Perhaps the most singular object among these tombs, if tombs they are, is the flat façade with three storeys of pillars one over the other—slightly indicated on the left of the Corinthian tomb in Woodcut No. 235. It is like the proscenium of some of the more recent Greek theatres. If it was really the frontispiece to a tomb, it was totally unsuitable to the purpose, and is certainly one of the most complete misapplications of Greek architecture ever made.

Generally speaking, the interiors of these buildings are so plain that travellers have not cared either to draw or measure them; one, however, represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 236), is richly ornamented, and, as far as can be judged from what is published, is as unlike a tomb as it is like a vihara. But, as before remarked, they all require re-examination before the purpose for which they were cut can be pronounced upon with any certainty.

The next group of tombs is that at Jerusalem. These are undoubtedly all sepulchres. By far the greater number of them are wholly devoid of architectural ornament. To the north of the city is a group known as the Tombs of the Kings, with a façade of a corrupt Doric order, similar to some of the latest Etruscan tombs.^[191] These are now very much ruined, but still retain sufficient traces of the original design to fix their date within or subsequently to the Herodian period without much possibility of doubt. A somewhat similar façade, but of a form more like the Greek Doric, found in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, bears the name of the Sepulchre of St. James.

Close to this is a square tomb, known as that of Zechariah, cut in the rock, but standing free. Each face is adorned with Ionic pillars and square piers at the angles, the whole being crowned with a pyramidal roof. Perhaps this building should properly be called a cenotaph, as it is perfectly solid, and no cave or sepulchral vault has been found beneath it, though judging from analogies one might yet be found if properly looked for. A tomb with an architectural façade, similar to that of the so-called Tomb of the Judges, does exist behind it cut in rock, and is consequently of more modern construction. It may be to mark this that the architectural monolith was left.

Close to this is another identical with it in as far as the basement is concerned, and which is now popularly known as the Tomb of Absalom; but in this instance the pyramid has been replaced with a structural spire, and it is probable when this was done that the chamber which now exists in its interior was excavated.

One of the remarkable points in these tombs is the curious jumble of the Roman orders which they present. The pillars and pilasters are Ionic, the architraves and frieze Doric, and the cornice Egyptian. The capitals and frieze are so distinctly late Roman, that we can feel no hesitation as to their date being either of the age of Herod or subsequent to that time. In an architectural point of view the cornice is too plain to be pleasing if not painted; it probably therefore was so treated.

Another class of these tombs is represented by the so-called Tomb of the Judges (Woodcut No. 241). These are ornamented by a tympanum of a Greek or Roman temple filled with a scroll-work of rich but debased pattern, and is evidently derived from something similar, though Grecian in design. In age it is certainly more recent than the so-called Tomb of Zechariah, as one of precisely similar design is found cut into the face of the rock out of which that monument was excavated.

The third group is that of Cyrene, on the African coast. Notwithstanding the researches of Admiral Beechey and of M. Pacho,^[192] and the still more recent explorations of Messrs. Smith and Porcher, above referred to (p. 285), they are still much less perfectly known to us than they should be. Their number is immense, and they almost all have architectural façades, generally consisting of two or more columns between pilasters, like the grottoes of Beni-Hasan, or the Tomb of St. James at Jerusalem. Many of them show powerful evidence of Greek taste, while some may be as old as the Grecian era, though the greater part are undoubtedly of Roman date, and the paintings with which many of them are still adorned are certainly Roman in design. Two of them are illustrated by Woodcuts Nos. 165 and 166: one as showing more distinct evidence of Greek taste and colour than is to be found elsewhere, though it is doubtful if it belongs to the Grecian period any more than the so-called Tomb of St. James at Jerusalem; the other, though of equally uncertain date, is interesting as being a circular monument built over a cave like that at Amrith (Woodcut No. 122), and is the only other example now known. None of them have such splendid architectural façades as the Khasné at Petra; but the number of tombs which are adorned with architectural features is greater than in that city, and, grouped as they are together in terraces on the hill-side, they constitute a necropolis which is among the most striking of the ancient world. Altogether this group, though somewhat resembling that at Castel d’Asso, is more extensive and far richer in external architecture.^[193]

Time has not left us any perfect structural tombs in all these places, though there can be little doubt but they were once numerous. Almost the only tomb of this class constructed in masonry known to exist, and which in many respects is perhaps the most interesting of all, is found in Asia Minor, at Mylassa in Caria. In form it is something like the free-standing rock-cut examples at Jerusalem. As shown in the woodcut (No. 242), it consists of a square base, which supports twelve columns, of which the eight inner ones support a dome, the outer four merely completing the square. The dome itself is constructed in the same manner as all the Jaina domes are in India (as will be explained hereafter when describing that style), and, though ornamented with Roman details, is so unlike anything else ever built by that people, and is so completely and perfectly what we find reappearing ten centuries afterwards in the far East, that we are forced to conclude that it belongs to a style once prevalent and long fixed in these lands, though this one now stands as the sole remaining representative of its class.

