The virtue of the true arch, whether used for an opening into or a hollow space within a structure, is that in ages
before steel came into use as a weight-bearing member, the arch could make a wider opening and/or a greater hollow than any other form of
support, be that columns holding the horizontal lintel of a gate or supporting
a roof. And the secret the ancients discovered was that stone is easily cracked
and broken when weight above it causes it to stretch (tensile force) but
resists weight much more effectively if the weight causes it to compress
instead (compressive force). For this reason, before the discovery of the arch,
huge temples were forests of tall columns, not much more than 10 feet apart—although
nicely aligned.
The earliest arches, known also as false arches, emerged as
far back as the second millennium BC. They attempted to reduce the tensile
stress on bearing members by extending the supporting columns stepwise into the
opening, as shown by the illustration of this early kind of arch, known as a corbel. Corbelled arches predate the true arch by two thousand years and are
found all over the world, including ancient South America.
The Etruscans invented the true arch, also shown as a
diagram. By using wedge-shaped stones, they converted tensile stresses on the
stone from above into compressive stress, so that the force exerted on the
stone is transferred laterally to the columns—as shown in the illustration. The
Romans learned the art, perfected it, and then applied it with enormous
exuberance to every kind of building, including enormous aqueducts. The true
arch was solidly in place by the second century BC. The later flying buttress (mentioned
on this blog here) is an extension of the principle that manifests in the
arch.
In contrast to stone or brick steel
stretches easily under weight while retaining its integrity. When steel beams began
to be deployed as weight-bearing members in the nineteenth century, the
functional role of the stone arch was diminished. Not that such did not
continue to be built—indeed they still are. The massive deployment of steel in
buildings is, of course, the consequence of plentiful supplies of cheap fossil
fuels. As these sources of energy are exhausted, the arch, no doubt, will once
more become an important technology—the enabler of generous interior space.
I bring this post today by way of illustrating a point I
made yesterday about technology. Technology cumulates even as large social
structures decay, die, and others are then born in turn. The corbelled arch
survived the decline and fall of Sumer and Akkad; the Roman arch survived the
decline and fall of Rome and may rise in the future. How the old is passed on
to the present is illustrated neatly in two YouTube videos. The first is titled
“How I Build Stone Arches,” by Mike Haduck (link). It’s hands on.
Amusingly, it illustrates how modern and ancient technologies cooperate—when
Haduck uses an electric saw to shape his stones…and then consults an old book
that illustrates arch-building early in the twentieth century. The second, “History
of Visual Technology: Stone Construction and the Arch,” presents an excellent
tutorial on the fundamentals involved in this art—and how it has evolved over
time (link). The arches closest to our house? Why, they are part of our house (built 1929). We walk beneath them each time we go somewhere.
To this, as a card-carrying word-maven, I need to add a caution. Architecture does not have its roots in “the arch.” In that word the root is archon, the Greek for “master” or “chief”—chief builder. The arch has its root in the Latin arcus; it stands for the “bow.”
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Images from Wikipedia link for the corbel and link for the true arch.
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