The Beautiful Necessity | Page 5

its fleshy envelope.

Egypt is humanity new-born, bound still with an umbilical cord to
nature, and strong not so much with its own strength as with the
strength of its mother. This idea is aptly symbolized in those gigantic
colossi flanking the entrance to some rock-cut temple, which though
entire are yet part of the living cliff out of which they were fashioned.
In the architecture of Greece the note of dread and mystery yields to
one of pure joyousness and freedom. The terrors of childhood have
been outgrown, and man revels in the indulgence of his unjaded
appetites and in the exercise of his awakened reasoning faculties. In
Greek art is preserved that evanescent beauty of youth which, coming
but once and continuing but for a short interval in every human life, is
yet that for which all antecedent states seem a preparation, and of
which all subsequent ones are in some sort an effect. Greece typifies
adolescence, the love age, and so throughout the centuries humanity
has turned to the contemplation of her, just as a man all his life long
secretly cherishes the memory of his first love.
An impassioned sense of beauty and an enlightened reason characterize
the productions of Greek architecture during its best period. The
perfection then attained was possible only in a nation whereof the
citizens were themselves critics and amateurs of art, one wherein the
artist was honored and his work appreciated in all its beauty and
subtlety. The Greek architect was less bound by tradition and precedent
than was the Egyptian, and he worked unhampered by any restrictions
save such as, like the laws of harmony in music, helped rather than
hindered his genius to express itself--restrictions founded on sound
reason, the value of which had been proved by experience.
The Doric order was employed for all large temples, since it possessed
in fullest measure the qualities of simplicity and dignity, the attributes
appropriate to greatness. Quite properly also its formulas were more
fixed than those of any other style. The Ionic order, the feminine of
which the Doric may be considered the corresponding masculine, was
employed for smaller temples; like a woman it was more supple and
adaptable than the Doric, its proportions were more slender and
graceful, its lines more flowing, and its ornament more delicate and
profuse. A freer and more elaborate style than either of these, infinitely
various, seeming to obey no law save that of beauty, was used
sometimes for small monuments and temples, such as the Tower of the

Winds, and the monument of Lysicrates at Athens.
[Illustration 1]
Because the Greek architect was at liberty to improve upon the work of
his predecessors if he could, no temple was just like any other, and they
form an ascending scale of excellence, culminating in the Acropolis
group. Every detail was considered not only with relation to its position
and function, but in regard to its intrinsic beauty as well, so that the
merest fragment, detached from the building of which it formed a part,
is found worthy of being treasured in our museums for its own sake.
Just as every detail of a Greek temple was adjusted to its position and
expressed its office, so the building itself was made to fit its site and to
show forth its purpose, forming with the surrounding buildings a unit of
a larger whole. The Athenian Acropolis is an illustration of this: it is an
irregular fortified hill, bearing diverse monuments in various styles, at
unequal levels and at different angles with one another, yet the whole
arrangement seems as organic and inevitable as the disposition of the
features of a face. The Acropolis is an example of the ideal
architectural republic wherein each individual contributes to the
welfare of all, and at the same time enjoys the utmost personal liberty
(Illustration 1).
Very different is the spirit bodied forth in the architecture of Imperial
Rome. The iron hand of its sovereignty encased within the silken glove
of its luxury finds its prototype in buildings which were stupendous
crude brute masses of brick and concrete, hidden within a covering of
rich marbles and mosaics, wrought in beautiful but often meaningless
forms by clever degenerate Greeks. The genius of Rome finds its most
characteristic expression, not in temples to the high gods, but rather in
those vast and complicated structures--basilicas, amphitheatres,
baths--built for the amusement and purely temporal needs of the
people.
If Egypt typifies the childhood of the race and Greece its beautiful
youth, Republican Rome represents its strong manhood--a soldier filled
with the lust of war and the love of glory--and Imperial Rome its
degeneracy: that soldier become conqueror, decked out in plundered
finery and sunk in sensuality, tolerant of all who minister to his
pleasures but terrible to