out by another Sir Robert, who assured the House of Commons that the façade would be one of the finest in Europe. A wearisome sameness and poverty of ideas—a frigid and almost sullen formality-are apparent here as well as in the General Post-Office. By throwing the portico and hall together, a vista might have been obtained into the inner quadrangle, which, although more carefully finished than many parts which are full in sight, is almost hid. The solid wall which separates the portico from the vestibule beyond it might have been exchanged for square pillars corrresponding to the columns in front, with low open-work metal gates between them. No further separation would have been required, and some such combination of external and internal parts would have imparted spirit and variety to the whole of the severe and monotonous colonnaded façade. The pediment, again, of the central octostyle, is deficient in diversity of sky-line. Had this portion been carried up higher than the lateral colonnades, the uniform horizontal line would have been broken, and the portico would have appeared in true central prominence, like that of the University College, in Gower Street. Even if the body of the building had been unexceptionable, it would have been marred by the mean appendages which, though they add to the extent of frontage, detract from its dignity. The official residences are respectable specimens of street architecture; but they are paltry as the wings of a grand public museum. The palisading which surrounds the building is far too gaudy to harmonize with the ultra-Grecism of the Ionic colonnades, and the exceedingly large and plain piers of the gate, which have been made to do double duty, and serve for porters' lodges, show in the general view as huge masses of solid stone, and are so much too bulky that they affect the apparent size of the main edifice itself. The sentry-boxes are an incongruity not peculiar to the British Museum, but undoubtedly they ought to have been incorporated in the plan of the architect, and made characteristic features of the external enclosure. Where the nature of the building does not allow of this, there might surely be something more sightly designed than the barbarous wooden boxes which are at present employed.

To particular parts of the new Houses of Parliament objections may be made; but indisputably it is a most magnificent pile. There is a great deal of minute elaboration bestowed on parts of the exterior, where detail, beautiful as it might look in the drawings, is lost in the building. This is particularly the case with the River Front,' which, being due east, is never, except in early morning, illuminated by the

sunshine,

sunshine, which is necessary to bring out its delicate carving. Architects are apt to overlook the influence of aspect on light and shade-to judge of effects from their own arbitrarily shaded elevations, or from models which can be turned to the light in any direction they please. Sir Charles, we suspect, paid more attention to his own drawing-board than to the site of his palace, or he would have spared much of the costly detail, which is not only thrown away, but destroys that breadth and repose which are indispensable for setting it off to the fullest advantage. In our opinion the original design for the river front was on this account superior to the more richly ornamented second edition. The same preference must be given to some of the plainer parts of the interior over those which are conspicuous for prodigality of embellishment. The House of Lords lacks the sober and impressive dignity which befits an imperial senate-house, and has a gewgaw look in comparison with the beautiful St. Stephen's porch and hall. But we have observed, on a former occasion, that this gorgeous palace cannot be fairly judged till the structure is complete.

Sutherland and Bridgewater Houses are two of our most lordly town mansions, and render strikingly manifest the great improvement in architectural style that has taken place within a quarter of a century. Beautiful and classical' are the epithets bestowed on Sutherland House by Sir F. Trench in his volume of 'Papers on the Thames Quay,' in which it is made the subject of six plates. The basement plan is particularly valuable, for it is almost the only one published that reveals the complicated arrangement of the underground offices in a spacious town house.* As a piece of design, there is not much that offends, and nothing whatever that captivates. The elevations consist of a rusticated basement, with a Corinthian order above; but the rustication is of the feeblest and most poverty-stricken kind, and the order is of an enervated and almost blighted description. Bridgewater House, on the contrary, is in a highly finished and ornamented style, without any taint of tawdry vulgarity. A very unusual degree of richness is there so tempered by delicacy and sobriety as to have all the charm of simplicity. The eye does not detect at first the full beauty of the design, but the longer the building is looked at the more it wins upon the mind. It is an instance of the discrepancy of opinion which constantly exists on such subjects, that Dr. Waagen has delivered a judgment directly the reverse of our own. There is no doubt,' he says, 'that this mansion, in the taste of the forms and decorations, is *Plans, &c., of the basements and entresol floors over them in some of the clubhouses would form an instructive practical work.

inferior

inferior to its stately neighbour, Stafford House.' Painting, we apprehend, has occupied more of Dr. Waagen's attention than the sister art; and in the present instance we are confident that those who are most deeply versed in architecture would dissent from his views. A similar contrast exists between Apsley and Holford House in Park Lane to that which we have pointed out between Bridgewater and Sutherland House. Despite its Corinthian loggia towards Piccadilly, Apsley House is inane in design, and is only distinguished for the mawkish simplicity of the Wyatt school. To assert that the richly adorned Holford House eclipses all the mansions in its neighbourhood, would not be saying much, because, with the exception, perhaps, of Chesterfield House, there is nothing worthy of notice; but, next to Bridgewater House, it surpasses everything of the kind in the metropolis. It presents a good specimen of the climax of arrangement of which we have previously spoken-the two loftiest and most spacious apartments (the banqueting and ball rooms) being placed at the extremities of the principal suite, which, including the conservatory, extends to nearly 300 feet.

