important aspects not merely echoing
the judgments of nineteenth century scholarship does not appear to be available. Brilliant comments on the systems and formal values of Dorio
architecture have, however, been made by two historians— Benoit and Choisy— and the cool, logical expositions of these French scholars may well be
considered a suitable point of departure for fresh analyses. It is hoped that the subject is not too specialised or too remote from daily practice to
warrant printing in a professional journal, but rather that it will find a response in those who look with wonder at the great architectural epochs of
the past.

ORI GI N AND PURPOSE OF T HE T E MP L E

The basic prototype of the Doric temple was in essence
a simple shrine consisting of a single roofed cell with a door
way in the east wall, and from this primitive form of enclosure
or protection developed the succession of temple types which
have been classified by Vitruvius according to their columnar
arrangement. Before the establishment of this idea of a
" house " as a setting for the plastic symbol of an anthro
pomorphic concept, however, there was in the Mycenaean
era an earlier stage at which the focal point of religious
ceremony did not take the form of a temple building but
consisted of an open-air altar at which sacrifices were offered.
This is an important point, because the significance of the
altar was never lost sight of even in the fully developed temple
complex, and its position and function were defining influences
in the design and arrangement of the temple when the altar-
temple duality replaced the single element of the sacrificial
altar.

Linked with the idea of the open-air altar, and in fact
providing the raison d'etre of the temple itself was the Greek
attitude to the plastic representation of the gods which had
its origin in a strongly anthropomorphic imagination. It is
beyond the scope of the present paper to comment upon the
extremely complex problems arising from the whole structure
of Greek ritual and belief, but we may broadly assume that
the anthropomorphic conception of the gods was a develop
ing process which involved a change from the recognition of
the mysterious and implacable forces in nature, to a belief

in certain " definite and personal " gods. In other words
there was a change from fetishism to polytheism which in
turn was positively reflected in the conscious arrangement of
sacred places of worship.

The worship of sacred stones and trees indicates the belief
that these had some magic properties in themselves, and
later it is likely that they came to be regarded as deities.
The sacredness of certain places traditionally associated with
specific gods would tend to localise and concentrate the
ritualistic and civic ceremonies to such specific spots. The
early choric dances in honour of Dionysos for instance, would
be held near his sacred precinct, and this fact in combination
with a suitable topographical situation would in turn provide
the basis for a formally shaped theatre1

The earliest chthonic ceremonies, then, were held in the
open-air, probably in some form of enclosure suggested by
the natural conformation of its surroundings or by a clearing
in a grove, and such rites as were performed in sacrifice or
other demonstration took place before the symbol, external
to it and only in an implied (not constructed) enclosure. The
substitution of an anthropomorphic symbol for a purely
natural or non-representational object may be assumed in
principle to be the starting point for providing a constructed
protection or " house " for the deity symbol. This change
over from a chthonic to an Olympian form of religion thus
becomes closely associated with the deliberate creation of a
formal architectural framework for the whole procedure of
religious ceremony.

The protective dwelling for the god afforded no space
for the worshippers, and, from the point of view of the per-

The “ B a s i l i c a ” at Pa e s t u m f r o m a p h o t o g r a p h by the w r i t e r

ceiving spectator, had an essentially external significance.
Internally such special treatment as it may have received must
have been of a limited type and of a degree considered to
have been in accord with the statue— if such were the symbol
— to be enshrined. Externally, however, the architectural
envelope became in turn a symbol of the splendour and great
ness of the deity, and in this process was established the
particular form of treatment that was destined to play an
integral part in temple design throughout the long history of'
its development. For the temple, unlike the dwelling con
structed for human habitation, is primarily significant as seen
from the outside. The dwelling, having satisfied the require
ments of accommodation and arrangement which are the
generators of its plan and volume, may (without appreciable
lessening of its amenities and practicability) offer externally
nothing but an unenhanced envelope. Such openings and
other attributes as are reflected there are merely the exter-
nalisation of internally generated functions. In a word the
dwelling must start from interior arrangement. The temple
(as we may term the general structure from its beginning as a
cell to its final expression) has fundamentally no internal
complexity and thus starts from a basis of exterior effect or
appearance. This is a fundamental proposition and one which
must not be lost sight of in the consideration of the forces
that shaped and modified the treatment of the temple during
the span of its growth and approach to perfection.

Let us remember also that the temple was never at any
stage of its development a place of assembly. It offered
accommodation only sufficient for the purposes of ritual, and
no matter what changes took place with regard to size (and
great size was achieved in some examples) this attitude was
never relaxed nor was its external significance lessened.

I I . T H E D E V E L O P E D T E M P L E

Perhaps the most important link known to us between the
dwelling place built for the gods and that built for man himself
in Greek lands is that afforded by the megaron arrangement
exemplified in the palace at Tiryns. Here we have the pattern
of the temple type, and although the domestic complex at
Tiryns is hemmed in by other elements leaving only a frontal
aspect and an interior importance (which is consonant with
our proposition for the emphasis on internal generation of
the plan arrangement) the exclusiveness provided by porch

and vestibule lent itself admirably to the effort to create a
specially enhanced setting for the deity symbol when the time
arose for such a construction.

The megaron at Tiryns had an ante-room between porch
and main room, and although this element is not reflected in
the temple until the advent of the peristyle when the pronaos
assumed the position of a vestibule or ante-room, the general
sequence of elements shows a strong link between megaron
and temple. In considering the architectural treatment of
the megaron we may note that the wails were of sun-dried
brick, the inner surfaces of which were stuccoed and frescoed;2
floors were of concrete and the columns of the entrance porch
in wood. It is not absolutely certain what roof type was
employed. Myres3 argues the likelihood of a pitched roof
with gabled ends ; Perrot and Chipiez4 show a flat roof in
their reconstruction. A t any rate the " inorganic " building-in
of the megaron at sides and back does not foretell the clear-
cut and three-dimensional form of the temple as an isolated
structure. The temple as such was an independent creation
and owed only the genesis of its plan to its distant prototypes
in Homeric times.

The altar in the columned forecourt at Tiryns is worthy of
note. A t this stage of our investigation it may be more fitting
to enumerate the clearly established types of temple rather
than to trace the occurrence of single examples over a wide
spread area. Robertson5 does this admirably in his chapter
on " The Earliest Temples," and for this aspect the reader may
refer to his findings.

The four general types that must be recorded are as
follows:

1. The temple in antis, where the side walls of the cella
project so as to enclose two columns and thus form a porch.

2. The prostyle temple in which four columns at the
entrance end form a bold porch, though the latter is now of
a more open type. Temple " B " at Selinus was of this type.

3. The amphi-prostyle temple in which the prostyle portico
is repeated at the back. The best known example of this
type (though not Doric) is the little temple of Nike Apteros
on the Acropolis at Athens.

4. The fourth and " standard " type is the peripteral
temple, in which the naos with its porches is completely sur
rounded by a colonnade or peristyle. This is a development
and a great advance on the previously enumerated types,
and is in fact the type of Doric temple that we shall examine
later. Within this main classification are many variations two
of which may be noted where (a) the pronaos and epinaos
have columns in antis— such as in the Theseum at Athens,
and (b) where these porches are formed by a prostylar

N o t e t h e

F T H E F O R T 1 F 1 E D
O F T 1 R Y N S

M e! g a r o n a r r a n g e m e n t

T H E C O L U M N E D
( f r o m P e r r o t a n d

P O R T I C O
C h i p i e z

O F
" A r t

T H E M E G A R O N A T
i n P r i m i t i v e G r e e c e

M Y C E N A E
v o 1. 2 )

arrangement within the main peristyle, as in the case of the
Parthenon at Athens.

The common factor in each of these types is the rectangular
naos which remained basically unchanged throughout the
history of the temple. The introduction of internal columns
at a comparatively early stage (as in the so-called Basilica
at Paestum) and at a later date (as in the Parthenon) cannot
be regarded as an organic modification. The Temple of
Apollo at Bassae with its ten engaged Ionic columns internally
may be regarded as having an exceptional treatment although
externally it presented the normal fifth century Doric ordinance.

The temples are further classified according to the number
of columns that appear on end elevation ; thus the peripteral
temples are designated hexastyle, octostyle, etc., according
to the system ; hexastyle being the common standard (and
minimum) for the peristyle type. The octostyle arrangement
of the Parthenon is a notable exception.

The peripteral temple type was not an obvious or immediate
outcome of the earlier cellular shrine, nor are we entitled to
assume an unbroken tradition which included the megaron
plan of Mycenaean times and the naos complex of the mature
temple. Such an hypothesis did indeed seem feasible when
the Temple of Hera at Olympia0 was thought to date from
1000— 900 B.C. which would have brought it within range
of the megaron influence, but the generally accepted date of
c. 600 B.C. renders such a direct link untenable. Between the
megaron with its columns in antis and the established temple
with a similar columnar arrangement there appeared an
elementary form of temple such as that at Selinus7 which in
turn seems to have had its basis in a pre-megaron and primitive
building-type. This intermediate temple arrangement had
internal columns as additional supporting elements for the
roof but no colonnaded pronaos. The addition of a peristyle
to this simple nucleus is shown in the early (c. 600 B.C.)

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T E M P L E O F A P O L L O A T T H E R M U M

T E M P L E O F H E R A A T O L Y M P I A

Temple of Apollo at Thermum in Aetolia, where the extremely
narrow cella is divided by a central row of columns, and is
entered directly without an intermediate pronaos.

In this example the cella walls were probably of unburnt
brick, the column bases of stone, and the columns themselves
with their crowning entablature in wood, with painted terra
cotta metopes introduced between the wooden triglyphs.
It has been suggested that the introduction of the external1
peristyle may have been to provide a protective surrounding
to the perishable brick walls of the cella, or that it was
introduced to overcome structural difficulties arising from the
outward thrust on the cella walls from the roof members—
but whatever the literal origin may have been, it is important
that, once this particular arrangement was established, it
remained as an unchangeable and essential element in the
Doric temple. Although the purpose may at the outset have
been that of expediency, the resulting structure took on, in
maturity, an entirely aesthetic or spatially significant aspect.

