CHAPTER V.

HERTFORD--ST. ALBANS--ELIZABETHAN ARCHITECTURE AND JOHN THORPE--MARLOW--STONY STRATFORD--COLCHESTER--BANBURY--TETSWORTH--OXFORD--NORFOLK AND SUFFOLK--NORWICH PRELATES--BRICK ARCHITECTURE.

Hertford county contains many noble mansions of historical note, though but few street scenes or homesteads that would quite fall within the scope of the present work. On the road between Abbots Langley and St. Albans is a pleasantly situated

house that says “old homestead” on the very face of it. Formerly it was a large farm-house, and it has more recently been altered internally to suit the convenience of a retired citizen. The chimneys and gables stand out with great boldness and effect. The capital town of Hertford is small, and though its records lead us back to great antiquity, even to the early days of Saxon rule, there is little of antiquity now to interest the traveller. It is, indeed, a well-built modern town, with good streets, numerous public buildings, and several churches. It was not without a little difficulty that the gable here represented was selected, though this is rather ingenious in its way. An octagonal window which rises from the ground stops under a projecting storey, and on the same line an oriel window is thrown out. This again stops at the eaves, over it is a gable with a double window. The proportions might possibly be somewhat improved, but there is much ingenuity in managing the various stops and faces. These indeed might be applied on a much more important scale.

St. Albans is situated in this county, and is in the hundred of Cashio. The ancient name was Verulam, a name taken from the small river Ver, upon whose banks it is built. The Abbey of St. Albans rose in importance before any in the kingdom, not excluding even Glastonbury, and from its walls the earliest printed books in England were issued. The curious clock tower here engraved stands at the junction of two streets, and is not, as might be supposed, some part of an old church, indeed it is said never to have had any other use than the one for which it is at present used.

The vicinity we are now in reminds us of the name of the man who probably invented the style of architecture which we call Elizabethan, that is the curiously broken classic style so peculiar to England, and now so popular. Thorpe designed Hatfield, Wollaton, Holland House, and many other well-known residences, and it is almost by an accident that his name has escaped oblivion. He left behind him a large volume of designs, which is now in the Soane museum. This volume was lent by the Earl of Warwick to Horace Walpole for his work on the _Anecdotes of English Art_, and Walpole writes of it--“By the favour of the Earl of Warwick I am enabled to bring to light a very capital artist, who designed or improved most of the principal and palatial edifices erected in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., even though his name was totally forgotten.” It is believed that his name was not known to Wren, Vanbrugh, or Gibbs, and yet he was the author of a style that has been introduced into every county in England. This folio of designs was purchased by Soane. Among other plans is one of a house fantastically designed for himself, forming the letters I T joined by a corridor, and under is the eccentric couplet--

These two letters I and T, Joined together as you see, Make a dwelling-house for me. JOHN THORPE.

But I remember seeing a notice of this able man and his eccentricity in an old book, where he wrote a rhyming epitaph upon himself. Some of his friends were asked by him in his last illness to compose one that should rhyme, and be very short, and he fairly eclipsed all their productions by his own, “Thorpe’s corpse.” This architect seems to have resided in Paris for some little time, and been employed in designing alterations for the Luxembourg, in the Faubourg St. Germain.

This volume in the Soane Museum contains a number of plans, some of which have been reproduced by Richardson and others.[4] The Tudor sovereigns especially favoured Hertfordshire. The children of Henry VIII. lived at Hunsdon; and at Hatfield Palace, now the residence of the Marquis of Salisbury, resided Edward VI. and Elizabeth. Cardinal Wolsey had an estate at Cheshunt, near Waltham.