Even the writer in the Encyclopædia' has opened his eyes to the captivating graces of Sir Charles Barry's Italian designs, which, like those of Addison's prose, are almost too delicate and subtle for analysis. The south garden front of the Travellers' Clubhouse, which is nearly concealed from public observation, is a truly exquisite design. Since it was first erected it has been sadly marred by a superstructure on its roof in the shape of smoking-rooms; but it may be seen in its primitive purity in a work published many years ago, in which it was illustrated with unusual fulness. The Italian style adopted by Barry is of so different a cast from that of the Palladian and Burlington School of the last century, that it at once struck by its novelty, as well as charmed by its elegance. It is admirably adapted to street architecture, and, few as are its elements, is capable of great variety of expression, from quiet simplicity to the most exquisite richness. Nor has it at all suffered in the hands of Sir Charles Barry. On the contrary, he has imparted to it delicacies and refinements which are not to be found in his models or his imitators. The latter-and they are many-have caught the outline, but not the essential qualities of his design: we miss the masterly touches which it is beyond the power of the copyist to reproduce.

It might be tedious to continue our criticism of the numerous edifices which of late years have risen up in the metropolis. We have selected for comment a few of the most important buildings in the different departments of architecture, that we might afford

by

by examples (which teach better than general descriptions) a view of the present condition of the art in the metropolis, as compared with the past. Upon the whole, it will be seen that we have reason to congratulate ourselves upon the progress we have made. Eccentricities, like the Panopticon, continue to be tolerated -a portion of our recent public edifices fall short of what we had reason to expect-certain domestic houses, such as those in Belgrave and Eaton Squares, exhibit no symptoms of reviving taste; but, on the other hand, the majority of our new streets display a marked improvement-some of our cotemporary public buildings are noble structures-and the two latest mansions upon a palatial scale surpass anything which previously existed. But there is no security that we shall continue to advance, or shall even keep what we have gained, unless the public can control by their judgment the caprices of individuals. It is for the gratification of the many, and for the sake of their commendation, that beauty is studied, and until they can distinguish between what is good and what is bad, architects labour in vain. In the hands of some the profession will be turned from an art into a money-making business; others, whose ability is not equal to their ambition, will be employed in preference to better men, and the Wrens and the Barrys will be fortunate if, besides being deprived of the stimulus of praise, their plans are not marred by the want of knowledge in their patrons of the common principles of design.

ART. IV.-Siluria. The History of the oldest known Rocks containing Organic Remains. By Sir Roderick Impey Murchison, G.C. St. S., D.C.L., M.A., F.R.S., &c. London. 1854.

WE

E are seated comfortably in our new house at the Westend of London. We have chosen the site of our residence with care, selecting a spot where the foundation should be gravel and not clay. Naturally of an inquisitive disposition, we have not stopped short at the knowledge of the simple fact, but have sought to know what this gravel' and 'clay,' about which we hear so much in London conversation, may be. A geological friend tells us that they are the elephant gravel' and the 'London clay,' and that the latter is infinitely older than the former. As elephants have not, during historical times, been in the habit of scattering their tusks and bones over British fields, but have confined their peregrinations to the limited bounds of Astley's, Wombwell's, and the Zoological Gardens, we feel quite sure that the gravel in question was accumulated a very long time ago. As to the clay, Highgate-hill, our friend tells us,

is made of it; and he says that in some places about London it is 600 feet thick. Underneath it is chalk, and to get a good supply of water we must bore through chalk as well as clay. We are advised to read Prestwich On the Water-bearing Strata around London,' and to look at Milne's 'Sections of London Strata,' and then we shall understand the matter better. Having shares in water companies, and being tired of American novels, we determine to take the advice of our friend, and seek a new pleasure by reading up geology,—just so much of it, at least, as is quite certain. The good Rector of our parish in the country, a very worthy man and excellent scholar, has told us that there is some truth in the practical part of the science, but that its theories are all doubtful, and no two geologists can agree about them. There are other reasons why we should know something of the subject, having been tempted to take shares in coal-mines at an unpronounceable locality in North Wales, which certainly seems to be singularly uncarboniferous, and to require a great deal of money from the shareholders in order to get at the coal. We subscribe to the Miners' Adviser'-a weekly paper of high repute in the speculative world-and read all the correspondence, the gist of which is to the effect that every mining enterprise at present in progress is sure to be productive, and that geology is all rubbish.' Our manager at the coal-mines also takes in the 'Miners' Adviser,' and assures us that he agrees in everything that its correspondents write, being satisfied, after long experience, that there is nothing like practical knowledge. He does not, however, despise geology, though he says the so-called geologists are very ignorant. He has a prophet of his own, whom he calls Evan Hopkins, a philosopher who he says must not be confounded with a famous geologist and great mathematician at Cambridge known as William Hopkins. He talks fluently and well on these matters, and uses many excellent technical terms. Several friends in the City think highly of our manager's judg ment, and are quite ready to follow his advice about investing money in mining-shares. Our geological friend, however, seems to entertain opinions different from those of our practical manager, and holds the authority of the latter gentleman in small account. He demands to know precisely where the coal-mines are, pulls a parti-coloured map out of his pocket, looks at it attentively, and shakes his head. He is more cautious than our manager, and, though evidently desponding, does not venture upon a definite opinion before the maps of the geological survey are procured. These maps are new to us; but a glance suggests that we ought to have asked for them before, and that, if the state does the people a benefit by putting accurate information within their

reach,