Troston-hall, July 23, 1810.

For the Monthly Magazine. VISIT of an ANTIQUARY to LONDON.

It's an eccentric commencement of a letter to quote two passages in an abrupt form: one is from Voltaire, "I speak what I think, and care very little whether others think as I do," and the other, "That there is no disputation in matters of taste."

From business and pleasure united, I have just made an excursion to the meWhatever pleasure pastoral tropolis. poets may derive from beholding lazy Tityrus piping under a tree, I confess that I had full as much inclination to hear the music of Bow bells, and behold the beauties of Kensington-garden girls, who luckily did not live in the time of a calumniating poet, who, without heed of slander, would probably have styled them, as he did romping Galatea, lascivæ puelle. And this, though they are only

harmless

I had scarcely been in London an hour,
before I was urged with, "You will go
and see the Duke of Bedford's statue; the
New Theatre, the Townley Collection;
and the Four-in-hand Club: the present
lions of London. The last of these visits
I declined for the following reason, very
sensibly given by a stage-coachman.
"Gentlemen (he said) often mount our
box with an inclination to become
adepts in driving curricles, phaetons,
&c. but they are quite mistaken.
Stage-coaches are heavy burdens, and
our task is to make every horse do his
duty but the light open carriages of
gentlemen, are little more than wheel-
barrows at the heels of horses, and driv-
ing these, is chiefly to restrain the horses
from mischief." Donkies, as is wel
known, are very prone to gib; and how
ever amusing may be the pranks which
they play in their sulky moments, I am
inclined to think that the Eton boy, who
lately dashed among them with his team
of donkies, is not to be considered with
a faun smile in the spirit of Fun, but as
presenting a good example for the mo-
deru. Jehus, by finding them plenty of

useful occupation-that of curing the res
tiveness of asses. This is no trifling
consideration, when it is known that a
donkey has lately been sold for the enor
mous sum of fifteen guineas. Forsaking
then, any idea of entertainment from
merely seeing carriages and four driven
by gentlemen, I repaired to the spot
where stands the sad memorial of the
noble patron of the useful arts--the Eng-
lish Triptolemus, who in the days of
mythology, (from the policy of sound
patriotism,) would have been honoured
with a temple. I confess, that I could
not advance to the spot without the
most melancholy sensations. I recol
lected the untimely fate, the short-lived
bloom, of this bright flower of family,
The execution of
opulence, and merit.
the statue appeared to me to confer
honour upon the artist, and the orna-
ments to be perfectly coincident. Some
powerful reasons may, however, conduce
ticism. First, the statue is of bronze,
to prevent the possibility of sound cri-
which was not the general custom of the
ancients; and, by no means, shows exe-
cution like marble. It sinks through
darkness all the small parts, and is cer
tainly not the best form. Nobody would
desire the Venus, Apollo, Meleager, &c.
to be changed in materials: though it
perhaps would be eligible in a Hercules,
or figures which exhibit much muscle.
Secondly, this statue stands so high, that
the view teazes the spectator with the
bare outline of a human figure. In mo
dern statuary, there is often no attitude,
no character, no allusion to any thing
from position. Either they sit and look
as tamely as if they were at dinner, or
they extend one arm, and only want a
fishing-rod, to have the graceful attitude
of anglers. This taste was no doubt
derived from days when those white or
gilt sticks, called truncheons, were in
vogue. I am aware, that although Hope
gazes upon a rose-bud, and the Philoso-
pher declines the head, such character.
istic representations are mostly limited
to deified and allegorical figures; yet the
plough upon which the statue rests the
hand, might cause it to pass for a Cincin
natus, were it excavated in Italy. The
statue looks straight forward, like
Charles I. at Charing Cross, and many
others, in unmeaning vacancy. I do not
say that a Bakewell rain would well suit
the genius of sculpture, and that the
duke's eye could be directed to it; but,
in my opinion, some character should
have been given to the statue. I am not

speaking

124

Visit of an Antiquary to London.

speaking of the execution, and therefore
do not question the genius of the artist;
but tame attitude does not lie within the
The inscription
perfections of the art.
It it said, that
too, does not please me.
the noted Sarah duchess of Marlborough,
offered five hundred pounds in vain, for
an adequate eulogy of the British pro-
totype of Buonaparte. It appears to
me, that the simple words of common
life, "the great duke of Marlborough,"
"the great duke of Bedford," without
addition, imply more than volumes of
elaborate panegyric.

From thence I proceeded to the New
Theatre. It is singular, that in London
architecture appears to have made such
Jittle progress. Sir Christopher Wren
has been extolled, as having attained the
Whoever has seen
acme of the science.
Stuart's Athens will not believe it; at
least if he judges by effect. The nume-
rous spires with which he has loaded the
town, are a barbarous mixture of two
incongruous orders, the Grecian and
Gothic, in a most capricious and fan-
tastic taste. The beauty of the spire is
its graceful proportion; and when rising
above the trees of a village, or seen at a
distance in a city, it brings the view to
an apex, and is exceedingly pleasing.
Its form, however, does not admit of va-
riation, nor even of ornament, suffici
ently large to break the fine conical out-
line. Who would think of elevating
obelisks upon straddling stools, as con-
St. Paul's itself
sistent with good taste.
has nothing to recommend it but the
dome and colonnade, to which some per-
sons add the pepper-boxes of the west
front. Setting aside the dome, all the
other parts of St. Paul's are frittered
away by sub-divisions. To break it into
two stories, was an unpardonable fault.
The chief majesty of ancient temples,
consists in the colonnade rising from the
base to the cornice, in one uniform de-
sign-one grand and consistent whole.
St. Paul's is ruined by wanting this grand
encircling colonnade, which relieves the
dead weight of wall, and brings the whole
into one sublime yet simple character.
I am one of those who do not like the
triple stories of the colosseum and am-
phitheatres. A simple single colonnade,
with an attic, at most, appears to me
of far greater effect: I do not mean thus
to applaud those scarcely perceptible
pilasters which jut out of modern
walls, but a grand and bold series of fine
three-quarter columns. I mean not to
depreciate the talents of Sir Christopher

