Salisbury, Rouen and York! Upon what grounds a man might support the exclusive classicality of the Athenian dramatist and temple, I know not. Shakspeare's unrivalled fame is founded on his extended knowledge of nature, his "o'er-informed" imagination,-his thorough communication with soul,-and his power of giving to the deepest thoughts language the most dignified and expressive. Could the Grecian do more? O yes: he constructed his drama on a more consistent plan: nor that alone; his characters were also more consistent. Away with such rule-and-compass reasoning! the inconsistencies of Hamlet are the inconsistencies of nature, and therefore no inconsistencies at all. In like manner the incongruities of pointed design are those of an exuberant fancy acted upon by the fire of a romantic piety.

Granted, the incongruities are faults, faults which it were well to remedy; but wherefore regard a thing, irregular in its disposition, as unclassical in its essentials? The quality of Grecian architecture is a stated regularity of parts and proportions. Does this render it exclusively classical? Surely the term may be comprehensive in its application, and equally suitable to every first-class effort, whether its beauty originates in a strict adherence to certain laws, or in a free obedience to the unrestrained workings of nature or imagination. Sir Christopher Wren (God bless him!) was insane on one point. He thought lightly of pointed architecture. And yet in his Grecian steeple of Bow Church, and his Gothic* spire of St. Dunstan's, what has he done? In his numerous classic towers at London, as compared with his Gothic tower of St. Michael's, what has he proved? Why he has proved, IN SPITE OF HIMSELF, the superiority of what he condemned. The truth "would He designed to do wrong, and, unintentionally, did right. Like other great men, he was open to prejudice-blind to this simple fact, that the Grecian style is horizontal in its character, and the pointed, perpendicular. The one has its origin in artificial erection; the other in natural growth. The former is a compilation of several principles; the latter an extension of one.

To build up a Grecian superstructure beyond a certain relative height, is no less at variance with the nature of the style, than would have been the action of Bucephalus with the nature of a horse, if he had galloped on his hind-legs only, and had carried Alexander on his head instead of

⚫ It may be observed that I have, when possible, cautiously avoided the use of the word "Gothic," the usual term applied to pointed architecture. The truth is, I cannot make up my mind to call that building, the characteristics of which are elegance and masonic skill, by a name which implies tastelessness and ignorance.

on his back. Let any one examine conjointly Salisbury spire (not the most beautiful of its kind) and the steeple of Bow Church, justly lauded as first of its class: Does not the spire spring from its base of clustered pinnacles like the flower from its leafy stem,-a different feature of the same plant? Beautiful now, it seems, as it were, aspiring into a condition of greater beauty :-its finials appear like so many thriving buds of promise! In turning to the tower of Bow church, we acknowledge it as handsome in its parts, but unharmonious in its whole. Imperfect now, it promises nothing better,-for its growth is effectually stopped, -the sap of the tree is intercepted in several places. The entire composition exhibits four distinct pieces of architecture, which might be separately situated, and with good effect, on the same level in Stowe gardens. 1st, We have a quadrangular pilastral tower; 2ndly, a peripteral temple; 3rdly, a polygonal ditto; 4thly, an obelisk. These are united, it is true; but the union is an especial instance of that harmony which would be produced by striking at once the three adjoining keys of a pianoforte. In short, do what you will with a Grecian steeple, it must ever appear a compilation,-a thing which, like an old-fashion spice-box, may be unscrewed and taken to pieces.

Though the interior of Salisbury Cathedral may yield in general effect to some other English examples, it is yet a prodigious testimony to Sir Christopher's mistake. Where great height and length of perspective are required, the pointed style is triumphant, and yields a beauty wherever the Grecian betrays a defect. In the latter, there is a certain relative proportion between breadth and altitude, which, however conducive to elegance, is not so to sublimity: nor can the simple shaft of the regular orders be regarded as a fit abutment for a ribbed vaulting. The partial distribution of light and shade is a grand desideratum in the composition of a church interior; and the pointed style admits of liberties conducive thereto, which the Grecian rules forbid. Irregularity is, in the one instance, a beauty; in the other, uniformity is a law. Recesses and intersections give richness to the pointed; while in the Grecian edifice they only promote confusion. The clustered pillar, affording every variety of light and shade, curbed by no regulated height nor fixed diameter, combines apparent delicacy with real strength, and, in the continuation of its lines, harmonizes with its arch, which seems rather to emerge from than abut upon its capital. Among the most valuable properties of this beautiful style of architecture may be mentioned, the allowable smallness of proportion, which the internal points of support may bear to the vaulting supported.

Yes; but the flying buttress authorizes that.

Well, sir, the flying buttress is one of the most fascinating features

of the style.

Excuse me but the interior of St. Paul's is reckoned remarkable for the virtue of which you speak, as exclusively belonging to the Gothic, I beg your pardon,-pointed style.

Now, sir, you've clenched the nail I drove into Sir Christopher's wooden insensibility to the charms of our old cathedral architecture. Are you aware that the upper story of St. Paul's Cathedral is a story', only in a certain sense,—that is, a fib ?

What! false?-merely a blank wall?-What, then, does it serve for?

To hide the flying buttresses!-so, that you will allow-but I will not insult your sagacity by any comments. I love Sir Christopher as a great architect, and as a good (I may add, an injured) man. I burn to sketch the many splendid parts of his sumptuous cathedral; and, Heaven willing, will do so, if I get safe and sound to London."

LAST MOMENTS OF HENRY LIVERSEEGE.

