The history of Architecture still to be considered, extends through fifteen centuries to the present time. This interval may be divided into three eras. I. Period of the circular arch. II. Period of the pointed arch. III. Revival and practice of classic art. The theories so abounding in this particular portion of the subject, must be reviewed as in themselves forming part of the information which the reader has a right to expect; but the notice will be brief, the narrative, it is hoped, enabling the judgment to deduce its own conclusions from facts, independently of all opinion. For this reason, the preceding division is adopted, characterised only by the style of architecture, without reference to those minute distinctions and disputes about names, the great sources of obscurity and unsettled hypothesis in treating of the building of the middle ages. It may be remarked, in limine, that the term, 'Gothic Architecture,' is of late invention, and appears to be used in two distinct, or indeed opposite meanings. First, to denote the whole system of architectural erection intervening between the decline of the ancient classic modes, and their reappearance soon after the revival of letters. In this sense, it is usually employed as expressive of something barbarous and unscientific. In the second place, the phrase is employed by a large school of writers and artists, to denote a system or systems of art, arising, it is acknowledged, among men of rude cultivation in other respects, yet claiming original principles of invention, and very refined rules of practice—so far even as to be an imitation of natural prototypes of very distant, yet tasteful associations. Each of these theories exclusively taken, seems to be disproved by the course of history, when all preconceived notions are laid aside, and when art, as ought ever to be the case, is fairly made its own interpreter.

I. It has been shown that the Romans, in obtaining full mastery of a powerful engine in building—the arch, were at first bold, subsequently lavish, and, it will appear, finally barbarous, in its application. From the reigns even of the early CÆsars, a tendency may be traced in their architecture to become great in mass, but little in parts—to lessen, in the first instance, the vertical or supporting members; and in the second, to load the superstructure, or supported parts. The progress of corruption might be traced, by regular steps, from vast arches, with groins planted on a single Corinthian column, to the arcades of the palace of Dioclesian at Spalatro. These still are left, exhibiting external and internal ranges of arches, springing directly from the capitals of the columns, without any intervening entablature. What more, we ask, is wanting here, to one of the most decided characteristics of one species, at least, of Gothic architecture, and an elemental principle in all kinds? nothing, save a little less elegance of workmanship in the supports, a pier substituted for the column, and the soffit of the arch bevelled instead of being square; steps successively apparent in posterior remains. Surely, then, it is carrying theory beyond all moderate limits, to contend for a separate origin of the system, when the principles of Gothic building are thus distinctly recognizable in a corruption of classic modes, at an era while yet vigorous practice prevailed, with resources undiminished for its support. This corruption, indeed, evidently proceeded, not so much from inefficiency, as from too eager pursuit of novelty—this too, unrestrained by the immediate presence of more simple forms; for, in the baths of the same emperor, appears a less licentious taste. For the exterior, indeed, such Gothic arcades do not seem to have been soon imitated; but for the interior, their adoption was almost immediate. These intermediate steps it is unnecessary farther to pursue at present.

The era of Constantine, though justly regarded as marking the final disappearance of the last lingering rays of ancient taste, proves yet a most important epoch in the history of architecture. The reception of Christianity as the religion of the empire, not only changed to a very great extent, the entire frame and aspect of society, but in a particular manner influenced the practical art of building. As in the heathen temple was traced the great source of perfection in ancient art, so in the Christian church then established, is to be found the origin of those modes and forms, which, for so many centuries, guided modern practice. But the former structure was one of external magnificence only; internally, it was neither intended, nor, unaltered, adapted, to accommodate large assemblies. In the new religion, this became the primary object in its places of worship: while the early Christians refused to make use of the 'houses of idols.' In this emergency, there remained only one course—to convert the most capacious of unobjectionable buildings into churches. Of all these, the Basilicon presented, not only no difficulties as having been desecrated, but also was directly accommodated to the necessities of the case. The ancient Basilicon was a building of great extent, adjoining the forum or great square, in every city, serving at once the purposes of an exchange for the transaction of business, of a court for the administration of justice, and of a place for general resort. The exterior was adorned with porticoes more or less magnificent, while internally it was separated lengthwise by two or four ranges of columns, into three or five longitudinal divisions, according to its width. Of these, the middle one was the largest, open to the top, and uncovered; the side ones were smaller, roofed in, with galleries opening into the centre compartment, and to which access was had by stairs at the two extremities. Under an arched niche, usually at the extremity of the central division, was a tribunal for the judge, exactly in the situation where the Christian altar was afterwards placed. From the whole description, it is evident, that the only alteration necessary to convert this edifice into a complete church, with its nave and lateral aisles, was to place a roof over the middle portion. Thus the first Christian churches were formed; and hence many of those in Rome still retain the name of Basilicon. Subsequently, the transepts were added, to imitate the cross, though this form seems to have been very early known in the East.

