The question, " 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 nature*

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 only 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 accuracy, the ultimate cost of any work before commencing operations, it seems descrying 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 ail-important question is, What do the circumstances of the case in hand require? 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 strictly 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 buildings. 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 contrary, they are prominent and enduring 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 passenger* Its records have been preserved, when every other record of the people who owned 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 perseverance 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 entrusted 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 of his patient.

* From the London Builder.

If such be a true representation of the views which ought to guide the architect in the performance of his duties, it will not be difficult to determine the position in the consideration of any contemplated work which ought to be assigned to the question - What will it cost?

Thus to preface all our inquiries, and to make the question of cost paramount to every other consideration, is to lay an instant arrest on design. The architect, thus fettered, is precluded from all sympathy with the good and the true - the only source of the beautiful. The imagination must be schooled down to the views of the utilitarian, who values everything by a money standard; and thus images of nothing but what is cheap present themselves - ever meagre and starved in their forms. All aspirations after those forms of beauty which art can supply, are quenched. The imagination thus enthralled, refuses her office, and the advancement of art becomes impossible: its very existence is altogether perilled. The architect, thus trammelled, must be content to descend from the high platform of his profession, and occupy the more humble position of the handicraftsman. The effect of this system, so injurious to the mind of the designer, is alike fatal to the result of his labors. A building reared under such circumstances, forever afterwards betrays its sordid origin in the meanness of its features, and the leanness of its forms, which, in spite of all future efforts, can rarely be effaced.

Nothing short of the direst urgency should induce the architect to give way to the system - nothing short of physical necessity can excuse it. Begun with the one object of economy alone before the mind, the meagre starved design, in the course of being developed, seldom comes up to the expectation of to proprietor; and during its progress, is not unfrequently made to undergo a variety of transmutations, in the vain hope of rendering its ungainly aspect somewhat more attractive. The result in most such cases is, that the cost in the end is greater than if a proper system had been at first adopted. The unhappy architect loses his credit, and the disappointed proprietor loses his money without attaining his object. It were easy to illustrate these remarks, by reference to examples around us, and these not everyday works, but such as are of considerable pretension to architectural effect, occupying a prominent position, and bulking largely on the public eye.