There would be little purpose in arguing whether this
spatially defining aspect was in fact appreciated at the
genesis of the peripteral type and whether the " practical "
explanation is adequate to account for a notation that was
to become so firmly part of a standard architectural system.
W hat we may note at this point is the fact that the wooden
columns and entablature and the unburnt brick walls were
replaced at the beginning of the sixth century B.C. by a stone
architecture, and in this unifying and formalising process was
born the phase of Doric temple design that was to continue
into the fourth century B.C.

In general terms the peripteral temple consisted of a
rectangular cella containing within its volume an arrangement
of apartments which varied in size and disposition according
to date and situation. Surrounding this was the Doric screen
of columns which together with its entablature constituted the
" order." The whole was covered by a pitched roof,

pedimented at each end ; and the structure of cella walls
and colonnade was carried on a stone pavement of three
steps, the top one of which was known as a stylobate. (Where
overall dimensions are qiven of a temple, these will refer to
the length and breadth of the stylobate.)

Here in essence is the Doric temple, and it must be our
task to examine its different manifestations in a manner that
always relates to these common characteristics.

W ith the Temple of Hera at Olympia and the Temple of
Apollo at Thermum we may assume a starting point towards
the end of the seventh century of a great succession of
peripteral temples. W e are not closely concerned with these
particular examples, but they are important as representing
the point achieved on the mainland of Greece at a time when
the great wave of colonisation was at its height. The founda
tion of colonial towns in Sicily and Magna Graecia brought
about an epoch of temple building in these new centres which,
based on models in existence in Greece, transcended these in
vigour and splendour, and marked a significant stage in the
clarifying and consolidating of standards that so far had
been indicated but not fully realised in plastic form. The
wooden columns of the Heraion at Olympia were replaced by
stone as they rotted, but the process was one of reparation, a
tentative move in the direction of permanence, rather than
a fresh construction on a pre-determined plan.

W e can see this fresh construction in its most vital form
in a building such as the Temple " C " at Selinus, product of
a fully established technique yet demonstrating a new con
fidence, a new-found strength in aesthetic expression. Is it
possible to define this regeneration, if regeneration it can be
termed in an occurrence so close in time to the original
models ? A short description may help us to visualise this
building, and in doing so, to establish the pattern of the
elements of the Doric temple.

Temple " C " was situated on the Acropolis of Selinus
and adjacent to the main east-west street, although as
we have seen in a previous paper there is a strong possibility
that this relation was the outcome of an imposed
town-plan of considerably later date. The Acropolis of
Selinus follows a gradual and constant slope for the greater
part of its length, and then shelves down to the sea from
north to south ; but along the main cross street the ground
is level from the west as far as the east front of Temple " C "
where it slopes fairly rapidly for some distance down to the
sea. Thus on the north, west, and south fronts of the temple
the approach is level and direct but on the east or principal
side the falling ground gives added accent and perspective
to the building. This is reflected in the additional steps on
the east front. In comparison with later examples Temple
" C " appears to have been almost casually situated, and

J e a n H u l o t ' s R e c o n s t r u c t i o n o f T e m p l e ' ' C 1' a t S e l i n u s ; P r o d u c t o f a f u l l y
e s t a b l i s h e d t e c h n i q u e y e t s h o w i n g a n e w c o n f i d e n c e , a n e w f o u n d s t r e n g t h
i n a e s t h e t i c e x p r e s s i o n

S E L I N U S

p h o t o / R . D . M .

T h e r e m a i n s
m a i n l a n d o f
t u m b l e d t h e

o f t h e t e m p l e s o f S e l i n u s , S i c i l y , l i k e
G r e e c e a r e e v i d e n c e o f t h e h a v o c o f
f l u t e d d r u m s i n t o p o s i t i o n s o f d e s p a

t h o s e o f O l y m p i a on
e a r t h q u a k e s w h i c h h

i r i n g h o r i z o n t a l i t y

t h e
a v e

bears an intimate relation with the surrounding city which
is perhaps unique. From the east, however, it must have
appeared as a boldly silhouetted and dominating mass. On
the north-east, too, a great open space lent a valuable
horizontal foreground to the temple, and processions and
ceremonies must thus have been enacted in a splendid
spaciousness.

The plan arrangement of Temple " C " shows an extremely
narrow cella isolated from the column screen by a wide pteron.
The column system— 6 x 17— represents an extreme propor
tion that was gradually diminished until in the fourth century
B.C. we find the Temple of Asclepios at Epidaurus having the
most compact form achieved, 6 x 1 1 . A t Selinus the
" canonical regularity " of the established Doric system is not
yet evident, and the lack of alignment between the side ceila
walls and the second and fifth columns on end elevation (the
normal arrangement in later hexastyle temples) is an archaism
that imparts a strongly individual character to the building.
The lack of a pronaos and the unusual porch effect of the second

row of columns on the east front further exhibit a colonial
independence of mainland types.

Bagenals has drawn attention to peculiarly Sicilian variations
in regard to the treatment of triglyph and metope in the
Doric temple— the setting back of architrave and triglyph
face, for example, apparently to obviate the excessively heavy
effect on the angle view of overhang beyond the upper
column diameter which is so noticeable in later mainland
temples ; and these factors in combination with the points
already enumerated indicate the existence of what the same
writer terms a " Sicilian Doric School.

To-day there is a single row of re-erected columns standing
along the north side of the stylobate. These redeem some
thing of the original appearance of the temple, and provide
at least a measure of its height and length. To fill out the
picture we have to examine the metopes now housed in the
museum at Palermo, and finally, perhaps the greatest aid to
architects for an understanding of the whole building, Hulots
reconstruction in Monuments Antiques.

His drawing of the east front (reproduced on page 59)
catches the special atmosphere of archaic freshness that
is still capable of delighting us whether it is enshrined in the
cheerful obscenity of a Black-figure vase painting, in the
enigmatic smile and poise of an early sculptured Kouros, or,
as in the present instance, where it emerges through a sheer
joyousness of new-found plastic power. To whatever detailed
analyses we may subject this temple, the fact remains that it
is fundamentally the result of a vividly creative impact against
the forces of inertia— against the timeless anonymity of
durable material. The Greeks who built this temple can be
studied through the medium of their other arts, and we must
inevitably lose the greater part of its meaning (and our own
chance of understanding) if we do not keep the human
dimension constantly before us. W e are too prone to consider
that the dead cities we study were always dead. The ruins
that tell of wanton destruction or of the ravages of earth
quakes still hold some knowledge for us. Laboriously, men
like Koldewey, Puchstein, Wiegand and Schrader have pieced
together the disjecta membra so that we can have a picture
of their original shape and splendour ; but it is only in the
mind's eye that we can carry the process a stage further, and
see the buildings tenanted. To re-create them thus we must
recall their essential Greekness and historical vitality, and
bring into focus their material significance.

The east front of Temple " C " — about 79 ft. 0 in. across—
presents a column system of relatively short and rapidly
tapering shafts carrying a deep entablature which in turn is
surmounted by the polychrome terracotta casings of the
pediment. The rich and full curve of the echinus, the sharply
modelled outline of abacus, architrave, triglyph and cornice,
and the bold effect of the slender rectilinear volume of naos,
cradled within a widespread screen of fluted columns, are all
attributes of the archaic spirit. The elements have elasticity
and articulation, and are as yet free of " refining " influences.

The metopes which are still preserved offer a valuable
comment on the general mood in which the temple was
designed.

The strong architectonic scheme on which the figures were
arranged, the rigidity and weight, show a sense of unity and
continuity of structure impossible of achievement where
naturalistic forms are built into an architectural frame. The
problem of framing groups of high relief sculpture between
the regular and strongly accented triglyphs and the dominant
horizontality of architrave and cornice was an acute one, and
the estimate that finds the broad handling of these metopes
crude and immature does not take into account the factor
that visual interest— that is, independent pictorial quality—

had of necessity to be subordinated to the main lines of the
enclosing structure. Picard0 rightly allows the archaic Greek
sculptor to prefer " la robustesse a la recherche du detail
trop menu," when his work was part of a larger scheme.

Mention must be made at this stage of the application of
colour to this temple, although we shall be concerned more
appropriately with this factor as a general proposition when
we have gathered evidence over a wider range of examples.

The rough and uneven surface of the limestone was covered
with a layer of stucco which made perfectly smooth surfaces
and sharp angles possible. This process was invariable and
formed the basis for polychrome application. In addition such
terracotta revetments as were applied to the superstructure
of the temple were richly painted in strong colour. For the
moment we may picture Temple " C " as having its " broad
brow " boldly coloured in yellow, black and red— its metopes
also in colour, and its triglyphs in blue. Other details— taenia,
guttae, and antefixae are in red or yellow, and architrave,
column shafts, and steps in the self-colour of the stucco. That
the whole effect was an extremely vivid one there can be
little doubt, and although we shall not attempt at present to
establish greater exactness in regard to zones of application,
colour is such an integral component of the temple that we
cannot regard it as a mere appendage.

Concerning other temples of the same period in Sicily one
need mention only the Temple " D " at Selinus which adjoined
the example we have just discussed, and which dated from

R e m a i n s o f t h e P e r i s t y l e o f T e m p l e
" C " a t S e l i n u s P h o t o / R . D . M .

560 B.C., and had similar dimensions and columnar arrange
ment ; and the Temple of Apollo at Syracuse built in 575 B.C.,
also 6 x 17 on plan but slightly smaller than the former
examples.

The parallel example in Magna Graecia is the Temple of
Demeter and Kore (commonly known as the Basilica) built about
565 B.C. at Paestum. Here the nonastyle column system
obviates any direct comparison. Such a drastic departure
from the now firmly established hexastyle standard confuses
the recognisable integration which is rendered lasting and
significant only by repetition and concentration. In detail,
however, we may note the same fulness of profile in the echinus
of column capitals, the vigorous cuboid form of the abacus.
The column shafts diminish rapidly as in the Selinus examples—
there is the same weight and insistent articulation in the com
ponents. Whatever indecision may have led to the plan of
the Paestum temple there is no doubt that the order itself
is by now analytically and categorically established.