The general form of the church being thus determined, more through chance than design, yet with great convenience and propriety, this accidental form was adhered to in the subsequent erections for sacred purposes; but with certain internal arrangements, modified by the lessened resources of the art, the prevailing taste, and the novel exigencies of the case. Instead of the horizontal entablature resting upon the internal ranges of pillars, as in the more classical Basilicon, churches were constructed internally of arcades, the arches resting upon the capitals of the columns. These latter were torn from more ancient edifices, but combined, and often with considerable effect, by the ruder efforts of existing art. Thus, with columns for supports, united with ranges of semicircular arches abutting against the walls, we soon find the perfect Gothic church established.

This style of building, recommended at once by convenience and necessity, rapidly spread over the whole of Italy and the Empire, for Constantinople was erected from pilfered monuments, which, when taken to pieces and transported thither, were subsequently set up in a most confused and imperfect manner. When the supporting columns could no longer be obtained from ancient structures, or where this resource had never existed, the whole was to be reared from the foundation. Here it would soon be discovered that a cylindrical, square, or bevelled pier, without diminution, would be a fitter and more easily erected support for the arch. From the desire of stability, or the imperfection of skill, this pier, of whatever form, begins gradually to decrease in altitude, while it becomes more massive, still with a base and capital palpable though rude imitations of the same, members of the classic column.

In this state was the art, when Italy fell under the power of barbarian conquerors. This style they adopted in their own buildings; for, after conquest was secure, they patronised the arts of their subjects, introducing a still greater profusion of ornament, rudely executed, and in worse design. Yet the whole effect of such works is often not without grandeur. Beginning with Rome, we might instance, from our own observation, a continuous series of monuments, of a style such as now described, still remaining in different parts of Italy, especially the Gothic capitals of Lombardy, as Ravenna, Verona, Pavia, introducing the early revival in Pisa and the cities of Tuscany. Such a survey would unite the labours of Metrodorus, the first Christian architect under Constantine, with those of Buschetto and Diotisalvi, in the commencement of the eleventh century, leading to the mention of various architects of the Gothic kingdom, as Ciriades, of Rome; Aloisius, of Padua, author of the famous tomb of Theodoric, called the Rotunda of Ravenna; St Germain, of France; St Avitus, of Clermont; Agricola, of Chalons; Romnaldus, of France; Tietland, of Germany; with others. Such an inquiry, however, is not here necessary, inasmuch as it must now appear obvious, that the style just described might be termed Gothic, as practised by the mixed race of invaders, who, under the name of Goths, subdued Italy; but that such a style could not have been introduced by them from the forests of Germany and the wilds of Pannonia.

From Italy, religion, and consequently ecclesiastical building, extended over the rest of Europe. In France and Germany, the names enumerated above, with the works still remaining there, might be examined in corroboration of the fact, that the circular arch prevailed at the same time in these countries. But as of most importance, attention is better limited to British art in the middle age. This species of building is distinguished, in native antiquities, by the appellation of Saxon or Norman,—displaying, as characteristics, low, thick, and rotund pillars, with bases and capitals often fantastically carved, with heavy semicircular arches, springing directly from the top, corresponding exactly with the corrupted Roman. Regarding the propriety of this designation, however, doubts may reasonably be entertained, since it by no means certainly appears that either the Saxons or Normans were the introducers.