Aylesbury ought perhaps to be considered the county town of Buckingham, since the assizes are held there. The view here given is from one corner of the market square, and it just discloses some quaint old houses with remarkably steep gables

and high chimneys; the rest of the square is modern. The population of Aylesbury does not exceed some 7000, but it has played many important parts in English history. It was strongly fortified by the Britons, and resisted the attacks of the Saxons till Cuthwolf captured it in 571. William the Conqueror rewarded one of his followers with the estate, and 600 years after this it formed an important post of the Parliamentarian army. The old King’s Head, here shown, was at one time a head-quarters for the troopers. Buckingham is not a very interesting town, but two of the bridges in it are extremely ancient. Catherine of Arragon took up her abode here in her restless life, after being separated from King Henry. The town was nearly burned to the ground in 1725, and that accounts for its comparatively modern and insignificant appearance.

The ancient town of Marlow is also situated in the southern part of this county, and the quiet rich beauty of the scenery round it is not surpassed in any part of England.

Stony Stratford was one of the resting-places of Queen Eleanor, and Edward I. erected a beautiful cross here, which unhappily has been destroyed. Here also Richard III., when Duke of Gloucester, seized the uncles of Edward V., and sent them with Sir Thomas Vaughan to Pontefract.

Colchester in Essex was formerly a walled town, and traces of the walls still remain. They are nearly eight feet in thickness. The manufacture of baize was introduced here in Queen Elizabeth’s time, and many Flemish names and faces are to be found among the inhabitants. Maldon, in this county, and Braintree, contain many old buildings. Waltham Abbey and Waltham Cross are familiar to every Londoner, and fortunate indeed we may consider ourselves that such splendid relics have been spared to our generation.

The gable at Ockwells lights a fine old hall. The house was used for some time as a farm. This is the only illustration of Berkshire, for the county is so full of interest and beauty that it has been considered best to reserve it for a second series of the present work. It is impossible to do more than notice such places as Steventon, Abingdon with its thousand associations, Cumnor, and the many places of interest in the Vale of the White Horse. Bray is in the eastern part of the county, near Maidenhead, and is celebrated for its vicar, who changed his religion four times during the reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, and Elizabeth; and in reply to one of his parishioners who accused him of inconsistency, he said he adhered strictly to his principles, which were to live and die Vicar of Bray.

“And this indeed I will maintain Unto my dying day, sir, Whatever King in England reign, I’m to be Vicar of Bray, sir,”

as the ballad has it.[5]

In approaching such a county as Oxford, the difficulty is to deal with subjects that are not already too familiar. The city of Oxford has been described a hundred times, and Pugin and Le Keux have almost exhausted its picturesque colleges and halls in their woodcuts and steel engravings. Woodstock is one of the first places an Oxford student or his friends visit, and great as the attractions of its park or palace may be, there is little in it that comes within the scope of the present work.

Banbury, in the northern part of the county, is an admirable example of a fine old English town. Its noble church was, it is said, destroyed by an alderman who was also a builder, and who erected the present unsightly edifice in its place. The Castle of Banbury, which was built by the Bishop of Lincoln in the twelfth century, stood a long siege during the wars of Charles I., and the Parliamentarians ordered its demolition when they obtained possession of it. The bars, five in number, were standing until the present century, but now they are destroyed. The names are peculiar, and differ considerably from those we commonly find applied to city gates: St. John’s Bar, Sugar Bar, North Bar, Cole Bar, and Bridge Gate. The old Banbury cross, familiar in nursery rhymes, has lately been destroyed.

The Roebuck Inn is an extremely fine piece of architecture. The great window on the left lights a still finer room. Indeed this chamber, with which the low door communicates, is one of the most beautiful apartments of the early part of Queen Elizabeth’s reign in England. It is exceedingly rich in ornament, and all the ornaments are in excellent taste. It is now used as a club room, or for any large gathering that the inn--which is a very unassuming hostelry--may have to accommodate. The inn faces the street, and the beam on the upper part of the picture is the end of the passage leading to the courtyard in which this room is situated. The room was the council-chamber of Oliver Cromwell after the taking of Banbury Castle. The quaint gables that form the subject of the next illustration are very characteristic of the town. There seems to be no particular history connected with them, but they were not very new at the siege of Banbury. There is one rather singular house here with three even gables in the front, which project into the street to an enormous distance, and are enriched in parquetry. Three circular bow windows, also projecting into the street, are exactly under them, and stop on their soffits, but the gables project considerably beyond the bow windows.