Another example, somewhat similar in style, though remotely distant in locality, is found at Dugga, near Tunis, in Africa. This, too, consists of a square base, taller than in the last example, surmounted by twelve Ionic columns, which are here merely used as ornaments. There were probably square pilasters at the angles, like that at Jerusalem (Woodcuts Nos. 238, 239), while the Egyptian form of the cornice is similar to that found in these examples, though with the omission of the Doric frieze.

It apparently originally terminated in a pyramid of steps like the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, and a large number of structural tombs which copied that celebrated model. Nothing of this now remains but the four corner-stones, which were architecturally most essential to accentuate the weak lines of a sloping pyramid in such a situation. Taken altogether, perhaps no more graceful monument of its class has come down to our days than this must have been when complete.

Besides these there are in Algeria two tombs of very great interest, both from their size and the peculiarity of their forms. The best known is that on the coast a short distance from Algiers to the westward. It is generally known as the Kubr Roumeïa, or Tomb of the Christian Virgin—a name it acquired from its having four false doors, each of a single stone divided into four panels, and the stile between them forming a cross, which has consequently been assumed to be the Christian symbol. The building itself, which is circular, and as nearly as may be 200 ft. in diameter, stands on a square platform measuring 210 ft. The perpendicular part is ornamented by 60 engaged columns of the Ionic order, and by the four false doors just mentioned; above this rose a cone—apparently in 40 steps—making the total height about 130 ft. It is, however, so ruined that it is very difficult to feel sure about its exact dimensions or form.

From objects and scribblings of various kinds found in the interior, it appears to have remained open till nearly the time of the Moslem conquest, but shortly afterwards to have been closed, and to have defied all the ingenuity of explorers till a passage was forced in 1866 by Messrs. MacCarthy and Berbrugger, acting under the orders and at the expense of the late Emperor Napoleon III.^[194] The entrance was found passing under the sill of the false door on the east from a detached building standing outside the platform, and which seems to have been originally constructed to cover and protect the entrance. From this a winding passage, 560 ft. in length, led to the central chamber where it is assumed the royal bodies were once deposited, but when opened no trace of them remained, nor anything to indicate who they were, nor in what manner they were buried.

The other tomb, the Madracen, is very similar to this one, but smaller. Its peristyle is of a sort of Doric order, without bases, and surmounted by a quasi-Egyptian cornice, not unlike that on the Tomb of Absalom at Jerusalem (Woodcut No. 240), or that at Dugga (Woodcut No. 243). Altogether its details are more elegant, and from their general character there seems no reason for doubting that this tomb is older than the Kubr Roumeïa, though they are so similar to each other that their dates cannot be far distant.^[195]

There seems almost no reason for doubting that the Kubr Roumeïa was the “Monumentum commune Regiæ gentis” mentioned by Pomponius Mela,^[196] about the middle of the first century of our era, and if so, this could only apply to the dynasty that expired with Juba II., A.D. 23, and in that case the older monument most probably belonged to the previous dynasty, which ceased to reign with Bocchus III., 33 years before the birth of Christ.

One of the most interesting points connected with these Mauritanian tombs is their curious similarity to that of Hadrian at Rome. The square base, the circular colonnade, the conical roof, are all the same. At Rome they are very much drawn out, of course, but that arose from the “Mole” being situated among tall objects in a town, and more than even that, perhaps, from the tendency towards height which manifested itself so strongly in the architecture of that age.

The greatest similarity, however, exists in the interior. The long winding corridor terminating in an oblong apartment in the centre is an identical feature in both, but has not yet been traced elsewhere, though it can be hardly doubted that it must have existed in many other examples.