There is evidence that sacred edifices existed in Britain prior to the Saxon invasion; and, indeed, when Constantine wrote rescripts to the various provinces, his own birthplace would not be omitted among those enjoined to erect and repair churches. It would appear, also, that the Saxons were attached to wooden erections, as is expressed by the verb getymbrian, to build,—a similar analogy, from the same cause, as in Greek, where the word wood is used to denote the constituent matter, or material, of anything—as 'the wood,' meaning the matter, of 'an argument.' It is probable, then, that the stone buildings of the Saxons were rather copied from existing edifices among the conquered people, consequently direct imitations of the parent corruptions of Italy. This last fact, the only one of real importance in the present case, is not left to conjecture; for, in the accounts of the earliest stone structures of the seventh century, it is said they were erected, in the original phrase, 'more Romanorum,' in the style of the Romans, that is, the style already described. Between the Saxon, or supposed Saxon, and Norman, there exists no difference, except in the superior magnificence of the latter—a circumstance accounted for by the progress of society.

It has thus been established, that the style of building with circular arches is clearly a corruption from the ancient classic forms. With little distinctive change, or characteristic difference, this mode was practised throughout Europe during nine centuries.

II. During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, an innovation upon the long monotony of the circular arch begins to appear and to be perfected. This was the introduction of the pointed, or lancet Gothic, to which species the term is more strictly limited. The origin and progress of the pointed arch, has been rendered one of the most complicated problems in the history of architecture. The subjects of discussion here involve two questions—first, Whence and by whom this style was introduced? secondly, From what prototype the idea was originally derived?

On the former of these subjects, the various conflicting opinions may be arranged under two general heads: that the proper Gothic, or pointed arch, had its origin in the cathedral buildings of England, whence the knowledge and practice of this style was diffused throughout Europe during the thirteenth century; or that this architecture is of Oriental growth, and was brought into Europe by the Crusaders. The author of the first system we believe was Walpole; but it has since been adopted by Britton, and a large proportion of the English antiquaries. The second opinion has been ably maintained by Lord Aberdeen, and is that more generally adopted in other countries. It is not here possible to enter into the details of the controversy; the latter view certainly appears to be supported by the analogy both of history and of the arts. This, in absence of positive evidence, and with similar buildings of equal age and character in France, affords far more conclusive argument than any to be derived from the greater perfection which the style, comparatively speaking, displays in England, when the extent of the country and the number of fine buildings are considered. But individual edifices, especially in Germany, are not only equally ancient, but more splendid. Our pretensions to exclusive invention, under circumstances so notorious, that, in Italy, the Gothic is more frequently styled 'Tedesco,' or 'German,' have exposed the national information in matters of art, to the severe but merited animadversions of foreign writers. The assumption, however, appears to have little connexion with national opinion, having arisen among antiquaries whose almost sole study had been English building, or, at least, who had viewed the history of Architecture under this peculiar mode alone. In this respect, extensive research and elegant erudition enabled Lord Aberdeen to bring to the subject every requisite of decision; and were we inclined to place faith in any exclusive theory of introduction, it would be that which his Lordship has so ably advocated, in maintaining the Eastern origin of the Gothic or pointed arch.

From what exemplar this form was conceived, or by what prototype suggested, has, in the second place, exercised speculation to a wide extent. The following are the principal opinions: 1. Theory of Warburton,—that natural groves supplied the primitive idea, the trunks, branches, and foliage of the trees being represented in the pillars, arches, and tracery of the Gothic. 2. The system of Sir James Hall,—that the whole style, in all its varieties, is but an imitation of wickerwork,—an opinion frequently, though very improperly, considered as a modification of the former: it is independent, and has been very ingeniously followed out in detail. 3. Theory of Sir Christopher Wren, remarkable at least in its propounder,—that the Free Masons were the inventors of the pointed arch. 4. Opinions of many German and Continental writers,—that this arch is but an imitation of the Egyptian and Indian pyramid. 5. Hypothesis, first incidentally proposed by Bentham, subsequently methodized and illustrated by Dr Milner, and pretty generally received,—that the intersection of semicircular arches forming intermediate pointed ones, gave the primitive model. This interlacing of arches is a common ornament in buildings of the old Gothic, already explained; it occurs frequently in relievo, and, if we recollect rightly, also with disengaged columns in several of the faÇades of old churches in Italy. Durham and Lincoln cathedrals, likewise ecclesiastical remains in Scotland, as Kelso Abbey, furnish examples. 6. Opinion of Mr Whittaker and others,—that pointed Architecture was known to, and practised by, the Romans, early under the imperial government.