Entering Oxford from the railway we cross over a bridge, and under it is the picturesque scene here given. The houses are rather old, and not perhaps very desirable as residences, but the effect is very good indeed, and much resembles a view on the Witham in Lincoln, that will form the subject of another engraving.

Tetsworth, on the London and Oxford road, is a perfect specimen of an old English coaching town, but its glories have declined, of course, since the days of railroads. Dorchester is an ancient village, and contains the cathedral church of St. Peter and St. Paul, full of venerable memorials, and the embankments called Dyke Hills were thrown up as old fortifications in the Roman times.

But, of course, the chief interest of the county centres in the capital city. The great Oxford historian Anthony-a-Wood tells us that many of the students were “mere varlets, who pretended to be scholars, who lived under no discipline, neither had any tutors, but only for fashion sake would sometimes thrust themselves into the schools of ordinary lectures; and when they went to perform any mischief, then they would be accounted scholars, that so they might free themselves from the jurisdiction of the burghers.” This was the benefit of clergy! The professors of learning there, Franciscan friars, were men of very high character, and free from any suspicion of worldly ambition; indeed Chaucer well describes them in the Oxford Clerk. “The hilly nature of the roads,” says the topographer, “leading to Oxford, makes the city present a magnificent appearance to the traveller as he approaches it, for stretched out before him lies a succession of spires, towers, domes, and public edifices, between which and the rivers extend a number of beautiful luxuriant meadows; nor is he disappointed upon his entrance into the city, for each street presents some building which compels him to stop and admire either its construction or its antiquity. Entering by the London road, and thus traversing Oxford from east to west, we pass Magdalen College with its tower of eight pinnacles, University College, Queen’s College, All Souls’ College, St. Mary’s Church, and All Saints’ Church, a picturesque series of colleges and churches interspersed with antique and modern houses. From

the Abingdon branch of the London Road the entrance is not quite so effective, but the line of streets running from north to south contains St. Giles’ Church, etc.; the Martyrs’ Memorial, erected in memory of the burning of Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, in Queen Mary’s reign. The quiet which characterises its streets, the constant sound of bells summoning to study or prayer, and the absence of heavy traffic, distinguish it from ordinary cities.”

But the college that is perhaps the most beloved by Englishmen is Magdalen, owing to its spirited opposition to the attempts which James II. made to tyrannise over its authorities and rights. The tower of Merton Chapel, here given, is extremely well proportioned, and forms a pleasing object in High Street. The tower and transept seem to have more recent characteristics than the body of the chapel, which is Late Decorated, and not very happy. Speaking of the foundation of this college, a careful writer says: “No regular plan of the regime of Oxford can be found till the foundation of Merton College by Roger de Merton in 1247, but his statutes were gradually adopted with alterations by other succeeding colleges. These facts, on the whole, give us a kind of glimpse of the foundation of the present university. And comparatively rude and simple as the arrangements no doubt were, as compared with the elaborate system that now prevails, there is one startling fact in connection with this foundation or revival of University College--there were then 15,000 scholars at the university of Oxford. It is a common remark that this and the 30,000 students of the reign of Henry III. are mere exaggerations, but apparently the assertion is made on no better foundation than the fact that no such state of things prevails now. All Souls’ College, a little farther on, has a fine irregular