If we add to these the cenotaph at St. Rémi (Woodcut No. 231), we have a series of monuments of the same type extending over 400 years; and, though many more are wanted before we can fill up the gaps and complete the series, there can be little doubt that the missing links once existed which connected them together. Beyond this we may go still further back to the Etruscan tumuli and the simple mounds of earth on the Tartar steppes. At the other end of the series we are evidently approaching the verge of the towers and steeples of Christian art; and, though it may seem the wildest of hypotheses to assert that the design of the spire of Strasbourg grew out of the mound of Alyattes, it is nevertheless true, and it is only non-apparent because so many of the steps in the progress from the one to the other have disappeared in the convulsions of the interval.

Domestic Architecture.

We know, not only from the descriptions and incidental notices that have come down to us, but also from the remains found at Pompeii and elsewhere, that the private dwellings of the Romans were characterised by that magnificence and splendour which we find in all their works, accompanied, probably, with more than the usual amount of bad taste.

In Rome itself no ancient house—indeed no trace of a domestic edifice—exists except the palaces of the Cæsars on the Palatine Mount, and the house of the Vestal Virgins^[197] at its foot; and these even are now a congeries of shapeless ruins, so completely destroyed as to make it difficult even for the most imaginative of restorers to make much of them. The extent of these ruins, however, coupled with the descriptions that have been preserved, suffice to convince us that, of all the palaces ever built, either in the East or the West, these were probably the most magnificent and the most gorgeously adorned. Never in the world’s history does it appear that so much wealth and power were at the command of one man as was the case with the Cæsars; and never could the world’s wealth have fallen into the hands of men more inclined to lavish it for their own personal gratification than these emperors were. They could, moreover, ransack the whole world for plunder to adorn their buildings, and could command the best artists of Greece, and of all the subject kingdoms, to assist in rendering their golden palaces the most gorgeous that the world had then seen, or is likely soon to see again. The whole area of the palace may roughly be described as a square platform measuring 1500 ft. east and west, with a mean breadth of 1300 ft. in the opposite direction. Owing, however, to its deeply indented and irregular outline, it hardly covers more ground than the Baths of Caracalla.

Recent excavations have laid bare nearly the whole of the western portion of this area, and have disclosed the plan of the building, but all has been so completely destroyed that it requires considerable skill and imagination to reinstate it in its previous form. The one part that remains tolerably perfect is the so-called house of Livia the wife of Augustus, who is said to have lived in it after the death of her husband. In dimensions and arrangement it is not unlike the best class of Pompeian houses, but its paintings and decorations are very superior to anything found in that city. They are, in fact, as might be expected from their age and position, the finest mural decorations that have come down to us, and as they are still wonderfully perfect, they give a very high idea of the perfection of art attained in the Augustan age, to which they certainly belong.

That part of the palace on the Palatine which most impresses the visitor is the eastern half, which looks on one hand to the Amphitheatre, on the other to the Baths of Caracalla, and overhangs the Circus Maximius. Though all their marble or painted decorations are gone, the enormous masses of masonry which here exist convey that impression of grandeur which is generally found in Roman works. It is not of Æsthetic beauty arising from ornamental or ornamented construction, but the Technic expression of power and greatness arising from mass and stability. It is the same feeling with which we contemplate the aqueducts and engineering works of this great people; and, though not of the highest class, few scenes of architectural grandeur are more impressive than the now ruined Palace of the Cæsars.

Notwithstanding all this splendour, this palace was probably as an architectural object inferior to the Thermæ. The thousand and one exigencies of private life render it impossible to impart to a residence—even to that of the world’s master—the same character of grandeur as may be given to a building wholly devoted to show and public purposes. In its glory the Palace of the Cæsars must have been the world’s wonder; but as a ruin deprived of its furniture and ephemeral splendour, it loses much that would tend to make it either pleasing or instructive. We must not look for either beauty of proportion or perfection of construction, or even for appropriateness of material, in the hastily constructed halls of men whose unbounded power was only equalled by the coarse vulgarity of their characters.

Spalato.

The only palace of the Roman world of which sufficient remains are still left to enable us to judge either of its extent or arrangements is that which Diocletian built for himself at Spalato, in Dalmatia, and in which he spent the remaining years of his life, after shaking off the cares of Empire. It certainly gives us a most exalted idea of what the splendour of the imperial palace at Rome must have been when we find one emperor—certainly neither the richest nor the most powerful—building, for his retirement, a villa in the country of almost exactly the same dimensions as the Escurial in Spain, and consequently surpassing in size, as it did in magnificence, most of the modern palaces of Europe.