[Sept. 1,

I have gazed with Wren, but his taste. rapture upon the precious relics of an. cient Athens; but I can look without emotion upon the churches of London, Much however is to be allowed to the sad necessity (though the necessity only of bad custom) of adapting Grecian buildings to the Gothic fashions of crosses and spires. There is no treat then in the churches of London. In other buildings, there are no less difficulties arising from the windows. In ancient fabrics, they form no necessary point of consideration. They scarcely If windows have arappear, and often form no part of the plan of the work. If they chitraves, they are almost infallibly heavy; and if they have not, they do not harmonize with the other parts. are either too large, or too small, they equally offend; and great delicacy is requisite in making the size of them, in order to avoid too large a mass of naked wall. The best view in which they appear is, perhaps, that of descending to a fascia round the building, at the bottom of them; and being surmounted at some distance from the top, by another cornice of the building, as in some modern Piccadilly houses. Upon the whole, modern house architecture is often toSomer lerably light and elegant, and of very fair design. An evident alteration of taste has, however, recently ensued. set-place, a building of considerable dimension, is too light in style, too profuse in ornament: while the New Theatre Of late, there is exactly the converse. have been numerous visits to Magna The Doric is the most Grecia, and they have produced splendid publications. common order found in the remains of antiquity; and the channelled Pæstan column, has at length appeared in London, and with it introduced a taste for the heavy. It is not remembered, that this heaviness is often avoided in the antique by the structures being mostly hypæthral, that is, without a roof. In the ancient architecture, there appears to have been but three simple causes of effect consulted in the plan; first, the colonnade, and then the frieze and cornice. Upon these, for exterior effect, those great masters seem to have mostly relied. The plan of the moderns has never been equally simplified, and therefore failed of adequate effect. It is not usual among the ancients to see an ob long square barn-formed building, with a portico in the centre of the longest side. In England this is perpetual, aud seems

to be the only external ornament deemed necessary. This the Mansion-house, Carleton-house, India-house, and New Theatre, attest. Insert but a portico, with columus and pediments, and the other parts are passed off, at option, with a mere house-plan, of common taste and decoration. The Pæstan column appears accordingly in the front of the New Theatre, to which there is nothing coincident in any other part of the façade. The front, it is well known, consists of this Pæstan portico, between two long plain sides of wall, broken by a few windows, a bas-relief inserted in the wall, and two statues, one at each end. It is evident, that to harmonize with the por tico, in the classical style, there should have been a cornice, frieze, &c. &c. as usual in the plans. Perhaps the statues should have been colossal. Assuredly, the portico is too small, and the face of the building too low. The Doric of Jove requires adequate grandeur. At all events, the plan of this façade is arbitrary and capricious. The introduction of the bas-reliefs is undoubtedly elegant, but of a light effect and character, directly opposite to the heavy style of the Doric portico. Pass we to the inside of the house, there are immense lobbies, and paltry stair cases-stair-cases not supe rior to common houses, even in materials. The audience part of the house is, as usual, light; but why vary the running pattern upon every tier of boxes? The effect would have been improved if they had been uniform. To connect these light and airy gaieties with the scene part, is the latter made unaccountably heavy: and thus is the coeffure of a young girl placed upon the head of a judge or a bishop. Just beyond the orchestra are two huge porphyry pilasters, with pretty modern doors at the side, and a heavy. roof in compartments. The drop-scene too, though evidently intended to continue the plan, has other inharmonious breaches of that plan. It seems not to have occurred to the architects of the atres, that a continuation and unity of plan should go round the whole house, with which the drop-scene should harmonize, and by an attention also to colouring, design, and moulding, upon a plan as uniform as circumstances would admit, might be produced a fine perspective whole. There are, however, considerable difficulties in this idea; but would not the drop-scene be well superseded by two side-sliding scenes, of compartments of looking-glass, which would MONTHLY MAG. No. 203.

Win both a public and private

7ITH regard to the disadvantages,

view, of suffering timber-trees to remai upon the land when obviously past their prime, and annually verging to decay, I entirely agree with your respectable and well-intentioned correspondent Mr. Hall. Indeed, the subject so fully impressed my mind some years since, whilst looking over the finely-timbered estate of a noble lord, that I soon afterwards laid my sentiments before the public, have not the passage before me at this instant, but so far as I recollect, in addition, to the argument of profit, I urged, that a sufficiency of full-sized yet improving trees existed, and might be perpetually retained, for every purpose of rural grandeur and magnificent view, without so general an accompaniment of those in a state of decay; a few of which only need be retained when of a singular form, or peculiarly venerable appearance, I endeavoured also forcibly to inculcate the patriotic and profitable practice of planting in early life, wishing it to be received as a universal maxim, by all our land proprietors great and small. It appeared to me to be sufficiently disadvantageous and ill-judged, even in the view of taste, to encumber ornamented grounds with rotten timber; but that this is a trifle compared with the indolent absurdity of suffering such to be scattered over farms totally out of view of the park or mansion-house, and where there can be no plea of ornament. I however, did not think myself authorized by reason, or right, or policy, to proceed even the breadth of a hair be yond advice and recommendation; fully convinced that it was an affair quite without the bounds and province of legal compulsion; that it approached too near, if it were not actually an integral part, of that fundamental right, which ought

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