THE moment we pass the boundary line which separates Belgium from Holland, we feel that we have stepped at once into a new architectural province. At last we have got among a people of pure Aryan or Teutonic race, without one trace of Turanian or Celtic blood in their veins, and who consequently carry out their architectural designs with a matter-of-fact simplicity that is edifying, if not charming. It is not that the kingdom of Holland is deficient in the possession of Mediæval churches—far from it—she possesses as many Gothic cathedrals as we do, and their average dimensions are equal to those which adorn this island; they belong also to the same age: but the result is wonderfully different. The Dutch did not work out any part of the style for themselves; they attempted no novelties, and did not even give themselves the trouble to understand perfectly the style they were employing. They were then, as now, a religious people, and wanted churches, and built them according to the only pattern then available. No one can say that their churches were not perfectly adapted to the form of worship then prevalent, and in dimensions and dignity perfectly suited to the wants of the communities who erected them. Notwithstanding all this, they are only vast warehouses of devotion, and are utter failures as works of art. If any one wishes to perfectly realise the difference between mere ornamental construction and ornamental construction which is also ornamented, he cannot do better than study carefully the design of these Dutch churches. Their dimensions are frequently grand, their proportions generally pleasing, and the subordination of the parts to each other often most judicious. On the other hand, the pillars of the pier arches are almost always round—the vaulting shafts poor, and never carried to a sufficient resting-place—the windows want mullions and tracery—the vaults are domed and stilted—the ribs lean—and everything in fact is pared down as closely to mere utility as is possible in such a style. In France or in England, in the same age, every stone would have spoken out and had a meaning; and every detail would not only have been in its right place, but would have expressed the reason of its being there, and the purpose to which it was applied. To the want of artistic feeling, or real knowledge of the style, which is shown in the designs of the Dutch churches, must be added the inferiority of the material in which they were carried out. Some are wholly of brick, and few are entirely of stone, though most of them have an admixture of the nobler material—and where brick is employed, without great care and artistic feeling, the result is generally poor and unsatisfactory.