It is uncertain how far it resembles or was copied from that in Rome, more especially as it must be regarded as a fortified palace, which there is no reason to believe that at Rome was, while its model would seem to have been the prætorian camp rather than any habitation built within the protection of the city walls. In consequence of this its exterior is plain and solid, except on the side next the sea, where it was least liable to attack. The other three sides are only broken by the towers that flank them, and by those that defend the great gates which open in the centre of each face.

The building is nearly a regular parallelogram, though not quite so. The south side is that facing the sea, and is 592 ft. from angle to angle; the one opposite being only 570 in length;^[198] while the east and west sides measure each 698 ft., the whole building thus covering about 91⁄2 English acres.

The principal entrance to the palace is on the north, and is called the Golden Gate, and, as represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 247), shows all the peculiarities of Roman architecture in its last stage. The horizontal architrave still remains over the doorway, a useless ornament, under a bold discharging arch, which usurps its place and does its duty. Above this, a row of Corinthian columns, standing on brackets, once supported the archivolts of a range of niches—a piece of pleasing decoration, it must be confessed, but one in which the original purpose of the column has been entirely overlooked or forgotten.

Entering this portal, we pass along a street ornamented with arcades on either side, till exactly in the centre of the building this is crossed at right angles by another similar street, proceeding from the so-called Iron and Brazen Gates, which are similar to the Golden Gate in design, but are far less richly ornamented.

These streets divided the building into four portions: those to the north are so much ruined that it is not now easy to trace their plan, or to say to what purpose they were dedicated; but probably the one might have been the lodgings of the guests, the other the residence of the principal officers of the household.

The whole of the southern half of the building was devoted to the palace properly so called. It contained two temples, as they are now designated. That on the right is said to have been dedicated to Jupiter, though, judging from its form, it would appear to have been designed rather as the mausoleum of the founder than as a temple of that god. On the assumption that it was a temple it has been illustrated at a previous page.^[199] Opposite to it is another small temple, dedicated, it is said, to Æsculapius.

Between these two is the arcade represented in Woodcut No. 185, at the upper end of which is the vestibule—circular, as all buildings dedicated to Vesta, or taking their name from that goddess, should be. This opened directly on to a magnificent suite of nine apartments, occupying the principal part of the south front of the palace. Beyond these, on the right hand, were the private apartments of the emperor, and behind them his baths. The opposite side is restored as if it exactly corresponded, but this is more than doubtful; and, indeed, there is scarcely sufficient authority for many of the details shown in the plan, though they are, probably, on the whole, sufficiently exact to convey a general idea of the arrangements of a Roman imperial palace.

Perhaps, however, the most splendid feature in this palace was the great southern gallery, 515 ft. in length by 24 in width, extending along the whole seaward face of the building. Besides its own intrinsic beauty as an architectural feature, it evinces an appreciation of the beauties of nature which one would hardly expect in a Roman. This great arcade is the principal feature in the whole design, and commands a view well worthy the erection of such a gallery for its complete enjoyment.

Pompeii and Herculaneum.

Failing to discover any example of domestic architecture in Rome, we turn to Pompeii and Herculaneum, where we find numerous and most interesting examples of houses of all classes, except, perhaps, the best; for there is nothing there to compare with the Laurentian villa of Pliny, or with some others of which descriptions have come down to us. Pompeii, moreover, was far more a Grecian than a Roman city, and its buildings ought to be considered rather as illustrative of those of Greece, or at least of Magna Græcia, than of anything found to the northward. Still these cities belonged to the Roman age, and, except in taste and in minor arrangements, we have no reason to doubt that the buildings did resemble those of Rome, at least to a sufficient extent for illustration.

With scarcely an exception, all the houses of Pompeii were of one storey only in height. It is true that in some we find staircases leading to the roof, and traces of an upper storey, but where this latter is the case the apartments would appear to have been places for washing and drying clothes, or for some such domestic purpose rather than for living or even sleeping rooms. All the principal apartments were certainly on the ground floor, and as an almost inevitable corollary from this, they all faced inwards, and were lighted from courtyards or atria, and not from the outside; for, with a people who had not glass with which to glaze their windows, it was impossible to enjoy privacy or security without at the same time excluding both light and air, otherwise than by lighting their rooms from the interior. Hence it arose that in most instances the outside of the better class of houses was given up to shops and smaller dwellings, which opened on to the street, while the residence, with the exception of the principal entrance, and sometimes one or two private doors that opened outwards, was wholly hidden from view by their entourage.

