habitants, by the blending of various foreign ingredients which have at different periods introduced and naturalized themselves, but which have been also in turn modified by the original stock, as well as by the local peculiarities of climate, soil, social condition, and political history.

This NATIONAL character attaches itself far more to domestic architecture than to that which is displayed in public buildings, ecclesiastical or civil. In the erection of these, the architect, often himself a stranger, or taught abroad, has sometimes wholly copied a foreign model, and merely transferred the entire cathedral or palace from the banks of the Rhine or the Po to those of the Thames and Isis. But in designing the residences of the opulent classes of any country it became necessary to consult the manners, habits, and wants of the future occupants, the character of the climate, and the nature of the ordinary materials within reach. And in whatever degree the architect has neglected to adapt his design to the type required by these local circumstances, to that extent has he sinned against taste and propriety, and failed in producing that harmony of ideas, that association of ornament and purpose, which, as an essential element in the quality of beauty, it is the object of his art to create.

It is not to be disputed that in the domestic architecture of our towns the classical style in some of its modifications, Grecian, Roman, or Italian, has proved itself correctly applicable, and from its constant adoption has become appropriate to such situations, to the exclusion of other styles. Its horizontal lines and storied orders, pedimented windows, and balustered attics, accommodate themselves with peculiar facility to the disposition and purposes of town houses, whether connected in rows, or standing separate from each other. The same style, in some of its many varieties, has become equally suited to suburban villas; and the apparition of a Gothic abbey, or Baronial castle, in Waterloo Place, could be hardly more startling and offensive than at Chelsea or Richmond. Even Holland House, venerable though it is as a remnant of the olden time, and agreeably reminding us, as we pass it, of the days when St. Giles's stood in the fields,' and Covent Garden was the pleasaunce of a rural convent-now that London has embraced it, looks quite out of place; and the toy-shop architecture of Strawberry Hill and other soi-disant Gothic villas, supposing even they were pure examples of the style they usually caricature, would be grating to the feelings from their refusing to harmonize with the character of the buildings that surround them.

This same incongruity is, in our estimation, a strong, perhaps a conclusive argument, against the adaptation of the old English, or what is usually called the Gothic, style, even to churches in

similar

similar situations, and compels us to regret the numerous examples of the kind which are daily perpetrated in the vicinity of the metropolis. Prepossessed as we are in favour of the pointed style for ecclesiastical edifices in general, yet we cannot overcome the sentiment of repugnance excited by their striking discrepancy in these cases, from the characteristic architecture of all the neighbouring buildings. However pleasing and appropriate they would have been in the days when Westminster Abbey was reared, and when Cheapside presented a double row of fantastic gables like the market-place of Rotterdam,

'Sed nunc non erat his locus ;'

London has been completely Italianized in its general architecture, and the two modes contrast too strongly to please in juxtaposition.

In the greater number of cathedral towns the comparative magnitude and importance of the cathedral itself is sufficient to give the predominant character to the place, or, at least, to the close, and its immediate environs; and hence in these situations the inferior buildings should be made to follow the tone impressed upon the scene by that edifice; and the residences in its vicinity are most pleasing when they have a monastic character. But when a church is to be erected in the midst of rows of modern Italianized houses, it is for the ecclesiastical building to follow, not to give, the prevailing character of the scene. In such a position, however rich and elegant the design, however pure the style, however perfect the execution of a Gothic edifice, its general effect is, to our feelings, completely destroyed by a want of harmony with the genius loci. Styles so distinct will no more combine in an architectural scene than in a single building; and there seems to us as much incongruity, and even barbarism, in the introduction of a Gothic church among the horizontal cornices and Grecian peristyles of a modern street, as in the justly ridiculed Palladian windows which pierce the west front of the rich Gothic cathedral of Milan, -as much as there would be in placing a Grecian chapel in the quadrangle of Trinity or of Christ Church.

In such cases not only is the advantage of assimilation, one of the principal elements of beauty, lost, but the dissimilarity of the objects brought into contact, and the discordant ideas they suggest, are destructive of the pleasurable effect either class of objects would produce by themselves, and a source of positive pain to the beholder.

In the erection, however, of a country residence, where the choice of a style is less fettered by the proximity of other buildings, associations of a more general and imaginative nature come into play, and dictate the adoption of the national or indigenous architecture.

architecture. In this country, which is still rich in the possession of numerous specimens of buildings, both ecclesiastical and domestic, belonging to the earlier ages of its history, the old English style, in some of its varieties, is that which we consider specially appropriate to an English country residence. The village church always-often the parsonage and usually the neighbouring farmhouses and cottages, partake, in their several degrees, of this character, and assist in determining its choice. The natural scenery around presents congenial images in the venerable grove with its patriarchal rookery, and the ancient oaks spreading their broad arms over the lawns and glades of the feudal park. The local annals of the estate, of the site itself, or of the proprietor's family, combine to call for the employment of a style which is connected with so many of the most pleasing recollections of our national history. The irregularity of outline which it admits, and indeed almost requires, allows of any arrangement of the apartments which comfort or fancy may suggest, and accommodates it to all the varied wants of modern life. Moreover, it is equally appropriate to every rank of habitation, from the princely palace, of which so valuable an illustration has been afforded in the recent magnificence of Windsor, down to the snug parsonage or humbler cottage. And its intrinsic beauty and picturesqueness are thus increased and set off by the valuable qualities of harmony with the neighbouring buildings, fitness for all its possible purposes, and historical and local association. In all these points it infinitely excels the classical styles. The symmetry and regularity of these interfere with the convenient disposition of modern apartments; their porticos and colonnades shut out the light, unless made so shallow as to destroy the intended effect; nor, in our opinion, does their outline harmonize with the general character of the rural scenery of this country, any more than their plan with its climate, or the ideas they recall with its history. To us the Grecian temple appears as completely out of place in an English landscape, as would a cloistered abbey or feudal castle in the prairies of Kentucky or the Illinois.

