J70 



THE CIVIL ENGINEER AND ARCHITECT'S JOURNAL. 



[M 



AY. 



about lliree Imndied and ninety feet by two linndied and ten is to be 

 laid out, so as, along with the monument itself, to giow into an appro- 

 priate pictiuc; each feature bearing its part in the scene- and, sup- 

 posing all this satisfactorily adjusted, we arrive at the (picsiions, 

 •' What kind of tnonument is fitted for the siter" — " In what archi- 

 tectural style ought it to beV" or, if sculpture thovdd be considered 

 titter, '■ Should it be broad and low, or should it be narrow and highy" 

 The answers will be something like these — If narrow and liigli, the 

 National Gallery will be cut in two— illustrating, it is true, one of Nel- 

 son's favourite niancBuvres of breaking the enemy's line, but doing no 

 great service to the building; and if broad and low, it so happens that 

 even a height of fifteen or twenty feet would cut oH' about two-thirds 

 of the portico of the Gallery; for if you stand upon the southejn foot- 

 path, you will find that the trifling ridge of the ground shortens all 

 persons walking on the footway at tlie Gallery, by the length of their 

 legs. Then, as to architeetuial style : I have seen it suggested that it 

 should assimilate with the surrounding buildings. Pray with which ': 

 There are but three buildings which can be said to have any style : — ■ 

 St. Martin's Church, the National Gallery, and Northumberland 

 House ; — the last is out of the picture, and consequently need not he 

 cared for. The (iallery, whatever it may be in itself, is quite unfit to 

 be -worked up to in a naval monument; and St. Martin's Church need 

 not be much heeded, for no style can injure that. Aitists may erect 

 whatever they please, that structure stands alone in its integrity, 

 calmly scorning all the egotistical attempts around it. The questions, 

 then, as to what style? and what kind of monument is fittest r can only 

 be answered by going into a very difticult enquiry, involving a con- 

 sideration of the distinct capabilities of architecture and sc\dpture, or 

 of both combined; and how far they can be made to speak a widely 

 understood language. There are certain simple forms prevalent 

 among many nations, which, whether derived from the practice of one 

 original stock, or inherent in the human mind, bring with them melan- 

 choly ideas. We, as it were, instinctively know atomb ; we feel that 

 denotes a place of sculpture, and we reverence it as such : — but beyond 

 that, it has no power of expression. To denote whether it be raised to 

 commemorate a male or female, architecture has no resource but to call 

 in the aid of sculpture. 



There are certain other forms, which, although approximating to the 

 sepulchral, yet appear to designate, not that human remains have 

 there been intei red, but that they have been set up in memorial of 

 some event ; but the architectural form conveys no idea to the mind of 

 the event which is denoted, if sculpture have not, by her chisel, given to 

 it a tongue. And there are other forms which, by their simplicity, 

 solidity, and calmness, appear evidently intended" as sacred places 

 appropriated to the worship of tlie Deity. Architecture can erect 

 temples, memorial stones, and tombs, with "little risk of her meaning 

 being misunderstood ; the foibidding gloom of a prison, or the festive 

 gaiety of a banquetting-room, can be characterized by her to some 

 certain extent ; but how, as some seem to expect, she is so forcibly 

 to depict the i|ualities of the human soul, tliat all men are at once to 

 understand the structure commemorates a hero, is far beyond my 

 comprehension— it is in flict beyond her power. Fiom the stone of 

 Bethel set up by Jacob, from the obelisks raised by the Egyptian kings, 

 down to the loveliest conceptions of Grecian art, and thence onward to 

 the military columns of the Romans, and of the Place Vendeme, all 

 have required either the aid of inscription, or of sculpture, or of 

 tradition, to point out what they mean ; and where these have failed, 

 as in the case of the Egyptian obelisks, there we stand gazing in utter 

 ignorance. To come closer home.— Does the Monument°on Fish- 

 street-hill, divested of its sculpture and inscription, by a\ii;ht in its aspect 

 tell us that it memorializes the binning of Londoii? What does the 

 column in Waterloo-place tell usV W'^hat do all the columns and 

 monumental structures over all England, set up in commemoration of 

 Nelson, tell us of his chaiacter? The cohuun of skulls piled up by 

 the Tartar chief, unequivocally spaKe of an enormous slaughter: the 

 projected Russian column of cannons and mortars mi^ht be supposed 

 in some way to denote a victory, yet even these are not, strictly speak- 

 ing, architecture; they partake more of the character of sculpture 

 in its niost barbarous form. But by what magic genius has architecture 

 been m.ade " trumpet-tongued, " to tell of Nelson, the energetic, the 

 fearless, the affectionate, the open-heai ted, the generous, the\levotcd, 

 the heroic ? We inay indeed be told of breadth, and height, and strength, 

 and massiveness, as calculated to denote the wariior chief; but alas 

 for the National Gallery if any one of these demons be conjured up, 

 and woe to the paltry sum which is said to be available for the purpose. 

