GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE*.

IF the science of our ancestors had not been directed and animated by pure taste, high feeling, and strong religious enthusiasm, they would not have handed down to us a series of monuments, extending nearly over the whole of Europe, which will be viewed with admiration for ages. It was a noble idea to dedicate to the service of the infinite Creator a temple apparently indefinite in its extent, through which the eye might range without discerning the limit or measure; and the skill with which this idea was worked out meets with no parallel in the best days of classical

art.

It is not merely by its height that a Gothic cathedral strikes the beholder. In all its dimensions it

appears, in consequence of its arrangement, to admit of no bound. If we look at its external length, we can hardly tell where and how it terminates. Beyond the vast nave appears the square of the intersection; then the choir, with the bold sweep of its apex, rising from an aisle of greater extent, amidst a forest of pinnacles with their expansive buttresses; beyond these, again, is often a multitude of chapels branching out in every direction. And its breadth is similarly extended. On the continent a great number of aisles and side-chapels are added. In England, where we seldom see more than one aisle on each side of the nave, the transepts are of greater length-which may be noticed especially at Lincoln and York-while the addition of chapter-house, cloisters, and monastic buildings, seems to preclude the appearance of any definite boundary in that direction. The scale of the edifice is really vast; and, from the multiplicity, variety, and distribution of parts, it appears incalculably greater.

On this account a regular front, marking the extreme length of any building, seems to be unsuitable to the Gothic style. Suppose a church, with the nave and choir of exactly the same length, and perfectly corresponding with each other, the tower and intersection being in the centre; however rich or excellent such a building may be in its details, or even in its general proportions, would it not be pronounced at once contrary to the spirit of Gothic architecture? I cannot help thinking that the carelessness, to which are owing some of the irregularities we meet with in many of our most perfect fronts, would not have been indulged had not the architect felt that too strict attention to symmetrical arrangement was a fault. A regular front denotes measurement; which the irregular length of a building does not. I cannot regret that the fronts of Antwerp and Strasburgh have never been completed by the erection of corresponding steeples; one spire would have measured the other, and much of the effect of beight would have been lost. Still we must remember that a west front is a mere portal; and does not, as the façade of a mansion, express the full extent of the edifice; and therefore,

From "Remarks on Church Architecture," by rev. J. L. Petit. 8vo, 2 vols. Burns, 1841. This is a valuable work, replete with sketchy, but perfectly intelligible, illustrations. We cordially recommend it to our readers' notice. But it is a great pity that there is no list of the wood-cuts, no index, no table of contents. How much the forgetting of these apparently trifling matters detracts from the usefulness of a book. -ED.

when it is of moderate dimensions in reference to the rest, symmetrical arrangement can have no effect in reducing the apparent scale of the whole-perhaps may even increase it by contrast; and an affected irregularity in this feature should always be condemned.

Wherever the nave and choir are of nearly the same

length, as we often see in English cathedrals, the architects have generally taken care to mark the difference very decidedly by some means or other; either by western towers which are not answered by any eastern ones; or by an additional pair of transepts to the choir, as in Lincoln, Beverley, Worcester, Rochester, and Canterbury; or by a difference in height or ornament; or by an apex. In short, every appearance of an extended front bearing any proportion to the length of the cathedral, seems to have been most studiously avoided.

The same system of composition which gives the cathedral its air of unbounded extent, has not failed of giving also to smaller churches a grandeur and dignity beyond what might be expected from their actual size. These, it is true, consist of fewer parts, which may be somewhat differently disposed, and much less enriched with ornament; yet still they preserve the gables, aisles, buttresses, pinnacles, and spires externally, and the arch and pillar internally, which give the same aspiring form upwards, and the same appearance of expansion below. I do not mean to say that either in large or small buildings every line and member ought to be so designed as palpably to tend to the development of this one principle, lest the architect fall into pedantry and mannerism; and here it is that a nice discrimination is required, that he may avoid obtruding upon the spectator the rules by which he has been guided.

