what an extraordinary delusion these persons must suppose the originators of both these styles to have acted! We generally imagine the characteristics of different styles of architecture to have arisen in a great degree from local necessities, and, among other causes, from difference of climate: here, however, it would appear that the Northern architects, being especially in need of light, originated a style whose great characteristic is its exclusion,-an error happily compensated for by the architects of Italy, who, dealing with a superabundance of light, and a burning sun, which they would naturally desire to exclude, fell, luckily for us, into the parallel blunder of contriving a style eminently suited to the free admission of both; so that we have nothing now to do but simply to make a mutual exchange of styles, and both will be suited to a nicety!

The truth, however, is, that no such blunder ever was made, excepting in the fertile imagination of our opponents. Gothic architecture, as might be expected from its Northern origin, is par eminence a window style; so much so, that by its windows we most readily distinguish it from other styles, and by them we define its different historical changes.

In the pure Greek the window comes in only as a thing to be ashamed of, and the means of lighting the finest Greek temples are still a mystery. In Roman buildings it assumes a more definite position, but still seems rather admitted as a necessary intruder than a legitimate part of the architecture. It is in the works of the middle ages that the window first takes its proper position, as one of the most essential architectural features, and as the most important vehicle for architectural decoration. It may be

that the Italian architects of the Renaissance succeeded in remedying in a great degree this defect in the ancient styles, but it was the example of the mediæval architects which enabled them to do so.

Even now the window is felt to be an intruder in purely classic architecture; so much so, that in the most magnificent of its recent productions-St. George's Hall, at Liverpool—every effort has been used (at least on the show side) to conceal the means by which the light is admitted, as if the "offspring of heaven first-born" were one of those meaner necessities of our nature which we reluctantly admit, instead of hailing with love.

"But," it will be said, "surely it is true that many old-fashioned Gothic rooms are gloomy." It may be so; and so are many modern rooms which are not Gothic. Many rooms may have been intended to be gloomy, as the cell of the monk, or the prisonchamber in a castle; others may have become gloomy through the effects of age upon their wainscotted or tapestried walls, and their panelled ceilings; but, so far from their being of necessity dark, no style admits of so large a proportion of window, and in the Elizabethan style, which in its windows is essentially the same as its predecessors, we know that the rooms were often made inconveniently light. Lord Bacon finds fault with the excess of window in the houses of his day, saying of them, "You shall have sometimes fair houses so full of glass, that one cannot tell where to become to be out of the sun or cold."

If rooms, then, in these styles were often made too light, no difficulty can exist as to making them of the right degree of lightness for any purpose or situation; indeed, this is so obvious, that it is scarcely

worth discussing, and I must apologise for having said so much in reply to so absurd an objection".

I will now proceed to consider in detail some of the questions which suggest themselves as to the treatment of windows.

The first which presents itself is, whether windows in domestic works should be arched.

There are two conflicting theories which have their advocates among writers on architecture. The one demands that every form should be the simple and obvious result of construction or utility; the other assumes a certain normal construction to belong to the very essence of a style, and demands that this shall be displayed on all occasions, whether utility demands it or not.

Now, there are two normal methods of covering an opening, the one by a horizontal lintel or architrave, the other by an arch. The first of the above-named theories would claim that in the same building, or in buildings of the same style, the one or the other should be used as circumstances may chance to dictate: thus, if stone be abundant, it would claim arches. for wide openings, and lintels for narrow ones, and perhaps lintels, aided by relieving arches, for those of moderate width; or if brick be the material, the arch would be almost exclusively used.

The other theory, on the contrary, would exact a choice of system at the outset, and a strict adherence to it throughout. Thus, if the lintel be adopted as

a There is, in fact, no style by which nearly so much light can be obtained without injury to the effect. We may perforate our entire wall with continuous window-work; or, stopping short of that extreme, may use windows of a width which would be destructive to beauty in other styles.

the rule, it must be used even for the widest openings; or, if the arch be the normal type of the style, it must be used over openings so narrow as to make it a mere useless pretence.

Again, as there are round-arch and pointed-arch styles, the first theory would in either case admit the normal form to be deviated from where convenience may suggest, while the other would demand the selected symbol to be adhered to under all circumstances.

The first is the theory dictated by common sense, the second by pedantry; yet we must so far temper the latitude given by the one as to prevent its introducing positive discord. It is quite true that the forms which satisfy the obvious demands of construction are, so far as this is evident, satisfactory to the instinct of common sense, and may even pass for beauties, but they have no necessary connection with beauty or harmony of form, though, by a happy coincidence, they often suggest what is agreable to the eye.

The common-sense theory, then, must be tempered, where found needful, by the principle of harmony and good taste: thus, in a lintel style, the arch should be an exception, used only from obvious necessity; and in an arch style, the lintel should be sparingly used, and in positions in which an arch would obviously be needless, unless itself aided by a relieving arch. Again, in a building in which the round arch predominates, other forms should only come in as the result of practical considerations; and in a building where the pointed arch is the leading type, the round or other forms of arch may be admitted freely, but never without a practical reason.

I claim, then, for Gothic architecture the liberty to use the arch or the lintel as circumstances may dictate, but reserving fully a preference, cæteris paribus, for the arch; and in the same manner I claim for it the free choice of the different forms of arch, as may be best suited to each particular position, but urge, at the same time, a general preference for the pointed arch.

Again, there are at the present day two other conflicting notions as to the mode of covering openings in Gothic domestic work.

Mr. Ruskin, on one side, urges that the pointed arch being the most perfect mode of covering a void, and being the essence of the style, openings should generally, excepting perhaps very small ones, be so bridged over, though below the arch the space may be filled in by a tympanum or a lintel, to bring it to a square form, should it be more convenient.

The opposing theory, if theory it can be called, (for though so prevalent as to be almost universal, it is a mere popular prejudice,) is that the arched window is an ecclesiastical feature, and, as such, is to be carefully avoided in secular buildings.

So prevalent is this most groundless notion, that one can hardly use an arched window in a house, a school, or other ordinary building, without hearing some remark about its being like a church; as if pointed arched windows were now the badge or symbol of a church, just as a few years back those with the round arch were held to be of a dissenting chapel.

Here, again, the truth lies between the two notions. The pointed arch makes, as a general rule, the best and most dignified covering for an opening, and being