front to the street, and is really an excellent example of street architecture. It is “the college of the Souls of all faithful people deceased of Oxford,” seeming, as has been said, to convey the idea of a spiritual cemetery. Jeremy Taylor, Bishop Heber, and Sir Christopher Wren were educated here. It appears that the idea so quaintly expressed was chiefly intended to praying for the good estate of Henry VI., Archbishop Chicheley, who was the founder, and also for the souls of Henry V., the Duke of Clarence, and of all those dukes, earls, barons, knights, and esquires that had fallen in the war with France.” One of the finest libraries in England is to be found at All Souls; “it measures,” the authority quoted from says, “190 feet in length by 32½ in breadth, swelling out in the centre to above 50 feet, whilst the height, 40 feet, is sufficient to allow of a gallery that extends round three sides of the room.” The collection of books is among the finest even in Oxford.

Magdalen College is a noble piece of architecture from whatever side it is viewed. By the _Oxford University Calendar_ it appears that it was founded in 1458 by William de Waynflete, who was successively head-master of Winchester and Eton Colleges, Provost of Eton, Bishop of Winchester, and at the same time Lord High Chancellor of England. He had once been master of Magdalen Hospital, near Winchester, and that, doubtless, suggested the name of his college at Oxford. The part of the quadrangle here shown certainly seems to be of a later date than the foundation of the college. As far as the style of design goes, it is a very impressive majestic piece of architecture, and as there are several singular anachronisms in the known date of some of the buildings here, it is, of course, possible that it may be the original building. Waynflete was greatly attached to Henry VI., who, if the character that Shakespeare would seem to sketch of him is reliable, was himself a scholarlike painstaking man, as far as simple literary ability is concerned. The high character of Waynflete protected him in the days of Edward IV., notwithstanding his attachment to the cause of Henry VI.; he was buried in great pomp at Winchester in 1486, in a fine chantry chapel, that is kept in preservation by Magdalen College.

The entrance gateway, here shown, is a more characteristic scene of the period of Waynflete. The architecture is older in character, and the effect perhaps even better; indeed this is as fine a piece of architecture for a street corner as any now existing in England. The interest in Magdalen College is from its sturdy resistance to James II. when he decided, as Bishop Burnet quaintly tells us, to send a mandamus requiring the college authorities to choose one Farmer for their president, who had no other qualification except that he had changed his religion. “Mandamus letters,” the bishop with simple candour tells us, “had no legal authority in them, but all the great preferments in

the church being at the King’s disposal, those who did pretend to favour were not apt to refuse his recommendation, lest that should be afterwards remembered to their prejudice. But now, since it was visible in what channel favour was likely to run, less regard was had to such a letter.” This candid thinker-aloud tells us that one Dr. Hough was in every way a suitable man, and one of their body, so he was elected; but the breach between the King and Oxford led to the most important results.

Norfolk and Suffolk were the last counties visited for the purposes of this present work, and it is a matter of regret that they cannot occupy so much space as their extremely interesting remains demand. Norwich is certainly one of the most interesting cities in England. Formerly the Duke of Norfolk used to reside here for a part of the year, in almost regal state, and many houses were built by the gentry who attended his court. This in a great measure accounts for the number of fine old mansions that remain in the city. The ecclesiastics of Norwich do not seem to have been so amiable as their brethren of Ely, and many were the disputes that occurred between them and the citizens. Sometimes a boundary and sometimes an outrage was the bone of contention, till on one occasion the monks killed several citizens who endeavoured to take possession of a piece of land which the monastery claimed. An inquest was held, and a verdict of wilful murder returned against the monks who had killed them. This seems to have been met promptly by a sentence of excommunication against every citizen in Norwich, but as it did not reduce them to a proper tone of submission, the ecclesiastical party betook to more carnal weapons, and secure in their walls they beguiled many an hour with archery practice at the expense of the citizens. The chroniclers tell us that the clerical party tired at last of this desultory warfare, and on the Sunday before St. Lawrence day (which would be in the beginning of August) “sallied out, and went in a raging manner about the city,” killing and plundering. They concluded their Sunday’s labours by breaking open a tavern kept by one Hugh de Bromholm, drinking all the wine they could, and turning on the taps before leaving. Of course this led to further civil war, till the king interfered.

