following century would be incredible if we had not the clearest evidence before our eyes. By the time of Henry II. the art of building in stone was brought to as high a state of perfection as it has ever been brought to; the builders and architects were constantly striving for something new, and the strongest spirit of emulation prevailed everywhere. The ground was thus thoroughly prepared and ready for the great change which was coming; and just at this time the bishops and nobles, the chief builders of the time, had the opportunity of seeing the improvements which had been made in Anjou by the introduction of the Byzantine element. In this manner, by carefully tracing historical data, and not by any theory or fancy, we may account for the presence of the Byzantine element in English-Gothic, and its absence a from the Gothic of Paris and the Isle de France, which in other respects was making parallel progress.

It is a mistake to suppose that Paris was the capital of what we now call France at that period; it was the capital of but a very small part of it, and there was far less intercourse between London and Paris, than between London and Angers, in the time of Henry II.

Another eminent critic who does not approve of the revived taste for our national style, is the writer of an elaborate article on Mr. Fergusson's "Handbook of Architecture" in the "Quarterly Review." This gentleman displays his learning and knowledge of the history of architecture by attributing the origin of the Norman and Gothic styles to the ancient Lombards! and actually cites the churches of Lucca and Pisa b as examples of the work of the ancient Lombards,- -a mistake of only about three centuries in his chronology. These churches are the glory of the Pisan Republic of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and the well-known works of the architects of the Pisan school.

There is scarcely a vestige to be found of the buildings of the ancient Lombards, whatever they were: some few fragments of the original church of St. Ambrogio at Milan may be traced, and are of debased Roman character, chiefly valuable as evidence that the existing building in which these fragments are preserved is some centuries later. To consider Italy as the cradle of the Gothic style is preposterous, the fact being that it never took root there at all; the few Gothic churches which are found there of a date anterior to the fourteenth century are notoriously the work of foreigners, and not all in advance of the countries they came from. The Italians themselves continued to build in the round-arched style down to the fourteenth century; they never, in fact, adopted either the pointed.

a See Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire d'Architecture, art. "Construction."

b Quarterly Review, No. CCXII. p. 308.

The Cathedral of Lucca was founded in 1060, and rebuilt by Giudetto in 1204. The Cathedral of Pisa was built in 1067-1118, but much altered afterwards; the campanile, known as the leaning tower, was begun in 1174.

arch or Gothic details in their general style, though they have some beautiful exceptions.

In answer to Mr. Bell's question, so much discussed in the " Building News,"" Is Gothic architecture in harmony with the highest class of painting and sculpture?" we appeal from theory to facts. Professor Cockerell, who is no mean judge, and is certainly not prejudiced in favour of Gothic or of English work, decided, after careful investigation, that the sculpture in England in the thirteenth century, at Wells, Lincoln, and Salisbury, is equal to any in Europe at the same period. At a later time, dating from the fourteenth century, the Italian school of sculpture and painting was unrivalled, but some of their most celebrated examples are actually the ornament of Gothic buildings: unfortunately, their architecture was as bad as their sculpture was good, and the most splendid sculpture is often thrown away in the decoration of the most worthless buildings. Perhaps the sculpture on the west front of the Cathedral of Orvieto, the work of the fifteenth century, is one of the finest series of sculptures ever executed for the external decoration of a building, and this building is Gothic, though, unfortunately, very bad Gothic. For painting, the series of fresco paintings, by Giotto, in the interior of St. Francis at Assisi, is amongst the finest ever executed as decorations for the interior of a building. The church is Gothic, and better Gothic than is usual in Italy, being the work of a German architect. We can see no reason for considering the Classic pediment better adapted for the reception of sculpture than the Gothic tympanum, or the many other situations in which sculpture is used to decorate a Gothic building.