I l l , T E C H N I Q U E A N D M A T E R I A L

It is now necessary to examine the position on the mainland
of Greece to see what the succeeding centuries produced
either in continuation of the recognised 1 ordonnance or in
modification of it. A significant fact that should be recorded
at this point is that no major change in building technique
is evidenced throughout the period under consideration. The
Greeks must, at an early stage, have perfected the means of
setting out plans, cutting and fitting together the members
of stonework, and finishing the visible surfaces of their con
structions within close limits of accuracy. As far as the
mechanical side of building is concerned, no entirely fresh
problems presented themselves at later stages. The giant
Temple of Zeus at Acragas (470 B.C.) and the great Temple
" G T " at Selinus (of even earlier date) must have offered
in sheer practical exertion the greatest test of endurance and
ingenuity that the temple builders encountered in their long
history.

One may reasonably assume that in the field of craftsman
ship as opposed to the technique of mass structure, the fifth
century saw, particularly on the mainland, a progressive refine
ment of technical process which must either have followed
or influenced the growing refinement of contour and relative
proportion that characterised the temples of this century. The
marbles of Greece must have played a considerable part in

modifying detail technique, for where the material is friable
and incapable of taking an exact or sustained edge, and the
mason knows (as he must have in the examples we have dis
cussed) that a final surface of hard stucco has to be imposed
on his work, a certain coarseness, such as we find in rough-
core work to-day must be inevitable.

An examination of the limestone used in the temples of
Acragas or Himera in Sicily ; or of the shell conglomerate of’
the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, indicates that a primary
technique suitable to such a material could never meet the
needs of the mason dealing with Pentelican or Parian marble.
Marble was by no means the universal material for fifth and
fourth century temple buildings in Greece and the islands,
nevertheless it must have been widely known and mastered'
by craftsmen, and thus able to influence current technique
in masonry.

Let us list the important buildings that were of marble
construction :
^ T e m p l e o f A p o l l o , D e l o s ( 4 5 0 B . C . )
X P a r t h e n o n , A t h e n s ( 4 4 7 B . C . )
/ T e m p l e o f P o s e i d o n , S u n i u m ( 4 2 5 B . C . )
/ T h e s e u m , A t h e n s ( 4 2 8 B . C . )

T h o l o s , D e l p h i ( 4 0 0 B . C . ) n o t e ™
T e m p l e o f A t h e n a A l e a , T e g e a

( 3 5 5 B . C . )
T h o l o s , E p i d a u r u s ( 3 5 0 B . C . ) , n o t e ' 1

Contemporary with these, but not of marble, were :
/ T e m p l e o f A p h a i a , A e g i n a ( 4 9 0 B . C . )
/ T e m p l e o f Z e u s , O l y m p i a ( 4 6 0 B . C . ) ,

n o t e 12
T e m p l e o f A p o l l o , B a s s a e ( 4 2 0 B . C . )
T e m p l e o f A s c l e p i o s , E p i d a u r u s

(3 8 0 B . C . )
The most important colonial examples (non-marble) were :

T e m p l e o f P o s e i d o n , P a e s t u m ( 4 5 0
B . C . )

T e m p l e o f
B . C . )

V T e m p l e a t
B . C . )

The position broadly, then, is that there were no marble
temples built in the western colonies at any date ; and no
marble temples in Greece proper before the construction of
the Temple of Apollo at Delos, and the Parthenon, about the
middle of the fifth century. Also, that parallel with the build
ing of marble structures between 450 B.C. and 350 B.C.
(seven well-known examples) there were constructed non-marble
temples on the mainland and in Sicily and Magna Graecia.
Closer scrutiny of the materials available to the Greek temple

C o n c o r d , A c r a g a s ( 4 4 0

S e g e s t a ( u n f i n i s h e d ) ( 4 3 0

O L Y M P I A

builder shows that the predominant and most widely dis
tributed of these was the so-called Poros stone or shell con
glomerate, which, with its cavities and roughness, offered an
excellent key for plaster.

Limestone was the natural building material throughout
Magna Graecia and Sicily, and despite local variations the
Poros character was common both to Greece and her western
colonies. Marble was produced from the famous quarries of
Hymettos and Pentelicos, and from the islands of Poros and
Naxos which gave their names to further varieties.

Dickins13 has some comments on the material of the
sculptures of the Acropolis which are interesting from the
point of view of character, and also in a descriptive sense.
Discussing the limestone rock of the Poros sculptures he says :
" Of varying quality, one block may be full of air-holes or
fossilized shells, while another presents the limestone in a
pure state . . . This comparatively soft stone offered much
less resistance to the sculptor than marble, and there was no
need for the use of saw or drill."

Frazer14 in his notes on the Temple of Zeus at Olympia
refers to the " coarse, gritty, dull-coloured conglomerate to
which Pausanias gives the name of " poros," and quotes

L e f t : P o r t i o n o f s u b - s t r u c t u r e o f
T e m p l e o f Z e u s a t O l y m p i a s h o w i n g
n a t u r e o f s h e l l - c o n g l o m e r a t e .

B e l o w : R e m a i n s o f s t u c c o o n T e m p l e
B a t S e l i n u s , a l s o o n a b a s i s o f

s h e l l - c o n g l o m e r a t e . P h o t o s / R . D . M .

S E L I N U S

Washington1451 and Philippson14t> on the subject of what
actually can be accepted as Poros.
The former remarks:

" There is a great lack of definiteness in the use of the
word poros, which is made to include almost all soft, light-
coloured stones, not palpably marble or hard limestone. In
the majority of cases it is a sort of travertine, again a shell-
conglomerate, and occasionally a sandstone or some decom
posed rock containing serpentine or other hydrated minerals."’
The latter defines Poros as:

' . . . a coarse, granular, calcareous sandstone, of a grey
or yellowish colour, easily wrought, and quarried in large
blocks, much used as building material both in antiquity and
at the present day."

W e may conclude this brief summary of materials and their
properties by noting a few characteristics of Greek marbles,
once again quoting Dickins. " Naxian marble betrays itself
by its coarse crystals ; Pentelic is distinguishable by its
minute ones.15 Discussing the premises of two general
periods in Attic art (a "Poros " period extending into the
second half of the sixth century, and a succeeding " Marble "
period lasting until 480 B.C.) Dickins refers to the use in the

second period of " the inferior marble of Hymetfos, the hard
Parian, and the softer coloured Pentelic."16

The use of marble for sculpture was thus inaugurated about
one hundred years before it was employed in the general
construction of temples, and it is noteworthy that in two cases
at least (Aphaia Temple, Aegina ; Zeus Temple, Olympia) the
coming use of marble was heralded by its appearance as the
material for pedimental figures and metopes in Poros temples
before the middle of the fifth century.

The first move away from the attributes commonly asso
ciated with archaism in the Doric temple is discernible in the
Temple of Aphaia at Aegina, built in 490 B.C., and in size
considerably smaller than its forerunners. Thirty years later
the Temple of Zeus at Olympia was begun, and here a greater
magnitude was achieved. This temple is, in fact, the largest
Poros example on the mainland. By the mid-century the stage
was set for the great effort to surpass all previous buildings,
and in the light of garnered experience the building of the
Parthenon was begun. The Temple of Zeus had been con
structed entirely of Poros stone, only the pedimental sculp
tures and metopes had been carved out of Parian marble,
but now a whole temple was to be wrought in Pentelican
marble, and all that skill and accumulated technique could offer
was directed towards the making of a crowning masterpiece.
As yet there was little indication what influence the material
was capable of exerting in a strictly architectural sense. The
sculptor had long been familiar with the properties of marble,
but the mason, the carpenter and the architect who had
evolved a " Poros " technique must have been keenly con
scious of a new force towards refinement— towards even
greater precision and finesse than had been thought desirable
or even possible with the old method.

W e may at this stage consider the range of experience
possible to the masons employed on the building of Greek
temples, as well as the extent of the influence likely to have
been imparted to Poros buildings by the contemporaneous
erection of marble temples.

The temples at Athens, Sunium and Tegea for example,
had been completed in marble many years before the build
ing of the Temple of Asclepios at Epidaurus was undertaken,
so that in the latter example we have a case of the employ
ment of the coarser material following the extended use of
the " refined " material. The Temple and Tholos at Epidaurus
are particularly interesting in this respect as we have records
of the contractors engaged on these buildings, together with
the names of their home towns.17

The inscription discovered near the temple in I 885 gives not
only " full details of the cost of construction " but mentions

among the contractors (supply, transport and executive) men
from Corinth, Argos, Stymphalia and Crete. Similarly we
learn that connected with the building of the Tholos were
men from Athens, Paros, Troezen and Tegea.18 The recruiting
of craftsmen from such a wide field implies considerable move
ment by individuals connected with the building industry, and
it is not unreasonable to infer from the information that
Epidaurus provides, that local traditions and local conserva
tism must have taken second place to a broadly valid technique
having its bases in a qeneral, rather than restricted conception
of the problem of temple building.

One of the most obvious conclusions that we must draw
is that the masons from Tegea and Athens, for instance (even
supposing that this were the only other centre at which they
had worked) would be familiar with the appearance of, and
the technical methods reflected by, the marble temples in
their respective cities, and would therefore be in a position
to apply such lessons as the marble technique offered.

Briefly, a general distinction can be made between the
Poros temples built prior to the middle of the fifth century
and those built after the wide use of marble technique. In
the former the stucco was used as a refining agent without
knowledge of the appearance of an integral marble structure
with its capacity for receiving extremely delicate cutting ;19
in the latter the marble structure existed as a model and a
standard to be emulated in a combination of rough core and
smooth stucco. Our knowledge of the buildings at Epidaurus
(from fragments) indicates that the precept of marble technique
induced great refinement in finished effect ; the Temple of
Asclepios, in fact, seems to have been a building of out
standing harmony and poise when considered as a plastic
whole.

