Geometrical and Arched tracery were in use when the brick style came into use, and to Geometrical and Arched tracery the brick style adhered throughout. The Arched tracery, as the simpler of the two, was the favourite. Flowing tracery, Perpendicular, and Flamboyant are unknown; even the Katharinenkirche at Lübeck, where the tracery is so much more elaborate than usual, does not get beyond Geometrical forms. One almost wonders, when one remembers the constant intercourse between England and the Hanse Towns, that some observant man did not introduce a little English Perpendicular. The stiffness and regularity of its form would, one would have thought, have quite suited them. But though a stray Perpendicular window or two does turn up at Zürich and at other places where nobody would have looked for it, at Lübeck, where one would have looked for something of the kind, it is not to be found.

It follows therefore that there is not much to be learned from these churches in the way of architectural detail or of the succession of architectural styles. They may be said roughly to be all in one style. Even where there is manifest difference of date, where a building has undergone manifest changes or additions, there is commonly nothing that can be called difference of style between the earlier and the later work. The exceptions to this rule are to be found in the few examples where any part of the brickwork goes back to Romanesque times, as in Lübeck Cathedral and in the very curious church of St. Nicholas at Rostock. There is nothing analogous to that juxtaposition and substitution of different varieties of Gothic with which we are so familiar in England.

Indeed, the architects of these buildings seem quite to have understood that the simplicity and monotony of detail which appears inseparable from the material must be made up for in some other way. And made up it truly is in the general majesty, the amazing height, the varied and elab orate outlines, of these churches. In this last respect they differ in a marked way from the brick churches of Aquitaine. These, with Alby at their head, affect a certain simplicity of conception which would make them admirable models for modern town churches. Alby has neither aisles nor transepts, and therefore no pillars or arcades; it is one gigantic body with mere chapels between the buttresses. But the brick churches of Lower Saxony revel in the variety of subordinate chapels,

transepts, and so forth, which they throw out in every direction. The tall aiseless apse, so characteristic of German Gothic, such as we see at Bern, Freiburg, Dortmund, and, in its highest development, at Aachen, is exchanged, in the greater churches, for elaborate groupings of apsidal chapels, more in the French style, though with distinct arrangements of their own. Nothing can be more striking in this way than the two great churches at Lübeck. The Friars churches, however, even here, sometimes cleave, as in St. John's at Bremen, to their characteristically simple forms, and, by the oddest caprice of all, several very fine churches, including two of those at Rostock, have flat east ends. But the grouping of chapels at the east end and the addition of chapels to all sort of unusual places is distinctly the rule. In point of height, the larger churches positively revel. Few interiors anywhere surpass in general effect either the Marienkirche at Lübeck or its namesake at Wismar.

It is curious that, while variety of outline is so carefully sought in this way it is not sought at all in the way most fertile of it, and most characteristic of other parts of Germany - namely, the grouping of towers. A single western tower, with perhaps a dachreiter or louvre over the junction of nave and choir is the rule, and the great Lübeck churches depart from it only so far as to substitute a pair of western towers. Central towers, eastern towers, slide towers donble choirs like Hildesheim, are all unknown. The single western tower, as at Moissac and Alby, seems also the Aquitanian rule, though some of the churches of Toulouse have very fine single side towers. Some of these single western towers, commonly crowded with tall spires of wood and lead, are magnificent structures, and the variety in design is very great. Such are St. John at Lüneberg and St. Nicholas at Rostock. The west front of the Marienkirche at Rostock is an indescribable vagary, which, though the opposite to beautiful, it is worth going to Rostock to see. The Marienkirche at Wismar has a saddleback; the tower of St. Giles in the same city, like that of Schwerin Cathedral, is unfinished. Doberan has no tower at all.

The houses present a greater variety of external ornament than the churches. But this variety consists almost wholly in the repetition of various Geometrical patterns, wrought commonly in bricks of different colours. The fronts of the houses are gen erally finished towards the street with what is locally called a schultergabel, answering

the whole English speaking family when once released from the conventional bonds almost invariably displays. That ferocity is not of course exceptional among mankind. The Athenian slaughtered more pitilessly than the Englishman has ever done or will do, Frenchmen did acts both under the Red and the White Terror which in their sustained cruelty were almost without pagan parallel, and the Spanish treatment of subject Indians called forth the indignant remonstrances of men who deemed the Holy Inquisition a tribunal acceptable to God. But the Athenian had no article in his creed teaching respect for human life, the Spaniard believed he was slaying soulless men, and the Frenchman admits that there is in him an element of the tiger. But the Englishman is at bottom good-natured, is at home a law-abiding man, credits himself justly enough with an instinctive preference for fair play. No race seems to have overcome so completely the love of cruelty for its own sake, none, except perhaps the Arab in his best aspect, has ever admitted so fully in theory and practice the duty of benevolence towards the whole animated creation, foxes alone excepted. None stands up so steadily and persistently against official oppression, or pleads so earnestly for the " rights" of the weaker in a dispute. What makes him of all mankind, this good-humoured, just, and law-bound individual, once let loose against a race he intends to rule, so exceptionally ferocious? Race hatred? Partly perhaps, but that only pushes the analysis one step back, and the records of his action in Ireland and the Highlands are too deeply stained for that explanation to be accepted as complete. Nothing related even of this last exhibition in Jamaica exceeds in horror the little known but demonstrable atrocities committed under the Duke of Cumberland after Culloden, atrocities which but for a strange concurrence of favourable circumstances would have fixed a deep gulf between the Highlander and the Englishman. The horrors committed in the great Irish Rebellion were almost surpassed by the horrors committed in its repression, and all that genius and popular sympathy can effect have failed to efface from the character of Cromwell the terrible stain of Drogheda. The motive must be sought deeper yet in the national character even than that strange pride which, with a cool contempt for ethnological facts, we term the sentiment of race, and we believe it will be found in this.