I am well disposed to admit the claim of Germany to the praise of having done more than any other nation towards the establishment of the Gothic style in its excellence; but I am not prepared to approve of the arguments by which Dr. Möller, in his "Memorials of German Buildings," enforces this claim, namely, by condemning, as contrary to the principles of the style, the low gables and flat towers found in other countries, especially in England; and contending that the high-pitched roofs and tapering steeples which characterise German architecture, cannot be dispensed with in a perfect Gothic edifice. That they are exceedingly well adapted to it, every one will allow; but, at the same time, we must remember that a feature, however characteristic in itself, may be so repeated and multiplied as to fatigue instead of gratifying the eye. The elevation of the west front of Cologne cathedral, according to the prints which are published as giving the original design, seems to admit of scarcely any other feature besides the spire and the acute gable; which latter appears in the form of a canopy over every arch. I confess this constant repetition, though no actual fault can be detected either in the details or proportions, has almost led me to doubt whether the design be genuine. The architects of that day, keeping in mind, as they did, the principles to which their structures were indebted for their beauty, did not think it necessary to force them into notice by a constant effort.

If extension upwards were the only object in view, then perhaps no finish would be admissible but the spire; but, as we have observed, apparent extent in every direction was the aim of the builder; and the low, flat, massive tower, giving by its breadth and evident weight a proof of the vastness and strength of the building which supports it, may sometimes conduce to this effect better than the same tower crowned with a spire, whose comparative height would throw the rest of the structure into insignificance. I cannot conceive any arrangement that would add to the majestic appearance of York minster; the enormous mass of the central tower, in all its simplicity of outline and composition, is to the full as impressive as the loftiest and richest continental steeples.

From what has been said, it is clear no part or dimension of a Gothic building should appear contracted; and therefore none should be enlarged at the expense of another. Hence the principle of indefinite expansion, as it may be called, requires very nice proportion; and, though it may seem to be a paradox, does in fact enforce a most accurate measurement as regards every part of the edifice. Herein is shown the consummate skill of the Gothic architect, that, while he has been carefully studying every minute relation and proportion, he has impressed the spectator with an idea that all rule and measure has been thrown aside.

If a cathedral is lofty, its loftiness must not lead us to suppose that it is deficient in length or breadth, otherwise a large space will appear contracted. We have already noticed some of the French cathedrals as having too much height for their length: the impression produced is not so much that of gigantic height as of inadequate length-so apt is the defect to strike the eye sooner than the beauty. The cathedrals of Dijon, Auxerre, Amiens, and Abbeville, would all be improved by the addition of three or four compartments to the nave. As regards width, the lofty clerestories are well balanced by an increased number of aisles. But, in truth, the dimension of height, much as it is insisted upon by almost every writer on Gothic architecture, is that which will most bear limitation, and which the architect can best afford to sacrifice in behalf of the others. For a low building has at least the appearance of strength, which is an indispensable point; and a very little contrivance will give it that aspiring form which we look for.

The Cabinet.

TRUST IN GOD.-He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord. And of this holy David stands before us a great example. He trusts not in the wings of his army, but in the Lord of hosts and battles; not in the shadow of his cave, but in the shadow of God's wings; not in the height of his rock, but in the Rock of ages. Though, being a man of war, he well understood the grand importance of a castle well seated and fortified, of a mount or rock inaccessible, of a cave in that rock capacious and defensible....yet, severed and abstracted from the divine protections, he slights all these as paper walls and cobweb fortifications; and, knowing he could not be safe on this side Omnipotence, be styles God, almost in every psalm, his rock and his castle, his fortress and his strong hold, his high tower and the hill of his defence-that is the first

property of his trust: it begins in great self diffidence; but, secondly, it goes on in an active diligence. The young one hath its last retreat indeed under the dam's wing, yet the little wing it hath of its own it employs to bring it thither. The eagle in Moses's song, as I noted before, not only bears its eaglets on her own wings, but stirs up her nest too, and provokes them first to do their uttermost. Though David resolved well-I will not trust in my bow-yet he used it sure. It was not Goliath's sword that could save him, yet gladly he girt himself with it when the high priest reached it him. There is no king, saith he, that can be saved by the multitude of an host; yet he refused not the volunteers that came to list themselves under him. He fled from Saul with all diligence into the cave, though he had still a refuge beyond it. Though he set up his rest under God's wings, yet O (saith he) that I had the wings of a dove too, that I might fly away to my rest.-Archbishop Sancroft, Sermon preached on Fast-day, Nov. 13, 1678.

