Small wonders
ROY STRONG
Buckingham Palace John Harris, Geoffrey de Bellaigue and Oliver Millar (Nelson 8 gns) The English House through Seven Centuries Olive Cook (Nelson 7 gns) Great Houses Nigel Nicolson (Weidenfeld and Nicolson 5 gns)
Gothic George Henderson, Neo-Classicism Hugh Honour, Early Renaissance Michael Levey, Mannerism John Shearman, Pre-Classi- cal from Crete to Archaic G'reece John Boardman (Pelican 15s, 12s, 12s 6d, 15s and 12s 6d) Here are three large and five little art _books. The three huge ones are designed to be laid out in sumptuous patterns in smart houses, a splash of colour on the William Kent console table, something to droop an eyelid over in be- tween massacring the birds. The five small ones are aimed at a wider audience who wish to be informed about the latest state of studies in the erratically nibbled pastures of art his- tory.
Perhaps I am not being altogether fair to the glossies., Buckingham Palace, by John Harris, Geoffrey de Bellaigue and Oliver Millar with an ,introduction by John Russell, obviously started off as a serious scholastic project and 1 find it difficult to believe that four such authori- ties can be at all pleased by the end result. None of them has spontaneous enthusiasm for the palace, whose main fascination lies in its inaccessibility. Its architectural history, meticu- lously recounted by John Harris, is one series of 'disasters. Nash never really wanted to design it in the first place and what went up by 1828 had to be pulled down again. William IV tried to foist the building off on Parliament after the great fire that destroyed Westminster's Palace and Blore, early in Victoria's reign, laid his life- less hand over it, thus almost nullifying Nash's
few felicities of design. " ' "
This saga is followed by an excellent account of the furniture, marvellously documented; every truly wondrous piece was made for, or acquired by, George IV for Carlton House, the demolition of which must rank as one of the great tragedies of English architectural history. It is annoying that there is nothing on court etiquette, the structure of the household or the royal year, as one is left in a total vacuum as to what all these endless rooms were used for by various monarchs. Use is, after all, the determining factor in chkor. There is also too much emphasis on the idyllic rus in urbe theme. From the cold light of history, the palace was built when public estimation of the monarchy was at its nadir. Sited with the barracks close by and surrounded by an open space, troops and artillery could be mobilised in no time to dispel an invading mob. The design of the book is of an astounding, restless vulgarity, and the plates are very fuzzy.
Olive Cook's The English House through Seven Centuries has an asset in Edwin Smith, the photographer. The plates are gorgeous: a view up the steps of ruined Lulworth Castle to the entrance, a tangle of grasses and greenery; the gatehouse at Lower Brockhampton reflected in every detail in the moat it straddles; Long Melford touched with snow. One contemplates such visions of all that England means in a pro- longed, rapt reverie. It is a pity that such beauties have been wasted on an irritating text, peddling some curious folk myth attitudes to the English house as 'a work of art' and pep- pered with phrases like 'fiery brick" and 'crystal light falling in huge quivering rectangles.'
The last of these tomes, Nigel Nicolson's Great Houses, falls into the same bracket. Ian Graham's photographs are often ravishing, less good than those of Mr Smith, because Mr Graham tends to snap rooms as though for some smart interior decorating magazine. None the less there are wonders : a gargantuan Father Tiber, stained and lichen encrusted, rising out of stagnant waters at the Villa Lante, or silvery Parham seen through branches and leaves from afar. I am not sure what the point of this book is. There is no central theme; there is no new research or contribution to know- ledge. It is, I suppose, a book to peruse and not use, designed for the colour-supplement-land instant culture belt.
The five little books belong to a new series on 'Style and Civilisation' edited by Hugh Honour and John Fleming. The aim of the series is to brush away some of the familiar cobwebs around art history that Berenson and his followers have scattered so liberally. A style which embraces architecture, painting, sculpture and the decorative arts is not dis- cussed in some mysterious, untouchable, vacuum but placed firmly within the thought context of a period in its political, religious and social aspects. The design of the books is especially attractive, as the plates are in them- selves (and, oh, how rare this is) a visual argu- ment devoid of the text. All of them are ex- cellent, enthusiastic introductions to their periods, written in spirited style. The one I liked best was George Henderson's Gothic, a book written with an amazing clarity, full of learning and aesthetic pleasure. He relates forcefully this style to its background : Gothic architecture does reflect the thought processes of the Scholastics, and late mediaeval art is in- comprehensible without some versing in the strange mysticism of a Margery Kempe or a Lady Julian who opens a door into the pyschology of the late Gothic artist.
Hugh Honour's Neo-Classicism admirably traces the radical revaluation of antiquity that had such a bearing on the diffusion of neo- classicism, the effects of a revolution in thought and in fact and, to bear out this thesis, repro- duces some of the most extraordinary visual material I have ever seen. Ledoux's design for a house about 1790, a sphere moored in a rectangular pit, anticipated the wildest fantasies of modern architecture. And Mr Honour says some very important things about Canova.
-Michael Levey's Early Renaissance is an up- dated Pater written with a racy panache; John Shearman leads us through the labyrinth of Mannerism (practically nothing about northern Europe though) and John Boardman tackles the mists of the Pre-Classical. Altogether an ex- cellent series acting as a standing rebuke to the pedlars of endless pictorial pap, whether it be futile lush glossies or another three and six- pence worth of Van Gogh and Botticelli..
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