used here; though, no doubt, had such a summary and dangerous precedent been passed over, it would in time, have led to plenty of dirty work; and therefore, while respecting the judge, we cannot but also respect the motives for the punishment; unless, indeed, after all, that motive sprang from regal anger at the loss of the six and eightpence. The north front extends from the Clock-tower (which stands out from its line at the western extremity) to the edge of the Thames, where it is terminated by one of the two towers that decorate that end of the river front. Nothing can be more beautiful or pure in its own peculiar style, than the effect of this sumptuous façade. There is the same kind of basement-story as in the west front, but above there are only two stories; consequently the windows are individually more magnificent. Then the divisions between the windows are far richer and more elaborate. Between every two windows occurs a buttress (part of a hexagon), richly worked all over; and the two windows that are enclosed between these chief divisions, are again divided by a perpendicular series of statues and niches, four in number, one above another. Horizontally the two stories of windows are divided by a broad massive band, covered with large shields and crowns: beneath this band runs a continuous line of inscription along the entire front, in blackletter Latin, showing the names, dates of the commencing to reign, and of the close in death, of the sovereigns whose statues are sculptured above. This long line of kings commences with Hengist, and ends with Harold: the north front dealing only with the Saxon monarchs of England. Of course, the statues are purely ideal: no materials exist for attempting likenesses, &c. Before leaving the north front, one cannot but take a parting glance at one of its smallest but not least charming features,—the lace-work in iron that marks out, in its own delicate fairy-like way, the line of roofs. The river front is at present, on account of its magnitude (nine-hundred feet in length), and its completed state, by far the most magnificent portion of the new pile; and this very magnificence has led to the frequent repetition of the complaint,-What a pity it cannot be better seen! What a pity that so much exquisite work should be wasted on the desert air of the Thames! But this complaint, it seems to us, has its origin, like most others we have heard on the subject of this grand structure, in forgetfulness that everywhere we look as yet but on parts of the intended whole, and are, therefore, continually judging the architect while lacking some of the most important elements of right judgment. We can speak from our own experience in this matter: again and again, in walking through the pile, we have said, "This part certainly looks tame," till we have remembered that a grand tower was rising just beyond the walls we gazed on, altering the entire effect-or that façade was too much like this façade, till we noticed some budding wing just pushing forth. Even this apparently finished river front, looks, we own, as though more additional shade was wanted-more projection in the centre to interrupt the long level surface; but when we remember that three towers of cathedral-like dimensions will be seen at different altitudes towering over it, we cannot tell whether we may not, at last, find ourselves satisfied as regards the something wanting, and congratulating ourselves on the deep sentiment of repose here suggested, and with which the broad placid waters of the Thames so happily harmonise. But as to opportunity for examination of this front? Well, first, we do not know what will be done about Westminster Bridge, beyond the fact that it must be rebuilt at no remote day. Probably we shall have a fine view, and varying as we move, from a high comparative level of the new bridge. From the opposite side of the river (which will surely be one day embanked after all this endless talk, and continual evidence of the necessity of the proposed work), we shall have a view from a level corresponding with the basement of the front. Lastly on the terrace of the front itself, which may be rendered accessible to the public, and made a pleasant promenade, there will be afforded full opportunity for the closest examination of the details. This front may be described as divided into five clearly distinguishable parts;—thus, commencing from the south corner, there are two square towers standing boldly out, beyond the general level; then a level portion; then two other central towers rising up, but not breaking the level of the front surface; and beyond this the level portion and the double projecting towers repeated, to correspond. As we have said, if we were to suggest a defect, trusting to our unprofessional eyes, and forgetting or not knowing how the towers may modify our impressions, it would be with regard to these central towers. What their elevation above the general level does for the roof line, their projection before the surface might have done for that— given increased depth, richness, and grandeur. The only statues in this front, are in the wings formed by the projecting towers towards each of its extremities. These are six in number; namely the four patron saints of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, representing, of course, the different nationalities that make up this one glorious British nationality,— and the two patron saints