Even in the smallest class of tradesmen’s houses which opened on the street, one apartment seems always to have been left unroofed to light at least two rooms on each side of it, used as bedrooms; but as the roofs of all are now gone, it is not always easy to determine which were so treated.

It is certain that, in the smallest houses which can have belonged to persons at all above the class of shopkeepers, there was always a central apartment, unroofed in the centre, into which the others opened. Sometimes this was covered by two beams placed in one direction, and two crossing them at right angles, framing the roof into nine compartments, generally of unequal dimensions, the central one being open, and with a corresponding sinking in the floor to receive the rain and drainage which inevitably came through it. When this court was of any extent, four pillars were required at the intersection of the beams, or angles of the opening, to support the roof. In larger courts eight, twelve, sixteen, or more columns were so employed, often apparently more as decorative objects than as required by the constructive necessities of the case, and very frequently the numbers of these on either side of the apartment did not correspond. Frequently the angles were not right angles, and the pillars were spaced unequally with a careless disregard of symmetry that strikes us as strange, though in such cases this may have been preferable to cold and formal regularity, and even more productive of grace and beauty. Besides these courts, there generally existed in the rear of the house another bounded by a dead wall at the further extremity, and which in the smaller houses was painted, to resemble the garden which the larger mansions possessed in this direction. The apartments looking on this court were of course perfectly private, which cannot be said of any of those looking inwards on the atrium.

The house called that of Pansa at Pompeii is a good illustration of these peculiarities, and, as one of the most regular, has been frequently chosen for the purpose of illustration.

In the annexed plan (Woodcut No. 248) all the parts that do not belong to the principal mansion are shaded darker except the doubtful part marked A, which may either have been a separate house, or the women’s apartments belonging to the principal one, or, what is even more probable, it may have been designed so as to be used for either purpose. B is certainly a separate house, and the whole of the remainder of this side, of the front, and of the third side, till we come opposite to A, was let off as shops. At C we have the kitchen and servants’ apartments, with a private entrance to the street, and an opening also to the principal peristyle of the house.

Returning to the principal entrance or front door D, you enter through a short passage into the outer court E, on each side of which are several small apartments, used either by the inferior members of the household or by guests. A wider passage than the entrance leads from this to the peristyle, or principal apartment of the house. On the left hand are several small rooms, used no doubt as sleeping apartments, which were probably closed by half-doors open above and below, so as to admit air and light, while preserving sufficient privacy, for Roman tastes at least. In front and on the right hand are two larger rooms, either of which may have been the triclinium or dining-room, the other being what we should call the drawing-room of the house. A passage between the kitchen and the central room leads to a verandah which crosses the whole length of the house, and is open to the garden beyond.

As will be observed, architectural effect has been carefully studied in this design, a vista nearly 300 ft. in length being obtained from the outer door to the garden wall, varied by a pleasing play of light and shade, and displaying a gradually increasing degree of spaciousness and architectural richness as we advance. All these points must have been productive of the most pleasing effect when complete, and of more beauty than has been attained in almost any modern dwelling of like dimensions.

Generally speaking the architectural details of the Pompeian houses are carelessly and ungracefully moulded, though it cannot be denied that sometimes a certain elegance of feeling runs through them that pleases in spite of our better judgment. It was not, however, on form that they depended for their effect; and consequently it is not by that that they must be judged. The whole architecture of the house was coloured, but even this was not considered so important as the paintings which covered the flat surfaces of the walls. Comparing the Pompeian decoration with that of the baths of Titus, and those of the House of Livia, the only specimens of the same age and class found in Rome, it must be admitted that the Pompeian examples show an equally correct taste, not only in the choice but in the application of the ornaments used, though in the execution there is generally that difference that might be expected between paintings executed for a private individual and those for the Emperor of the Roman world. Notwithstanding this, these paintings, so wonderfully preserved in this small provincial town, are even now among the best specimens we possess of mural decoration. They excel the ornamentation of the Alhambra, as being more varied and more intellectual. For the same reason they are superior to the works of the same class executed by the Moslems in Egypt and Persia, and they are far superior to the rude attempts of the Gothic architects in the Middle Ages; still they are probably as inferior to what the Greeks did in their best days as the pillars of the Pompeian peristyles are to the porticoes of the Parthenon. But though doubtless far inferior to their originals, those at Pompeii are direct imitations of true Greek decorative forms; and it is through them alone that we can form even the most remote idea of the exquisite beauty to which polychromatic architecture once attained, but which we can scarcely venture to hope it will ever reach again.

