thing. Let us, if we can, make royalty as an old man of the sea around the neck of Ministers. Let us chop, and lop, and pare at its branches, and so weaken even if we cannot cut down the stem. Let us strain every nerve to return to Parliament a clique sufficiently numerous to form a "balance of power" between the two parties who now make a see-saw of government, and therefore also sufficiently strong to wring concessions from either of them by threatening to join the others on any closely-fought party question. Let us do in a political Rome as political Romans do. Let us be trimmers and intriguers. Let us aid the Liberals of the period so far as their ultimatum is a step in our direction; let us join with the Radicals as far as they will go with us, and carry ourselves as much farther as we can force a way singlehanded.' This is the counsel that is being given. As, under existing circumstances, it is the most practical, the line of action indicated in it will, in all probability, be adopted in substance. Whether, however, such a comparatively 'mild' policy will be adhered to for any consider able length of time is another question, since, so far as may be judged from 'precedent,' Ministers will soon be making further requisitions upon behalf of royalty.

That among those whose political cry is now Republicanism there are some who have wrong and foolish ideas upon the subject-who think that under a Republic all things are necessarily pure, and every man sure of constant work and a comfortable living-that there are English Republicans holding such ideas as these, no candid person having a knowledge of the opinions existing among the working classes will for a moment attempt to deny. Nor would one with such a knowledge deny, either, that others, though calling themselves Republicans, are really levellers

men who, if they had their own way, would not be content with merely stopping the granting of State pensions to non-workers, but would likewise try to annex portions of self-earned incomes; who profess to be at a loss to understand why any other man should have more than them, and to consider it a perversion of the laws of nature that other men do have more than them. It is equally true, too, that the weekly newspaper which is the chief 'organ' of Republicanism is often blatant and scurrilous, and habitually shows even a greater disregard than newspapers generally for the courtesy that should characterise honest political discussion. In short, English Republi canism, while having its good points, has also its blots, of which these are the chief. But they are only its blots: they do not, as many people suppose, constitute the thing itself. Among the working classes Republicanism has superseded Radicalism. Those who form the bulk of the Republicans do not expect impossibilities from a Republic, and are not so foolish as to hold levelling doctrines, while the better educated among them, even when agreeing with the arguments of the newspaper referred to, deplore and condemn its bad taste-not only as bad taste, but also as being an injury to the cause of Republicanism, since there can be little doubt that the coarse personality, violent invective, and bombastic tone of Republican journals and orators hitherto, have been instrumental in causing the higher class of Republican writers and thinkers to hold aloof from any movement for prac tical organisation.

Even with all its present imper. fections on its head, however, English Republicanism is not a thing to be contemptuously 'daft aside.' On the contrary, anyone acquainted with the real facts of the case, and at all skilled in reading the signs

of the times, will understand that it is a thing that it will be dangerous to treat with either real or affected contempt. In so far as Republicanism means Utilitarianism in Government, the spirit of the age in this country tends towards it. In time it must become the predominating opinion practically, even if not nominally. Any danger to the State that there may be in it would lie in its being goaded into premature attempts to assert its supremacy. It has great thinkers in its ranks, and hosts willing to serve its principles disinterestedly; but as yet it has not statesmen capable of carrying on the practical work of Government, and until it has them it would be a disaster for it as well as for the nation at large if by any coup or fluke it was able to seize the reins of power. Acting statesmen are bound in the interests of all concerned to resist the too rapid advance of Republicanism, but they are equally bound not to oppose it in a manner that is calculated to urge it to extreme courses. The rate and manner of its progress is in a great measure in their hands. The Republicans do not expect any great or sudden concessions. They have no notion of anything in the shape of dethronement. They do not aim at

taking away or reducing the present payment to royalty. What they seek-looking at matters practically, and having regard to the spirit of compromise that so largely enters into English politics-is to prevent the cost of monarchy being increased; to keep it strictly within its openly and directly avowed limits; and generally to pave the way to such a state of affairs and opinion that when another than the now reigning Sovereign came to be dealt with, a materially different arrangement-possibly an amicably settled abdication-could be effected. If they find themselves making reasonable advances in this direction, all will be well. If they find that they are defied, and their views set at nought, there will be a repetition of such work as there was before the repeal of the corn laws-perhaps worse.