Every visitor to Norwich will remember the fine Erpingham gateway; it does not figure here because in a future work I propose to illustrate the gateways of England, with their history; but briefly speaking, it may be said to consist of a two-centred arch, curiously and profusely adorned with figures, niches, trees, birds, shields, and armorial bearings. Sir Thomas Erpingham appears to have favoured the cause of Wycliffe, and been condemned to prison by the clerical party, though they afterwards were induced to commute his sentence to a fine such as would enable them to build this gateway, and do some other ecclesiastical architecture in the neighbourhood. He was an old man in Henry V.’s time, but commanded the archers at the battle of Agincourt, and gave the signal for the first forward movement of the English, by throwing his truncheon high up in the air, and calling out, “Now strike!” But for his favour with Henry IV. he would probably have suffered worse than he did at the hands of the Church party, for Spencer, the bishop of the diocese at that time, declared that he would make every Lollard hop headless, or else, in his energetic language, “fry a faggot.” Erpingham’s loyalty to Bolingbroke’s son is beautifully suggested in Shakespeare when he enters the tent where Henry is putting the best face on their apparently hopeless position to Bedford and Gloucester--“There is some soul of goodness in things evil,” etc.; and the king cheerily addresses the then aged knight,

“Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham; A good soft pillow for that good white head, Were better than a churlish turf of France.”

To which Erpingham replies characteristically,

“Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better, Since I may say--Now lie I like a king.”

Norwich cathedral groups in beautiful contrast to the various surroundings of the city. The view here given of it is from the Ferry and the precinct gate; but the Grammar School, the Castle, the Market School, and Guildhall, must be left; the view however of the Cathedral from the Bishop’s Bridge is very striking; it has been engraved in Britton’s _Picturesque Antiquities of English Cities_. Attleborough is an ancient place; Downham Market,

and East Dereham, which also contains a market that dates back to Edward the Confessor, must be passed by till a future series of the present work. The picturesque bridge called the Abbot’s Bridge forms the subject of the next illustration; it is one of the many objects of beauty in Bury, and belonged to the Abbey at one time. Parliaments were held here by Henry III., Edward I., and Henry VI., and the shrine of St. Edmund was visited by Henry VII. and his queen, Elizabeth. Dickens speaks of this place as “the bright little town of Bury St. Edmund’s.” This structure, of which only a part is shown, well illustrates the way in which mediæval architects understood how to design a bridge, and the same may be said of the one at Huntingdon. Barry, in an excellent lecture read before the Royal Academy, remarks that there is no reason why architecture should suffer from the abundance of means to compass an end that engineering has placed in its way: he might have gone further, and instanced the beautiful works of Telford or Payne or Rennie. Barry says that old London Bridge with its narrow pointed arches, and roadway encumbered with shops, had doubtless a very picturesque appearance, but even in these days of revived mediævalism he says they would hardly be copied. The old bridges, however, were remarkable for their bridge-like appearance; the piers were free from columns, and in a running stream they were exactly suited to resist the flow of water against them. The old bridge of Huntingdon might stand for many ages if not molested. The Abbot’s Bridge, here shown, is a very beautifully proportioned object, and the piercing of the buttresses gives it an appearance of lightness. Of course this would not have been done if any great resisting power were required against a sudden freshet.