It is significant that the general masonry technique was
fully capable of meeting the added demands of a meticulous
finish. The move towards more slender proportions and less
articulation in the parts of the temple had obviously made
rapid strides in the first half of the fifth century, and it did
not require the change over to a more refined material to
render such development possible. That such a stage of
development is peculiarly a mainland phase may be due to
many causes outside the realm of purely architectural change,
but the vigour and genius for imaginative construction that
produced the early Sicilian temples on a basis of dim main
land prototypes seem to have passed in a wave back to
Greece. It is now Greece that carries forward the search
for perfection— the colonies naturally reflect some of this
activity, but on the whole the evidence seems to point to a
falling back, a " failure of nerve " as Gilbert Murray might
put it.

T h e T e m p l e o f P o s e i d o n a t P a e s t u m ( 4 5 0 B . C . ) a n e x a m p l e t h a t s u g g e s t s
t h a t t h e m a i n s t r e a m o f p l a s t i c e v o l u t i o n n o l o n g e r f l o w e d t h r o u g h C o l o n i a l
G r e e c e a t t h e t i m e o f i t s c o n s t r u c t i o n P h o t o / R . D . M .

In this connection it is instructive to record a single instance
of the parallel activities of Magna Graecia. The Temple of
Poseidon at Paestum, only a few years older than the
Parthenon and built ten years after the Temple of Zeus at
Olympia, still carries the general atmosphere of an archaic
structure. Dinsmoor, in fact, remarks that the column pro
portions " might seem at first glance to suggest an earlier
date " but attributes the " heavy proportions " to the great
diameter of the columns. " The other details," he adds,
" are thoroughly developed."-0 The fact that development
(or at least, change) was not uniform in the same structure
certainly suggests that the main stream of plastic evolution
no longer flowed through colonial Greece. W hat had been,
a century before, a spirit of bold experimentation seems now
to have been replaced by an attitude of careful conservatism.
The Poseidon temple indeed shows a closer affinity with the
temple of Selinus of 570 B.C. than with its own contemporary
building at Olympia ; but as always in archaising art the
later example that hesitantly follows an old mould lacks the
flamboyant youthfulness, the resilience and freshness of the
earlier model.

IV, S T A N D A R D S A N D V A R I A T I O N S I N
T E M P L E D E S I G N

The fifth century sees the hexastyle arrangement maintained
as the standard system, but the lateral column number is
still subject to fluctuation. The Temple of Aphaia (Aegina)
is 6 x 12, the Temple of Poseidon (Paestum) 6x14, the Temple
of Zeus (Olympia) 6x13. The last combination may be taken
as the " final " fifth century standard. Although this arrange
ment is shared with other and later mainland temples, and
with colonial examples, there is a notable variation in the
Temple of Apollo (Bassae) which is planned on a 6 x 15 system.
The fourth century temple of Asclepios (Epidaurus) records
the limit of compactness achieved, with 6x11.

It was remarked earlier that the Temple of Aphaia at
Aegina marks a break with the archaic conditions, and it may
be as well to record what changes are noticeable in plan and
general arrangement in this transitional example. Dinsmoor21

considers this example " the most perfectly developed of the
late archaic temples in European Hellas," and with its strong
polychromy and disciplined marble sculptures there is little
doubt that it represents a key point in the progressive refine
ment which the new century was destined to display. Plastic
ally the Aphaia temple exhibits a new compactness, not only
of overall proportion but also in the relationship of structural
minutiae. From an architectonic point of view there is a
corresponding precision in the arrangement of plan forms that
distinguishes the building clearly from the group that includes
the archaic Temple " C ." The deliberate alignment of cella
walls with peristyle columns, and the resulting change in
reciprocal value between cella and pteron (both on plan and
in volume) have more than an incidental significance.

Where one could attribute to the archaic temple a quality
of bold articulation, it is now necessary to recognize that the
predominant note of the transitional type, far from reflecting
a basic separateness of elements brought together in a plastic
unity, actually echoes the postulate of a primary unity to
which the constituent parts subscribe in a maintained sub
ordination.

In general, in a newly established building type the process
of shaping and constructing inevitably throws a strong light
on the individual parts. Each element holds the stage in
terms of its own specific attributes, each carries with it a
special series of problems both aesthetic and practical, and it
is axiomatic that the visual and manual emphasis that it receives
at every stage of the formulating and constructing process
will be clearly reflected in the final synthesis. The articulation
that occurs in the archaic temple with the accent on structural
adequacy is fundamentally the reason that such a building
appears crude to the spectator to-day. The sense of achieve
ment, of creating a new order of space structure, is too patent
and too self-conscious to be accepted as a definitive state
ment. The gradual dissolution of that self-consciousness
coupled with the increasing complexity of the temple surround
ings (in which there was a tendency for the temple itself to
become in turn a contributory unit and not an isolated self-
contained structure) expedited the new plastic unity that we
have seen demonstrated in the Temple of Aphaia.

The most obvious gain from structural confidence and from
deliberate subordination of individual emphasis is one of
visual continuity in the structure as a whole, of easily appre
hended rhythm between void and solid, and of the reduction
of effort in establishing for the spectator the singleness of
the conception. The offsetting disadvantage, which under
some conditions can be a serious one, is the loss of modulation
in plastic effect, and consequently the failure to stimulate the
vision. For whatever advantages may accrue from merging

different functions in common forms, this usually involves a
corresponding loss of identity in the structurally significant
elements. Such a proposition cannot be given a finite
evaluation, nor is it possible to offer a scale against which the
developing temple can be measured, but the tendency to
surface unity if isolated from compensating factors is a
devitalising one and contains the germ of decadence.-2

Perhaps the present point is the most appropriate at which
to examine variations of the standard type, departures from
established columnar notations, and modifications other than
those arising from gradual change in detail technique or
refinement.

The Aphaia temple dates from 490 B.C., and the next great
temple in Greece— that of Zeus at Olympia— which followed
thirty years after, marks no organic change but only a sub
stantial increase in size. Specified in a notational manner it
indicates a continuance of the " new " standard. There is
every indication that the hexastyle system is in no risk of
being abandoned either in Greece or the colonies, but in
447 B.C. with the construction of a new Parthenon at Athens,
the drastic decision to employ an octostyle treatment is made.
Speculation on the reasons for such a decision cannot be very
fruitful, but one may be forgiven for wondering why a system
that had been maintained for nearly two centuries was suddenly
overthrown. The most obvious conclusion is that the sheer
intellectualism and discipline that had produced a type which
eschewed the temptation of change for the sake of change,
had, under the stress of culminating political power, been
forced to make of the new temple something more than
another building in the succession of temples to the gods.
The Parthenon had to exceed its forerunners in splendour and
complexity (not necessarily in size, for the fever of megalomania
cannot be said to have touched Athens) but the reconstruction
programme of the Acropolis was symbolic of wider spheres
of activity, of greater civic aspirations, and the Athena Temple
thus became the focal point of a new order. In this violence
of civic creation the old Delphic maxim appears to have faded.
" Nothing too much " had always been the code of temple
building, but in the effort towards grandeur too much was
attempted and although everything that was essentially Doric
was infused into the structure, the departure— the over
weening turning aside from the perfect mean— brought only
overstatement and relapse.

Whatever the reason for the decision, it was an unfortunate
one, and the continuing history of the Doric temple shows
no repetition of the experiment. In close succession came
the Theseum at Athens, the temples at Sunium, Bassae and
Epidaurus, but in no instance did the architect depart from
the hexastyle standard— the standard of " nothing too much."

P l a n o f t h e T e m p l e o f A p h a i a a t A e g i n a

T H E T E M P L E O F A P H A I A A T A E G I N A
( A f t e r F i e c h t e r )

P l a n o f t h e P a r t h e n o n , A t h e n s

the plastic loss caused by the 8 x 11 arrangement of the
Parthenon was twofold. In the matter of articulation the
addition of two columns to the short side of the temple brings
about a corresponding decrease in the visible separateness of
these elements— a blurring and continuity. This is a state
that may be desirable in other contexts, but in the case of
the Doric temple it raises the index of subordination to too
high a level. The second factor is the apparent extension
given to the short side. The use of eight columns diffuses the
sensible difference between an easily apprehended short side
of six columns, and the less obvious but considerably greater
number of columns on the long side. The loss in this respect
is a directional one and although in actual dimensions the
octostyle temple may be in length more than twice its width
(as the Parthenon was) on the human scale there must be a
tendency to render the spectator unaware of the sharp
distinction between short and long side. Once again the
question of visual separation is closely connected with the
establishment of individual identity.

V, T H E P R O P O R T I O N S O F T H E P E R I
S T Y L E , A N D T H E S I G N I F I C A N C E OF
T H E C R E P I D O M A

The archaic Doric temple was characterised by a peristyle
of relatively short, and rapidly diminishing, columns, carrying
a deep entablature. In comparison with the lower diameter
of the columns the intercolumniation was small, and the great
overhang of abacus and echinus brought each set of these
elements into close proximity with those on either side.
According to Durm's drawing of the Apollo temple at
Syracuse the intercolumniation in this example varies from
% lower diameter to 1% lower diameter, while the abacus
is separated from those on either side by a distance which
ranges from % to % lower diameter. The depth of the
entablature is V2 the total column height. In the case of
Temple " C " at Selinus the intercolumniation measure 1̂
lower diameter, the column height approximately 4 % lower
diameters, and the entablature just over y2 column height. In
this example the spread of the abacus is close on 1% lower
diameter, and the inter-abacus space slightly less than this
dimension.

