No image is more frequently seen on television than the United States Capitol. Day after day, night after night, it is there — behind a reporter, a politician, an anchorman; in documentaries, sitcorns, and movies. Usually, the view is confined to the Capitol’s massive dome. That is the picture that best identifies the nation.
It has left in the dust an equally vivid image: the Statue of Liberty. Seldom is a statue — even a colossus-the symbol of a nation. One thinks of ” Mother Russia,” outside of Volgograd, but this statue (also a colossus) remains relatively unfamiliar. The Kremlin represents Russia. And in America, the Capitol is number one.
Not often is the seat of a legislature a national symbol. Only one other seems to have as prominent a place: the New Palace of Westminster in London. One glimpse of the famous clocktower, with its bell, Big Ben, and we know that the story pertains to England. Can anyone recognize other legislative buildings? The Reichstag in Berlin, the Palazzo Montecitorio in Rome, the Palais Bourbon in Paris? Paris is represented by the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower, Rome by St. Peter’s. Berlin? How about the Brandenburger Tor?
Aside from their status as symbols, the Capitol and Westminster share the distinction of being two of the most lavishly decorated buildings of their kind. It is well worth looking beyond their shells to realize that ornament is everywhere — not just in paintings, but in statues, reliefs, and polychromy, in carved wood and plaster detail. Decoration is found not just on the walls, but on the ceilings and floors. In London, most of this work was executed after the disastrous fire of 1834 (which explains the offxcial name “New Palace of Westminster”). The post-fire reconstruction must have been one of the most important undertakings, not just in architecture, but in all the arts in the England of the last century.
So too with the extension of the Capitol, as far as this country was concerned. The construction here took place in the 1850s, shortly after the completion of most of the work across the sea. But whereas the English palace is wholly Gothic, our Capitol is thoroughly Classical. The ceilings and floors are paved in the same encaustic tile (known as Minton) as at Westminster.
There is also plenty of sculpture, though not as plentiful as in London, and an abundance of frescoes, where the American building has the edge. This last is seen, on a giant scale, in “The Apotheosis of Washington,” placed at the center of the great dome. At a distance, few realize that the fresco is over 3,000 square feet. Not to be overlooked either is the Capitol’s painted and molded work — the Senate wing boasting more of the painted, the House more of the molded.
Yet a third factor links the apitol and its British cousin: Neither has been touched by modern art. One finds hardly a trace of it in either place, which is astonishing in a world awash in modernism.
When the East Front of the Capitol was expanded in the early 1960s, a corridor was created on the ground floor for a much-used visitors’ space. In their design, the architects made use of massive Doric columns and Doric detail, thus preserving harmony with the older parts of the building — a rare recent example of public architecture executed in the Classical.
The West is lucky to have two key public buildings that have, in every way, repelled fashion and remained loyal to tradition. The U.S. Treasury let us down when, with the new 100-dollar bill, it opted for visual nihilism. Let us hope that it goes no further. And that the Capitol continues to stand gloriously Classical, while Westminster stands gloriously Gothic.
HenHope Reed is president of Classical America. His book on the United States Capitol will appear next year.