No house is better known perhaps than Sparrowe’s House, Ipswich, in the old Butter-market. Formerly this street contained many fine specimens of old domestic architecture, which have disappeared, but Sparrowe’s House is not only in perfect order, it is appreciated and cared for worthily. This ancient residence consists of four oriel windows, projecting considerably over the street, an enormous cornice extends over these again, and set back in the roof are four gabled windows. The Sparrowe family have occupied it for many generations, and although the ornamentations looked at singly are rather rude and barbaric, the whole effect is extremely fine. A house still older than this stood on the site till 1567, when the present mansion was built, and this is alluded to in Mr. Cobbold’s _Freston Tower_. The last member of the Sparrowe family who lived here was the town-clerk of Ipswich, and now the building is occupied by Mr. Haddock, one of the leading provincial booksellers in that part of England. Here there is good reason for believing that Charles II. was concealed after the battle of Worcester. In 1801 a curiously hidden loft was discovered, the entrance to which was concealed ingeniously in a panel. Brook Street, which runs at right angles to the street where Sparrowe’s House is situated, contains yet the remains of some old mansions, and in the work _Freston Tower_ there is an excellent description of the appearance of a street in Henry VIII.’s time. In a passage leading out of St. Nicholas Street, near St. Nicholas’ Church, there are some traces of the house where Cardinal Wolsey was born in 1471. In an admirable Guide to Ipswich, published by Mr. Vick of that town, it is said, “At the back there still exists a part of the premises in which the Cardinal’s father lived. That he was a butcher is open to doubt; the origin of the assertion being that he was a man of some property, amongst which was included the butchers’ shambles.” Farther down, the streets all bear historic names, such as Wolsey Street, Cardinal Street, etc. St. Peter’s Church stands near, and passing by it we enter College Street, which takes its name from the College the Cardinal built here. The gateway only remains, but it is a fine piece of architecture, built of brick, without stone enrichments, and it can be described with perfect accuracy. There are two turrets of octagonal shape on each side, and a bold Tudor gateway between them. This gateway is surmounted by a brick label-moulding, and over this is a coat-of-arms between two brick niches, and over the niches are eight quatrefoils. Fuller says that King Henry was offended because the Cardinal set his armorial bearings above the King’s at the gatehouse, but this cannot refer to the gatehouse that is left, as the royal arms are the only ones there. This gateway resembles Hampton Court in character very closely, and probably was the work of the same designer. The College was founded in the twentieth year of Henry VIII., and dedicated to the Virgin. Three years after, the Cardinal fell into disgrace, and the College was razed to the ground. This is alluded to in the exquisite scene between Griffith and Queen Katherine--“Henry VIII.”

“And though he were unsatisfied in getting (Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, Madam, He was most princely: Ever witness for him Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, Ipswich and Oxford; one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinished, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.”

Before reverting to the subject of brick architecture, which Cardinal Wolsey managed so well, we may refer to a window from a farm-house near Salisbury, the dressings of which are stone, simply to show what can be made by a single form ingeniously managed. The whole design is constructed out of a single form of light, a rectangle with an end cut off diagonally, yet even a practised draughtsman would be unlikely to succeed in reproducing the pattern after studying it, and closing the book for a short time. This is introduced merely to show what great variety can be made by combination of a single form; and if two, or at the most three, moulds of bricks are used, there is literally no limit to the designer’s materials.

“Bricks, and especially red bricks,” says Mr. Trollope, “are almost always mentioned with great disrespect in connection with architecture, so that when admirers of that noble science hear upon their travels of a town or church, or indeed of any building constructed of brick, they say to their drivers, ‘On, on, there is no pleasure or repose for our eyes there. Do not deposit us in a locality where one side of the way is glowering with a coarsely ruddy aspect at an equally ruddy opposite row of houses; or where a church of the same hue was built some eighty years ago, whose thin smooth walls and Venetian east window already droop across our imagination to the depression of the spirits.’” Bricks, however, as he justly proceeds to argue, are not only useful, but a building material for which a deep debt of gratitude is due. True it is they baffle the skill of an ordinary architect of modern times, but in the reign of Henry VIII. they were a favourite medium for building. Witness Hampton Court for example, or Hurstmonceaux, or Charlton Hall in Kent. Sometimes brick houses are erected entirely of brick, and at other times they have stone dressings.

