A VISIT TO LIVERPOOL-ITS ARCHITECTURE ESTHETICALLY CONSIDERED. narrow, and feeble, and extremley faulty in compo- In North John Street, we find another new fa- Proceeding along Castle Street, we come to the Branch Bank of England, a building possessing considerable claims to attention. The details are all well drawn and carefully finished; but there is 215 a want of harmony between the general masses. In this structure, there is a combination of various styles; and this must have increased the difficulty of producing a harmonious whole. For example, the columns and rusticated antæ facing Castle Street are too massive for the weight they have to carry; the open pediment or attic being so far back from the front line, that, apparently, it has no connection with the heavy underwork. The general effect of the side of the building towards Cook Street is very superior, and the Venetian windows formed by the three large arches are exceedingly noble and imposing. On the whole, this structure seems the work of an accomplished architect, although the interior is dark and gloomy, certainly not the most appropriate qualities for banking purposes. The Commercial Bank Buildings, immediately adjoining, form a fine lofty structure, which in its general effect reminds one of the continuous and unbroken masses found in Ancient Greece, depending for effect entirely on simple elegance and harmonic proportion, and, consequently, a model of what is so much desiderated in street architecture. The stado, or lower division of the building, however, is rather flat and tame, and would have been much improved by being executed in rusticated ashlar. It would then have formed a basement worthy of the fine range of Corinthian pilasters, entablature, balustrade, and vases, which it supports. The vases might well be dispensed with, and figures substituted, with excellent effect; indeed we could conceive nothing finer than the sky-line of this edifice, if broken by a range of well-sculptured figures—as it is, the skyline is good, and has been assisted by the tasteful manner in which the chimneys are grouped, and the introduction of an ornamental arch, which gives a coup de grace to the entire building. The structure is also apparently increased in altitude by the manner in which the fenestration has been proportioned, the upper windows receding in the true perspective ratio. The interior is light and elegant, and the enrichments are intelligible and appropriate. St. George's Hall and the Assize Courts are by far the most important and imposing of the public buildings in Liverpool; and, in general conception, an advancement on any adaptation hitherto made of Greek architecture in this country. The façade and colonade towards the east, with their beautiful proportions and unbroken horizontal extension, fill the eye with unmingled delight, and excite universal admiration. The south portico is equally felicitous, and, if the pediment were enriched with sculpture, conceived and executed in a kindred spirit, would be the finest feature in the building. It is a pity that the curvilinear form of the north circular end does not harmonise with the rectangular simplicity of the other parts, and that the central attic is so dead and heavy. The fenestration of the west side, with its open screen, although well proportioned, suggests another style of building; but we suppose the arrangement of the interior rendered such innovation indispensable. All the details are exquisitely drawn, modelled, and finished, and we sincerely trust that the interior will be completed in accor dance with the conception of the young and talented architect, whose premature death deprived Britain of one of her most promising artists. the general effect, and the interior rooms well adapted for comfort and convenience. The Sailors' Home, in the Elizabethan style, now in progress, will apparently form a very agreeable feature. This style is indigenous to England, which first rose to maritime importance in the reign of Elizabeth, and hence, for a sailor's home, the style is peculiarly stands is awkward and angular, but this difficulty in perspective has been successfully avoided by an ingenious introduction of curved lines. The New Philharmonic Hall, in Myrtle Street, now advancing to completion, is a noble and imposing structure, characterised, both externally and internally, by largeness of parts and simplicity of arrangement. The style of this building is Roma-appropriate. The ground on which the building Italian, or Palladian, and being placed on an elevated position, at the junction of two streets, its fine proportions are seen to advantage. Both fronts have arched arcades in the ground story, hav- Several churches have been recently erected, all ing pilasters with impost piers, and archivoltes be- aiming in some degree at the style at present so tween. Between the under and upper divisions popular. Among others may be noticed St. Simon's a bold and effective string-course is introduced, and Church, the spire of which, being on an eminence, the mezzanine under the upper windows is panelled is well seen, and looks very symmetrical. St. Xawith consoles. The divisions of the open and solid vier's Church, too, presents many fine features exwork are well arranged, and the fenestration of the ternally; the elevation is elegant-the tracing of windows is very harmonious. The building is sur- the windows pure specimens of the early decorated mounted with an enriched frieze with bold consoles, style; but the interior has a bare and barren apand an effective cornice, and the sky-line