Such are the leading theories on this interesting subject; an examination of the facts would lead to a history of the ecclesiastical architecture of a great portion of Europe for upwards of three centuries. In France, the pointed arch was early introduced; but the light style of Gothic architecture was not generally carried to such perfection as in Germany and Flanders, having been sooner affected by the introduction of the Italian taste. The German style was perfected about the close of the fourteenth century, and subsequently appears to have undergone little variation, even to the middle of the sixteenth, thus retaining the elegance of the best age in the art much longer. Compared with our own, the best examples have much the same character, with lighter forms and richer tracery,—but of such examples there are fewer in proportion than with us. In Italy, the pointed arch never obtained. It is found, indeed, in Venice and Milan, and occasionally elsewhere; but the style to which it gave birth is not characteristic of Italy, where the early churches are of the old or circular, and the more modern of the mixed or Lombard style. In England, four general periods mark so many changes of Gothic.

1. From 1235 to 1272, including the reigns from the accession of Stephen to that of Edward I., termed Early, English, Simple, and Lancet Gothic, characterised by long narrow openings, with a very sharp high arch. Early part of the period shows the gradual introduction of the pointed style.

2. From 1272 to 1377, to the accession of Richard II. This has been designated the age of the Pure Gothic, or Decorated English, being more highly ornamented than the former, but without exuberance; especially characterised by an arch which circumscribes an equilateral triangle, hence proposed to be named, Triangular Gothic.

3. From 1377 to 1509, terminating with the accession of Henry VIII. This constitutes the age of the Florid Gothic, which, between these dates, underwent a succession of changes; first, from aspiring, to flatly-pointed and obtuse arches, with large daylights, in panels and straight mullions, instead of tracery; hence the names Obtuse and Perpendicular English; becomes more and more ornamented; ceilings of the richest and most complicated tracery, with pendents; Henry VII.'s chapel fine specimen.

4. From 1509 to 1625; when the reign of Charles I. introduces Inigo Jones, and the revival of ancient architecture. First part of the reign of Henry the Eighth a continuation of the Florid Gothic; subsequently the designs of Holbein, and of the Italian artist employed by that monarch, entirely ruined the Gothic, introducing a most barbarous mixture of Roman, Italian, and Gothic. In the succeeding reigns, a stiff and most unmeaning style arose; and, in Scotland, we trace a near approach, if not in magnitude, at least in excellence, to the English examples of Gothic; while the fortunes of the art are found to assimilate to its history in Germany, in as far as a character of great perfection was early formed, and longer preserved, than in the south. It must appear a singular proof of hasty and inconclusive inquiry, that, while an English origin has been claimed for the pointed arch, its elements are found of a date more ancient in Scottish ecclesiastical buildings, not to mention those on the Continent.

In opposition to all the preceding theories, we consider the system of pointed architecture, or that properly denominated Gothic, to have arisen independently, though almost contemporaneously, among the nations of Europe most conspicuous for the cultivation of this peculiar style. In this we are borne out by a series of monuments in each country, showing the progressive rise and introduction of the pointed arch, from the form of two long stones, placed on supports, and meeting at top—a contrivance as still visible in the walls of MycenÆ, of three thousand years' standing, up to the finished lancet arch, as in Salisbury cathedral. Or, granting even the Eastern introduction of the arch—and here the monuments are of very doubtful antiquity,[F]—what does this prove with regard to the origin of the system?—Absolutely nothing. This knowledge alone would not go further to enable the architect to construct a Gothic cathedral, than would one of the voussoirs in teaching him the properties of the arch itself. The system is one entire and independent whole, in which the pointed arch is merely an instrument subservient to principles, in consequence of which, if not invented, it was at least improved and rendered perfect. In this light the subject has too seldom been viewed: a light which places Gothic architecture in true and dignified position of an independent branch of art, governed by its own precepts of convenience, stability, and ornament.