of the two great metropolitan churches, St. Paul's, and St. Peter's (Westminster Abbey). The sculpture of the chief portions of this façade consists mainly in a work of great artistic elabo ration,-a complete, and of course accurate, series of the arms of the sovereigns of England, from the Conquest to the present time: and as there were no heraldic supporters up to the period of Richard II., figures are introduced in connection with all those earlier monarchs. The white hart of Richard was the first supporter to royal arms. From his time the emblematic supporters continually vary down to the period of James I., whose lion and unicorn became thenceforth the sole regal and national supporters. Names, dates of commencement of reign, and of death are given here, as before. Each side the arms are sceptres, scrolls, and foliage, appropriate to each sovereign. All this sculpture is comprised within the band of division between the two tiers of windows. The towers nearest the bridge include the residence of the Speaker of the House of Commons, the towers at the other extremity the residence of the Usher of the Black Rod, and the Librarian of the House of Lords; while the north front gives a local habitation to the Sergeant-at-Arms, and the south front to the offices of the Lord Great Chamberlain. In Before quitting the river front, we notice certain semicircular brick projections, inclosing the lower parts of all the windows of the basement story, and are surprised to find they are to keep out the flood: a somewhat too vivid illustration of the worst feature of the site of the New Houses-its lowness. During a recent winter the vaults were all under water. addition to these semicircular defences, a temporary mound has been raised on the edge of the stone terrace, by the river. These occasional irruptions of the Thames form a part of the gossip-history of the Old Palace. Thus, about the time of the marriage of Henry III., the river, as though tired of being so long a silent highway serving to merely bring to and from the palace the parts of the magnificence collecting within, found unwonted voice and motion; and after preparatory thunder, and the manifestation of a false sun beside the real one, rushed bodily into the palace, exploring every part at its leisure, with the most provoking unconcern at the inconveniences of such a visit. Boats had to be used in Westminster Hall by those who could get them; while others passed through it on horseback, on their way to the interior of the palace. Again, in 1555, the river repeated its visit, and again chose, of course, an interesting occasion-a day of spectacle-the one on which the Lord Mayor of London had to present the Sheriffs to the Barons of the Exchequer. But, we presume, when they heard of such freaks as a wherry-man rowing over Westminster-bridge* instead of under it, and of his proceeding to pay a professional visit to "the Palacecourt," and going on in his boat "through the Staplegate, and all the wool staple into the King-street," they thought it advisable to decline the honour intended them—and so stayed away. The last of these incursions on the part of the river that we shall mention is the flood of 1579, when it presented itself in the king's palace in a much more vassal-like fashion; namely, with an offering of its fish-many of which were found on the floor of the hall after its departure. As with the fire genii so with the water; both are believed to be effectually excluded evermore. A parapet wall is to be erected, having pedestals opposite to each one of the long series of buttresses in the river * The Westminster-bridge here referred to was a wooden structure, running some distance from the Palace into the river, for the convenience of landing, &c. front, and upon the pedestals will be statues of animals. The terrace itself, we understand, is now six inches higher than any tide on record. As the south front corresponds with the north, there only remains for us to notice, on the exterior, the Victoria Tower. (Cut, No. 2.) How shall we do justice to this work? How describe it? Can those of our readers who have seen the exterior of the main tower of Lincoln Cathedral, and who have also stood beneath it, within the pile, and gazed upward in astonishment upon the stupendous arches that support it, can they imagine some such tower as this placed at the corner instead of in the centre of a vast structure corresponding with it in magnificence, so that two of the four arches open on two sides direct into the street? if so, they will have a not very unsatisfactory idea of the general character and position of this, the grandest single feature of the New Palace. The other two arches open respectively into the Royal Court, and the Royal Staircase. It is no easy matter, standing near the tower, to look upward, for any length of time, high enough to compass its whole present bulk; and it is yet scarcely more than a third of its proper elevation, which is three hundred and forty feet. It is indeed a stupendous work; and we cannot but honour Mr. Barry's courage in proposing such a thing to men of the nineteenth century. Fortunately for us, he has not only proposed but succeeded. And so by almost insensible degrees the giant lifts his bulk up towards the heavens, in order to give the weary earth time to concentrate its powers of endurance beneath such a Cyclopean structure. That endurance has been most scientifically gauged, and