Deep in the Anglo-Saxon heart, as in the heart of every people, save the Arab, which

has ever achieved domination, lies the instinct of masterfulness, the thought seldom formulated, but never absent, that he has by innate right, by a privilege beyond or above all human and most divine laws, the prerogative of sway. Alone among mankind the Anglo-Saxon has never consented to settle in any land ruled by another law or administered through another language than his own. Spread abroad over the whole world, he settles nowhere where he has not dominion, and there is not on earth at this moment a group of five thousand English-speaking men who obey a foreign rule. They cannot do it. Sooner or later they and the native authority clash, and then, bickering eternally among themselves, the haughty insular people, whose one idea is to create an England or a New England in every land, stand back to back as organized as an army, and in their cold determination to be at the top conquerable only by extermination. The sergeant who when ordered to kotow to a Chinese Prince under penalty of death quietly took the death as a preferable injury, expressed the feeling of his entire people. The root of the frightful massacres of Englishmen in India was the native conviction that while there was a white man alive he would want to be at the top, and that sooner or later, by wile or force, he would get there. This instinct of dominion, in itself the most valuable of qualities, for without it we could not do our destined work of ploughing up the sunbaked civilizations of the East, produces naturally an overwhelming impatience of resistance. Rebellion to such a race is an insult. We would ask any Anglo-Indian whether, during the entire mutiny, the struggle was not embittered by the intense feeling of every member of his caste, that he was insulted by the rising of a subordinate race, insulted much more than alarmed by the menace of massacre? It is that feeling, and not race hatred, which produced the horrible incident recorded this week by the Jamaica correspondent of the Daily News, a white man treading down the new earth above Gordon's grave, avowedly that he might enjoy the feeling of "trampling that fellow under his feet." Taken togeth

er, the two feelings make the Englishman in time of rebellion the most logically pitiless of human beings. He will go any length rather than hear of compromise, would, we believe, have depopulated India rather than surrendered a province or a district. Those who have risen must bend again, be the consequences what they may. Our principal motive in supporting Gov

to the corbie-steps of Scotland. This, in some of the richest examples, swells into a series of small gables and pinnacles; in others, there are no corbie-steps, but one large gable of the natural shape. But, in all cases, the design rises to a central point, so as to allow a series of blank arcades rising one above the other. A more effective form of street architecture could hardly be devised; still there is something not wholly satisfactory about it. It is unreal; go round the corner and look at the roof, and the schultergabel is at once seen to be a sham, no less than the west fronts of Wells, Lincoln, and Salisbury Cathedrals. These noble buildings, both churches and houses, are very little known to English antiquaries, and it strikes us that they are not valued as they should be by their own possessors. In England the study of mediaval architecture has fairly made its way; it is established that the buildings of a country are an essential part of its history. Those who do not care for the study themselves fully recognise that there are other people who do, and that those who do so are engaged in a rational pursuit. But very well-inforned men in North Germany seem in a manner puzzled that an historical inquirer should take any interest at all in the ecclesiastical and domestic architecture of their cities. And certainly the pursuit of architectural knowledge in those regions is in some respects a pursuit of knowledge under difficulties. A most perverse habit prevails of planting trees close up against the churches, as if on purpose to stand in the way of any one who wishes to draw them. And in no part of the world does the appearance of an architectural student arouse such amazement. The unlucky artist is surrounded by a mob of unruly children, whom there seems no law or police to restrain. One hears much of the police in the German States, but just when they might be useful they keep themselves hidden. In the Prussian dominions the educational system of which we hear so much seems to provide an everlasting supply of idle urchins, who are always coming cut of school and never going in. At Lubeck things are rather better, at Bremen rather worse. At Wismar a kind of martyrdom has to be endured in the form of actual pelting, which makes one think that the local discipline of the cudgel might in some cases not come amiss. An artist must in any part of the world be prepared for a certain amount of annoyance, which The easily learns to put up with. But any annoyance which he may meet with in any

part of England and France is a trifle compared with what in this respect seems to be the utter barbarism of the North-German cities.

From The Spectator.

THE ANGLO-SAXON LET LOOSE. WE have no need now to justify the course we pursued in regard to the Jamaica cruelties. As in the matter of the American war, so in this, the " audacity" of the Spectator in facing public opinion has been justified by the result. Slowly and unwillingly, but decisively, the House of Commons, the journals, and even the middle class, have swung round to the side originally so unpopular, have renounced their Philistine belief that the Englishman abroad can do no wrong, and have admitted that there is a principle higher even than the defence of the divine right of white authority. There is still evidence of the feeling that a murder committed by a half civilized black is a crime infinitely worse than a murder committed by a highly civilized white, of the belief that ignorance, and squalor, and savagery increase the moral responsibility for crime. There is still of course a great talk about the exaggerations of negro evidence, as if the edu cated Europeans of India had not sent home monstrous stories of mutilations, or as if a reign of terror were a régime calculated to elicit truthfulness, and there will yet be a determined attempt to shield Mr. Eyre from the consequences of his abuse of authority, but the substantial object has been attained. No colonial Governor in this generation will ever again venture to let loose the dominant race upon an inferior people, or surrender his claim to guide and moderate that irresistible and almost inexplicable energy which, in Jamaica as in India, enables a few thousand half organized Englishmen not only to defeat adversaries who outnumber them as forty to one, but to move among hostile multitudes like the knights of the middle ages among peasants, slaughtering till they are weary, but without a wound themselves. It remains only to discuss a fact which Englishmen at home often deny, but which to all who have lived either in Asia or South America is patent, though still puzzling, the terrible ferocity which the Anglo-Saxon - a bad word, but no other includes even roughly