THE USE OF THE LAW.-Ye shall note that the

holy scripture is divided into two parts, that is to say, the law and the promises, the knowledge whereof is right necessary for the obtaining of true and perfect contrition. Ye know that a man's face shall be long defiled, spotted, and deformed, before he shall perceive it, except it be either told him of others, or else that he himself seeth it evidently in some mirror or glass. Semblably, the soul of a Christian man shall be spotted with sin a great space before he perceiveth it and be truly contrite and sorry for it, except it be either told him of others by declaring the law of God to him, or else he himself looketh in the glass of truth, which is the law of God, and by that means perceiveth his own deformity, misery, and wretchedness. For "by the law cometh the knowledge of sin." "The commandment is a lantern, and the law is a light and way of the life," saith Solomon. David also saith, "O Lord, thy word is a lantern to my feet, and a light to my pathways." So that the next way to have the knowledge of our sins, whereby we should be moved to be contrite and sorrowful in our hearts for our wickednesses and offences, and to stand in fear of God's righteousness, is ever to have the law of God before our eyes. "I have hidden thy speeches in my heart," saith David," that I may not offend thee." -Becon chaplain to archbishop Cranmer) Potation for Lent.

the shore

Of her late so joyous home, the wide sea to cross

once more:

"The desire of her meek eyes by a stroke has been removed"

Like Naomi she returns, but without a Ruth beloved. "There is sorrow on the sea" when the transport-ship sets sail,

And some among her convicts all too late their sin bewail;

They who think, with breaking hearts, of the shame and bitter pain

Bequeathed by them to loved ones they shall ne'er behold again.

The

and doubtless at some personal risk, complied. captive monarch assured his humble benefactor that, when he regained his liberty, his good deed should not pass unrequited; and he kept his word: he procured the slave's manumission, made him comptroller of his estates, recommended him in his dying testament to his heirs, Agrippa and Bernice; and history, while it hands down the name of this benevolent slave, assures us that Thaumastus reached a good old age, in that station of trust, emolument, and respectability to which he had been worthily promoted. The moral of this little tale Josephus could not or would not draw; it may, however, be deduced by the simplest follower of Christ. If a man, to use the mildest terms, by no means remarkable for virtue, obeyed with such good faith the dictates of a grateful heart, and so recompensed the gift of a single draugh of water, what may not be expected from the solema

beats high,

And the riven vessel sinks, and no friendly bark is nigh;

sian story, for which we are indebted to the moral taste of Elian. It happened, on a certain day, that Artaxerxes Mnemon was making a journey, attended by his court: as the king passed along, his unex

claims the ship on fire,

veller, Sincetes by name. This man, at a distance from home, was wholly unprovided with the means of presenting any one of those gifts which the law required all subjects to offer to the Persian monarchs on their royal progress, and with which he saw the surrounding multitude eagerly advancing. Respect for the laws, and, still more, reverence for his sovereign, filled him with anxiety; but he did not long pause or hesitate: he ran, at his utmost speed, to the adjoining river Cyrus, scooped up some water with his hands, approached the king, and thus addressed him-" King Artaxerxes, reign for ever! That thou mayest not pass by ungifted, I pay my duty with such materials, and in such a manner, as my case admits;

