tured heads of gods and men surrounded by elaborate wreaths and garlands. The pronaos 25 ft. deep, has a cluster of columns on each side, the outer pair plain as the main peristyle and the inner two fluted. The familiar portal decorated with the lavishly carved trim of white marble has had its famous hanging keystone replaced. The inner walls of the cella are decorated by eight fluted Corinthian semi-columns supporting a heavy composite entablature consisting of a Corinthian architrave; Doric frieze of triglyphs; and a most elaborate cornice. The space between columns is broken by two sets of panels capped by circular and classic pediments. A marble tablet was placed in one of these panels to commemorate the visit of the Emperor Frederick Wilhelm, but it didn’t survive the later visit of the Anzacs in 1918.
As mentioned before, the entire acropolis, measuring roughly 1,000 by 700 ft., rests on a heavy substructure of titanic masonry twenty feet above the plain. It is pierced by two huge
tunnels, barrel-vaulted and connected by lesser chambers some of which are richly decorated. Huge blocks of varying sizes and periods dating as far back as the Phoenicians, go to make up this massive foundation. Many of these blocks, nicely fitted without mortar, measure 10 by 10 by 30 ft. But it is in the Western wall that you meet one of the greatest feats of ancient engineering. There, 19 ft. above the plain, rest three Cyclopic stones 13 ft. in height and 64 ft., 63^0 ft. and 62 ft. long respectively. Still awed and incredulous, you walk a mile to the ancient quarry and find, cut and dressed except for one under end still fast to its native bed, an even greater brother measuring 13 ft. by 14 ft. by 70 ft. long. How these primitive builders lost in the shadow of antiquity conceived and actually achieved the cutting and moving of such blocks to their final resting places must ever remain a mystery. Yet there they lie, a reverent tribute to the Titanic Gods of old; a silent mockery to our boasted strength and skill.
“Technical Terms”
STILL those technical terms continue to be the bugbear of the general public, including (perhaps one should say “especially”) our popular novelists, and other writers, states The Architects’ Journal, London, in one of its recent issues. Still we read of people sliding down “banisters,” receiving “coping stones” upon their unsuspecting heads, and in other extraordinary ways outraging the decencies of technical phraseology. “Banisters” for “balusters” is an offense of long standing; we imagine it is ineradicable. It has become one of those inexactitudes that time and usage sanctify and make more expressive than the correct word. “Coping stone” is rather more difficult to understand, though its literal meaning is intelligible enough. But it is siirely unfair to a harmless necessary term that the pedestrian upon whom some part of a building falls should always be injured by the “coping stone.” Why not the balustrade or the corona of the cornice? These technicalities should be used cautiously, or unknowingly the layman may find himself performing impossibilities. Only recently we heard of a gentleman who, a victim of odd habits (like Dr. Johnson, who made a point of touching every street post he passed), confessed that he always trod on the “lintel” of the doorway as he passed into a house. He Avas astonished to find that to do this he would have to turn a high somersault in the air!
Restoration of French Homes
A SOCIETY has been formed, with liead
quarters in Paris, with the object of restoring and preserving the historic old homes of France, states a recent issue of The Architects’ Journal, London. The lead was set by Dr. Carvallo, an architectural expert and art connoisseur. It is realized that the efforts of the State to keep the old chateaux, farms, and cottages in repair are not sufficient. The officials will include some of the foremost authorities on historic art and architecture in the country.
Charles Dickens’ Last Home to be
Sold at Auction
GADSHILL PLACE, near Rochester, Eng
land, formerly the residence of Charles Dickens, is shortly to be offered for sale by auction, it is learned.
Gadshill is represented by Shakespeare as the scene of the exploits of Prince Henry and Falstaff. It was here that Dickens set up his Swiss chalet, in which he did much of his later work, and where he wrote the last page of his unfinished novel, “Edwin Drood,” only two or three hours before his sudden death.
After his death the chalet was presented by the family to the Earl of Damley and it now stands in the grounds at Colham.
As mentioned before, the entire acropolis, measuring roughly 1,000 by 700 ft., rests on a heavy substructure of titanic masonry twenty feet above the plain. It is pierced by two huge
tunnels, barrel-vaulted and connected by lesser chambers some of which are richly decorated. Huge blocks of varying sizes and periods dating as far back as the Phoenicians, go to make up this massive foundation. Many of these blocks, nicely fitted without mortar, measure 10 by 10 by 30 ft. But it is in the Western wall that you meet one of the greatest feats of ancient engineering. There, 19 ft. above the plain, rest three Cyclopic stones 13 ft. in height and 64 ft., 63^0 ft. and 62 ft. long respectively. Still awed and incredulous, you walk a mile to the ancient quarry and find, cut and dressed except for one under end still fast to its native bed, an even greater brother measuring 13 ft. by 14 ft. by 70 ft. long. How these primitive builders lost in the shadow of antiquity conceived and actually achieved the cutting and moving of such blocks to their final resting places must ever remain a mystery. Yet there they lie, a reverent tribute to the Titanic Gods of old; a silent mockery to our boasted strength and skill.
“Technical Terms”
STILL those technical terms continue to be the bugbear of the general public, including (perhaps one should say “especially”) our popular novelists, and other writers, states The Architects’ Journal, London, in one of its recent issues. Still we read of people sliding down “banisters,” receiving “coping stones” upon their unsuspecting heads, and in other extraordinary ways outraging the decencies of technical phraseology. “Banisters” for “balusters” is an offense of long standing; we imagine it is ineradicable. It has become one of those inexactitudes that time and usage sanctify and make more expressive than the correct word. “Coping stone” is rather more difficult to understand, though its literal meaning is intelligible enough. But it is siirely unfair to a harmless necessary term that the pedestrian upon whom some part of a building falls should always be injured by the “coping stone.” Why not the balustrade or the corona of the cornice? These technicalities should be used cautiously, or unknowingly the layman may find himself performing impossibilities. Only recently we heard of a gentleman who, a victim of odd habits (like Dr. Johnson, who made a point of touching every street post he passed), confessed that he always trod on the “lintel” of the doorway as he passed into a house. He Avas astonished to find that to do this he would have to turn a high somersault in the air!
Restoration of French Homes
A SOCIETY has been formed, with liead
quarters in Paris, with the object of restoring and preserving the historic old homes of France, states a recent issue of The Architects’ Journal, London. The lead was set by Dr. Carvallo, an architectural expert and art connoisseur. It is realized that the efforts of the State to keep the old chateaux, farms, and cottages in repair are not sufficient. The officials will include some of the foremost authorities on historic art and architecture in the country.
Charles Dickens’ Last Home to be
Sold at Auction
GADSHILL PLACE, near Rochester, Eng
land, formerly the residence of Charles Dickens, is shortly to be offered for sale by auction, it is learned.
Gadshill is represented by Shakespeare as the scene of the exploits of Prince Henry and Falstaff. It was here that Dickens set up his Swiss chalet, in which he did much of his later work, and where he wrote the last page of his unfinished novel, “Edwin Drood,” only two or three hours before his sudden death.
After his death the chalet was presented by the family to the Earl of Damley and it now stands in the grounds at Colham.