thirty feet a year is supposed to be about what additional burden the soil will patiently, unyieldingly, stand-until the whole is fixed on it-for ever! Two gigantic heraldic lions, with crowns on their heads, (heraldic natural history, is, it must be acknowledged, a very comical science,) flank each entrance archway, seeming to intimate kings and queens only pass here. For them too, and for them only, the architect seems to have flung his mighty garland of enormous Tudor crowns and roses in stone all round these vast pointed arches, between the clustered columns of which the arches are composed. Six-sided buttresses or turrets rise at each angle of the tower, and accompany it upwards. Over the arches, which are sixty feet high, we look first upon a range of colossal niches for statues, side by side, eleven in number. Those over the southern arch are to be devoted to the reigning Sovereign and her nearest relatives,-including her father, and George III. and his queen. The statues over the western arch are not, we believe, yet determined. Above this superb range commences the first stage of the Tower, consisting chiefly, on each of its four sides, of a vast window in three divisions, surrounded in the spandrils &c., by the varied regal arms, and surmounted by a fresh band of sculpture preparatory to the commencement of a second stage for there the tower at present stops. To complete such a view of the stupendous character of this tower as dimensions can give, we subjoin its breadth-seventy-eight feet. Looking across from one entrance upon the arch of another, it is interesting to study the mode in which such peculiarly rich effect is given to the arch itselfwe mean that portion which really forms the (pointed) arch shape. We see then, thus steadily looking, in order to pluck out the heart of the architect's mystery here, that there is, first, an infinity of slender pillars, each rising and forming its own individual arch-then bands of these delicate arches congregate together to make still more decided arches, and, lastly, these bands or groups form one grand whole-the Arch-worthily so called. Our ideas of architectural beauty and splendour must now perforce expand at every step. Look at the groining of the roof of this Victoria Tower. How exquisitely beautiful, how brilliant, how star-like it is! Though in plain stone, one can almost fancy it sparkles as you gaze upon it. Turn from the groining, and there are the spaces over the archway leading into the Royal Court, and to the Royal Staircase, awaiting you, filled with sculpture, and again reminding you of the most superb gems of cathedral art, of, for instance, the one gateway which we often find in those piles, surpassing its fellows, the "Beautiful Gate" of our middle age Temples. Yet here we must confess to a disappointment. The details (and it is a fault that to a certain extent pervades the pile) do not exhibit sufficient variety in subject matter,-we do not refer to treatment. Here are too many regal statues, far too many crowns, far too much heraldry. And there are also repetitions, some of them of an elaborate kind, that might have been spared. To return to these inner arches: the one opening to the Royal Court contains the statues of the patron saints of England, Scotland, and Ireland, the other, a statue of the Queen, supported by Justice and Mercy, a true thought to be suggested at a good time when the sovereign is passing beneath; but which loses much of its force, when we reflect how little personal influence or responsibility remains to our sovereigns, in matters of state justice and state mercy: her ministers are the men who should take the lesson to heart: we hope they will. We Supposing we now grope about the foundations and basement of the new edifice, and learn somewhat of its internal plan and domestic arrangements, before we ascend into the more public and important parts. return therefore to the north front, and pass through an archway in its centre, and lo! an almost interminable vista extends before us-through court after court, and through the groined archways or short passages that connect and divide these courts from each other. First there is the Speaker's Court (in which we now stand), then next, beyond, Commons' Court, then the Commons' Inner Court; and there we reach the centre of the pile and pass on to the corresponding courts beyond,-the Peers' Inner Court, the Peers' Court, and, lastly, the Royal Court,-from which we emerge, still in the same undeviating straight comes the line, on to the south front. Of course the names of | extend right and left other passages of greater or less all these courts are derived from the buildings that look into them, and to which they give light and air. Very interesting and novel are, or rather will be, the architectural effects seen in a walk through these courts; produced chiefly by the variety of aspects in which the numerous towers present themselves over the roofs of the buildings that form the courts. Thus the gigantic Central-tower is seen soaring upwards at the corners of the two "Inner" courts we have named, the Clock-tower is seen over the roof of the Speaker's Court; one of the south-east towers of the river front gives additional dignity to the Royal Court; where, too, we presume, the glorious magnificence of the Victoria Tower will also be visible, when it rises to its allotted height. And then there are other smaller towers