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THE CIVIL ENGINEER AND ARCHITECTS JOURNAL. 



[Januart, 



feet long, and 131 feet broad, and is divided into Ihreeavenaes by two rows 

 of iron columns, vliich sapport a light iron roof in three spans. A haud- 

 Bome fountain is situated in llie nenlre of the building, and a row of elegant 

 gas pillars run along each of the three avenues. 



Light is admitted from two rows of semicircular windows at the sides, 

 as well as from skylights in the roof. The whole is cellared below, ami 

 tlie floor is arched on iron beams supported by columns. Messrs. Fox, 

 Henderson and Co., of Birmingham, were the contractors. 



Four new churches are being provided by the munificence of private 

 individuals. I had not opportunity of learnnig particulars about them, but 

 from what I saw they appear to promise well. 



In concluding this sketch of what is doing in architecture and building 

 in the localities I have had opportunities of visiting, it may be well to 

 state that, generally speaking, the works in progress are decided improve- 

 ments, as regards taste in architecture, skill in construction, and quality 

 of materials used, upon previous works of a similar character in those 

 localities. 



There appears less disposition to substitute the sham for the real, and 

 it seems as though people were at length becoming more generally 

 acquainted with the fact, that it is in reality little more expensive to erect 

 buildings which shall be ornamented and not offend good taste, than it is to 

 provide those which have no pretension to design. 



December 12ih, 1845. A. B. 



THE COLOSSEUM IN THE REGENT'S PARK. 



There is a Colosseum at Rome, and another at London, but their 

 likeness extends no further than their names, for hardly can any two 

 things similarly denominated less resemble each other; the first being 

 one of the most stupendous monuments of antiquity, — a truly colossal 

 fabric, which, though deeply scarred by time, or rather by the hand 

 of man, still bears the look of being eternal ; while the other is merely 

 a thing to day — a toy in comparison with the latter — an architectural 

 buttertly as contrasted with an architectural megalherium. The 

 Flavian Amphitheatre or Roman Coltsto — for such is the Italian ortho- 

 graphy of the name — is a work to be classed only with the pyramids 

 and some of the gigantic temples of Egypt; sucli an enormous mass, 

 that it would seem to have required not merely a few years but a 

 century to quarry the stone and put the materials together. It is to 

 ancient Rome what S'. Peter's is to the modern city, the "sovran" 

 pile among conntless others, the leviathan structure that engages 

 attention, whatever else be passed unheeded ; the object of universal 

 admiration, be the admiration genuine, or, as no doubt it frequently is, 

 merely afl'ecled and acted for fashion's sake. The Roman Colosseum 

 has been a theme for poetry,both in verse and prose: sublime in itself, 

 it is also arrayed in the halo of antiquity, and an imposing one it is, 

 for it is apt to plav tricks with and delude the iraagiiration. Whereas 

 our modern Colosseum is the very antithesis to all this: to the anti- 

 quarian it is a mere nullity : if he looks at it, it is only to turn up his 

 nose at it with a contemptuous sneer ; with him its very name crushes 

 it into insignificance, by calling up more forcibly the image of the other 

 to bis mind. Still, there is something — nay, very much — to reconcile 

 us to the disparity between the two buildings — to the disparity of 

 their purposes, if nothing else. The arena of the ancient one was 

 drenched with human gore. "There man was slaughtered by his fel- 

 low-man," to gratify the passion of a brut ilized population, lor spec- 

 tacles of carange and bloodshed. Humanity will rather exult than 

 sigh over the proud ruins of the Colosseum, though it must at the 

 same time blush with indignation for the race who could coolly 

 look upon the cold-blooded and wholesale murder of wretches, 

 "butchered to make a Roman holiday," and call it atnusement / 



Most happy is it for us that the exhibitions at our modern Colos- 

 seum are of a far different character from the savage pomps and 

 proudly atrocious spectacles of the ancient and right imperial one. 

 This consideration may more than console us for the inferiority of 

 our own edifice in comparison with the one after which it is named — 

 or rather m/SKamerf, because, leaving the vast difference as to size, 

 "between the two, out of the question, they bear as little of archi- 

 tectural resemblance and analogy to each other as they do of similarity 

 of purpose; whereas the modern structure docs really bear a strong 

 likeness to another ancient Roman edifice that is of no less celebrity 

 than the Colosseum itself. But the title of "Pantheon" had been 

 preoccupied by the building in Oxford-street, which, even now that it 

 U completely altered from its original shape, still retains a name that 



though in some points apjilicable when first bestowed, has nov» become 

 a complete misnomer. Therefore, as ancient Rome possessed no 

 more, one Pantheon was considered quite enough for modem London, 

 vast as it is; accordingly the building in the Regent's Park was 

 dubbed the Colosseum, for even the veriest Cpckneys would have been 

 scandalized at the absurdity, had it been named after the great 

 pyramid. Of the exterior of the main building we m ly be allowed 

 to say a word, because it is of considerable merit as a piece of archi" 