The ratio of entablature to column height of I : 2 in archaic
work was progressively diminished, until by the early fourth
century B.C. we find a ratio of I : 3 with a corresponding
increase of slenderness in the columns to a general ratio of
diameter to height of 1:6. In combination with a tendency
to greater regularity in intercolumnar spacing, and the
narrower pteron, this brought about a marked change in the
distribution of the structural mass as well as presenting a
virtually new relationship of visible surfaces.-3

The rigidly prismatic form of the Doric temple, and its
overall compactness, render its direct relationship to site
and the mode of such transition an extremely important factor
in the design as a whole. In this connection an examination
of the crepidoma treatment as a basic element between the
existing irregularity of the site and the finished horizontality
of the superstructure shows an adherence to general type but
modification in proportion during the development of the
temple from early to post-Periclean times. The main sub
structure (stereobate) showed above ground level a stepped
outer edge (crepidoma) beyond the peristyle and uniformly
surrounding the temple. The top step was known as the stylo
bate. In general the crepidoma consisted of three steps,
and these, in the sixth century, appear to have been propor
tioned to serve in addition the purpose of ordinary steps up
to the temple. This practical aspect, however, was sub
sequently abandoned in the necessity of proportioning the
crepidoma to the height of the temple itself, and in giving
added force to the horizontal lines of the substructure. Thus
the stylobate in the fifth century was a considerable height
above surrounding ground level (see photographs on opposite
page), and approach was provided by the introduction of
intermediate steps proportioned to the human scale. A
modification of the three-stepped crepidoma can be seen in
the case of Temple " C " at Selinus where the rapid sloping
of the site necessitated additional steps at the east end of
the temple ; the remainder of the crepidoma had the usual
number of steps.

During the fifth and fourth centuries secondary steps were
not always employed to compensate for the increased height
of crepidoma. In the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, in the
Temple of Aphaia at Aegina, in the Temple of Asclepios and
in the Tholos at Epidaurus, the main entrance was approached
by a ramp, an element of great interest since its form does
not reflect the rectangular quality of the substructure but pro
vides by its gradually sloping plane an intimate and almost
imperceptible transition between ground level and temple level.

The visitor to the temple remains of Greece to-day must
be keenly aware of the importance of the temple platform,
because where all else has been destroyed this element remains

B e 1 o w : A d e t a i l o f t h e b o l d s +e r e o -
b a t e o f t h e T e m p l e o f J u n o L a c i n i a ,
A c r a g a s . N o t e h o w t h e s u r f a c e s h a v e
w e a t h e r e d P h o t o s / R . D . M .

The rigidly prismatic form of the Doric temple, and its overall

compactness, render its direct relationship to site and the

mode of such transition an extremely important factor in the

design as a whole. In this connection an examination of the

crepidoma treatment as a basic element between the existing

irregularity of the site and the finished horizontality of the

superstructure shows an adherence to general type but

modification in proportion during the development of the

temple from early to post-Periclean times.

p h o t o R . D . M . L a n d s c a p e f r o m the A c r o p o l i s o f A c r a g a s , S i c i l y

to give us the configuration of the plan and its essential relation
to the site. A t such sites as Himera and Selinus in Sicily, and
at Delphi and Olympia, where destruction is almost complete,
the steadfast formality of the temple base recalls for us the
vigorous stereometry of the temple forms. Where the temple
stands clear of its surroundings such as on the Acropolis at
Athens or on the rocky spine at Acragas, one is even more
acutely conscious of the bold measure of the great steps as
they cut in perspective across the undulating lines of the
embracing countryside. The form of the structure provides
a frame to the landscape— though relatively small and
isolated, the Doric temple demands homage of its surroundings.

V I , P O L Y G H R O M Y

In the foregoing analysis we have examined the temple only
in its isolated and self-contained form. It will be our task
(in a future issue of the " Record ') to review the greater
unity of the temple within its constructed surroundings— as
part of its corporate enclosure ; but before we move to that
consideration there is one general factor that has a bearing
on the spatial characteristics of the Doric temple and which
must occupy our attention at this point ; polychromy.

The study of polychromy in Doric architecture presents
many difficulties, since literary references are scanty and the
possibility of colour remaining on architectural members
through centuries of exposure and destruction is a remote one.
Occasionally the colour application has amazing longevity,
and sufficient traces remain for direct observation. A t other
times, as in the Temple at Himera, excavation revealed colour
that rapidly disappeared in contact with the atmosphere—
but here fortunately modern archaeology was equipped to
record immediately and save for us the knowledge if not the
actuality of its findings. Not all the colour disappeared at
Himera, however, because even in 1938 clear remains of red
were still visible on fragments of the entablature when the
writer visited the site. The section of entablature from Temple
" B " at Selinus, now in the Palermo Museum, is a most valuable
demonstration of colour usage, and in Athens we may gain
some idea of the polychrome range of the Greeks from the
vivid colours of the Archaic Sculpture in the Acropolis Museum.

As far as the archaic temples of Sicily are concerned we
may note that :

(I) The Temple " B " entablature referred to above had
taenia in red ochre, triglyphs ultramarine, grooves indigo,

guttae and cyma white, and an ochre wash on the main field.
(2) The colours recorded by Carta at Himera in 1931 are

ultramarine and red ochre.
(3) The background of the Perseus and Gorgon metope

from Temple " C " shows traces of red.
For later times the evidence of Athens, Delphi and Olympia

points to an extensive use of polychromy in architecture and
sculpture. One of the problems that has been debated is
whether the Greeks applied colour to major surfaces such as
those of column or architrave. Penrose believed that the
marble of the Parthenon was treated in flat colour to lessen
the glare. D'Ooge-4 recalls the opinion of Dorpfeld who con
sidered " that the custom . . . was to leave olain surfaces of
marble buildings untinted in distinction from those built of
poros, and also in contrast with other . . . parts of the
architecture which even where their material was marble,
were treated with color."

D'Ooge summarises the position as follows :
" All are agreed that the architectural members that project

from the plain surfaces, and those that are in profile, such
as mouldings, cornices, triglyphs, mutules, soffits, and the
capitals of antae, are as a rule colored, and so also those flat
surfaces, like the tympana of the gables, that form the back
ground of sculpture."

The evidence of the Parthenon led Penrose and Fenger to
arrive at the following conclusions:25

Triglyphs blue.
Background of metopes possibly red.
Edges and soffits of mutules red.
Guttae probably red.
Soffit of cornice blue.
Coffers of peristyle ceilings (e.g., Propylaea) gold and blue.
Planes of colour separated by white or gilded fillets.
On the Athenian Propylaea we may note that the colouring

appears to have been more " subdued " than that of the Par
thenon. Magne2,i in his monograph on the Parthenon states
his belief that colour had never been applied to column or
architrave in that building. He confirms from observation the
application of colour as listed above. Robertson27 notes that
in addition to the widely used red and blue, Doric architecture
employed green, yellow, black, brown and gold " chiefly for
the delicate patterns of cornice and sima mouldings."

The remains at Olympia render valuable detailed evidence,
and in addition to that recorded above in connection with
archaic colour treatment we have in the Temple of Zeus and
in the Hellanodikeon further confirmation of generalised
schemata in Doric architecture. In the temple red was found
between the mutules, while mutules and triglyphs were blue.

The ground of the sima was light blue. From the Hellanodikeon
we learn " that the shafts of the columns, the echinus, and
abacus of the capitals, were not decorated with painted
patterns, though possibly tinted with yellow or some light
colour. The cornice . . . was painted with a band of bright
blue leaves and red spines on a yellow ground. The mutules
were very dark blue, the spaces between them red. The triglyphs
were also dark blue, the metopes being merely coated with
white stucco.28 The terracotta sima had brightly painted
patterns on a black ground.

A t Delphi the chief evidence is given by the relief sculptures
from the Siphnian and Sicyonian treasuries, and in this con
nection Poulsen20 describes the sculptured frieze of the former
building as having a background of blue.

" The figures are treated in blue, green, and red, the last
colour in two shades, light red and golden red. The clothes
are red with blue borders . . . the helmets are blue, with red
ornamental stripes on the edges, to pick them out from the
blue background . . ."

Poulsen describes a metope in the Sicyonian treasury as
having the background uncoloured ; that is, in the natural
white or yellow hue of the stone. This is an interesting parallel
to vase painting of the sixth century, for " highly polychrome
figures, with prominent black and dark red colours, stand out
from the neutral lighter surface of the limestone, as the figures
of black-figured vases with white and red detail are silhouetted
against the natural yellow or yellowish-red ground of the clay.
Later, as in red figure vase painting, " light or red figures are
set off against a dark background."

In the field of polychrome application to free-standing
sculpture we must turn to the archaic examples in the Acropolis
Museum at Athens. Dickins20 provides a valuable summary of
the colours and painting technique as applied to the Poros
figures.

" Two shades of red, dark blue, green, black, and white
tints were used, and the entire surface of the statue was
covered, except where the natural colour might be used in
contrast . . . The backgrounds are usually blue, but are
sometimes left plain, the flesh rose, eyelids and brows black,
pupils black, red or blue, hair blue, red or white, and the
garment entirely covered with various hues.

For marble statues, too, red and blue predominate, but
other colours are also found, including black, rose, light blue,
light green, and yellow ochre. " It is hardly necessary to add
states Dickins " that the use of colour is still conventional . . .
The whole theory underlying the ancient painting of sculpture
rests on the assumption that the colour is not naturalistic, but
chosen primarily with a view to harmony in the whole colour
scheme."

W e have from this activity which is closely allied to archi
tecture data that substantiates the view that colour played
a vital part in the creation of significant form in Greece. The
conventional aspect which Dickins stresses (and which indeed is
most clearly proclaimed by the colours themselves), is a valid
indication of the integral nature of colour and form. Because
the vividness and primary quality of Greek colour are startling
to our eyes, or more exactly to the eyes of the late nineteenth
century, the view has often been expressed21 that the Greek
sense of colour was poorly developed compared with the
superb appreciation of form and formal relationships that the
Greek sculptor and architect displayed. Is it not more likely
that the Greeks showed a stronger and more widely embracing
attitude towards visual unity than we who have come upon
their work in a fragmentary state can ever fully apprehend ?