Holland House, built in 1607 by Sir Walter Cope, where many men of genius have congregated, and Hatfield House, the residence of the Cecils, for whom it was built in 1611, are more familiar examples still, though Sutton Place, near Guildford, is said to be the finest example in England, and is built of brick entirely without the aid of stone, and it shows what may be accomplished in this fine material. “Its doorway is surmounted by a panel of moulded bricks representing Cupids within enriched borders, and flanked by small octangular turrets, entirely covered with tuns in relief--the device of the builder, or with his initials. The walls are occasionally diversified with reticulated patterns in black bricks, and the string-courses and even mullions of the windows, also of brick, are ornamented with richly moulded patterns, in which the family tun has a conspicuous place. The whole façade, after having been much diversified by bay windows and boldly projecting features, is surmounted by an elaborately decorated parapet and slender octagonal pinnacles, etc.”

Sutton Place has been beautifully illustrated in Nash’s _Mansions in the Olden Time_, and is a perfect storehouse of instruction for modern architects.

The grammar-school at Hull, now vacant and crumbling, is another excellent example of brickwork on a more moderate scale. The gable and chimney here shown are well broken up into light and shadow, and beautifully proportioned. The date of the foundation is 1486, and probably the portion illustrated is of nearly the same antiquity. The whole of this is brick unassisted by stone, and even the coping is ingeniously contrived by one brick overlapping another. The mullions and window-heads also are of brick not moulded, but the ordinary rectangular ones are contrived to answer all the purposes of the architect.

Mr. Trollope in his admirable paper points out that Babylon at a very early period practised brick-making, as did also Assyria and Egypt; whilst the Romans, whose powers of adaptation are yet a wonder to us, became so enamoured of bricks for constructive purposes that they used wide bricks in arches and vaultings, on account of their utility in shaping, even where stone was plentiful. Indeed bricks have been used by our Saxon forefathers, as in the church of Brixworth and elsewhere; and in the twelfth century the preference seems almost to have been given to brickwork in many important European buildings. During the fourteenth century stone seems to have the preference over brick in England, though on the Continent many important buildings were built of the latter material.

The principles which, after comparing many examples of different dates, seemed to me the true ones, in order to successfully use bricks, are few and simple, and it is a great pleasure to find them in many respects identical with those Mr. Trollope has laid down in the excellent paper to which this chapter is so much indebted.[6]

Martel, in his _Principles of Colouring_, published by Winsor & Newton, says that in the present state of our knowledge it is difficult to offer a satisfactory explanation of the cause of the peculiar colours of different substances--that is, why grass is green, or copper red, or silver white; and he adds that it is usual to account for them by saying that all bodies _absorb_ certain colours and reflect others, the colour absorbed being always complementary to that reflected. Thus if a body is green it is said to absorb the red rays, and reflect blue and yellow, and so with others. He further says that if the eye sees red it is immediately called up to see another colour, namely green, which is the exact contrast; and states that if a red flower is placed on a sheet of white paper and suddenly withdrawn, a green image will faintly appear to the eye.

Now a broad red wall is one of the most dreary objects of modern civilisation, and, indeed, the side of a square, broken only by rectangular windows, as exhibited in London squares, has doubtless had a depressing and injurious effect on the duration of human life. Russell Square and Bedford Square are familiar instances of this; and how unfavourably they contrast with old Lincoln’s Inn buildings, in the same city, the engraving will show, yet the same architecture that prevails in Lincoln’s Inn would abundantly serve all the purposes of a London square of modern times. The corbelling out of the chimney, and the way in which the octagon and gables blend together, is artistic to a passing degree, and well the designer knew the value of the material he had in hand. Probably it was erected in the latter part of Queen Elizabeth’s reign.