When, in consequence of an extraordinary out-breaking of religious zeal and enthusiasm, an astonishing change was wrought in the frame of European society, one of the first impulses was to provide, in those countries hitherto comparatively ignorant of the arts, more suitable edifices for the services of that religion, in whose cause multitudes were shedding, or ready to shed, their blood in distant and unknown regions. Thus the Crusades were, but not as usually supposed, the cause of the introduction of art. They operated as one of those moral springs of action by which the arts, as the course of human life, are found to be directed.

Under such impressions, when the architect contemplated the ancient structures, the principle of convenience would at once suggest the necessity of heightening their low arches, and decreasing their enormous supports, by which light was obstructed, and space filled up. He saw, however, these efforts could not be accomplished on the old methods:—here the principle of stability—no abstract theory, but the knowledge of the practical builder—taught him, that by elevating the crown of the arch, and thus removing in part the lateral pressure, both objects would be accomplished; for while height was gained, the weight would be thrown more into the perpendicular, and consequently would remain firm with diminished support. The principle once introduced, was carried even to frightful boldness. But again, though the lateral pressure was removed from the arcade itself, abutment was still to be provided at the extremities and side-walls. Hence the peculiar characteristic of the buttress. This indeed existed in the old Gothic; but here the feature assumed a novel appearance. The arches being placed high, required additional altitude to be added, as a counterbalance, at the opposing point; thus the buttress was converted into a turret or pinnacle, susceptible of every varied form which it afterwards received, when the desire of ornament, without the guidance of taste, wandered into every maze of fantasy. Thus the whole system depended upon principle—neither rising, like an exhalation, in consequence of imported knowledge, nor emulating some remote association or model, but by the slow and gradual process of experience.

The Gothic cathedral, thus contemplated in its native character and principles—established in unmoved security by the very agency of those forces which tend most directly to destruction, displays an evidence of science, perhaps, when the times are considered, the most wonderful in the whole history of intelligence. Never have the stereometric precepts of building—one of the most difficult branches of the art, been better exhibited than in these piles. Mass counteracts mass,—the very confliction of downward efforts upholds the reed-like column, and hangs on high the ponderous vault. Self-balanced, the entire system contains within itself the essence of its own existence in the chain of means and end, of minute contrivance, and of one purpose. Yet amid all this no effort is apparent, even while the mind starts at the power of its own ingenuity over the properties of matter, and the laws of nature—the artist seems to sport with his subject, to tempt the prostration of his airy fabrics. Here come into aid the principles of Gothic ornament, than which nothing pertaining to the style more merits admiration, whether as enabling the architect to extend the fantasy of his plans, or still more as essentially producing those effects which these plans contemplate. In no system of architecture, the Grecian not even excepted, do the ornamental, so completely integrate and harmonize with the necessary modes. Ornament could not here be removed without destruction both of beauty and stability; it strengthens, yet conceals the necessity of support; and, like the garniture of herbage, and flower, and twining plant, upon the rugged face of earth, it spreads to the delighted eye its mazy error, where would else be only a frightful and unformed mass of nodding masonry.

Such are the merits of Gothic architecture, examined in itself, and in reference to the times which gave it birth. Apart from these considerations, viewed as the object of refined perception or cultivated taste, the entire system is defective. In architecture, pleasurable emotion arises from a two-fold cause—the modes, and the associations of the art. In regard to the former, it may be laid down as an universal precept of taste, that in architecture, of all the arts, according to the exhibition of principle, and to the facility with which the mind conceives design, and traces intention, will be the mental pleasure produced by the work. This constitutes the very essence of exalted feeling in Greek art, which, grounded upon obvious principle, consonant with natural appearances, and pursuing beauty as a final aim, fills the mind with delight and admiration. In Gothic architecture, all this is reversed: its first principle is, to conceal all principle; to dazzle and to surprise by effects seemingly at variance with all the usual harmonies of things. Hence, on entering a Gothic edifice, though the mind, at first, be strongly affected by the magnitude and daring arrangement of the forms, where

yet neither the judgment nor the fancy experiences those continually increasing emotions of delight which a Grecian building inspires. Again, the associations connected with Gothic structures are temporary, and, in great measure, local. They are dependent on our assurance of antiquity. Remove from such their antique reminiscences, and venerable traditions, and they are despoiled of all, or good part, of their power over the imagination. With religious Gothic, our associations are more congenial; the holiness of the sentiment mingles its permanency even with the abstract forms; we love the very semblance of the place,

