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ART. II.-The Illustrated Handbook of Architecture (with 850 Illustrations on Wood). By JAMES FERGUSSON, M.R.I.B.A. London: Murray. 1855.

FOREMOST among the books of modern days which have most enlarged our acquaintance with the aspect of other countries, stand those on physical geography. In them the accumulated wealth of ages of investigation and explorations, the results of patient study and deep research, are alike embodied and exhibited at one glance to the eye of the eager inquirer.

It may, indeed, have been in our memory from school days. that the vine will not ripen its fruit northward of such or such a point that the olive will not endure the cold beyond the valley of this or that river; but the facts float in the mind with the vagueness of a mere theory. Let us open the volume-the mists are dispelled at once. Those delicate lines which bend across the surface of Europe with the curving flow of a dishevelled tendril, once seen, will not soon be forgotten. Modified, it may be, by a thousand varying influences-here gliding down the course of a river-here hedged in by the walllike ridges of some mountain chain-here yielding to the softening breathings of some ocean current, wafted from the islands of the tropics to fade away among the icebergs of Scandinavia the line, gentle as its course may appear, is nevertheless inexorable as fate. It marks the limits of a decree, resistless as that which meted out the bounds of the ocean, determinate as that which fixed the duration of human life.

The service thus rendered by science to geography, Mr. Fergusson has now as ably performed for architecture. He is the Jussieu of what we may call the natural orders of his art. In his pages, it is the history not of the limits of tribes of plants, but of tribes of men, which is marked out by the forms of their habitations and temples. And often, as in geological diagrams, the original stratum is found strangely dislocated, or the monuments of inhabitants who dwelt on a surface, now buried fathoms deep by the irruption of some later formation, are reduced to a few fragments of bones scattered and waterworn. So here we may trace the influence of Assyria on India, again on Greece, and on Imperial Rome. We may learn how the passes over the Alps were as carefully garrisoned by the Romans as by the power which now grasps the north of Italy.

And in the south of Spain mark the influence which the volcanic invasion of the Moors exercised over the fierce spirits of the Iberian peninsula. There were manuals in abundance, and charts in abundance, before Mr. Fergusson's book appeared. Individual kingdoms had been carefully mapped and described; but no Englishman, up to his time, had ever truly taken all architecture to be his portion. From the east to the west, from the north to the south, no region of any importance is without an illustration from his ready pencil, or without a concise clever résumé of the leading features of the styles which prevailed within its boundaries. In central Europe we notice one omission alone of any importance. We could wish that the same knowledge which sketched out the history of Etruscan architecture and the extent to which it modified Roman art, had done as much for those Druidical remains which still linger among us, like the leaves on an oak into the late spring. It is true they have faded away, and left the world no copy. It is true that even in this age of universal plagiarism, no one has ever thought of raising a new Stonehenge. But yet the history of those scattered stones is not altogether to be despised. It is very singular to observe how the earliest inhabitants in Europe, as in Africa, were gradually driven up to the extreme edge of the land. The buildings they left are rough, it is true; but the great Dolmen of Pontigné, near Saumur, is far better preserved than the sepulchres of the Horatii and Curiatii on the Appian Way. The early British fortification which guards the waveworn promontory of the Logan Stone, is as distinctly marked as the ruins of the Roman station on the corresponding spit of land at the entrance of the Morbihan, placed to curb the proud spirit of the Veneti. And the view of the sunset through the long avenue of grey pillars at Carnac-over that landscape, broken only beside by the undulations of the firm granite substratum, scarcely veiled from sight by the short thin grass, which slopes down to the blue waves of the ever restless Atlantic-may well deserve to remain in the memory, even by the side of those long ranges of piers of mournful aqueducts, which, like the bridge in the vision of Mirza, span with their broken desolation the solitude of the Campagna of Rome.

