façade), the balance greatly preponderates in favour of Westminster Abbey. The lower portion of the front of Chartres is older than Paris; and there is a want of skill, or rather of practice, in the construction of the traceries and flying buttresses, which shows that the builders had scarcely yet learned to think in pointed forms. Yet the effect is very noble, and the western towers and spires are almost unrivalled. Rheims, with its deeply recessed portals-Amiens and Bourges, with their noble interiors-Laon, with its crown of towers, and many others, pass before us in one grand procession, not unworthily closed by S. Ouen. At this period-that of S. Ouen-the science of proportion had attained the highest perfection; yet we feel that the 'depth and earnestness of the earlier examples' is wanting. Especially is this noticeable in the details of the central lantern. Mr. Fergusson scarcely gives any later examples. Indeed, beyond this epoch, it is hardly possible to pursue the study of architecture with any pleasure. Only when regarded as a record of the historical development of the art of construction, and of the information which buildings reflect on the lives and manners of their inhabitants, is the pursuit a true recompense for the pains. The art is lost in the crowd of its own details, multitudinous without massiveness, elaborate without elegance. When we reach this point, we feel that there hath past away a glory from the earth.' The fancy which charms in an earlier and simpler period, giving life to the capital and spirit to the carving, loses its best grace among the florid, yet forced exuberances of the Renaissance.

Yet we must, for a moment, follow Mr. Fergusson, as he recrosses the Alps with the tide of architectural innovation, which flowed in when the Italians adopted the then fashionable style of France and Germany. Gothic, however, was never thoroughly naturalized among them. Dissatisfied with their own 'productions, the Italians quickly abandoned it and returned to 'the old classical style.'

Mr. Fergusson's judgment is not very favourable to their labours. We think that Mr. Ruskin's elaborate praise of the Doge's palace in Venice has led him to an undue severity of criticism.

'The two arcades which constitute the base are, from their extent and from the beauty of their details, as fine as anything of their class executed during the middle ages. There is also a just and pleasing proportion between the simple solidity of the lower, and the airy-perhaps slightly fantastic-lightness of the upper of these arcades.-But, in an evil hour, the upper wall, which was intended to stand on the back wall of the arcades, was brought forward even with the front, overpowering the part below by its ill-proportioned mass.' The windows in it are few, and badly placed ungraceful.' The parapet' poor and flimsy.' Had the upper story been

set back, as was probably originally designed, or had it been placed on the ground and the arcades over it; had, in short, any arrangement of the parts been adopted but the one that exists, this might have been a far more beautiful building than it is.'

With regard to this judgment we will only say, that if the arcades had been thus hoisted up in air, they would have been useless for the purpose for which they were intended; and those who constituted the broglio would have been without a trysting place. But we will not embroil ourselves further with one who has bestowed much thought on the subject. Also he says, in excuse for those who admire more warmly,

'There are indeed few buildings of which it is so difficult to judge calmly as of this-the centre, in fact, of the most beautiful architectural group that adorns any city of Europe or the world; richer than almost any other building in historical associations, and hallowed, especially to an Englishman, by the noblest poetry in the world.'

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Mr. Fergusson is rather hard, too, on the members of his confraternity at Venice. The Venetian architects had not been brought up in the hard school of practical experience, nor thoroughly grounded in construction.' Their difficulties of construction were different from those which perplexed their northern brethren, yet surely not inferior. The treacherous nature of the soil was enough to puzzle the most practical man. Let us look beneath the worn mosaic pavement of S. Mark's, where, by the way, Mr. Fergusson draws the ground in his section solid mass:

'Quivi vi è una porta, per cui discendendo una scala si andava sotto il Coro, dove anticamente celebravansi li divini Uffizi, ed un tal luogo riceveva il lume da sei finestre poste nel bassamento, che forma il suddetto Coro. Ma dopochè vi penetrò l'acqua in maniera, che piu non si è potuto abitare, fu chiuso come al presente si vede. Non è molto tempo pero, che avendo desiderato il Procuratore Cassiere di visitar questo luogo, vi ritrovò un' Altare nel mezzo, ed all' intorno molti sedili di pietra, e varie tavole marcite, che gallegiavono sopra l'acqua, la quale sorpassava l'altezza di un' piede.' Surely the requirements for foundations which this indicates, were a considerable difficulty.

Very remarkable, too, were the talent and tact with which the Byzantine architects, in their façades, simply by a skilful arrangement of the openings and of the coloured marbles built into the walls, procured variety and gave force to a necessarily flat surface; and thus obtained an apparent prominence for the wings of their buildings, which they could neither bring forward in any way, to obtain relief by shadow, because of the canal frontage, nor weight more heavily with towers or greater masses,

1 From the 'Forastiero Illuminato intorno le cose più rare e curiose antiche e moderne della citta di Venezia.' 1796.

for fear of subsidence. Much of this power survived to a comparatively late period. The street, or rather alley, buildings of Venice, might afford many studies to the English architect, almost equally cramped for space.

It is hardly possible to understand how Mr. Fergusson can have referred to the Campanile at Piacenza as the prototype of that of S. Mark's, since, according to his illustrations, it bears no resemblance whatever to the great tower of the Venetian Republic. Perhaps the associations connected with them may have blinded us to their defects; but we think rather hard measure is dealt out to the civil as well as the ecclesiastical towers of Italy:

'Such towers as the Asinelli and Garisenda at Bologna possess no more architectural merit than the chimneys of our factories. Most of those subsequently erected were better than these, but still the Italians never caught the true idea of a spire.'