A CUP OF COLD WATER." And whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in nowise lose his reward" (Matt. x. 42). Respecting the gift of a cup of cold water, the rabbins had a similar saying-" He that gives food to one that studies in the law, God will bless him in this world, and give him a portion in the world to come." Mr. Weston mentions, that the dervises (Mahometan monks) offer cold water to the traveller in the desertsno trifling present in those parched and torrid wastes of sand. And Koecher, in his Analecta, cites Beansobre for a precept and promise of Zoroaster, or one of his followers, similar to that of our Lord. There are two interesting historical anecdotes which finely illustrate the fact, that a cup of cold water only, given from genuine motives of humanity, or presented as a token of unfeigned respect, shall by no means lose its reward. The first is from Josephus. Herod Agrippa, during his imprisonment in the dungeons of Tiberius, was one day in an agony of thirst; and, seeing a young slave pass by, carrying a vessel of water, implored

your majesty deign to approach my dwelling, I hope to offer the best and richest gift in my possession." Artaxerxes, filled with delight, addressed his subject in the following manner-"I accept your gift with pleasure; I prize it more than the most splendid offerings; first, because water is in itself the most excellent of all things; and then because this water bears the name Cyrus." The story proceeds, that Artaxerxes commanded his attendants to receive the water in a golden cup; sent to Sincetes a robe of honour, a golden cup, and a thousand darics; and commissioned the messenger to say, The king commands thee from this cup to recreate thine own soul, as thou didst recreate his, nor didst suffer him to pass ungifted and unhonoured, but honouredst him as place and tine permitted. And he wills that, drawing it with this cup, thou shouldst drink water out of this river." Thus has history recorded the name, the act, and the reward of him who bestowed a simple handful of water. The names of proud satraps, and the calalogues of their costly donations, meantime have sunk into silence and oblivion. Does not this remind one of another gift, and a memorial unspeakably more blessed?—“ Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.”—Bp. Jebb's Sucred Literature.

London: Published by JAMES BURNS, 17 Portman Street, Portman Square; W. EDWARDS, 12 Ave-Maria Lune, St. Paul's; and to be procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.

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JOSEPH ROGERSON, 24 NORFOLK STRERT, STRAND. LONDƏN

CHRISTIAN STEDFASTNESS. BY THE REV. JOHN AYRE, M.A.,

THERE are perhaps few who have not, at some time or other, made some faint begin nings in the Christian course. If they have had no longing for the joys of the divine presence, they have at least trembled when they have heard some ambassador of Christ reason of righteousness, temperance, and future judgment, or when some near approach of death has warned them to set their house in order, A transient conviction has passed their minds that it would be well to flee from the wrath to come; and they have resolved to search the scriptures, and to seek the Lord in prayer, and to separate themselves from the world, and to resist the assaults of Satan, and to he ready to engage in the practice of good works. But, when the novelty of their new profession has worn off, or when the sneers of their former associates have taught them to be ashamed of it, or when the pressing danger which first alarmed them has passed away, they relapse, gradually it may be, but surely, into their former state of irreligious carelessness; and the emotions which have disquieted their hearts leave no more trace than the storm which tosses for a time the waters of a lake, but which ere long ceases, and then you see its surface as smooth and unruffled as if it had always lain calmly sleeping in the summer's sun. Our Saviour has strikingly depicted the nature of these brief impressions in his parable of the sower. He teaches us that they may be apparently more energetic than a real work of grace; for

VOL. XII.-NO. CCCXL.

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the seed which fell among stony places sprung up, he says, very quickly, and flourished till the heat was on it, and then it withered. early promise was then blighted, and of no real value: it brought forth no fruit unto perfection.

Religious impressions so transient are not only useless in themselves, but they have a tendency to check and blight any future fruitfulness. The scripture is full of the danger of turning back after we have once put our hand to the plough. And the danger arises not only from the direct judgment of God, who may very reasonably be expected to punish those that thus trifle with his love, but also from the indirect retribution which such conduct has a natural tendency to bring upon the mind by disabling it from spiritual feeling. For it is always more difficult to renew than to make an impression: the chords of the heart seem loosened, and cannot be drawn up to their former tension; and thus the most affecting truths of the gospel are listened to coldly, and with difficulty received. We see this strikingly illustrated in respect to the human body. A small quantity of wine will intoxicate him who is unaccustomed to strong liquors, but by habit he will be able to swallow draught after draught with impunity. Medicine, again, will at first produce its effect in small doses; but these, we all know, must be afterwards in-. creased, or else they are given in vain. Now. it is just so with the mind. It becomes by degrees less susceptible of feelings of repentance, faith, and love: the conscience is callous, the affections seared. Certainly God can always, by the mighty power of his Spirit, soften the heart, even though it had