In conclusion we repeat that to believe that the anti-royalists in England are rare exceptions' is a dangerous error. Republicanism is now practically the universal political creed of the working classes— the classes who, when they had not a tithe of the political power they have now, forced free trade and reform from the obstructives who stood in the way of those measures as long as they dared.

An examination of the theory of Architecture, which can only imitate the principles of Nature, would lead to an investigation of the causes of beauty itself-the qualities which always accompany it. This is the most subtle and difficult enquiry connected with the Arts.

SIR CHARLES EASTLAKE.

Parmi les arts, l'art de l'architecture est certainement celui qui a le plus d'affinité avec les instincts, les idées, les mœurs, les progrès, les besoins des peuples; il est done difficile de se rendre compte de la direction qu'il prend, des résultats auxquels il est amené, si l'on ne connaît les tendences et le génie des populations au milieu desquelles il s'est développé.

FRO

VIOLLET-LE-Duc.

TROM whatever causes, it is certain (and everyone who has given attention to the subject will bear us out in the remark) that for twenty persons capable of taking an enlightened and intellectual interest in music, painting, and sculp ture, we scarcely meet with one who has any interest in architecture, any knowledge of its principles of design, or indeed any suspicion that there are principles at all concerned in the matter. It is true that the tide of revived mediæval feeling, which has of late years flowed over this country, has rendered fashionable among nonprofessional persons a certain interest in one particular phase of the art of architecture. But even this has in reality amounted to nothing more than the acquirement of a superficial historical knowledge of certain facts connected with this one style, combined with a free use of what may be termed 'Gothic slang' and our popular writings on the subject, in the shape of 'manuals' and 'hand-books,' are nearly all the work of amateurs-chiefly clerical dilettanti-who confound Archæology with Architecture.

On one point, however, all per

sons will probably concur with us, namely, that something called 'architecture' has involved, and will probably continue to involve, the expenditure of no inconsiderable proportion of the public and private revenues of this country; and on this ground alone it is surely desirable that both public bodies and private individuals should have some distinct ideas on the matter. this for inviting a little attention But there is a higher reason than to the subject.

Architecture differs from other arts in this, that its productions are not, except in a legal sense, private property. A bad volume of poetry soon dies a natural death; a bad picture may be laid out of sight, or at most is not necessarily obtruded upon others than the owner. But a large building is no such innocuous creation. It can neither be laid up in a garret, nor even reviewed' out of existence. Once built, there it stands, an accomplished and stubborn fact; cutting off from us a certain proportion of light and air and blue sky, for which, as Mr. Ruskin says, it is bound to give us something in return.' It may exist as an expressive, picturesque object; an evidence of thought and originality in the selection, collocation, and decorative treatment of materials; a friend whose aspect, changing with the changing seasons, becomes interwoven inseparably with our daily associations, and is hailed with delight after a long absence; or it may be, as too often happens, a shadow upon our daily life, a grim mass of lifeless stone or brick oppressing us with its tedious and persistent gloom, or a great fantastic meaningless jumble of angles, and points, and chimneys exercising on us a constant irritating

influence not the less real and annoying because its source may not always be distinctly traceable. And which of these aspects our collective buildings shall assumehow far we may extract anything of pleasure or grace out of the multitudinous erections which the needs of our crowded modern life call into existence-depends not alone, or even in chief part, on the body of persons called architects, but in a very great measure on the amount of feeling for and knowledge of the subject, and the degree of importance attached to it, by those who employ (or who do not employ) the aid of the professional designer. In architecture, as in most other matters, the law of supply and demand operates largely; and so long as the art of architecture, in the real sense of the word, is a subject entirely ignored even in the most liberal of our educational programmes, and either slighted or misunderstood by the public and the press generally, so long is there little probability that what is so lightly valued should be forthcoming, or that any of the best heads among us will give their thoughts to a profession so little likely to afford them any worthy occupation or recognition.