 lecture, — better vcorth than many that have obtained an infinitely 

 greater share of notice from critics, and which, notwithstanding that 

 they are now quite eclipsed by later productions of the art, still retain 

 the rank first assigned them, owing to the character given of them 

 being scrupulously transmitted from one book to another. The 

 portico of the Colosseum is by very far the noblest specimen of one in 

 the Grecian Doric style that we possess in London, one upon a nobler 

 scale than any other, before the magnificent portico of the new Roval 

 Exchange was erected, the columns full as lofty, (10 feet,) and of course 

 of much greater diameter, those of the Exchange being Corinthian, 

 consequently of slenderer proportions. The situation, indeed, takes 

 off somewhat from the effect of size, for did the building stand in a 

 street or other confined space, we should be more impressed by its 

 magnitude of. It possesses, however, one very decided advantage 

 over almost every other of our attempts at pure classicalitv of 

 style, inasmuch as nothing is mixed up with the portico itself to 

 disturb the antique physiognomy aimed at by that feature ; there are 

 no modern windows peeping out betv\een the columns, or showing 

 themselves elsewhere; — none of that intermixture of co'.itmniation 

 and ftneitration which is so contrary to correct Grecian architectural 

 idiom. 



Except that it has been renovated, the exterior of the building 

 remains in statu quo, but the interior has been, if not absolutely re- 

 modelled in plan, metamorphosed into something altogether different 

 in character, — transformed into one of the most captivating and 

 fascinating pieces of internal architectural scenery that can well be 

 imagined. The exquisitely tasteful rotunda or circular colonnaded 

 saloon, into which it is now converted, stands almost unparalleled for 

 both beauty of design, and felicitous originality of idea. If there be 

 anywhere aught comparable to or resembling it, our acquaintance with 

 matters of the kind does not extend to it. Although rooms far more 

 sumptuous may be found, enriched with treasures of art, and set off 

 to all possible advantage by the costliest furniture, we know not of 

 one that is so charming for intrinsic beauty of design. Neither any of 

 our royal palaces, nor of our most palatial club rooms, the Reform and 

 Conservative not excepted, can show an aparlment that is at once so 

 novel and so impressive, so fraught with loveliness and witchery, as 

 in this saloon or gallery of the Colosseum. Loveliness is the epithet 

 that best di scribes it, since striking as the coup d'oeil on first entering 

 it may be, whether in the day time, or when lit up of an evening, the 

 effect is not so much that of showy splendour, and dazzling 

 brilliancy, as of mild and serene elegance, and of that tasteful sim- 

 plicity which satisfies the eye, every part being complete and in 

 perfect keeping, nothing superfluous and nothing deficient. In order 

 to convey to our readers something like a positive idea of this 

 truly charming interior, we may begin by describing it as a circular 

 hall, completely surrounded by a peristyle of twenty Grecian Ionic 

 columns, which divide the entire circumference into the same number 

 of inter-columns or compartments; within, and corresponding with 

 which, are as many recesses, the two compartments excepted, one on 

 the west and the other on the east side, which serve as entrances. 

 The columns are of scagliola, or to be more exact, of Keene's cement, 

 in imitation of polished white marble; and the mouldings of their 

 bases and capitals being gilt, produces a peculiar delicacy of enrich- 

 ment, in which the monotony of uniform white, and the spottiness 

 occasioned by scattered masses of gilding, are equally avoided. The 

 entablature corresponds with the columns, with tins difference, how- 

 ever, that the frieze being enriched with basrelief, (copied from the 

 Elgin marbles,) the figures are raised upon a ground of a blue grey 

 tint. The attic over the entabulature is ornamented with twenty 

 oblong panels, containing allegorical subjects painted in frtsco; and 

 the ceiling or roof is divided into the same number of compartments 

 by as many ribs, between which the light is admitted, the compart- 

 ments being entirely glazed, yet not after the manner of a skylight, 

 but so as to produce the appearance of a transparent roof, since it 

 consists of te>>serm of cut-glass set in reticulated framing; consequently 

 the light is somewhat refracted, and the raw look of a room almost 

 uncovered and open to the sky, is avoided. 



Thus far, description has been easy to ourselves, and, we trust, suf- 

 ficiently intelligible to our readers, but without some drawing of it, 

 it becomes dilhcult to explain that peculiarity which renders this 

 rotunda so unique in plan, and so widely different iu character from 