visible at various points, giving to the courts, as a whole, a continually varying but always picturesque and occasionally grand architectural effect. The groined passages leading from court to court are, of course, under the chief buildings. From them architectural pretensions, by means of which every portion of the chief stories of the pile are reached from the basement. There will be eventually a second and parallel series of courts and passages, to the right of the one we are describing, that is to say, nearer to the land front; of which the Star Chamber Court, lying between Westminster Hall, and the level part of the façade of the west front, forms the first, commencing from New Palace Yard. With a few words more, we may conclude this brief view of the skeleton, so to speak, of the New Houses. There are in all, five distinct stories;-one consisting of cellars or vaults, which extend almost everywhere beneath the Housesthe second being the basement, level with the ground, containing all sorts of offices, &c.; the third, comprising the chief portions of the pile, such as the two Houses, with their Lobbies, Halls of Approach, Galleries, &c.; the fourth, extending over all the external parts of the edifice, and containing the Committee-rooms; and the fifth, which is much more restricted in its extent, being chiefly confined to the space over the river front, contains rooms for Records, &c. this last story may be called the garret of the Palace. Let us now enter the Speaker's house, the front of which forms the chief feature of the court named after him. The entrance-vestibule is unfinished, but promises to be interesting: it has a pierced screen in front, and on the left side; revealing, in the former direction, the ascending grand staircase beyond, and in the latter a kind of ante-room, connected with a corridor, which extends all round a small inner court, and into both of which open various domestic offices, kitchen, &c. On the chief story above are various rooms of magnificent dimensions, looking out upon the Thamesunfinished, but evidently fast becoming worthy of one of their most important future uses, that of receiving the flower of the English gentry, (as brought together in Parliament,) on those occasions when the Speaker gives his official dinners. But the Speaker's house is chiefly interesting to us for its corridor, which is by far the tiniest but most graceful and most richly-beautiful thing of the kind we ever beheld. (Cut, No. 3.) It seems like a fairy version of King's College, Cambridge, or of the Cloisters at Gloucester, adapted to the purposes of a domestic corridor; so exquisite is it, and so petite, in its fan-like expansions from those plant stems, or pillars, right over the roof-suggesting the idea of the space being embraced and thus arched over by some loving art-spirit, known only to us by these kinds of manifestation. Fortunate Mr. Speaker! to have such a corridor ever to pass through, even on the most unimportant occasions. One side of the corridor consists of a series of graceful windows, looking into the little court, and the other of the wall, which seems scarcely less full of light and beauty from the architectural grace shed over it by arches, panellings, and mouldings. In the centre of the lovely roof, at intervals of every few feet, are round open spaces, enhancing in a very remarkable degree the general effect of the roof; over these, on the outside, at some elevation, are glass domes, to protect the corridor from the inclemency of the weather. This corridor is of course connected with the head of the grand staircase, which contrasts boldly with it, and has a very marked individual aspect that is always interesting, and nowhere more so than in architecture. The arched oblong skylight, or lantern, in the centre of the oak-ribbed roof, sheds a mild subdued light, as though more effectually to startle the visitor by the unexpected loveliness of the corridor, upon which he immediately enters; and which itself again prepares another surprise -the height and breadth of the magnificent apartments beyond. The Speaker's house stands on the precise locality occupied by the Speaker's house in the old pile, although that official is no longer accommodated with a garden, as before. This garden, fronting the Thames, and now covered by the river front, was probably the old Palace garden of royalty. We read of "grafts, or cuttings, bought for the king's garden," and also of payments to repair the king's vineyard, Clerke of the greene cloth, that to the household Ten thousand folk, by his mess is tould, That followed the house, aye as they would." At the marriage of Richard, brother of Henry III., there were provided 30,000 dishes. This is the Richard referred to by Holinshed, who says, "When the king had fleeced the Jews to the quick, he set them to farm unto his brother, Earl Richard, that he might peel off skin and all." No wonder the Commons, instead of, as now, eating their own dinners quietly here when they so feel inclined, had in those early periods to look sharply after the king's table. Thus the parliament, of 1397, on the suggestion of Sir Thomas Haxey, a clergyman, recommended an amendment of the "great and excessive charge of the king's household;" for which advice, poor Sir Thomas had nearly paid the penalty of his head as a traitor; the powerful order, however, to which he belonged, managed to save him from the king's vengeance. |
