imperfect, (and in this age of Pharisaical religion it is unhappily obtruded upon us,) it may be said, "Truly the Lord was in this place, and he knew it not," and should a soul, a stranger thus to all celestial love and beauty, ever arrive "Where the bright Seraphim in burning row Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,"-(Milton,) doubtless it would still all seem "coldness and formality" unto it, for he that is faithless in little, is faithless also in much, and to faculties that have turned away from the development and nurture of all the harmonious movements of the soul, the ordered language of their holy appealings would be vain, unvalued, and unenjoyed. As we quit the splendour of the choir, and advance into the chancel, we exchange the multiplicity and exuberance of its architectural ornament for the simplicity of the thin narrow windows and slim pilasters which were in use when Bishop de Lucy rebuilt this part of the church, towards the close of the 12th century. The feeling awakened by the English architecture of this period is recognised, by those who have visited the eastern world, to be correspondent to the prevailing impressions received from the general forms of its building. If the origin of this pointed arch and slender pilaster be sought in the character of the period in which it arose, it would seem to be a true and natural picture of the growing taste, and change of feeling, which is always going on in a nation, but which has always very many and hidden causes at work to bring it about. Pilgrimages to the Holy Land, Norman wars, and establishments in Magna Græcia, and more especially the communication, through Spain, with Arabic art and literature, seem sufficiently to account for the change in the architecture of this period. An idea of the tenuity of eastern forms had been caught hold of and received; their airy gracefulness was substituted for the former solid grandeur and substantial strength; and learning coming now into Europe, through the same communication with the East, brought with it the sharpening influences of Aristotelian studies in the divinity of the clergy (who, directly or indirectly, were the architects), and they would naturally throw over the edifices they constructed the effect of the refinement, subtilty, and astuteness from which the mind was now receiving such delight and discipline. The chancel of a church, and the space behind the high altar, in a cathedral, are the depositories for splendid and noble interments, and the spot has a remote and secluded character, a dimness and a retirement, which seem very ap propriate to give the fullest effect to this solemn purpose. The mortuary chapels of Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop Waynfleet, and Bishop Fox, give to this place of contemplation preeminent beauty; they appear before us as in the splendour designating the high stations they held in society; we are reminded of the rich and gilded dwellings they occupied; we see the splendid robes that marked their order, their gorgeous canopies and their bed of state. To use the very words of Beaufort (in his will, where he bequeaths to queen Margaret)" his bed of the golden cloth of Damascus, in which he had slept at his manor of Waltham," we seem to view him before us, still lying upon it. But his will does more than display his opulence, it is full of words of piety, and legacies of charity; and as his deathbed has been drawn by Shakspeare as a scene of impenitent misery, and its horrors exaggerated by the pencil of Reynolds, it is but just to his memory to observe, that the tomb before us displays probably a much nearer picture of the truth, namely, of a rich man extended in the posture of death, with his hands uplifted in prayer, sensible of the imperfection and nothingness of all the splendour around him. We have, indeed, his own dying words to this effect, recorded by his own chaplain (in Hall, p. 210), in which (like Wolsey) he declared to all the insufficiency of earthly power and riches, and his great error in having trusted to their help, and called upon the piety of all who were present to assist him with their prayers. The beauty of his chantry, the open dignity in which he rests there, is not quite equalled by that of Bishop Waynfleet, which corresponds to it in position, and was constructed in imitation of it. Its rival, however, in the variegation of its fretted roof and the profusion of its ornamental spire-work is altogether a sepulchre worthy of the prelate who raised and endowed the beauteous College of St. Mary Magdalene, at Oxford. The monumental shrine of Bishop Fox, which adjoins them, is different, and inferior in taste and character, having, in the place of their arched lightness, a walled surface, garnished with minute sculpturing, unfavourable to the dignity of a general effect, "yet, before it was stripped of its images, and the painted glass which filled part of its present open work, it must have been a beautiful spectacle." Around these splendid sepulchres are placed the effigies of mail-clad knights, the plain grave stones of early bishops and priors-of De Lucy, the builder of this part of the cathedral-and in a small arched door-way is the entrance to a vault, devoted, in Catholic days, to the interment of persons of peculiar piety, and for the reception of the relics of eminent saints. We wander through this eastern part of our cathedral as in a visionary spot and shadowy region, beyond the world, and in the presence of those departed this life in faith and fear, while the chapels of the blessed Virgin and the guardian angels open their communication, and terminate the wanderings of our footsteps in this holy pile. It is impossible for a healthful mind to quit the cathedral, and the contemplations which it at every view suggests, (and who, without writing a volume, would pretend to give them?) without feeling all mean and unworthy thoughts to be banished, and finding the cares and follies of life to have lost their value and importance, and the love of something more noble and refined to be awakened within us. When we remember for how many centuries these high feelings and devout adorations have been exercised here, and the daily course of prayer and thanksgiving unbroken, we cannot turn away from the spot, and all its generous connections, without having our censures of the frailties and errors of our ancestors mitigated or removed. Perversely curious, then, for hidden ill, Why should we break Time's charitable seals?" As in recalling the past days of Winchester we have omitted all the civil splendour of its history, how kings have holden their courts, and parliaments assembled, here, of its ancient castle,* and the chivalric knights of king Arthur's