is formed by pearance. The ceiling of the nave, of a pentagonal an anti-fixa, the angles terminating with ornamen- form, ribbed and pannelled in dark oak and white tal lyres, which, however, are not so graceful as plaster panels, presents a most unharmonious comcould be wished. The music-room is, we believe, bination of straight lines, which might have been the largest in England, being nearly 150 feet in length, avoided by the introduction of a general curve in and above 100 feet in breadth. The ceiling has groins. A Unitarian Chapel is also being erected, the character of the Roman Basilica, with elevated which, so far as it has gone, is possessed of concentre and lower side aisles; and this has been ac- siderable architectural merit, and contrasts favourcomplished by the introduction of prodigious trusses ably with the Baptist Chapel, and Scotch Free of new and original construction, superseding the Church, in the immediate neighbourhood. There necessity of columns or arches, and leaving the is one new abortion, however, Christ's Church, in vast area entirely open without any obstruction. Horner Street, which cannot be passed unnoticed. The acoustics of this fine room seem to have been The spire and tower are out of all proportion and well considered, as on our visit we heard the work- character, and evince an utter ignorance or disremen at the extreme diagonal corner conversing in gard of style or consistency. The gargoyles are their usual tone of voice. The arrangement of wait- characterised by grossness, and suggest the most ing rooms, refreshment rooms, and promenades, to-revolting and vulgar ideas; and the whole structure gether with the modes of egress, are all excellent, might, with more propriety, be dedicated to the and, on the whole, we are disposed to consider this deity of the Yezidis of Assyria, than to the God of one of the most successful attempts hitherto made Christian Britain. to combine convenience and elegance in architecture. The Collegiate Institution, in the Tudor Gothic style, is excellent in general effect, but in detail very defective. The corbels of the oriel windows are clumsy and squat, and the oriels themselves want elevation. The terminals of the buttresses resemble chimney stalks, and are much too light for the massive forms below. The entrance-hall and corridors are dark and gloomy, suggesting the idea of the cloisters of the dark ages, and out of keeping with the enlightened philosophy taught in this institution. The façade at the railway station is broken up in a manner highly objectionable; but the Stowe railway station, in the Italian style, is striking in OFT 'mid the crowd the earnest heart droops lonely, In holy calm Heaven's music soundeth only, True solitude's the soul's best company; God and the soul Alone. Such is no selfish, cold, misanthrope madness, We have now given a faithful account of the impressions produced by our short stay in Liverpool, and our examination of the structures recently erected there; and although our remarks may appear a little hypercritical, we trust we have shown that they are founded on correct principles. It is high time that true proportion and fitness were recognised as the standards by which to estimate architectural design. In the most common utensils, produced at moderate cost every day, we recognise an improvement in symmetry and in utility; and when large sums of money are expended on buildings, wherein neither the one nor the other has been considered, an injury has been done to art which cannot easily be remedied. ALONE. But spirit's converse with its own deep gladness, Well do I love bright eyes with mirth full-gleaming, With one fair form Alone, Still noteless would I track the silent river That sweeps in beauty to its ocean rest, Whispering the thoughtful soul to glass heaven ever, Deep, pure, and bright, as doth its own calm breast, Looking to heaven Alone. I love to seek, deep in some pathless wildwood, When midnight's sable mantle hath enshrouded Then rise the mighty spirits of dead ages, In silent glory circling me around WHAT vision o'er my startled eye Breaks strange as omen in the sky, Painting in lines of deepest light Its image on the mem'ry's sight? A forehead high and pale, Of snow that sheets the hill, The twilight world of mind, Where vulgar souls in gloom Start back as from the tomb, With poets, prophets, heroes, saints, and sages, Whose hallowed utterance wakes the soul's profound; A silver voice with joy no more is ringing, Her fond eyes, lustreless, have sought death's gloom; While fleeting years, like foambells ceaseless crowding, Man's mirth and madness in its depths enshrouding, Immortal pilgrim to the land unknown, TO AN UNKNOWN. And genius only eyes Why is that noble brow so pale? Why rays so fixed that solemn eye' To catch the first faint streaks that rise, Within that snowy brow The moveless coaly eye "Mysterious being!"