PROFESSOR COCKERELL’S LECTURES ON ARCHITECTURE AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

This gentleman, who succeeded the late lamented Mr. Wilkins in the

professor’s chair of the Royal Academy, is labouring with all the

generous energy for which he is distinguished, to lay the products

of a well-stored mind before the students, so as to excite them to

an emulation of the works and achievements of the great masters in

Architecture who have gone before. We have had the pleasure of attending

the course of lectures of this session, and were greatly rejoiced to

find, from the numbers and character of the auditory, that the study of

the art is being regarded with interest by many out of the pale of the

profession. It would have been a grateful duty to us to have given a full

report of these lectures for the benefit of our readers, but we felt

to be precluded from doing so, by a previous announcement on the part

of the _Athenæum_ of the intention to do so, and which has since been

very effectively carried out. In justice to that excellent periodical,

we can, therefore, only refer to its pages those of our readers who may

be anxious to give that attentive perusal of the lectures which they

require and deserve, contenting ourselves with the liberty of making such

extracts as we think will suit the purpose of our less ambitious readers,

or to whet the appetite of the others.

There is one thing, however, in which even the comprehensive report of

the _Athenæum_ is necessarily defective. Such a display of illustrative

drawings, so laboriously compiled, as were exhibited by the learned

lecturer, it has never before been our good fortune to see brought

together; and without these, or some more adequate representation of

them than mere description, the spirit or essence of the lecture is

greatly weakened, and in some instances lost. Two large sheets, or rather

assemblage of sheets, were hung up, shewing in comparative juxta-position

most of the famous structures of antiquity, the one in elevation, the

other in section, and over these the eye could wander and the mind

could dwell with marvellings and delight that no words can express.

How small appear those finished and exquisite gems of Grecian art, its

temples, when compared with the developed boldness of the works of the

successors to the Greek school, who have been charged with innovations

and corruptions. These great sheets present to us a map or chart reduced,

as it were, to a small scale, of the hitherto ascertained geography of

building art, and suggest an endless train of reflection and inquiry.

But there were others whose assemblage and lengthened treatment would

make up volumes, some embodying the ingenious speculations of the

professor, but, in the main, rigid and critical delineations of the

buildings of the ancients from measurement and other laborious means of

research.

These, however, it would be quite in vain for us to attempt to enumerate,

or to refer to in any more lengthened way of notice; we therefore proceed

to our extracts.

After quoting the regulations of the Royal Academy in reference to the

delivery of these lectures, and pointing out how much it is desirable

to add to their provisions in this respect, on the model of the French

Academy, the effects of which are visible in the advantages which the

architects of that country enjoy; and contrasting the pains taken by the

governments of the Continent in the encouragement and cultivation of art,

with the niggard policy pursued in this country, he says—

“It is now more than a hundred years that Thomson, the

best informed upon the Arts of all our poets, indignantly

remonstrated on our national inferiority and neglect of this

branch of intellectual culture, and complained with grief, in

his Ode to Liberty,—

‘That finer arts (save what the Muse has sung,

In daring flight above all modern wing),

Neglected droop their head.’

“Foreigners have attributed this disregard of the rulers of

an ingenious and a great people to various causes—to physical

insensibility, to the sordid nature of our commercial habits,

or the adverse propensity of the Protestant religion,—to which

objections the history of the ancient dynasties of this country

(never inferior in the fine arts), the abundant enthusiasm of

individual artists of our own times, and the public sympathy,

are direct contradictions. Finally, they have fixed the

reproach on the government, by pointing at the Schools of

Design established by parliament; for they say, truly, that so

soon as the inferiority of our design in manufactures drove us

from the foreign markets, we took the alarm, and immediately

formed schools of design, _à l’instar_ of those on the

continent; not from a generous love of art, but, confessedly,

from the well-grounded fear of loss in trade. The members of

this academy hailed the measure with joy, as the harbinger of

a better sense of what is due to our intellectual position

in Europe, and they have willingly given their gratuitous

attention to its conduct. But the instruction of youth must be

accompanied with the higher prospect of employment and honour

in national works; and we are happy in the reflection that the

decoration of the parliamentary palace at Westminster, and

the interest taken by an illustrious personage in that great

object, hold out to us the hopes of equality at least in these

noble studies with the improving countries of the continent,

and the opening of a new career for genius and industry.”...

“Academies were established as depositories of learning and

practice in the fine arts, and the means of their preservation

and transmission through the vicissitudes of the times. The

enlightened and commercial Colbert had seen how in Greece and

ancient Rome, and in modern Rome, under his own countryman,

the Constable Bourbon, a public calamity might disperse and

ruin them for half a century, without some fixed and corporate

body and abode. He never dreamt that, in the absence of the

fostering patronage and employment of government, the Academy

could do more than fulfil these negative objects. The Royal

Academy had done much more than this—it had sustained the

credit of the country in fine art, and had reared talents which

were now part and parcel of English history. Through good and

evil report it had nourished the flame; and it was consolatory

to find that they had transmitted it to better times, through

long and adverse circumstances; for now they had the happiness

to see two Professors in the Universities of London, the

British Institute of Architects, large public patronage in

Art-Unions, &c., and a growing interest in the Universities of

Oxford and Cambridge towards fine art generally.”

The professor next contended for the necessity of an intimate and active

union of architecture with the sister arts of painting and sculpture,

shewing how in Egypt, where these were less regarded than subsequently

in Greece, a deficiency existed in the justness of proportions, and a

seeming neglect of order and regularity.

Of his first course of two years back, he remarked, that as the history

of art was the only safe foundation of study, so he had chosen that as

the commencement of the discharge of his duties as a lecturer. “The

second course (that of last year) had treated chiefly the literature of

art.” Books and the authorities that lived in them, such as Vitruvius,

the old Italian and French authors, and, above all, the admirable

Alberto, were not to be discredited, as is too much the fashion

now-a-days.

“As well,” said he, “might the lawyer or the divine dispense with books,

as the architect. In the very dawn of literature the architect required

to be learned. In the Memorabilia of Xenophon, Socrates inquires, ‘But

what employment do you intend to excel in, O Euthedemus, that you collect

so many books? is it architecture? for this art, too, you will find no

little knowledge necessary.’

“A familiar example of the great utility of these researches had been

given in the quotation from Philibert de l’Orme (lib. ii. c. xi.), of the

specification for concrete, written in the latter part of the sixteenth

century, and corresponding precisely with the recent so-called discovery

of this method of securing foundations. During the last century our

architects had discontinued the ancient practice, having adopted the most

fallacious fashion of wood-sleepers, to the ruin of many fine buildings.

It was, then, the ignorance of this invaluable and most instructive

and amusing author, Philibert de l’Orme, which had led to so fatal an

error....

“In the present course the Professor purposed the consideration of

the more difficult, but no less important, injunction of the Academic

regulations, ‘that these lectures should be calculated to form the

taste of the students, to instruct them in the laws and principles of

composition, and fit them for a critical examination of structures.’”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

The Builder, No. 2, February 18, 1843 · 第 19 / 31 题