One may well ask why " the bright intellectualism " that
Gardner finds enshrined in the Greek temple should break
down so completely when the final dimension to plastic creation
was envisaged as colour. When Gardner suggests that the
Greeks, though masters of form, were not sensitive to colour
he imposes a prejudice on work that united processes (shaping
of solid form, colouring of solid form) which we now separate
in terms of the visual experience and intellectual attitude that
have been built up in the past twenty centuries. One of the
reasons for the prejudice is that our attitude to material tends
to be sentimental ; the Greek regarded his Parian or Pentelican
marble as valuable for its purpose ; there is every indication
that intrinsically it had no charm for him, but to succeeding
cultures the marble took on a beauty of its own, and any idea
of applied colour was therefore repugnant. Greek " taste "
is thus questioned on this point, and must be either censured
or condoned. That marble, as such, did not appeal to the
Greeks is evidenced by the fact that they left untouched
rich seams of coloured stone which was subsequently used by
the Romans. Even where visual requirements did not demand
colour application the marble was toned down by a waxing
process to dull its brightness.32

In general the evidence shows a controlled and formal use
of colour in architecture, and in the matter-of-fact summary
of Choisy33 we see the same degree of standardisation that
characterises the juxtaposition and inter-relation of capital
to shaft— of triglyphs to metope. " Les couleurs de I'epoque
archai'que," he writes, " sont, pour les grandes surfaces, ie
blanc, I'ocre clair, le rouge et le bleu ; pour les details, le
vert, le bleu, le jaune franc et le noir."

The results of our enquiry may be tabulated in condensed
form, for there is sufficient widely separated evidence to
establish the general use of the following colours:

R E C O N S T R U C T I O N O F T H E T E M P L E O F A S C L E P I O S A T E P I D A U R U S

( f r o m M o n u m e n t s A n t i q u e s )

A general distinction can be made between the Poros temples built prior
to the middle of the fifth century and those built after the wide use of marble
technique. In the former the stucco was used as a refining agent without
knowledge of the appearance of an integral marble structure with its capacity
for receiving extremely delicate cutting; in the latter the marble structure
existed as a model and a standard to be emulated in a combination of rough
core and smooth stucco. Our knowledge of the buildings at Epidaurus (from
fragments) indicates that the precept of marble technique induced great
refinement in finished effect; the Temple of Asclepios, in fact, seems to have
been a building of outstanding harmony and poise when considered as a plastic
whole.

(I) Pale yellow or other light colour, or waxing process to carrying the verticality of column shaft upwards, serve what is
reduce glare, for column shafts and architraves. The former
for Poros which was stuccoed, the latter for marble.

(2) Blue for triglyphs, sometimes with a darker shade of blue
in the grooves.

(3) Red for edges and soffits of mutules, with spaces
between, blue ; or blue mutules with red space.

(4) White, bright blue, or blue for the sima.
(5) Dark red or dark blue for the surface of the tympanum.
(6) Self-colour, dark blue or dark red, for the background

of metopes and friezes.
(7) Green, yellow, black, brown, and gold for secondary

elements of the cornice.
Note: The vigorous red and black on yellow ground of the

terracotta cornices of the Geloan treasury at Olympia and of
Temple " C " at Selinus, with their strong affinity to vase
Firing and painting technique do not appear to have continued
as a colour combination in the stucco on Poros treatment and
later marble constructions.

Our examination of colour as applied to the Greek house
showed a predominantly planar and interior use ; let us now
consider in some detail the use of colour in the context of the
Doric temple.

Strong colour as applied to the temple covered a relatively
small proportion of the frontal area of the structure, and
in the portion so treated no single colour was used over a
large area. W e have seen that the pale tints on columns and
architraves did not fundamentally change the tones of the
material to which they were applied (stuccoed Poros or Marble)
and we can reasonably assume that the vertical surfaces of
crepidoma were finished uniformly with columns and archi
traves. Externally, therefore, the temple presented a virtually
uniform tone from its base to the upper edge of the archi
trave which was only modulated by the shadows in the column
flutes, and by the shaded wall surface of the cella behind the
column screen.

A t frieze level the rhythmic alternation of modelled forms
is heavily accentuated by bold colour, and above this, further
colour enriches the cornice. On the short sides of the temple
the vertical plane of the tympanum with its deep colour serves
as a background for coloured free-standing sculptures. The
effect is of vigorous modulation and animated repetition of a
" quicker " order than that of the separate and clear standing
supporting columns which carry this superstructure.

The repetition of forms induces visually an effect equivalent
to that of resonance in sound, and the application of colour
strengthens this attribute. For example the deeply recessed
triglyphs, though considered by some to be important in

perhaps a more urgent optical function by providing a
" chain " of stability in a horizontal direction. For though
vertical in effect if considered as individual units, it is by
their repetition that they are significant in the frieze. The
" working " member of this supported construction is the
architrave which through its own strength carries from column
to column. It is noteworthy that this member appears to have
been left virtually unaccentuated, while in the frieze above
(which was comparatively free of structural duty) a deliberate
scheme of optical effects was arranged.

Had this treatment been merely decorative, that is, in the
form of a continuous frieze without structural division or accent,
the final resolution of the order— the carrying of cornice, etc.
— though feasible in a practical sense (the actual stonework
of the frieze would be substantially the same as it is in the
metope-triglyph system) would have been visually weak and
unsatisfactory. The lack of formality which would have resulted
from an intermediate and continuous surface " swimming 1
between architrave and cornice would have been inconsistent
with the studied architectonics of the Doric scheme. From a
visual point of view the triglyphs are satisfactory in that they
support the members above, while they rigorously restrict the
area of non-structural sculpture within controlled areas. The
essentially rhythmical nature of the whole structure, established
in the peristyle system of columns, is maintained in a minor,
though not weaker scale.

Colour as an added " dimension " consequently plays an
extremely valuable role. The architect has achieved by formal
plastic means the degree of accent separation and structure
that he deems necessary for aesthetic unity ; what light is
capable of affecting as modeller he has used as a constituent
in his design. But the uniformity of the material with its
continuous tones tends to merge the individual forms even
if rhythmically arranged, and modulated in plane, so that only
in strong sunlight or under favourable conditions of aspect
can the full intention of his scheme be realised. Colour as
applied to the elements of Doric architecture thus has primarily
an extending function in rendering this modulation independent
of transient light conditions. Even when the light is thin,
forms that are strongly coloured and separated by comple
mentary colours between become immediately apprehensible
by the spectator. Colour provides additional freedom and

M a p s h o w i n g t h e

s i t e s m e n t i o n e d

a c c o m p a n y i n g

( D r a w n b y H . M . M a r t

T e m p l e

i n t h e

p a p e r

i e n s s e n )

1. Temple of Juno Laclnia, Acragas—
Photo H.M.M.

2. Delphi— Photo Hiirlimann.

3. Olympia— Photo Hege
•«

4. Temple of Aphaia, Aegina— Photo Bon

articulation to the shapes that the sculptor and architect have
been at pains to express as sharp and distinct within the
limits of material technique and unity.

Hence one colour is never continued over the surfaces of
differing units, but each similar unit bears a common colour.
Red mutules are separated by blue areas ; blue triglyphs are
separated by the polychrome patterns of metopes. Even
within the area of the blue triglyphs, as we have seen, there is
sometimes a further modulation given by the use of dark
blue in the channels where the form naturally suggests shade.

V I I , O P T I C A L R E F I N E M E N T S IN T H E
F I F T H C E N T U R Y B , C ,

It has been suggested above that the architect of the
Doric temple achieved the degree of accent, separation and
structure that he considered necessary for aesthetic unity
within the restrictions of practical technique. Let us now
examine some of the factors involved in the design of a temple
at a time when the architect with the accumulated experience
of centuries is richly equipped to meet the problems attendant
upon the production of spatial harmony and unity.

On the Parthenon was lavished all that Periclean Athens
could command in the way of designing talent, craftsmanship
and material. In this single building, by common consent the
crowning achievement of Doric effort, we are able through
the many studies that have been undertaken to probe the
minutest details and gain an insight into the resources that
went to its making.

The Parthenon measured on the stylobate 101 feet 4 inches
x 228 feet 2 inches, and was carried on three steps, the two
lowest of which were 1.69 feet and the upper 1.81 feet in
height. The columns measure 34.22 feet in height, and have
a lower diameter of 6.23 feet. The intercolumniation is 7.78
feet at sides and ends, but less at the angles of the peristyle.
The end width of the pteron is 15 feet, and at the sides it
measures 13 9 feet.

The intention of the architect that the forms of the build
ing " be adapted to the eye of the spectator " 34 broadly
explains the modifications from parallelism and rectilinearity
that were observed by Cockerell in the Parthenon in 1810, and
which were measured by Penrose in 1846. The changes from
the basically established shapes of the Doric temple may be
summarised as :

(1) A slight upward curvature of the stylobate and entabla
ture.

(2) A slight inward inclination of the column axes.
(3) An entasis or swelling in the diminishing columns.
(4) A slightly increased diameter for the angle columns of

the peristyle.
(5) A deviation from the vertical in surfaces such as that

of the architrave.
All these refinements entailed, according to Dinsmoor:ir’ •" a
mathematical precision in the setting out of the work and in
its execution which would have been impossible in any other
material than the Pentelic marble with which it was built."

Following the order of the list above we may consider these
points in more detail.

Curvature of stylobate and entablature.— Penrose was of the
opinion that the curvature was initially formed in the entabla
ture to counteract a sagging effect arising from the sloping
form of the pediment, and that to maintain uniformity in the
column height the stylobate followed the line thus established.
Vitruvius4*’ states that " the stylobate should be so adjusted,
that . . . it may be highest in the middle. For if it be set out
level, it will have the appearance of having sunk in the middle."
Dinsmoor considers it likely that the Greek architect started,
as Vitruvius implies, with the stylobate and adjusted the super
structure afterwards to comply, rather than by the reverse
procedure suggested by Penrose.