What, then, is Architecture? At the commencement of this century, the answer would have been that the art of architecture lay in the employment of certain patterns of columns and capitals, each with its appropriate base and superstructure, known as the 'five orders,' the precise proportions of which in all their parts were indubitably fixed by able theorists as well as by measurement from Greek and Roman examples, and were as the law of the Medes and Persians, which altereth not. The application of these features to the exterior of a building, without reference to its internal arrangement or objects, constituted it a work of architecture: 'very fine for a Greek

god,' as the late Lord Dudley (he of the Quarterly) said on seeing the drawings for his new house, but a modern gentleman must have offices.' In general, however, the wealthy amateurs stood by the five orders very consistently; there is indeed a story that a gentleman of the period, seeing one of these sacred features treated with unbecoming license under the hands of

that very great master Who found us all brick, and left us all plaster,

in Regent's Quadrant and elsewhere, took on him to interpose, enquiring of the foreman 'what order he called that?' and was brought up with the reply, 'It's Mr. Nash's positive order, sir.' Of late years positive orders have taken another turn, and everything must be an imitation of some feature of medieval architecture, even down to the grotesque heads of devils and other monstrosities, which were a natural outbreak of the half-savage humour of the Middle Ages, but which glare at us from our new churches and town-halls with an absurd incongruity of sentiment. At the present moment very few of the leading architects of England or France entertain this view of their profession, as the art of copying; even those in this country who sanction it by their practice, seldom defend it in theory. But the idea has become so rooted in the minds of a large proportion of the public, that it is often impossible to satisfy people with a design until they are assured on reliable evidence that it resembles, not only in general aspect, but in the treatment of all its details, something that has been done some hundred years ago; and therefore it is necessary to state, most emphatically, that architecture' is not 'archæology,' that the two things are perfectly distinct, and that the reading of books giving

an account of the various periods of Gothic architecture, which is so fashionable with certain people just now, no more constitutes a study of the art of architecture than reading a history of Italian painters and their works constitutes a study of the art of painting.

Architecture is simply the art of building with constructive and decorative expression. It consists mainly in so arranging and grouping the principal portions of a structure as to form an agreeable and well-balanced outline or composition of a definite and consistent character; in so emphasizing and marking the main constructive portions of the building as to increase its apparent stability to the eye, and to render its external aspect expressive of its internal purpose, arrangement, and construction, instead of being a mere dull and lifeless screen or protection from the weather; and lastly (though this is the least important branch of the art), in applying suitable and expressive decoration to enliven those other portions of the structure which, unless relieved in such a manner, might appear too dull and monotonous to the eye. The reader will be kind enough to notice the order in which these three requirements of an architectural building are named, which is in accordance with their relative importance and priority of consideration. Let it be remembered that architecture is essentially based upon practical and constructive necessities, and that a building is architecturally truthful only so long as it shows itself as a bona fide endeavour to meet and to illustrate the requirements of its special case. Consequently the plan is always the first consideration, and upon or along

with its general distribution arises the general composition of the design, the question of what form and what relative position the leading feature (tower, dome, or whatever it be) should take, so as to emphasize and call attention to the central point of the plan, and indicate the internal arrangement of the building.1 In a similar manner the general construction of the building and the provision for light, ingress and egress, ventilation and such requirements, become a part of the design. If, for example, our edifice be a lofty apartment in one height, we treat it accordingly, with lofty windows, and with a generally ver tical predominance of line; if, as in a mansion, we have one floor over another, this becomes the motif for the division of the design into corresponding stages, marked externally by horizontal mouldings (string-courses,' as they are technically termed).

We must have

openings in the wall for light; we surround these with mouldings, or crown them with canopies as a weather screen. It is essential that our walls have a firm and solid base. By the thickening-out of the walls near the ground we get the base-course or plinth,' giving both a real and an apparent stability, which we may still further emphasize by multiplying the lines and mouldings which mark and define this additional thickness. Wherever there is a sloping roof (which in this climate is nearly always), it is an essential of really good building that the roof overhang the walls, so as to throw off the wet from the latter. We introduce mouldings to break the abruptness of the angle of roof and wall, and so we have the origin of the 'cornice,' which is nothing but the