But there can be no doubt that this effect is accidental, not intrinsic; for decidedly the most impressive interiors in Europe are those in churches on classic models. To such style we are, indeed, not accustomed; yet certain it is, the first Christian hymn, when Christianity had now obtained a temple, rose to heaven from amid the beauteous majesty of the Grecian orders. Sublime associations, how much more in unison with the simple grandeur of the reformed service, than the austerity and superstitious gloom of Gothic erection!

As a system, then, adapted to its own age—as possessing independent, if not dignified, principles, we consider the pure Gothic, as now described, as one of the most singular and ingenious modes of architectonic science. But in its revived and modern application no useful purpose can be served, whether of good taste or legitimate effect.

III. Having thus considered, at some length, the only original and distinguishing characteristics of the architecture of the middle age; the revival of classic forms, as already described, and therefore offering little of novelty, seems to require here only brief notice. Indeed, to render a detailed account interesting, would introduce discussions too lengthened for our limits, on the present state of the art in the different countries of Europe.

So early as the commencement of the eleventh century, the Italians began to depart from the ungraceful style of the first period; a departure which, if not a renovation, was at least an improvement, in some measure founded upon closer conceptions of ancient art, and with the Roman orders, though improperly applied. This style, heavy, highly decorated, but not unimpressive, continued to the close of the fourteenth century, and has been named the Italian. Its principal masters were the sculptors already mentioned as belonging to the period. With the commencement of the fifteenth century, a new and far higher school arose, which, though far from pure, was yet much improved; and would have been still more so, had not its patrons been chiefly painters, too ready to aspire to the bold and peculiar effects of their own art. Bramante, the first architect of St Peter's, Da Vinci, Raphael, Julio Romano, and, above all, Michael Angelo, were the masters of this era. The last mentioned mighty name, here, as in all the arts, created his own style: robust, even to the abuse of strength; incorrect, and sometimes barbarous, in detail; in general effect, always grand and original. In St Peter's, with many defects, and still greater beauties, he has left a monument of his genius, the most glorious structure that now adorns the face of the earth, unequalled in extent as in science.

Great as was this school, much was yet wanting to retrieve the golden purity of ancient art; and this, in the succeeding century, was added by Palladio, so far at least, as the severe majesty of the primitive modes could be recovered from a Roman writer, and by the study of Roman exemplars. Palladio is refined, rather than nervous,—elegant, rather than grand; but of all the modern masters, he is the most chaste in design and ornament, prior to more recent knowledge of the fountain of all excellence—the remains of Greece. His school was numerous, at least the masters who followed out his principles; which, spreading over Europe, firmly established the Roman style, banishing a bastard species of Roman Gothic, by which both systems had been disgraced, and their characteristic distinctions confounded. Of the Palladian, or reformed school, Bernini was the last disciple of genius; his circular colonnade, in front of St Peter's, is worthy of its site. With him, and the conceits of Borromini, Italian architecture may almost be said to have ceased. In France, the two Mansards, during the building reign of Louis XIV., have left heavy imitations of the Michael-Angelesque style; still, to the artist writers of that country, the art owes much. It is there more regularly studied than in any other country in Europe; and in one specimen, the faÇade of the Louvre, the grandest excellence has been attained; but the general character of national building is too fluttering, wanting repose and majesty. From the two schools, the following ten have been selected, under the name of the modern masters, because, in their writings or buildings, the best precepts are obtained. Ranging the names in order of merit, we have Palladio, Scamozzi, Vignola, Alberti, De Lorme, Serlio, Viola, Cataneo, Boullant, Barbaro.