—as I spoke, It melted into viewless air, And all was void unimaged there. Where late that form had palely stood, Lost in wildering fruitless strife To know the mystery of life. O that some angel would unrol J.B.D. A NIGHT IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF DERWENT WATER. crassitude that oppresses and begrims the caliginous atmosphere of Leeds or Glasgow. Her music, too, must be mended; her melodious birds, her vocal cataracts, her quiet singing brooks, and all the wild and wayward strains of her spiritual harp, must join in concert with the stunning roar of trumpets, fifes, and drums, before these worthy and enlightened people can derive any pleasure It has long struck us, and our visit to these districts greatly strengthened the conviction, that mountain and lake scenery should, if possible, be witnessed alone. A like-minded companion may do very well for some time, but even of him you may tire and wish sincerely a solitary hour, to expose yourself, without restraint, to the soliciting influences around you. An incident occurred during a tour through the Western Highlands of Scotland which corroborated our opinion, and determined finally our resolu tion always to travel in such a country alone. In passing through Edinburgh we accidentally stumbled on an individual with whom we had been very slightly acquainted at college. We knew him to be a vigorous student, but destitute of a scintillation of fancy. Being informed of our route he proposed to accompany us. With some hesitation we consented. A very few hours' mutual converse among the wilds of nature soon discovered the antagonism of our dispositions. A rupture seemed every moment inevitable. An occasion soon offered, and the tie was immediately severed. FOR the next century we fear the annalist of pedestrianism will have but few materials to work upon. With benevolent consideration we shall therefore furnish him with a feat we were honoured to achieve in the summer of last year. After spending a night on the banks of Windermere, at about 8 o'clock in the morning of a beautiful but somewhat sultry day in June, we set out on foot from Bowness, intending, if possible, to reach Kes-from her sights and sounds, and force themselves wick, in the twilight. From our starting-place to into such tame furiousness as to ejaculate, with a Ambleside, the road presents a variety of noble pro- pseudo-poetical obstreperousness, "How pretty!" spects, both of the lake and the circumjacent "Come now, that's well got up!" scenery. The unbroken quietude that slept on every object; the aspect of perfect repose that sat upon "the river-lake," and the gigantic heights glassed in its transparency-induced a placid calm upon the spirit, and ameliorated the heart with profitable reflection. Suddenly the neighbouring hills rung out their echoes in a deafening continuous peal-shattering sounds broke unwelcomely over the lake, and drowned the cadences of the waterfalls, that had only served to voice the silence and proclaim its presence. We looked and listened; we could scarcely credit our senses. A grim black monster was seen vomiting forth volumes of dunnest smoke that darkened the deep blue of the sky, rushing torturingly through the bosom of the lake, breaking into fragments the watery mirror with the remorseless dash of its iron wings as the sun glared indignantly from his throne upon his broken and distorted image. It was freighted with a cargo of well-dressed people, who, from their unnatural conduct, ought to have been behind the counter, at the exchange, or lounging away the morning on their ottomans in town, instead of reck-stood together on a bold craggy promontory comlessly marring the natural features and disturbing the tranquillity of this quiet region. To relieve, as it should seem, the tedium of the excursion, a large band of musicians poured a hoarse clangor from their brazen-throated instruments, startling echo with unwonted violence from her peaceful retreats, where the wild notes of the cascade, the blended harmony of melodious birds, and the shrill shriek of the mountain spirit, were alone congenial. The romance of a tour among the lakes is sadly interrupted by these painful tokens of a money-loving age, and a matter-of-fact world. The steamboat proprietors, and the prosaic parties that contribute to their support, have unquestionably the impression that nature has so few charms, that of herself she is insufficient to afford any real recreation and enjoyment. They don't believe the poet when he says "Thou mad'st all nature beauty to his eye and music to his ear." Her beauty must be improved and supplemented, to suit the temper and tastes of the age; her pellucid specula must be broken, and shivered and smashed to powdery spray by the tormenting wheels of a thundering steamboat; her clear cloudless sky and lustrous sun must be agreeably relieved by a smutty tinge of in-lated sanctuary. "L'âme se montre en fernal smoke, to remind the manufacturing and de Staël-here it was exemplified. commercial tourists of the charming impervious To return: it was with feelings considerably We manding a magnificent view of a beautiful loch, enriched with clusters of poetic associations, and encircled on all sides by mountains of great sublimity and historical interest. The scene suggested silence and reverie. Absorbed in the wilderness of wonders, spirited upwards by an invisible but omnipotent agency, no sound escaped us to indicate that we were not parts of the glorious whole. The solitude was perfect, the stillness unbrokenwe could have heard even the measured beat of the muffled heart in its funeral march, had we not been exclusively occupied with the outer world. After a long pause of sacred communion, a voice, suddenly, with the most perfect sang froid, exclaimed, "This is nice." Scared, as if by a phantom's hollow accents of terror, heard in the midst of a dream of bliss, away we sprang with the speed of an antelope, darted through bracken bush, prickly furze, and tangled brushwood, scaled with furious velocity the neighbouring heights, and, all breathless and exhausted, reached the mountains of Ben Dhu, where, far from the sacrilegious interlocutor, we fortunately seized again the skirts of Nature, who had fled in