 Sculpture lias a more extended range, and greater power than her 

 sister art, for she can call in the expression of the human form, and 

 add explanatory embellishments in her own pictorial language; but even 

 her power is limited, and needs written language to tell the whole tale. 

 It is in her power to erect a statue, which, without being much beyond 



the human size, nay, it may even be very much below it, shall impress 

 the beholder with the most sublime ideas of the being it represents. It 

 is ill her power to compose a group of statues, which shall, with the 

 most impassioned elocpience, spellbind the soul. It is in her power, by 

 a well-conceived line of relievo, to carry out tlie whole of a continuous 

 history; she, like Painting, can, to avast extent, realize the poet's 

 seraph-song and bid the dumb stonestart into life ; but, notwithstanding 

 all this her strength, tlieie is a limit to her resources — she has one 

 source of weakness, andfhat, I fear, will render all her art unavailing if 

 she attempt to erect an isolated monument. All her works are 

 necessarily and in themselves only embellishments, are only a|)- 

 puvtenances: however firmly cramped to a building, they form no pait 

 of it ; however deeply rooted in the earth, they are still nothing but 

 moveables; but, independent of this, they are not calculated to be 

 viewed from more than one, two, or three points advantageously. 

 Owing indeed to the absolute perfection of all the Almighty's works, 

 any correct imitation of the naked human figure, or of any animal, 

 singly and in itself, must be beautiful, view it from any point; but 

 when brought together in a group, so as to tell a story, the insufficiency 

 of art is manifest. Sculpture, in fact, can only make pictures in stone, 

 wood, or other material ; those pictures, when so placed, as that 

 the spectator can only see them in front oi a few degrees sidewise, 

 especially if within a building, and the quantity, colour, and direction 

 of the light, be skilfully adjusted, may be made to produce the most 

 wonderful eflect ; but, in an isolated monument, and that in the open 

 air, it is altogether different. However well-composed the grouping, 

 however grandly conceived the attitudes, and however admirably 

 calculated to convey the artist's meaning, all its effect is likely 

 to be marred, even if it be not made absolutely ridiculous, by the 

 spectator t.aking it in flank, or viewing it from behind. It is in vain to 

 say that the spectator ought not so to do. In its very nature an 

 isolated monument should be calculated to look well from any and from 

 every station ; and therefore, if I be right in my showing, a group of 

 sculpture only is not available for the Nelson monument. 



If so, I apprehend the conclusion will be that the proposed erectiorv 

 must either be a statue (not a monument) more or less colossal, 

 standing on a pedestal or block, more or less high, and more or less 

 embellished, and those embellishments, made by the artist, to bear 

 an important part in his picture; or an architectural monument, 

 decorated with such sculpture as may benecessary, clearly and fully, and 

 yet without confusion, to tell, as far as art can make it tell, the 

 wherefore of it? erection. 



The mere statue would, in itself, be no insuperably difficult task. 

 It must be colossal, or in a space of some five hundred feet in width, 

 from house to house it will be lost ; it ought to be calm and dignified, 

 and especially no violent action ought to be attempted, or it will 

 be ridiculous. An architectural inomiment is by no means so easily 

 to be composed : it will require more .ability than falls to the share of 

 most men,sn to unite architecture with sciilpture.that neithersliall unduly 

 predominate, hut both distinctly and forcibly assist in forming a fit 

 basis foi the hero's statue, for such, after all, I apprehend it must 

 be. The object will not be attained unless that be the leading or 

 ultimate feature, and the great art will consist in gradually leading the 

 eye upwards until it rest upon that main object, without being 

 distr.actcd in its progress by intrusive ornament, and without finding 

 the structure broken into steps as it were, and not formingone integral 

 work, but so many separate pieces piled upon each ether; or, should 

 the artist deem a comparatively low erection more appropriate, it must 

 not be so broad as to stretch beyond the field of distinct vision. If, 

 however, breadth be deemed desirable, then can it be little more than 

 a series of terrace steps, else will the National (iallery be destroyed. 

 If height be deemed requisite, and it be made square, polygonal, or 

 circular, it will either resemble a pedestal or a church-tower, or castle- 

 turret, and no profusion of decoration can divest it of one or other of 

 those characters, unless, indeed, it be made so high as to be columnar ; 

 and much I think that any desire to make it an architectural object 

 must content itself with the columnar form. As to the kind of eolumn, 

 I apprehend that only the Ionic isinappropriate.fortliat is not calculated 

 to standalone, its fronts and flanks being dissimilar. Much has been 

 said against Corinthian columns, hut I think with very little justice 

 or good taste. It is true that the substitution of the .liipiter Stator 

 column for the Doric of Fish-street Hill, is no design atall, any cabinet- 

 maker's apprentice could have done as well ; but I think it m.iy be 

 possible even to make a Corinthian column form a very appropriate 

 object, yet it must be ably treated, and made to seem what it really 

 will be, nothing more than a standaid to support a statue. Concluding 

 then that the proposed mem®rial must either be a column surmounted 

 by a statue, or a statue standing upon a block, or an architectural 

 pedestal, the fit style of decoiation is next to be considered. 



A column of any order admits of but little ornament excejit upon 