But the wonder is, far rather, at the enormous storehouse of material which this book contains. And here let Mr. Fergusson speak for himself. After recapitulating the works of those who have partially occupied the ground before-from worthy old Agincourt, with his Gothic emanating as a style from the ideas awakened in the mind by the crossing of a whale's jaw-bone, or the interlacing of the boughs of a forest, down to Mr. Gwilt -he very modestly says:

'As these works have failed in utilising the immense mass of information now available (either from being published too early, or from other causes), it is believed that there is still room for another attempt, which, without being too popular, should yet be intelligible in every part to the general reader, and without attempting to be scientific, should from its comprehensiveness convey, even to the professional artist, a certain amount of knowledge not easily accessible to all. It can, of course, make no pretensions to compete with the splendid monographies of individual buildings which crowd the shelves of an architectural library, nor even with the separate and detailed histories of local styles. The study of these is indispensable to a perfect acquaintance with the subject; but even this may be facilitated by a general résumé of the whole.'

The difficulties in arranging the materials are then summarily disposed of by the mezzo termine of a plan, partly chronological, partly topographical. India leads the way with a description of Buddhist architecture. We might, perhaps, be inclined to quarrel, on the very threshold, with an arrangement which starts with a style which cannot, on its own showing, go back to a period earlier, at most, than 250 B. C.; but the convenience of the plan outweighs other considerations. In the very first views, we are confronted with the Assyrian honeysuckle ornament. It is very interesting to meet a decoration domiciled here, which, vid Greece, is now as completely acclimatized in Europe as in the land which originally adopted those graceful lines. The rock-hewn temples and monasteries succeed; the cave at Karli, on the road between Bombay and Poonah, stands first on the list. It seems perfectly clear that all these rockhewn cave temples are imitated from constructed buildings— the long rows of columns, the wooden ribs in the curved ceilings, alike indicate this; and the plans and arrangement so closely follow far more modern structures, that it is scarcely possible to escape the conclusion that the ascribed date, A.D. 78, is decidedly earlier than the truth.

The caves and excavated temples of Ellora are next described. Mr. Fergusson has possessed the great advantage of having personally explored the buildings described in this section of his work, and he has largely availed himself of this advantage. But we can hardly forgive him for the remorseless accuracy of calculation with which he destroys at one unkind blow, unkind and perfectly irresistible, a treasured belief of our younger years, when the inspection of a glorious copy of Daniell's views in Hindostan was a rare treat, highly valued. In those happy days of ignorance the caves of Ellora held a place, pari passu, with the pyramids of Egypt in our fancy, and, we doubt not, in the imaginations of many more; but listen to Mr. Fergusson:—

Considerable misconception exists on the subject of cutting temples in the rock. Almost every one who sees these temples, is struck with the apparently prodigious amount of labour bestowed on their excavation; and there is no doubt that their monolithic character is the principal source

of the awe and wonder with which they have been regarded, and that, had the Kylas been an edifice of masonry, situated on the plain, it would scarcely have attracted the attention of European travellers at all. In reality, however, it is considerably easier and less expensive to excavate a temple than to build one. Take, for instance, the Kylas, the most wonderful of all this class. To excavate the area on which it stands would require the removal of about 100,000 cubic yards of rock; but, as the base of the temple is solid, and the superstructure massive, it occupies in round numbers about one-half of the excavated area, so that the question is simply this-whether it is easier to chip away 50,000 yards of rock, and to shoot it, to spoil it (to borrow a railway term) down a hill-side, or to quarry 50,000 cubic yards of stone, remove it, probably a mile at least, to the place where the temple is to be built, and then to raise and set it. The excavating process would probably cost about one-tenth of the other. The sculpture and ornament would be the same in both instances, more especially in India, where buildings are always set up in block, and the carving executed in situ. Nevertheless, the impression produced on spectators by those monolithic masses-their unalterable character, and appearance of eternal durability-point to the process as one meriting more attention than it has hitherto received in modern times.'