Most individuals who may be unfortunately affected with any particular distressing disease, frequently experience a morbid and gloomy presentiment of death, a vague and indescribable anxiety and restlessness of mind. Thus it was with Liverseege. Some time previous to his decease, though he had not been very seriously unwell, yet a heavi, ness hung about him, a lethargic feeling, which increased more and more to his death; and what more alarmed his relations than any other circumstance, was, that his legs had begun to swell; and the day before his death only, he had been arranging with his aunt (to whom he was much attached) and a common friend, to purchase for him a pony, for the purpose of riding now and then for exercise. On that evening, the last which he spent with his family, he sat by the fire, heavy and dozing, now and then seeming completely lost; and at one time parti. cularly asked his aunt, Mrs. Liverseege, what was the day of the month. After that he said, "Aunt, if anything should happen to me, take care of all my pencil sketches, for they are valuable." During the day, he felt uneasy and unsettled, and could not paint. However, he went to rest at his usual hour, and of course nothing fatal was apprehended. On the morning of the 13th of January, not finding him down at the

time which he was wont to make his appearance, Mrs. Liverseege went up to his room, and seeing him apparently calm and sound asleep, would not disturb him. A long time afterwards she again went up, and looked at him very closely, and thought his countenance had somewhat altered: fancying that he had taken too much of his medicine, and not seeing him move, she became alarmed, and instantly sent for his medical man, who having applied restoratives, Liverseege became so far recovered, that he just opened his eyes; but instantly turned round, flung his arm across his chest, and died! without the least apparent pain or struggle. In the moment of expiring, his countenance was overspread with a dignity and nobleness of expression which astonished every one present. His mind and soul seemed visible, as they left the frail and mortal tenement of human existence.

At the post mortem examination, the immediate cause of death was clearly ascertained. The lungs of the deceased presented a curious appearance. The left lung, never having been exercised, had become a piece of solid muscle; and the right one in consequence became unusually large and distended, and the bursting of it caused his death. The remains of Henry Liverseege were consigned to their last resting-place on the 18th January, at Manchester, attended by many friends in the town, and by Mr. Vickers, jun. and Mr. Stephens, (a young sculptor and student of the Royal Academy,) from London.

On the 21st January appeared a brief memoir of Liverseege in a weekly periodical, written by Miss Jewsbury, a lady whose name is pretty well known to all readers of Annuals and periodicals. From a certain intimacy which existed between this lady and the family of Liverseege, and the circumstance of her having been presented by Liverseege himself with a very beautiful water-colour drawing of an aged falconer holding a hawk, a short time before his death, on which occasion she penned some pretty verses,—the relations and friends of the lamented artist had a right to anticipate from her something more than the mere fact of detailing a catalogue of his paintings;-they did expect from one who possessed such good opportunities of ascertaining the truth, as to the circumstances of his earlier life and the peculiar characteristics of his genius, something better than what the fair writer thought proper to offer to the world;-the memoir before alluded to therefore highly displeased the relations and friends of the deceased, as on many circumstances a wrong construction was placed, and some facts were not properly stated. On an intimate friend of Liverseege's writing to Miss Jewsbury, telling her of the inaccuracies and untruths mentioned in her memoir, the lady became offended, and has since thought VOL. III.-No. 14. 2 F

proper to return to the family the water-colour drawing before mentioned. So much for the accuracies of the Journal of Literature ! The following is the passage alluded to as being incorrect in the memoir by Miss Jewsbury :-" He had neither connections nor fortune to smooth his path through the world. ***** He even painted tavern signs for a mere trifle." The general reader on coming to this part would naturally imagine that Liverseege in his earlier years had to struggle with nearly overwhelming adversities,-so cruelly pressed indeed as to be obliged to paint "tavern signs for a mere trifle." But so far was he from being possessed of no "fortune to smooth his path through the world," that it is a fact which he always mentioned with feelings of gratitude, that although neglected by his father, he found one in his uncle, and a mother in his aunt; that he never wanted for anything; for that his necessities were always supplied, either as to pecuniary concerns or other matters. Be it understood, this is not stated to detract in the least from that industry and perseverance of mind which was one of his greatest characteristics; his genius was too elevated and noble to suffer itself to be subverted, because placed in comparatively affluent circumstances; this is proved very strongly, because the most brilliant success did not in the least tend to weaken his yearning for an immortal reputation, nor subdue the feverish anxiety of his high genius to endeavour to surpass each preceding work. As to his being obliged to paint "tavern signs for a mere trifle," that was not occasioned by any circumstances of necessity, but done as favours to the individuals who were acquainted with him; and for the Saracen's Head' his charge was about ten guineas.

Miss Jewsbury's opinions as to Liverseege's merits and defects are still more incorrect and erroneous;-for instance: " Perhaps it was in colour that we find his chief defect-not in harmony, but in respect of depth and richness." Why, what in the name of Heaven would she have, or what does she mean? It is acknowledged that his works possess "harmony" but not " richness!" This is a strange contradiction! for no painting can be harmonious, and yet at the same time devoid of richness: look for instance at the Spanish Gentleman,' now in the British Institution, and noticed at large in our memoir of the artist in our last. Can there be a more beautiful specimen of richness and depth of colour, combined with exquisite harmony? One would infer that the lady's idea of colouring consisted in the variety of colours introduced in a picture, and not in simplicity, which is the true colouring of nature. Her meaning of "depth" is equally erroneous. One would fancy that in her opinion blackness was depth. On the contrary, it is that transparency,