A VISIT TO LIVERPOOL-ITS ARCHITECTURE ESTHETICALLY CONSIDERED.

narrow, and feeble, and extremley faulty in compo-
sition. The proportions of the solids to the openings
are inharmonious, the windows are squat, the mould-
ings and modellions are feeble, and, with the excep-
tion of the door-piece, which is really good, the whole
design is an inartistic piece of patch work. A tower
rises at the corner-thin, and perforated like the||
handle of a wicker basket. By the introduction
of a massive arch in the basement, this might have
been rendered a bold and striking object, but it is cut
up and frittered away into rows of little windows;
while a thin cornice, with stone modellions, is
carried round, having nothing to support, and, of
course, quite out of place. This tower is used for
telegraphic signals; and strangers ought to have
had their attention arrested by a structure honoured
in being the medium of transmitting, almost with
the rapidity of thought, important intelligence to
and from the most distant quarters of the globe.
Passing along towards Dale Street, our attention
is arrested by the Royal Bank, a structure in the
Italian style, which must have cost a large sum,
but the effect of which has been somewhat marred
by the introduction of a number of vertical lines.
Horizontal massing is required in the Italian as
well as in the Grecian styles of architecture, and,||
when these masses are cut up rectangularly, the
effect is perplexing and disagreeable.

In North John Street, we find another new fa-
çade the Royal Insurance Office. This structure
is in the florid Italian style-a style which ought
to be left to the fine material, and clear, cloudless
skies of Italy, where it can be lighted up perpetu-
ally with golden sunshine; for such a style soon gets
sadly begrimed amid the smoke and fog of Liverpool.
The fenestrution, however, of this building is good,
the proportions are harmonious, and one is led to
regret that what might have been a very agreeable ||
composition should have been overloaded with en-
richment. The ornamental devices, moreover, are
not what we expect to meet with in stone, but of a
character such as is generally seen on backs of side- ||
boards and sofas. Indeed, until we had learned
the name of the building, we had set it down as a
successful attempt on the part of a furniture manu-
facturer to invest the house externally with the
character of the business to be carried on internally.
In Fenwick Street, we were pleased with the
Union Bank, a small but pure specimen of Grecian
architecture. This structure has a portico and
antæ; the proportions seem correct, and the general
effect is chaste and agreeable. We were also much
pleased with a building nearly opposite, in Bruns-
wick Street, called the Brunswick Buildings. This
structure is after the Farnesi Palace in Rome, and
has the requisite variety to arrest the eye, and the
requisite regularity to satisfy the judgment. It has
also a fine ornamental character, and in this re-
spect contrasts favourably with the Fenwick Cham-
bers in the street adjoining, which display the same
ignorance of the principles of composition so strik-
ingly manifested in the Town Buildings.

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,
And feels self-isolation is To BE;

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,
The gloomy veil of disappointed pride,

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,
Shunning the throng, with God himself to bide,
All-loving tho' Alone.

Well do I love bright eyes with mirth full-gleaming,
Happy kin-souls re-echoing guileless glee;
And if heart e'er was cheered by love's smiles beaming,
Earth's heavenliest bliss have been such smiles to me,

With one fair form Alone,

TO AN UNKNOWN.

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
the inn, whence a jocund peal was ringing, we
paused, and suddenly

"We heard the trailling garments of the night
Sweep through her marble halls;

We saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
From her celestial walls;

We felt her presence, by its spell of might,
Stoop o'er us from above,

The calm, majestic presence of the night,
As of the one we love."

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:
No cloud is there, nor speck, nor stain
Blots the serene of heaven.

In full-orbed glory the majestic moon
Rolls through the dark blue depths.

How beautiful is night!"

Another spirit continued—

With

"How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear
Were discord to the speaking quietude
That wraps this moveless scene,

Where musing solitude might love to lift
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness,

Where silence undisturbed might watch alone,
So mild, so bright, so still."

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