Lincoln’s Inn was equal in importance, it is said, to the Temple, and had its annual revels. The Temple master of these was a “Lord of Misrule,” till the better feeling of the members stopped all these saturnalia. “Assumed characters,” it is said, were so numerous that they required limitation in the edicts of the Benchers, and “Jack Straw” and his train were banished under pain of any one who assumed the character paying five pounds; and though Charles II. visited Lincoln’s Inn to see the revels, they were doomed to disappear.

To return to the subject of brick structures and the laws that should guide them, the principles of Martel ought not to be lost sight of, and well indeed Mr. Trollope seems to have felt them. A pedestal of stone, as he instances, even if flat, would not be an eyesore, because the ordinary colours of stone are not obtrusive, while a pedestal of red brick without proper relief would be simply intolerable. The colour of the material requires us to handle it with more thoughtfulness than stone. Who does not delight in the red coat of a trooper in one of the old Dutch pictures, or a red cow in one of Cuyp’s pieces?

A good architect must be a good artist too in dealing with this difficult material, and he has to handle his shadows with skill, and not only so, he must carry these into as many interstices as possible; he calls upon nature to aid him with gray shades by bringing some features forward, and deeply recessing others, and by repeating octangular features as much as possible, so as to make the most out of the chances of shadow that are afforded to him. “Knowing further how ill a straight line of heavy red looks when forced into contrast with the transparent blue sky, or even with the fleecy gray clouds above, he multiplies his gables as far as he consistently can, and exhibits them where they will most be seen, raises up his chimney shafts in irregular groups, and delights to diversify them by a few turrets and pinnacles, etc., so as to give as much variety and lightness to his structures as possible.”

The house where Mr. William Wilberforce was born, in Hull, is a very curious specimen of brickwork, and differs in every respect from the examples we have been considering. It seems hardly to be indigenous, and, perhaps, belongs to a large class of brick houses that were imported from Flanders; indeed, the term “Flemish bond,” as applied to the peculiar style of brickwork that prevailed in England after the reign of William and Mary, sufficiently indicates a foreign origin, and now it is commonly used in specifications of buildings where it is required, as distinguished from English bond, and is thoroughly understood by modern workmen.

Of course there is a limit to the scope in which bricks may be said to compete with stone for building purposes. The nature of the material prevents our having any great projections; they would require to be supported by iron bands and set in cement, and be entirely false construction, if not dangerous, and statuary or sculpture is of course out of the question in brick. But there is nothing to prevent deeply recessed openings in windows or doorways, and many patterns might be repeated, such as pateræ or cuspings. In all old brickwork there is no attempt to conceal the nature of the material, or make it appear to do more than it actually does in the building. But brickwork is capable of being used in tracery in churches when geometrical work is required, and by splaying the bricks if necessary a very useful material indeed is revived.

I wish I could agree with Mr. Trollope’s admirable paper in his estimate of parti-coloured bricks; he has given some examples of these which are quite as good as anything of the kind, but there is always an unpleasant look about this mode of decoration. Bricks in contrasted colours cannot avoid a harlequin appearance; the variety of colours is always great, and the contrast too strong to be pleasant. The charming surroundings with which we may have seen this kind of decoration in foreign lands often may be the cause of our having a kindly feeling towards it, but even then we none of us, probably, have admired it at first. The real point to aim at in the contrast of colours is the natural light and shade that octagonal turrets and deep recesses can afford us. Hurstmonceaux, Tattershall Castle, Hampton Court, or Lincoln’s Inn, give us all this in perfection. Moulded bricks might be used also with great advantage in fireplaces in rooms; and at a fraction of the expense of the dreary chilly marble “mantel-pieces,” as they are called, a handsome pleasing feature might be introduced. It would not be desirable perhaps to employ white mortar, for fear of giving an unfinished appearance, but mortar can be tinted in a hundred ways, and a chimney-piece of bricks, moulded and square, might be put up at a cost of £5 or £6, that should far exceed the peculiar ones that disfigure our town houses of modern days, at five times the cost.