One curious point which has hitherto been too much overlooked is, that in Pompeii there are two perfectly distinct styles of decoration. One of these is purely Etruscan, both in form and colour, and such as is only found in the tombs or on the authentic works of the Etruscans. The other is no less essentially Greek, both in design and colour: it is far more common than the Etruscan form, and is always easily to be distinguished from it. The last-mentioned or Greek style of decoration may be again divided into two varieties; one, the most common, consisting of ornaments directly copied from Greek models; the other with a considerable infusion of Roman forms. This Romanised variety of Greek decoration represents an attenuated and lean style of architecture, which could only have come into fashion from the continued use of iron or bronze, or other metallic substances, for pillars and other architectural members. Vitruvius reprobates it; and in a later age Cassiodorus speaks of it in a manner which shows that it was practised in his time. The general adoption of this class of ornament, both at Pompeii and in the baths of Titus, proves it to have been a very favourite style at that time. This being the case, it must have either been a representation of metallic pillars and other architectural objects then in use, or it must have been copied from painted decorations. This is a new subject, and cannot be made clear, except at considerable length and with the assistance of many drawings. It seems, however, an almost undoubted fact that the Romans did use metal as a constructive material. Were it only that columns of extreme tenuity are represented in these paintings, we might be inclined to ascribe it to mere incorrect drawing; but the whole style of ornament here shown is such as is never found in stone or brick pillars, and which is only susceptible of execution in metal. Besides this, the pillars in question are always shown in the decorations as though simply gilt or bronzed, while the representations of stone pillars are coloured. All this evidence goes to prove that a style of art once existed in which metal was generally employed in all the principal features, all material traces of which are now lost. The disappearance of all remains of such a style is easily accounted for by the perishable nature of iron from rust, and the value and consequent peculation induced by bronze and similar metals. We are, moreover, aware that much bronze has been stolen, even in recent days, from the Pantheon and other buildings which are known to have been adorned with it.

Another thing which we learn from these paintings is, that though the necessities of street architecture compelled these city mansions to take a rectilinear outline, whenever the Roman architects built in the country they indulged in a picturesque variety of outline and of form, which they carried perhaps as far as even the Gothic architects of the Middle Ages. This indeed we might have expected, from their carelessness in respect to regularity in their town-houses; but these were interiors, and were it not for the painted representations of houses, we should have no means of judging how the same architects would treat an exterior in the country. From this source, however, we learn that in the exterior arrangements, in situations where they were not cramped by confined space, their plans were totally free from all stiffness and formality. In this respect Roman taste coincided with that of all true architecture in all parts of the world.

Each part of the design was left to tell its own tale and to express the use to which each apartment was applied, though the whole were probably grouped together with some reference to symmetry. There is certainly nothing in these ancient examples to justify the precise regularity which the architects of the Renaissance introduced into their classical designs, in which they sought to obliterate all distinction between the component parts in a vain attempt to make one great whole out of a great number of small discordant fragments.

Bridges and Aqueducts.

Perhaps the most satisfactory works of the Romans are those which we consider as belonging to civil engineering rather than to architecture. The distinction, however, was not known in those earlier days. The Romans set about works of this class with a purpose-like earnestness that always ensures success, and executed them on a scale which leaves nothing to be desired; while at the same time they entirely avoided that vulgarity which their want of refinement allowed almost inevitably to appear in more delicate or more ornate buildings. Their engineering works also were free from that degree of incompleteness which is inseparable from the state of transition in which their architecture was during the whole period of the Empire. It is owing to these causes that the substructions of the Appian way strike every beholder with admiration and astonishment; and nothing impresses the traveller more, on visiting the once imperial city, than the long lines of aqueducts that are seen everywhere stretching across the now deserted plain of the Campagna. It is true they are mere lines of brick arches, devoid of ornament and of every attempt at architecture properly so called; but they are so well adapted to the purpose for which they were designed, so grand in conception, and so perfect in execution, that, in spite of their want of architectural character, they are among the most beautiful of the remains of Roman buildings.