A critic in the "Builder" of Nov. 19, appears to agree with us substantially in all the main points, and differs more in words than in reality. Whether windows introduced between columns are correct or not, and whether the windows of the Italian style are ugly or not, are matters of taste on which each person may have and may hold his own opinion. In acknowledging that the use of the loggie was "to cover the windows from the heat of the sun," he grants all that is of any real importance,—that until we can import the Italian sun, the Italian style will always be out of place in England. In saying that "in any future style of architecture we should be right to use bay-windows," he grants the whole question; they are essentially a Gothic feature, the invention of the despised "Dark Ages;" and in a question between the two styles, the Goths have a right to claim them, and if they hold them until the proposed new style is invented, they will hold them long enough. Architecture always has been an imitative art, and has gone on progressing by gradual steps, not by any sudden or violent changes; taking a hint here and another there, and improving on them; not servilely copying other works, but making proper use of them. Those who cry out so loudly for originality, for the "Deus ex machina" to make his

appearance and invent a new style of architecture by his own original genius, only prove that they have not studied the history of the art they write about. Bay-windows probably originated in the necessity of accommodating the ladies, who, had long been accustomed to sit and work their tapestry in the window-recess formed in the thickness of the wall in the earlier styles, and must have been glad of the additional space and additional light afforded them by the bay or the oriel window. However scientifically it may be demonstrated that no additional light is thrown to the back of the apartment by these projections, we apprehend that if any lady in England, of ancient or modern times, were asked the question whether she would rather sit and work "in her oriel," or behind an Italian window protected from the sun [and the light] by a loggia, she would not be long in answering.

Can anything be a greater contradiction in terms than the scheme for an Italian colonnade round the Winter Garden at South Kensington? Does it not appear, on the face of it, the acmé of absurdity? The object of an Italian colonnade is to shelter people from the sun, it affords no protection from the cold, or the rain, or the snow: how much sun are we likely to have to be protected from while admiring the beautiful evergreens of a winter garden in the suburbs of London? The design is as ugly as the plan appears to be badly conceived. The proposed buildings are a bad copy of the Tuileries in Paris, with the addition of this colonnade, of some miles in extent, to connect them, and serve as corridors from one museum to another. Is it too late to protest against these plans, and endeavour to turn the scheme to good account? We hope not, as the money has to be raised by shares, and the shareholders are not bound to the details of the plan. Why not substitute a Gothic cloister for the Italian colonnade? We should then have not only shelter from the weather, and be able to enjoy the beauties of the Winter Garden with comfort, and without catching our deaths from colds, but we should have a most important and most useful adjunct to our National Museum. The most convenient and best-arranged museums in Europe are the Campo Santo at Pisa, and the museum at Toulouse, both of which are in Gothic cloisters. Can any plan be devised better suited for the purpose? A long range of covered way, miles in extent, all glass on one side and all wall on the other. We defy the ingenuity of man, even coming man" and his new style, to contrive anything more convenient. The expense of a Gothic cloister need not be a penny more than the Italian colonnade; the same quantity of material and of labour will cost the same in any style, and there is no need for more money to be spent on ornament in the one case than in the other.

66 the

The English Gothic style is a distinct style from that of France, Germany, or Italy; in each country there was nearly simultaneous progress, (except in Italy,) but the English style of each succeeding century is still distinct from any Continental style: its distinguishing features are-greater lightness, and, consequently, economy of material; greater purity-it is the

only style in which the Gothic is entirely unmixed with Classical or other foreign elements; better proportions; the different parts of the building more harmoniously adjusted to each other; the towers and spires are of a height proportionate to the mass of the building. The ambition of the French architects to obtain the greatest possible height to the nave, or central compartment, destroyed all proportion of parts; the first effect of their interior is very grand and striking, but the exterior is entirely sacrificed to this one object. On the other hand, the greater length of the English churches grows upon the mind, and impresses the imagination more strongly afterwards. The windows and the patterns of window tracery of the English Gothic are far more varied than those of the Continent; the window openings are almost as much enriched with mouldings as the doorways, whilst on the Continent the window openings are usually quite plain, even in the richest buildings. In doorways the mouldings are generally far more numerous and more rich; a fine suite of mouldings of the thirteenth century, with their deep hollows and bold projections, so common in England, is rarely to be found on the Continent. The flying buttresses and pinnacles are better proportioned, and better adjusted to each other. The beautiful open timber roofs and panelled wooden ceilings are almost peculiar to England: in France, the usual ceiling of village churches is exactly like the half of a barrel tied together by a cord. Yet some English architects, who have their choice of the beautiful cradle-roofs of Somerset or Devon, the open timber-work of Norfolk and Suffolk, or the panelling of other counties, think it an improvement to introduce these ugly barrels into England.