The graces of the Palladian school were caught by the congenial spirit of Inigo Jones, in whose labours the English school of classical architecture took its rise, and, we might almost say, received its completion. Whitehall and Greenwich will rank among the finest architecture of Europe—evidences at once of the skill of the artist, and the taste of Charles I. Sir Christopher Wren, in the succeeding reign, with the same chaste design, brought to the profession more general science than his predecessor. His opportunities, from the consequences of the great fire, were greater than perhaps have fallen to the lot of any other modern; and, in the erection of the Metropolitan Cathedral, he proved the capabilities of his genius to be equal to his good fortune. He has reared the second, and barely second, edifice in the world. The art has nothing finer than the western front—so rich, so noble, and, notwithstanding the double arcade, so pure. On the whole, the exterior of St Paul's is to be preferred, both for effect and design, to St Peter's. Not so the interior. The Roman Basilicon opens upon the view with a calm, majestic, expansive capaciousness; the English cathedral is broken into parts, and scattered in its entireness.

Jones and Wren have remained the great masters of the English school: though Vanbrugh hardly deserved Swift's satire—

while the Earl of Burlington, in spite of Pope, did understand building. Gibbs, Kent, Hawksmore, left no successors; and during the reign of George II., English architecture was at its lowest. His late majesty is reported to have understood, and certainly had a taste for, the science; but his majesty was scarcely happy in the artist whom he patronized, Chambers, the architect of Somerset-house, and whose character may be thus summed up:—he introduced the Chinese style, and denied that the Parthenon ever existed, or that, if it did, it must have been a clumsy piece of business. It is unnecessary to pursue the subject. For the mixed Roman—the modern Gothic—and Oriental styles, which have since prevailed, we can find no place among the modes of art.

The most recent improvements in the British metropolis are in better taste than those immediately preceding; but in following the varied forms of buildings among the Romans, rather than the simpler outline of the Greeks, though no error has been committed, but perhaps the contrary, sufficient care has not been employed to place these varied masses advantageously, both as respects their own grandeur, and their decorative effect in street architecture.

A more promising aspect, also, of things, invites attention to the Northern capital. This singularly romantic and beautiful city, combining the associations of centuries with our admiration of the living age, and exhibiting in its buildings the rudest and the most refined exemplars, constitutes a feature in the history of our national architecture, and, among the cities of Europe, an isolated instance of undecided mastery between art and nature. The earlier of the new buildings of the Scottish metropolis, are, generally speaking, in the Palladian, or Roman style, with the exception of the college. Adams, in the last, has left a most splendid proof of genius. Viewed, as it ought to be, in itself, within the quadrangle, it fills the eye with a burst of splendid magnificence, equal to any effect we have ever experienced in modern building. Recent structures are in the true Grecian modes, transcripts from the Theseum and the Parthenon. We rejoice in this; it is the only source whence renewed vigor can be derived to our fallen art—for fallen it is at present among us; nor do we perceive, in the British empire, such decided marks, not of reviving, but of vigorous taste, as in the Scottish school of architecture. The National Monument on the Calton, emulates, in gigantic mass, the Athenian structures themselves; while in the new High School is presented a perfect gem of art—where the purest Greek modes are combined and adapted with the happiest originality. The laborious and useful investigations which have rendered our artists so well acquainted with even the minutest details of the Greek forms, cannot remain without fruit—provided architects will be true to the best interests of their profession. Let it ever be borne in mind, that, magnificent as are the specimens of Roman skill, we desert the parent source when for these we forsake the remains of Grecian genius and art.

On reviewing these pages, it scarcely appears, that incidents or principles of importance have been overlooked, without such notice as limits permitted. In treating of the Fine Arts, indeed, the subject of patronage may seem to demand more separate consideration than is bestowed in occasional remarks. Brief, however, as these are, they will be found to contain, on this question, the impartial decisions of history, which uniformly declares the only wise, wholesome, and inspiring patronage to consist in national sympathy and national regard for the objects, purposes, and professors of Art. Here the countenance and protection of government are necessarily included, as affording the most distinguished assurance of the existence of this feeling, and as giving direction to the national efforts. In Britain, the genius of our institutions, and the character of the people require, while they will add power to, the effects of this union. These institutions are more national—the opulence and intelligence of the subject, abler to strengthen the hands and to aid the designs of government, than in any other empire that ever existed. Our Fine Arts have hitherto been the only constituent of our national glory to which the cheering influence of this united sympathy has been denied.

THE END.