The rise of the stylobate in the middle of the short sides
was 3.0 inches, and on the long sides just over 4.0 inches."
D'Ooge:!~ comments on the optical illusion by which a long
horizontal straight line with a number of vertical lines resting
upon it appears to sink in the middle and rise towards the
ends. There seems little doubt that such curvature as was
included was intended to give elasticity to the structure, and
to prevent the " deadness" that might have been a bye-
product of the rigidly geometrical and complex arrangement
of steps, columns and entablature.

Inclination of columns.— The inclination of the peristyle
columns to aid the visual stability of the building, or to provide
a so-called pyramidal effect, called for minute adjustments
in the structure. The angle columns for instance which were
inclined inwards on the bisecting line of the angle between
long and short sides, rested on a stylobate that sloped in two
directions and at two rates of slope. The intermediate joints
of the column drums were maintained horizontal, while the
upper surface of the abacus had to follow the curving soffit
of the architrave. This column inclination (about 7 cms. in
the whole height of the column, and slightly more in the angle
columns) has the effect of preventing an outward falling

T h e b o l d l y j u t t i n g a b a c u s a n d b o w l - s h a p e d e c h i n u s o f t h e a r c h a i c c a p i t a l

a r e w e l l s h o w n i n t h e r e m a i n s o f t h e ' ' B a s i l i c a ' ' a t P a e s t u m ( 5 6 5 B . C . )

P h o t o / R . D . M .

appearance which the individual diminution of the shafts may
be insufficient to counteract.

Reference to the characteristic archaic column arrange
ment where the face of the architrave tends to be flush with
the upper surface of the column shaft, and not to overhang
so boldly as it does in the Parthenon and Propylaea orders,
suggests that this particular refinement was a compensatory
device which was necessitated by the gradual change in rela
tionship between the elements of the peristyle. However
heavy the superstructure of Temple " C " at Selinus may have
been in comparison with later examples, there does not appear
to have arisen the need for an " all-over" tightening or
strengthening of the silhouette by such a device as that
resorted to in the case of the Parthenon. In the case of the
earlier temple the visibly limiting lines of the entablature did
not override the supporting columns, and therefore did not
suggest strain or disrupture in the composition.

Entasis in Columns.— The acknowledged purpose of this
modification to column shape is to offset the possible con
cavity of effect which tends to accompany a straight-sided
column. According to Penrose's finding the total increase
(at the maximum point about 2/5 the height of the column)
amounts to about 1/55 the lower diameter.

Increased diameter of Angle Columns.— The increased girth
of the angle columns appears to have been a device to avoid
an effect of weakness where the columns are often seen in
silhouette against the sky, in comparison with the remainder
of the peristyle which is " read " against the opaque walls
of the cella. If this explanation is the correct one, the
change in diameter is a matter of direct optical correction,
and an understandable one in view of the siting of the temple
which stresses the oblique viewpoint, and which in turn renders
an impeccable three-dimensional harmony essential in the total
structure.

In c o n t r a s t w i t h t h e A r c h a i c

c a p i t a l s s h o w n o p p o s i t e , t h e
3 r d C . o r d e r f r o m t h e S t o a a t

C n i d u s s h o w s a t i g h t s i l h o u e t t e ,
a n o t i c e a b l e d e l i c a c y i n a l l

t h e c o m p o n e n t p a r t s .

D r a w i n g f r o m S t r a t t o n — ' ' T h e

O r d e r s o f A r c h i t e c t u r e .

Inward slope of Architrave, etc.— The inward slope of the
architrave echoes the " pulling in " of all principal vertical
surfaces, and their final resolution (on the end elevations) in
the rapidly converging lines of the pedimental mouldings.

The technical achievement is impressive, and so also is the
unrelenting search for perfection in relationship and com
pleting unity. W e must ever be amazed at the singleness of
purpose and the idealism that made such an undertaking
practicable. For here is no utilitarian project, no state con
struction for defence or public welfare, but a demonstration
of human inventiveness in the satisfaction of aesthetic demands.
The Doric temple approaches universality and sublimity in its
high degree of abstraction, and in Blomfield's felicitous phrase
" It is (the) abstract quality which lifts Greek Doric so far above
the ambitious art of later ages, and indeed above all but the
very finest work of any period of architecture."38

V I I I . T E M P L E S C U L P T U R E

General.— There has been reference to sculpture in the
discussion on colour in the Doric temple, and we may conclude
this section on the temple by a brief statement on the charac
teristics and placing of sculpture in that context. Three zones
were employed for specific application : (I) The Metopes ;
(2) Continuous friezes (such as that representing the Pana-
thenaic procession on the outside of the Parthenon cella wall),
and (3) The Pediments.

Free-standing statues such as those representing the god
to whom the temple was dedicated, and which stood in the
cella, do not form a structurally unified part of the building ;
and cult statues placed outside the temple but within the
temenos do not come within our present survey. The latter,
however, played in many cases an important part as accents
in the general grouping of forms within the temenos, and as
such we may have occasion to discuss them later. A t present
we may note the dominant statue of Athena Promachos on
the Acropolis at Athens, which was an entity of sufficient
bulk to constitute a focal point within the sacred enclosure.

(a) Metopes.— Metopes commonly took the form of
sculptured panels set between the triglyphs, and achieved at
different periods a varying degree of architectonic unity with
the outer elements of the Doric temple. W e have seen that
a high standard of unification was attained in the metopes of
Temple " C " at Selinus, where the geometry of the temple

O nAJPOENON

DETA ILS A 0,10». IM

ANGLE MO

ANGLE NO
ELEVATION

F L A N

amoEBEpoir

A N G L E N O

design was strongly echoed in the formalism of the figure
treatment in these panels. Lawrence31’ places these metopes
close to 500 B.C. although he quotes the opinions of Studniczka
and Langlotz as suggesting 540 and 520 B.C. respectively.
Charbonneaux40 places them in the first half of the sixth
century, and suggests the Perseus and Medusa metopes as
" le meilleur exemple . . . d'une scene theatrale incluse dans
un cadre architectural . . ." Fougeres41 sees in the group
depicted an action that is as " rapide comme une scene
eschyleenne." The arrangement of the figures in this metope
shows a close approach to the isocephalism of the vase
painters, in that the raised hand of Perseus is placed so as to
bring the Medusa form level with the heads of Perseus and
Athena.

An example from Delphi (mentioned earlier in the discussion
on colour) is worthy of note. The " Cattle-raid " fragment of

the Sicyonian treasury lacks what Charbonneaux calls " la
rudesse presque brutale " of the Temple " C " metope, and
though dating from about the middle of the sixth century
displays a sense of movement that contrasts strongly with the
atmosphere of tension and suspended action that marks the
Perseus and Medusa metope.

Picard and de la Coste-Messeliere4-’ describe this movement
of the marching figures— " ils vont d'un pas cadence, dont le
rythme militaire s'impose curieusement aux animaux escortes
. . . ." Removed from its setting this small panel (only 22 ̂
inches in height) with its ambitious and complex arrangement
of human and animal forms offers within the depth of its
modelling (about 2f inches) a small-scale demonstration of
spatial control and formal rhythm that is symbolical of the
whole range of Greek plastic art. It should be remembered
that this sculpture was much closer to the spectator than the

O p p o s i t e : A m e a s u r e d d e t a i l o f t h e P a r t h e n o n d r a w n b y M a g n e , f r o m
F o u g e r e s — L e P a r t h e n o n ( p o r t f o l i o o f p h o t o g r a p h s a n d d r a w i n g s , M o r a n c e ,
P a r i s )
B e l o w : T h e P a r t h e n o n t o - d a y a s s e e n f r o m t h e d i r e c t i o n o f t h e P r o p y l a e a
( E n g l i s h P h o t o g r a p h i c C o . , A t h e n s )

Selinus example owing to the smaller dimensions of the
treasury, and therefore a finer scale was not only commensurate
with its setting, but from a purely pictorial point of view,
justified.

Especially significant in relation to the spectator is the great
complexity of form, and the bold essay at internal rhythm.
A t Selinus there was, in the three salient figures, a static
arrangement whose rigidity contributed to the collective
rhythm of repeated metope and triglyph ; in the example from
Delphi there is a sign that the sculptor is not always willing
to subordinate his art to the dictates of an architectural
framework, and the work of succeeding centuries will show
the effects of this independence. One hundred years later
the Parthenon metopes recorded the degree of freedom
reached by the sculptor, and here naturalism and suggested
movement are such as to negate all idea of formal rhythm.

(b) Frieze.— The frieze in Doric architecture43 is of second
ary importance, and in the present survey we need mention
only one example (actually Ionic) which is interesting from the
point of view of spatial treatment. The Treasury of the
Siphnians at Delphi, built about 525 B.C. though only a small
building " is one of the most richly decorated of such
buildings that ever existed . . . The whole (being) built of
Parian marble and brilliantly coloured . . . "44 In the fragment
illustrated opposite (25 inches in height) there is a notable
display of vigour and brilliant arrangement within the small
compass of 2 j inches depth of carving. Seven or eight planes
are defined within this depth, and the square cutting back
from these almost flat surfaces imparts a precision and austerity
that accord well with an architectural setting.

(c) Pediment.— The free-standing sculptures of the pediment
presented a peculiar problem to the sculptor. A t first glance
the horizontal and raking cornices appear to offer an admir
able framework for a group of statues, but the exacting nature
of the space so defined, and the rapid diminution of practic
able volume towards the outer edges imposed an acute restric
tion on the grouping and scale of the enclosed and separate
forms.

As one may expect the development of pedimental treat
ment echoes that of the metope, and in a parallel sense reflects
the changes that occurred in the relationship between the
purely architectural forms as they were modified during the
period 600 to 400 B.C. For our present purpose it is proposed
to examine four arrangements distributed over this period, and
in so doing, to attempt an estimate of the spatial effect
achieved in each case. The examples are as follows :—

(I) Pediment from the Temple of Artemis, Palaeopolis,
Corcyra : about 580 B.C.

(2) Pediment from the Temple of Aphaia, Aegina : sculp
ture c. 480 B.C.