There is one objection, however, to this process being followed to any considerable extent-the comparative rareness of instances in which suitable rocks are found in suitable places for sites of temples, cathedrals, or even great national monuments. The mountain must be brought piecemeal to Mahomet, since in this case Mahomet cannot go to the mountain. We must not, however, tarry longer here, though the magnificent landing-places or ghâts, and the elegant balcony at Benares, the latest specimens of native art, compared with the bald mass which English designers have erected as the palace of the Governor-general at Calcutta, might suggest matter for curious speculation. No instance could be selected more confirmatory of the judgment, enforced by Messrs. Fergusson and Ruskin, that the imitative styles of modern Europe are destitute alike of truth and of vitality.

The characteristic features of the Chinese are happily exhibited in one short chapter; so few have been the changes of style in that land, the main stronghold of tradition. From China we are conducted at once to America. Here the labours of Messrs. Catherwood and Pentland are put into requisition. The singular straight sided arches at Uxmal, in Yucatan, are duly commented on. The hosts of theories which have traced the architecture of these lands to every source that was possible, and some that were scarcely so, are likewise chronicled. After which the common sense of the author wells out afresh.

A far more tempting field of speculation is to trace the similarities which exist between this style and that of Egypt, of Pelasgia or Assyria, of China, Mongolia, &c.; and certainly there are striking similarities to many of these; the essential differences are, however, on the other hand so remarkable, that, though it is impossible to deny the coincidences, it is far

safer, for the present at least, to ascribe them to the common instincts implanted by Nature in all the varieties of the human race, which lead all mankind, in certain climates and at a certain stage of civilization, to do the same thing in the same way, or nearly so, even without any teaching, or previons communication with those who have done so before.'

The Peruvians rather excelled in engineering than in architecture. During the reigns of their last Incas they constructed a great road from their oldest capital, Cuzco, to Sinca.

The road itself was, perhaps, the most extraordinary work of their race, being built of large blocks of hard stone, fitted together with the greatest nicety, and so well constructed as to remain entire to the present day, where uninjured by the hand of man.'

The fortifications of one of the termini of this great causeway, Cuzco, are very singular. They rival the works of medieval Italian engineers, and go far to prove that their proverb, Duro con duro, non fa buon muro, is not of universal application.

They are composed of immense blocks of limestone, of polygonal form, but beautifully fitted together; and some of the stones are eight and ten feet in length, by at least half as many in width and length, and weigh from fifteen to twenty tons; these are piled one over the other in three successive terraces, and are arranged with a degree of skill nowhere else to be met with in any work of fortification anterior to the age of gunpowder. To use a modern term, it is a fortification en tenaille; the re-entering angles are ali right angles, so contrived that every part is seen, and as perfectly flanked in as the best European fortifications of the present day. It is not a little singular that this perfection should have been reached by a rude people in Southern America, while it escaped the Greeks and Romans, as well as the mediæval engineers.'

After these excursions, Mr. Fergusson, with whom we are rejoiced to turn from the New World to the Old, places us by the side of the cradle of civilized architecture which was first rocked on the banks of the Euphrates. Till within the last fourteen years, the whole architecture of Assyria was a blank. Recent discoveries have done much to fill up the gap, and we may now say that we know the head waters of the rills of Assyria, as well as of Egypt; their united streams are the sources of all European architecture. Mr. Layard's careful and conscientious transcripts give not only the groundwork, but, with Sir H. Rawlinson's essays, nearly the whole material of this section. We do not know whether we owe to their, or Mr. Fergusson's courage, the plan and elevation of Birs Nimroud, in which not merely the form of that now perfectly shapeless mass, from which every inch of original outline has been long since melted by the rain of centuries, is restored to it; but the colour also is assigned to each successive stage.

Persia, and the very interesting tomb of Cyrus, follow next. Syria, and the buildings of Solomon, form a chapter by them