WHAT WILL THE EDIFICE COST. 



WHAT WILL THE EDIFICE COST. 



BY DAVID COUSIN.* 



The que.stion, " What will it cost?" was selected as the title of this paper in order 

 briefly to indicate the scope of the following remarks, which are entirely of a practical na- 

 ture. 



What will it cost? A weighty question this, which ought to be gravely put, in regard 

 to every object that can excite the ambition or vanity of the human mind. A wide field 

 of inquiry is thus opened up doubtless, but I shall follow it onlj' so far as applicable to 

 architectural design, in regard to which all must admit its importance. Indeed, it is in 

 accordance with the daily experience of the architect, that when a new work is proposed 

 to be confided to his care, the first question generally put is, " What will it cost?" 



Now, admitting to the fullest extent, the propriety of ascertaining with all possible ac- 

 curacy', the ultimate cost of any work before commencing operations, it seems deserving 

 of inquiry, what the effect upon art is, of thus giving to such considerations a place of the 

 first importance. 



In every architectural work — no matter of what extent — whether a cottage or a palace — 

 the first and all-important question is, What do the circumstances of the case in hand re- 

 quire? Determine this question, and having done so, then follows, in its natural course, 

 that as to cost. Even in cases where, of necessity, the question as to cost must be strict- 

 ly kept in view, mere cheapness ought never, for a permanent building, to be the sole aim. 

 There are considerations of higher interest, which, in no circumstances, ought to be 

 overlooked — not even in the erection of the humblest cottage — not to speak of public build- 

 ings. For it must ever be kept in mind, that the works of the architect differ from those 

 of all other artists, inasmuch as they bulk largely on the eye of the public, and cannot be 

 hid. Unlike the productions of the poet or the painter, they cannot belaid aside when their 

 brief hour of popularity has passed away. On the contrar}', they are prominent and en- 

 during structures, generally of such magnitude as to add new features to the aspect of the 

 country. The architectural monuments of .successive ages, therefore, serve as landmarks, 

 indicating to future historians the progressive stages of advancing refinement. In this view, 

 architecture becomes the exponent of the civilization and habits of a people: it is read and 

 known of all men, and ever obtrudes its emphatic testimony on the most transient pas- 

 senger. Its records have been preserved, when every other record of the people who own- 

 ed it, has perished in the abyss of remote antiquity. And even where Tradition herself, 

 had become silent, the works of the architect in the infancy of the world have, by the per- 

 severance of a Layard, been disclosed to view. The gorgeous halls and stately palaces of 

 ancient Nineveh proclaim, as with the thrilling voice of one raised from the dead, the vast 

 resources of that mighty empire, and the pomp and glory of her potentates, who thus 

 seem restored back again to the world, after ages of oblivion. Such is the high position 

 which architecture assumes — such are the responsible duties which the architect is called 

 on to perform. He becomes the historian of his country's civilization, and his works are 

 written as with an iron pen on tables of stone. He can, therefore, no more perform these 

 duties lightly, or with a sinister motive, than can the military engineer, to whom are en- 

 trusted the outworks for the defence of his country : he cannot, in order to please the taste 

 of his employer, do what he, after mature deliberation, believes to be a violation of good 

 taste, any more than can the physician alter his prescription to please the palate 

 patient. 



* From the London Builder. 