Like the edifices, the English painted glass of the "Dark Ages" was made to suit the climate; it was left as transparent as possible, with a large proportion of white glass of a silvery hue, the patterns merely drawn upon it in outline, and distinguished by a tinge of yellow stain. Modern glass-painters in this "enlightened age" consider it necessary to make their glass as opaque as possible, in order to shut out the light. We have heard an eminent poet complain that he could not see to read in his church, that the figures in the windows looked to him exactly like painted wooden images, and had entirely lost the ethereal character which he remembered in his youth in the windows of his father's church. This is doubtless one of the many improvements of modern days, one of the points in which modern Gothic is so superior to the ancient. According to the ancient and obsolete ideas of SYLVANUS URBAN, all architecture, and all the details and accompaniments belonging to it, ought to be suitable to the climate of the country in which the buildings are erected; and the inhabitants of that country, even in the "Dark Ages," are likely to have discovered what style of architecture was best suited to it. When the climate has changed, then let the style and character of the buildings be changed also.

HERALDRY IN HISTORY, POETRY, AND ROMANCEa.

MISS MILLINGTON has provided us with a pleasant book. It is not a complete body of heraldry, nor is it, on the other hand, quite useless as a manual. It contains a good deal of technical information, a good deal more of antiquarian gossip, and some agreeable sentiments which will be grateful to the enthusiastic student of the subject. Possibly the book would have been better if it had been either more of a manual, or less. Perhaps also the promise of the title-page, "Heraldry in History, Poetry, and Romance," is not quite fulfilled. But we would not too closely scrutinize a work which partakes alike of the usual recommendations and the usual defects of a lady's composition.

The spirit of the book may be understood from the opening sentences:— "The noble study of heraldry, although to modern ears little more than a category of terms, for the most part unintelligible, even to those who can employ them correctly in emblazoning an escutcheon, was far from being equally barren of significance when those epithets were first introduced. Judging from the little we do understand of what remains, or and argent, gules and azure, dragon and griffin, were not then purely conventional terms, nor were armorial bearings originally adopted by any royal or noble house without due regard to their import, and in order either to perpetuate the memory of former fame, or to incite future descendants to emulate the virtues and heroic bearing of their ancestors. It may be that those coats of arms, if duly understood, would, even now, give lessons of no mean import to those who bear them, and that honour and courtesy, loyalty and devotion, chivalric and heroic virtue, would be enkindled anew by the mute teaching of such memorials of ancestral glory."

These anticipations are pleasant, but fanciful: the study of heraldry in such a spirit will ever be confined to the few; the moral influence of heraldic devices will be sensibly felt only in exceptional cases. On the whole, heraldry must be left to the antiquaries. Busy people will always ask, "Of what use is it?" but there is no reason why it should not regain some of its lost estimation. Our authoress has shewn by her researches how heraldry not only leads us into pleasant fields of romance and bye-paths of history, but some ways in which it is positively and directly useful. An instance of its helping to explain ancient proverbial expressions, is the common saying among the French after the assassination of the Duke of Orleans by the Duke of Burgundy, "Le baton noueux est plané." This was an allusion to the armorial bearings of Orleans and Burgundy. "The former bore for his badge a knotted stick (baton noueux), and Burgundy, in token of hatred and defiance, assumed a plane as his device." Hence, when Orleans was slain, arose the saying, "the knotted stick was planed."

Heraldry in History, Poetry, and Romance. By Ellen J. Millington. (London: Chapman and Hall.)