indignation from her vio peu," says chafed that we afterwards pursued our way to Ambleside. It stands pleasantly at the northern extremity of Windermere, and affords some very fine views of the lake and its environs. We then visited Rydal Mount, the residence of Wordsworth, who, unfortunately for us, was engaged in certainly not the most poetical, though, perhaps, the most necessary occupation in the world. In short, he was at dinner, and therefore invisible. Having traced the valley of Grasmere, and placed its solitary emerald isle and lake as gems in the cabinet of me our ears, that, with our steps on the threshold of "We heard the trailling garments of the night We saw her sable skirts all fringed with light We felt her presence, by its spell of might, The calm, majestic presence of the night, mory, we ascended "the mighty Helvellyn," where The poetic genius of the place whispered the whole lacustrine tableau in a moment depictared itself indelibly upon the mind; and just as the sun was sinking behind the western mountains, we looked down upon Derwent Water and the lovely vale of Keswick. Descending into the neat picturesque town where Southey spent some of his happiest and many of his saddest days, and his sweetest strains were sung, we found the principal street dotted with groups of gossipping idlers keenly engaged in discussing the merits of the various equipages that swept past from the eastern lakes, crammed with tourists— whether veritable or ostensible, we leave sub judice -of both sexes, of all grades, and of all ages, that looked pleasant and amiable at sight of the substantial hostelrie, where savoury viands and grateful beverages awaited the clamant organ and the parched lip. The clit-clat-rat-a-tat of horses feet pattering down the sloping turnpike, and along the dusty street; the jingle-jangle of harness, like the bells of a Swiss tambarine; the grumble-rumble-tumble of lumbering chaises; the smothered dull sound of patent-springed private phaetons, mingled with the obstreperous vociferations of hostlers, understrappers, and uncombed urchins, clamorously bickering with one another as to who should ride the old hacks to water-gave the mountain village quite an air of bustle and activity, contrasting strangely with the surrounding scenery. to care a The verdant brow of Skid daw, the meek mild lake over which a cloud rested, as well as the distant rugged wilds of Borrowdale, seemed to frown on the insensate intruders into their quiet domains, where the solitary traveller seems the only welcome visitant. The genius of the dark fells scowled horribly, but without the success of Di Gama's apparition at the Cape; for no one seemed fiddle-pin whether he scowled or smiled. But the dissonance and din of bustling travellers, loquacious townspeople, and wrangling imps, soon ceased, and silence resumed her tranquil sway. We were alone in Keswick. None of the happy faces we had seen jauntily peering from the dashing vehicles, or watching their arrival from the windows of the Royal Oak and the Queen's Head, had greeted us with a smile of recognition. We stood unnoticed and unknown, and we were really glad of it, though, in spite of all our enthusiasm, we experienced a slight sinking of heart when we thought of entering the public room, where instruments, untuned by the invisible spirits of the scenery around, playing harsh music. There we knew no creature cared for us; and the peculiar melodies, wild, stirring, plaintive, or soothing, which had been evoked from the viewless chords of our inner being during that day's journey, lingered so sweetly in were "How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air: In full-orbed glory the majestic moon How beautiful is night!" Another spirit continued— With "How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh Where musing solitude might love to lift Where silence undisturbed might watch alone, Eve, we then inquired— "But wherefore all night long shine these? for whom This gorgeous sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes ?” True, "Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep." But is this scene of glory spread out for them alone? Can we not join their band, hymn the great Creator, and "lift our thoughts to heaven"? A moment, and we were decided to spend the night by the river, and the lake, and on the lonely summit of the wild mountain. Pacing leisurely down the quiet street, where a solitary individual might still be seen, that "Eyed the blue vault, and blessed the useful light," we reached its western extremity; and, hearing the river "Making sweet music with the enamelled stones," we turned our footsteps in that direction, and soon found ourselves on the banks of the Derwent. Long interlaced lines of brushwood fringed its borders, and, in some places, denied easy access to its waters. The moonbeam trembled in silver on its wimpling wave, giving it the appearance of the evening sky glittering with argent brightness through a stripe of forest trees. We wandered with the river, and listened attentively to its utterances. A feeling crept stealthily over us a feeling we have often experienced, and which seems peculiarly the product of rivers, when no intervenient agencies destroy or diminish their natural influences. It was a conscious existence in the world of the future. We have elsewhere said that the genius of the cataract is retrospective; we add, the genius of the river is prospective. Surrendering ourselves to the sway of the former, we feel no inclination to soar into the possible and the future; what has been, and |