The history of domestic architecture in England is still for the most part unwritten, and would form the substance of an highly interesting work. From the remains, so often ploughed up in our fields, of villas with tesselated pavements, and baths of very artificial construction, there can be no doubt that the Romans, during their occupation of the island, introduced very generally their own style of house-building; and the Britons themselves probably copied from them to a certain extent, as their descendants evidently did in the plan and decoration of their religious edifices. But from the complete absence of any remnants of the British habitations of

that

that day, it is useless to speculate on their form or materials. The same remark applies to the Saxon æra; for the few simple circular or square towers of three or four stories, which are the most ancient buildings we can trace in the island after the departure of the Romans, were apparently erected rather as military posts for the protection of the country, or as places of temporary refuge during an invasion, than as permanent residences. Coningsburgh in Yorkshire and Castleton in Derbyshire are some of the largest and best preserved examples of these early Saxon fortresses, if they in truth belong to that æra.

But our Saxon ancestors reared few such places of strength. Their habits were peaceful and agricultural, rather than warlike; and they lived, as William of Malmsbury informs us, in low and mean houses, having no pretensions either to splendour or strength. It was indeed this defenceless condition of the island which rendered it so easy a prey to the Norman conqueror. And it was to remedy this defect, and secure his newly-acquired dominions, as well against invasions from without as rebellions within, that William lost no time in erecting strong castles in all the principal towns of his kingdom, as at Lincoln, Norwich, Rochester, &c., for the double purpose, as we are told by Stow, of strengthening the towns and keeping the citizens in awe.' His followers, among whom he had parcelled out the lands of the English, had likewise to protect themselves against the resentment of those they had despoiled, and imitated their master's example by building castles on their estates. The turbulent and unsettled state of the kingdom during the succeeding reigns caused the rapid multiplication of these strong-holds; until, in the latter end of the reign of Stephen, there are said to have been no fewer than 1115 castles completed in England alone. The whole kingdom,' says the author of the Saxon Chronicle, was covered with them, and the poor people worn out with the forced labour of their erection.' It was soon found also that they were likely to be no less inconvenient to the sovereign, enabling a cabal of barons to beard the power of their liege lord; and one of the first acts of Henry II. was to prohibit the erection of any castles without a license. Some of these are extant. The oldest known, is that granted by Richard II. to Richard Lord Scrope, his chancellor, for the building of Bolton castle. It is styled in the document,' Licentia batellare, kernellare (crenellare), et machicolare'.

6

Many of the castles of this age were of great size, and possessed a certain rude grandeur of design. To the single keep-tower of earlier date several other towers, both round and square, were added, united by flanking walls, so as to inclose a polygonal court-yard, the entrance to which was usually between two strong contiguous

towers.

towers. An outwork, called the barbican, often still further defended the approach, as well as a moat and drawbridge. Plates of iron covered the massive doors, in front of which the grated portcullis was let down through deep grooves in the stone-work; and overhead projected a parapet resting on corbels, between which were the openings called machicolations, from which melted lead, hot water, and stones could be thrown on the heads of the assailants who should attempt an entrance by forcing, or, as was the usual mode of attack, firing the doors. The gateways of Caerlaverock, Tunbridge, Conway, Carisbrook, and Caernarvon, are good specimens of this kind. The keep-tower, or stronghold, rose pre-eminent above the rest, and generally from an artificial mount. It contained the well, without which the garrison would not have been enabled to hold out in this their last place of refuge; the donjon or subterranean prison, the name of which was often extended to the whole keep; and several stories of apartments, which were probably not occupied by any but retainers, except during a time of siege. The staircase which communicated with these stories was either pierced in the thickness of the walls, or built on the outside of the tower.

After the age of Edward III., who both ameliorated the institutions of the country, and introduced into it a certain degree of elegance and refinement, we find a considerable improvement in the character of the habitations which remain to us. By degrees it was found possible to associate much convenience and magnificence with the strength requisite for defence; and the former confined plan of the close fortress expanded into a mixture of the castle and the mansion. The courts were multiplied. The tiltyard, surrounded by the stables and domestic offices, occupied one. A second gateway led from thence into the inner court, which was often double, and environed by the principal living range, consisting of spacious and magnificent apartments, the hall, the banqueting-room, the chapel, with galleries of communication, and numerous sleeping chambers. The windows were often large and beautifully ornamented, but always high above the ground, and looking inwards to the court. The keep was entirely detached and independent of these buildings. Such was the royal palace of Windsor erected by Edward III.; and such the splendid baronial castles of Warwick, Ludlow, Spofford, Harewood, Alnwick, Kenilworth, Ragland, and many others. The last mentioned is one of the most perfect examples we are acquainted with, of the union of vast strength and security with convenient accommodation and great ornamental splendour. The keep is a perfect fortress in itself, and encircled by a range of minor towers and moat, Its masonry is unrivalled.

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