table, and have viewed it only in its aspect of a religious city, in which piety was cherished, learning cultivated, the poor clothed, and the hungry fed, so likewise do we find these graces and charities still giving their peculiar mark and character to the place. The presence of the clergy is still the chief source of wealth and prosperity; the cathedral and the college diffuse, through various channels, to the trading inhabitants, occupation in their different callings, and very great relief to the wants of the poor, and, placed as this and other cathedral cities are over the kingdom, they form, as it were, provincial metropolises, in which the gentry of the country assemble together with their families, at various annual festivals, and are sure to find scholars of sound and finished learning, and a clergy residing, well instructed in principles, of their own rank in society, of polished manners and 'hospitable feeling. The advantages derived by this through many a dreary district of rural At the siege of the city by Cromwell, the old castle was entirely demolished, but its chapel (a specimen of early English) was spared. This example of just reverence for a consecrated place has, unfortunately, not had its proper influence, for it has long been used as the County Hall for the Assizes. It was the pride of an early period of Christianity, that the Basilica became changed into Christian churches; this appears rather a reversing the times of Constantine, yet it is delightful to know that the Magistrates of the county have a just sense of this misappropriation, and a desire to see the place restored to HIM to whose service it has been dedicated. The chapel received its name in honour to St. Stephen, and it is his curious fate, to be suffering likewise a similar martyrdom from the legislative authorities at Westminster. residence and remote society, is not to be valued lightly; and to those who embellish the simplicity of country life with the charms of literary study, whether it be divinity, history, or antiquities, the collection of books for curious research, in the old libraries,* supplies continually a sufficient substitute for the distant treasures in London and the Universities. As schools for sacred music, the cathedrals preserve and diffuse throughout England the love of the most sublime compositions, and nurture also, by a most laborious and expensive instruction, scientific scholars in the knowledge and execution of their harmonies. These, scattered over the land, elevate and purify the national taste and feeling in a most extensive branch of its civilization and enjoyments. Preserving too still their old pre-eminence in charity, we find alms-houses of various endowments especially numerous in these cities, which indeed are marked places of refuge to the feeble and the forsaken. These advantages, extending to all classes of society, let the people of England cherish, with a vigilant and grateful care, as the last remainder of the legacy left them by their charitable and religious ancestors. Let them not permit the unfeeling and thoughtless love of alteration to raise its restless hand against these useful and holy possessions, which, to a nation like ourselves, buried in business and practical occupation, are diffusing in so many ways the very feelings so desirable to be possessed among us, namely, reverence, humility, the love of grandeur, beauty, and repose, with that religious sensibility and holy sentiment which tend to raise man so much in the scale of his being and of his permanent happiness. Bingham, the learned author of "The Antiquities of the Christian Church," was rector of the small village of Headborne Worthy, about a mile from Winchester, and, in his preface to that valuable work, thus generously expresses his obligations:"The chief assistance I have hitherto had is from the noble benefaction of one, who, being dead, yet speaketh; I mean the renowned Bishop Morley, whose memory will for ever remain fresh in the hearts of the learned and the good; who, among many other works of charity and generosity becoming his great soul and high station in the church, such as the augmentation of several small benefices, and provision of a decent habitation and maintenance for the widows of poor clergymen in his diocese, &c., has also bequeathed a very valuable collection of books to the church of Winchester, for the advancement of learning among the parochial clergy; and I reckon it none of the least part of my happiness, that Providence, removing me early from the university (where the best supplies of learning are to be had), placed me by the hands of a generous benefactor, without any importunity or seeking of my own, in such a station, as gives me liberty and opportunity to make use of so good a library." MEDITATIONS POETIQUES PAR A. DE LAMARTINE. (Concluded from page 646, vol. iii.) THE interest of the following poem will be greatly enhanced by the reflection that its author is now among the scenes it commemorates, and sojourning in the very places once hallowed by the divine footsteps. It may not be generally known that some time since M. Lamartine sailed from France in a ship freighted at his own private expense. He was accompanied by his wife, whose taste and talents are said to accord in every respect with her husband's, and his only child. His intention was to visit the Troad and the coasts of Syria, and subsequently to pursue his journey to Jerusalem, Palmyra, and Balbec, if the Arabs offered no opposition. "Voilà," says M. Lamartine, " le plan arrêté de mon aventureux et long voyage. Je ne compte point l'ecrire; je vais chercher des inspirations toutes personelles sur grand theatre des évenemens religieux ou politiques du monde ancien. J'y vais lire, avant de mourir, les plus belles pages de la creation matérielle. Si la poesie y trouve des images et des inspirations nouvelles et fécondes, je me contenterai de les recueillir dans le silence de ma pensée, pour colorer un peu l'avenir litéraire qui pourrait me rester." ce The poet is indeed gone to a land of the purest inspiration, where every clod of earth is holy ground, and the humblest flower by the way-side gives birth to thoughts that often " lie too deep for tears." May the thoughts and images he will gather from those blessed scenes serve not only to colour his own future, but ours also, with the fairest lights of that holy land! The poem from which these prefatory remarks have detained the reader is the Improvisation a la Grande Chartreuse. I. The dust of earth, O Lord, is sacred ground, II. Sinai, green Olympus, hath thy trace, And shuddering Horeb trembled 'neath thy tread, III. God! whom Hebron knoweth, Kedar doth adore, Answer us, Father, dost thou dwell there still? |