Nor does that which frowns on the market-place of Sienna receive more praise.

German Gothic is treated with an equally rigid hand. The imagination revolts from Mr. Fergusson's judgment on Cologne :

These

'Every part is designed with the scale and the compasses, and with a mathematical precision perfectly astonishing; but we miss all the fanciful beauty of the more irregular French and English examples. The storied porches of Rheims, Chartres, and Wells, comprise far more poetry within their limited dimensions than is spread over the whole surface of this gigantic frontispiece. Cologne is a noble conception of a mason. were the works of artists, in the highest sense of the word.' Yet it is difficult to set aside a decision so judicially grounded. Not even does he spare that host of flying buttresses, bearing 'the forest of exaggerated pinnacles which crowd round the upper 'part of the building,' and which look at a distance like the masts and rigging of some immense ship. We are sorry for it ; much good sentiment has been offered at the shrine of the Three Kings. The restoration was among the first aspirations of united Germany. That vision has long since melted into thin air, like the festen lied to Archduke John, the Vicar of the Empire. Clear and loud the notes from some hundred welltrained fresh German voices, in the square below, floated up, far above the house-tops up to the topmost pinnacle,—

'D'rum rüste Dich Germania,
Dein Ostertag ist nah'.'

The spasmodic fervour has long since evaporated; yet as 'we 'see in Cologne the finest specimen of masonry attempted in the

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'middle ages,' we trust we may see in the completed design a really noble and beautiful building, worthy of its builders and ' of the religion to which it is dedicated.'

Strasburg, and Friburg in the Brisgau, receive the same well apportioned appreciation. Apart from the design in both these churches, there is much beauty in the bronze-like tint which age has imparted to their airy lines. Yet the effect of this lacework in stone is not satisfactory, either in Germany or in Belgium. Antwerp is more solid in proportion, though of a date when the spirit had very much departed. The noble tower of S. Rombaut's at Malines, combines great breadth of feeling with elegance in detail; indeed the whole church is every way superior to Antwerp Cathedral, except in size. Like most Flemish architecture, it looks very much as if it had been 'woven out of bulrushes.'

In commencing the chapter on English architecture, Mr. Fergusson says that it has of late years occupied the attention of 'so many competent persons, and has been written so fully and in such a variety of forms, that little that is new remains to be 'said on the subject.' Yet this section, though short, includes all the distinctive peculiarities of our insular styles. We must be content to remain in the rank of copyists, and to acknowledge that the fashion came over brent new frae France;' but the skill with which British architects applied it, made the style practically their own. One of our most charming national individualities consists of timber roofs, nobly exemplified by Westminster Hall, spanned as it is

by thirteen great ribs of timber, which are quite unequalled by any other ornamental trusses of wood-work employed for such a purpose. Even when viewed only as a scientific combination of timber, this roof is as good as anything that has been done in this engineering age.'

The central octagon at Ely may rank next, perhaps, for beauty among timber constructions:

'The only Gothic dome in existence; it certainly was, and is, the feature most wanted to perfect the plans and to give the utmost effect to buildings of this class.' And had the English architects always used timber, they would have created a new style; and it is hard to say whether it would not have been more beautiful than the other.'

Another glory was also among the roofs:

The part of Gothic churches in which the English architects were more generally successful was the formation of their vaults, and their mode of ornamenting them; in both which particulars they were quite unsurpassed by any nation of the Continent, and scarcely ever approached.'

Gloucester, Westminster, and Norwich might all well be cited among that glorious band which rejoice in the

-'high embowed roof,

With antique pillars massy proof.'

'Another peculiarity of English design which requires to be pointed out, is that of terminating their cathedrals and churches to the eastward with a flat wall, instead of the apse or chevet which is so universal on the continent.' To this we owe the glorious wall of painted glass that closes the vista at York or Carlisle, and which once closed that of Lincoln;' and the 'fanciful beauty of the arrangements of Wells or Salisbury.'

Many other minor differences might be pointed out between

'the French and English Gothic styles. The fact is, their modes of architecture were as dissimilar as the tastes and dispositions of the two nations were antagonistic to each other.'

Yes, truly; at the root of all these variations lay the whole broad ground of national dissimilarities. The education of the boyhood, so to speak, of each nation had much in common:

'One lesson from one book we learned,
Ere childhood's flaxen ringlets turned
To black and brown on kindred brows.'

The windows quoted at Toulouse and those at Earl's Barton, are traceable to same source as those of S. Maria in Cosmedin, and S. Giorgio in Velabro. As national individualities of character developed themselves, national styles of architecture were borne along by the tide. We find—

'that the French were always working up to the limits of their strength, always trying to make their piers as light, their windows as large, and their vaults as high as possible-doing all they could, and striving to do more; while the soberer English architect, on the contrary, attempted nothing over which he had not full command.'

Again:

'It will be recollected that the original use of the apse in the early church was as a place for the bishop's throne, where he sat supreme above his presbyters, before all the people. In England, this part of the ceremonial of the basilica was transferred to the chapter-house, which thus took the place of the apse, and became the diocesan parliament-house, where the bishop or abbot met his subordinate clergy, not to rule aud command, but to consult and deliberate for the common weal.'

Thus we find a circular baptistery erected at Canterbury by Cuthbert, the eleventh archbishop; not only that baptisms might be celebrated therein,' and the bodies of departed primates interred, but also that certain judicial trials that were formerly carried on in the church, might be held there.'

To investigate the true causes of these differences we should have to look beyond the limits of architectural proprieties,to dig, in fact, deep into the substructure of the causes of the