U

hardened into a very rock; and, as certainly, no mere human suasion or word of man will, without his blessing, produce a saving effect. Yet, as he works upon and in the heart by its natural faculties, every thing which tends to shut up those faculties from spiritual impression must be admitted to be hurtful and ruinous. Besides, when resolutions are made and speedily broken, when a religious course is entered on and very soon quitted, the mind gets dispirited: it comes to think exertion of no use: it dwells on past failures: it will not anticipate future success; and it is ready to sink down into a sort of listless lethargy tarly akin to absolute despair. And hence comes that fearful catastrophe described by our Lord, when the evil spirit departed for a while, and then returned, bringing with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, so that the last state of that man was worse than the first. Hence comes naturally the distinction so vividly set forth by Solomon, when he introduces wisdom as exclaiming "Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded. . . . I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh." "They would none of my counsel: they despised all my reproof. Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices."

How necessary, then, to lose no time in securing an interest in Christ! For there are now fewer obstacles than hereafter there will be.

The indisposition, be it ever remembered, to heavenly things which the heart of man naturally feels, is augmented by delay. And what an argument for patient perseverance in the way of peace! The wretched fate of Lot's wife should be a beacon to warn every professor through all succeeding ages, that it is death to tarry or to turn. O what condemnation must be theirs, who have enrolled themselves among the soldiers of the cross, and have just stayed long enough beneath its blood-stained banner to receive its badge, and handle its weapons, and then with coward heart and traitorous spirit have deserted to the foe! "It had been better for them," says the apostle, in words which ought to be engraven on our memory, "not to have known the way of righteousness, than, after they have known it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered unto them."

Let us now examine the principles on which this stedfastness must be based. Every one is aware, that for a building to stand it must be constructed on a solid foundation. No man, unless he begins well, is likely to be successful in any art, or science, or pursuit in life. And so we shall find that those who have turned back in the Christian

course have never set out as they ought, but have built upon a sandy foundation.

1. The profession of some men is from the first hypocritical. They have some selfish, interested motive. Perhaps they look to gain credit from the religious persons around them, and thus they suppose that gain is godliness. They pretend to affections which they never felt: they speak of sacrifices which they never made: they discourse of doctrines which they cannot comprehend. They attain, it may be to a great deal of mere knowledge; and they are fond of displaying it, and of discussing curious questions and subtle speculations. They are usually very censorious persons; ready to remark the inconsistencies or falls of their brethren, and it may be exulting over them, as what they had themselves predicted; thus taking credit for clearer discernment and superior wisdom. But their own course will not be long. They have imposed on others, and perhaps to a certain extent upon themselves; but directly that their interest clashes with their profession, they are ready to forsake the Lord, having loved this present world. Let us be upon our guard against such a religion as this.

2. The profession of others is assumed merely through fear. They have not learned to look on God in the kind character of a loving Father through Jesus Christ. They behold him invested only with harsh and repulsive features. And, when any thing occurs to make them dread his judgments, then they seek him with a slavish motive. They abstain from sin-not because it is odious in God's sight, and therefore they cannot bear to do that which displeases him, and which laid such a heavy burden upon Christ-but simply because they dread its punishment. They disobey as far as they dare: they are addicted to secret sins: they calculate how far they may presume on God's forbearance— how near they may tread to the brink of the precipice without toppling over. It is to be feared that death-bed repentances, as they are called, are often of this kind. And accordingly we find that the cries for mercy, which in danger were urgent, diminish with returning security, till when death, the cause of fear, is removed, their religion, the consequence of that fear, evaporates also. There is no principle of stedfastness or perpetuity here.

3. Some men, again, profess religion from a self-righteous motive. They imagine that they can make God their debtor; and so they serve him in their way just for the reward which he has promised to bestow upon his people. Their conduct is a series of heavy task-work, actuated by very low and