(3) Pediment from the Temple of Zeus, Olympia : 460 B.C.
(4) Pediment from the Parthenon, Athens : 447 B.C.
Temple of Artemis, Palaeopolis.— The pediment of this

temple has been restored by Buschor from fragments found
in 1910.45 The scheme is an extremely direct one, boldly
articulated, and powerful in effect through the restricted
number of elements in its composition. The focal point is
provided by a large Gorgon over 9 feet 0 inches in height, and
flanked by her attendant animals (lions or leopards) and by
her offspring Pegasus and Chrysaor. To a smaller scale battles
between the gods and giants are portrayed towards the
angles. The handling of the main elements, particularly of
the large animals is masterly in its adjustment to the sloping
shape of the leopard backs, and the dramatic closeness with
which the whole animal form fits the lines of the pediment
once more demonstrates the peculiarly archaic vitality to which
reference has been made earlier.

The complete change of scale for the groups of gods and
giants is a daring device that results in a note of visual tension.
The method of filling the greater part of the space with a
large-scale group rather than dissipating the interest over a
multiplicity of smaller forms is an early triumph of spac£
arrangement in this exacting context. W e may note in this
example that " In all the human figures there prevails a heavy
rectangular structure, due to the flat, broad surfaces by which
the body is rendered . . . "46 This attribute accords with
the treatment of the Selinus metopes, and offers an interesting
forecast of the technique of the Siphnian frieze.

To summarise, the Artemis pediment shows (a) a minimum
number of elements ; (b) a bold separation of these elements
which thus retain their individuality within the frame, and (c)
a strong rhythm that carries, however, little suggestion of
potential movement within the figures themselves.

Temple of Aphaia, Aegina.— The " transitional " temple of
Aphaia shows a considerable change in attitude to the treat
ment of pedimental sculpture. The remains of the sculptures
of this temple were discovered amongst its ruins in 1811, and
are at present in Munich. The west pediment was first recon
structed by Thorvaldsen, later by Furtwangler (with additional
material and still further modified by Schrader). Lawrence47
refers to the west figures as being " thinner, harder, more
compressed " (than those of the east pediment) the facial
treatment still showing the " archaic smile " while the east
figures " are more contoured, of greater fullness and softness
of form . . . " A figure from the west pediment is " still ot
conventional construction . . .'

F r a g m e n t o f t h e F r i e z e o f t h e S i p h n i a n T r e a s u r y ,
D e l p h i , a b o u t 5 2 5 B . C .

P H O T O G R A P H S B Y

F r a g m e n t o f
f r o m t h e
T r e a s u r y ,
a b o u t 5 5 0

a M e t o p e
S i c y o n i a n

D e l p h i ,
B . C .

T H E W R I T E R , D E L P H M U S E U M 1 9 3 3

Frazer48 finds fhat " Their style is on the whole hard, stiff,
and wanting in idealism." On the contrary one must suggest
that this " hardness " and " stiffness " betokens a realisation
of the primary restriction of architectural sculpture— that the
architectonic mood of the whole shall not be weakened by
misplaced naturalism. It is true that the grouping and scale
of the figures indicate the growing desire for suggested action
and greater strain in the positions assumed by the figures.
W hat Frazer (and many of the critics of the 19th century)
felt to be an inadequacy is more justifiably to be explained
in terms of the aesthetic intention of the Greek Doric temples
as a whole rather than from the standpoint of later naturalism
which has always offered a tempting standard by which to
measure earlier work.49

The west pediment at Aegina50 shows thirteen figures of
which the central figure is upright, the remainder being in
various positions dictated by the exigency of their settings.
Immediately on either side of the centre line are two balanced
groups of three, each containing two opposing figures in
combat with one reclining between them. In the next zone
there are again three figures on either side— two kneeling or
crouching and one reclining. The greater number of elements
produces greater continuity of pattern, and consequently
rhythm of a smaller measure than that which we have seen in
the Artemis temple in Corcyra. W e are not conscious in the
present scheme of boldly carved " objects " set in a frame in
such a manner that their own identity is clearly maintained
within the greater unity of the temple fabric. Within their
smaller pattern, however, the figures are carved with a degree
of formal organisation that is consistent with the lessened
archaism of the temple itself.

Temple of Zeus, Olympia.— The pediments of the Temple of
Zeus— only a few years later than those of the Aphaia temple
— show a considerable increase in the number of figures and
a greater degree of " realism " than appear in the earlier
example. The generally accepted reconstruction of the west
pediment by Treu51 with its strong triangulation and rhyth
mical grouping (the figures are arranged on a system I, 3, 2,
3, I, 3, 2, 3, I) achieves a greater compactness than was
possible with the fewer figures and less flowing relationship
of the Aphaia pediment.

The Parthenon, Athens.— The evidence for the arrangement
of the pediments of the Parthenon is provided chiefly by
Pausanias's description, and the drawings attributed to Carrey
and made before the explosion of I687.5a The style of the
individual figures has been summarised by Lawrence in
the following statement " A discreet naturalism, in which
the sense of pattern is never overwhelmed, marks the rendering

of the nude, while richness is the prevailing quality of the
drapery." The definition of pattern must be a wide one to
embrace the disconcerting richness of the treatment, for in
these figures there are only softness and flow that border on
the amorphous, and one seeks in vain some of the structure
and firmness of " archaic " work that legitimately relates the
sculpture to its setting. Gardner1’4 refers to the Parthenon
arrangements as " the acme of pedimental composition but
fails to convince one by his cursory example of ' subtle balance
and rhythm " in the east pediment.

It is only too apparent that the rich verisimilitude of drapery,
and the technical mastery of free form have become desirable
conditions in themselves with an incalculable loss of meaning
in the architectural sense. Examination of free-standing sculp
ture of the second half of the fifth century and of the fourth
century confirms a steady decline in formal significance which
was inevitably reflected in temple sculpture.

IX. C O N C L U S I O N

A few of the significant aspects of Doric temple architec
ture have now been covered, but in this paper the temple
has been regarded only as an isolated entity, and we may ask
what was its broader meaning architecturally— what function
did it fulfil in the architectural scheme of the Greek city or
sanctuary.

This aspect is a large one, and the foregoing analysis may
be regarded as the groundwork for a discussion which will
deal with the arrangement of characteristic sanctuaries in
Greece and Sicily. The subject is too wide to compress into
a single paper and it has seemed to me advisable to establish
the appearance and contributory forms of the temple before
proceeding to a consideration of the spatial attributes of the
temple in its setting. It is hardly necessary to stress the
Greek achievement in architecture, though perhaps one may
note the changing attitude in interpreting its meaning and
interest for us.

The buildings that sprang from a so-called Greek revival
reflected an overwhelming preoccupation with the minutiae
of the Greek " style," and the transcription of Greek forms
into contemporary contexts was a dubious method of recognis
ing the heritage of Greece. To-day we search a little deeper
to interpret the lesson of Greece, and the fact that we do not
copy must not be thought to indicate lack of either under
standing or appreciation. This paper and the one that will
follow are attempts to integrate the knowledge we have, and
draw some fresh conclusions from it,

N O T E S .

1. See E. A. Gardner : Mythology and Religion, Chap. V, in Cambridge
Companion to Greek Studies.

2. Rodenwaldt: Die Kunst der Antike, illustrates the decoration of Tiryns
in. colour: plates 3 and 4. See also Bossert : An Encyclopaedia of
Colour Decoration, Figs. 49— 52, for colour decoration at Tiryns and
Mycenae.

3. Myres: Who Were the Greeks ? pp. 270 ff.

4. Perrot and Chipiez : Art in Primitive Greece, vol. 2, see Fig. 298 for
reconstructed elevation of the megaron at Mycenae.

5. Robertson : A Ftandbook of Greek and Roman Architecture, pp. 62 ff.

6. Robertson : The Background of Greek Architecture, in Proceedings
of the Hellenic Travellers' Club, 1932. An interesting discussion on
the Temple of Hera from historical and technical points of view is
given in this paper.

7. See Anderson, Spiers and Dinsmoor : The Architecture of Ancient
Greece, pp. 62, 63 for description and illustration of the " Megaron "
at Selinus.

8. Hope Bagenal : in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects,
for June 6th, 1936.

9. Picard : Manuel d’Archeologie Grecque, p. 353.

10. See Bulletin de Correspondence Hellenique, vol. LXII (2) 1938, pp.
370 ff. for an illustrated paper on the reconstruction of the Tholos
at Delphi.

11. See Frazer: Pausanias's Description of Greece, vol. 3, p. 245 for a
detailed description of the materials employed in the Tholos at
Epidaurus.

12. The pediment figures and metopes were of Parian marble.

13. Dickins : Catalogue of the Acropolis Museum, vol. I, Archaic Sculp
ture, p. 35.

14. Frazer : op. cit. vol. 3, pp. 502, 503.
14a loc. cit.
14b loc. cit.

15. Dickins : op. cit. p. 37.

16. Dickins : op. cit. pp. 10, I I .
See also generally Casson : The Technique of Early Greek Sculpture ;
and Payne and Young : Archaic Marble Sculpture from the Acropolis.

17. Frazer : op. cit. vol. 3, pp. 240, 241.

18. Frazer : op. cit. vol. 3, p. 248.

19. See Picard : L'Acropole, L'Enceinte, Les Propylees, Portfolio and
text ; and
Fougeres : Le Parthenon, Portfolio and text, 2 vols. for large photo

graphs of architectural details of the Acropolis buildings.

20. Anderson, Spiers, Dinsmoor : op. cit. p. 92.

21. Anderson, Spiers, Dinsmoor : op. cit. p. 88.

22. Actually the incipient decadence finally " matured " in Rome, where
the pseudo-peripteral temple (that is the temple apparently sur
rounded by columns) marked the close of the lonq march of cella
wall towards peristyle, screen and wall merging in a mutual loss of
identity and meaning.

23. Comparative analysis of measured drawings of archaic and late Doric
temples shows the nature of this redistribution of mass.

24. D'Ooge : The Acropolis of Athens, p. 169.

25. D'Ooge : op. cit. p. 170.

26. Magne : Le Par