The aqueducts were not, however, all so devoid of architectural design as those of the Campagna. That, for instance, known as the Pont du Gard, built to convey water to the town of Nîmes in France, is one of the most striking works of antiquity. Its height above the stream is about 180 ft., divided into two tiers of larger arches surmounted by a range of smaller ones, giving the structure the same finish and effect that an entablature and cornice gives to a long range of columns. Without the introduction of one single ornament, or of any member that was not absolutely wanted, this arrangement converts what is a mere utilitarian work into an architectural screen of a beauty hitherto unrivalled in its class.

The aqueducts of Segovia and Tarragona in Spain, though not perhaps so grand, are quite as elegant and appropriate as this; and if they stood across a line of well wooded and watered valleys, might form as beautiful objects. Unfortunately the effect is much marred by the houses and other objects that crowd their bases. Both these rise to about 100 ft. above the level of their foundation in the centre. That of Segovia is raised on light piers, the effect of which is perhaps somewhat spoiled by numerous offsets, and the upper tier is if anything too light for the lower. These defects are avoided at Tarragona, the central arches of which are shown in Woodcut No. 251. In this example the proportion of the upper to the lower arcade is more perfect, and the whole bears a character of lightness combined with constructive solidity and elegance unrivalled, so far as I know, in any other work of its class. It wants, however, the grandeur of the Pont du Gard; for though its length is about the same, exceeding 800 ft., it has neither its height nor the impression of power given by the great arches of that building, especially when contrasted with those that are smaller.

The Roman bridges were designed on the same grand scale as their aqueducts, though from their nature they of course could not possess the same grace and lightness. This was, however, more than compensated by their inherent solidity and by the manifestation of strength imparted by the Romans to all these structures. They seem to have been designed to last for ever; and but for the violence of man, it would be hardly possible to set limits to their durability. Many still remain in almost every corner of the Roman Empire; and wherever found are easily recognised by the unmistakable impress of Roman grandeur which is stamped upon them.

One of the most remarkable of these is that which Trajan erected at Alcantara, in Spain, represented in the annexed woodcut. The roadway is perfectly level, as is generally the case in Roman bridges, though the mode by which this is obtained, of springing the arches from different levels, is perhaps not the most pleasing. To us at least it is unfamiliar, and has never, I think, been adopted in modern times. In such a case we should either have made the arches all equal—a mistake, considering their different heights—or have built solidly over the smaller arches to bring up the level, which would have been a far greater error in construction than the other is in taste. The bridge consists of six arches, the whole length of the roadway being 650 ft.; the two central arches are about 100 ft. span; the roadway is 140 ft. above the level of the stream which it crosses. The piers are well proportioned and graceful; and altogether the work is as fine and as tasteful an example of bridge-building as can be found anywhere, even in these days of engineering activity.

The bridge which the same Emperor erected over the Danube was a far more difficult work in an engineering point of view; but the superstructure being of wood, resting only on stone piers, it would necessarily have possessed much less architectural beauty than this, or indeed than many others.

These examples of this class of Roman works must suffice; they are so typical of the style that it was impossible to omit them altogether, though the subject scarcely belongs in strictness to the objects of this work. The bridges and aqueducts of the Romans richly deserve the attention of the architect, not only because they are in fact the only works which the Romans, either from taste or from social position, were enabled to carry out without affectation, and with all their originality and power, but also because it was in building these works that the Romans acquired that constructive skill and largeness of proportion which enabled them to design and carry out works of such vast dimensions, to vault such spaces, and to give to their buildings generally that size and impress of power which form their chief and frequently their only merit. It was this too that enabled them to originate that new style of vaulted buildings which at one period of the Middle Ages promised to reach a degree of perfection to which no architecture of the world had ever attained. The Gothic style, it is true, perished at a time when it was very far from completed; but it is a point of no small interest to know where and under what circumstances it was invented. We shall subsequently have to trace how far it advanced towards that perfection at which it aimed, but to which it never reached. Strangely enough, it failed solely because of the revival and the pernicious influence of that very parent style to which it owed its birth, and the growth and maturity of which we have just been describing. It was the grandeur of the edifices reared at Rome in the first centuries of the Empire which so impressed the architects of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, that they abandoned their own beautiful style to imitate that of the Romans, but with an incongruity which seems inevitably to result from all imitations, as contrasted with true creations, in architectural art.