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wards, contrasting the new cathedral with the old, he says, " Ibi columna nulla marmorea, hic innumeræ."

The result, however, was not entirely satisfactory: these shafts did not sufficiently correspond in position to the bent rods which formed the moulding of the arch, as will be seen on comparing the shaded part of fig. 1 (No. 3) with the dotted line which represents the section of the arch above the column. A and D'are the only shafts which refer C, C, C, C, project too far; and, except when seen directly in front, would never look like continuations of the rod which seems intended to spring from it.

Yet one step had certainly been gained by the experiment: it suggested to succeeding architects the possibility of deviating with advantage from what had hitherto been the received form of the column, and set them on devising some remedy for the awkwardness which, in this instance, could not fail to be perceived. As long as the cylindrical or even octagonal form was adhered to, the eye had not been attracted to any particular defect; the general air was indeed flat and unsatisfactory, yet there was no especially weak point to arrest attention. On the other hand, the attempt of William of Sens, which evidently tended to improve the general tone of the building, at the same time betrayed its own weak point.

Accordingly we find, that after this time the cylinder was disused, and that another form succeeded it, of which we shall proceed to trace the origin.

The architects of the twelfth century, though they adhered pertinaciously to the round column, felt at liberty to devise any form they liked for their pilasters; and whenever an arch, instead of resting on columns, abutted against the walls, the pilaster which would be required on each side, as its apparent support, was always so shaped as to correspond to the moulding of the arch itself; e. g. under the tower of Christ Church Cathedral, there are four arches abutting against the main walls of the transepts, chancel, and nave, and apparently supported on ornamented projections or pilasters, of which the section was given in fig. 2. Here, as before, the shaded part of the figure is the section of the pilaster, the dotted line the section of the arch resting on it; the correspondence between the two is obvious, and the good effect which such correspondence produces could not fail to strike those who had felt its want in the design of William of Sens. We may readily suppose, then, that a pilaster, such as that described in fig. 2, might suggest the idea of a novel column. Two such pilasters placed back to back, would at once answer the purpose, and if an additional shaft, the size of A, was applied on each side to the flat surfaces, B B, the whole would become symmetrical indeed, the resulting section would closely resemble that of fig. 3, differing from it in nothing but the angles (a, a.)

VOL. III.-Jan. 1833.

E

But fig. 3 is the column of Cologne Cathedral, the dotted line giving, as above, the section of the arch.

On comparing fig. 3, No. 3, with fig. 7, No. 2, it will be seen that the dotted line in the latter corresponds to the shaded part of the former, and vice versa, but that the group (s) is the same in each; in fact, the shafts of which this is the section run in an unbroken line from the vault to the very base of the cathedral. Thus the columns of Cologne exhibit a perfect developement of the idea which was first indistinctly apprehended by William of Sens; their shafts may be arranged into three groups, two of which (,,) support the inter-columnar arches, and represent stems, from which a ẞy, &c. branch off-the third (e) rising far above these arches, branches off into three ribs, two diagonal and

one transverse.

Here, then, is a second series of changes, tending towards the same end as the former, and terminating in the same building.

I now come to the feature which, of all others, imparts to the architecture of the 13th and 14th centuries its character of elasticity-window tracery.

The origin of this remarkable feature is involved in some obscurity. If we begin, as we have hitherto done, with the Roman forms, and trace them through their successive modifications, we arrive at nothing like it. We do indeed trace a series of changes in the window, parallel to those which have been noticed in the rib, arch, and column, but this presents us with no link that looks even like the germ of tracery. It begins with the single-lighted round-headed window. We then find this single light supported, as it were, by two small blank windows, one on each side, as in Christ Church. Afterwards, these also became lights. Then all three were pointed. At last they emerge as the many lighted lancet window, such as that in the Christ Church Chapter-house. And here we come to an abrupt termination, which, indeed, we acknowledge as a natural one. The choice specimen of architecture to which I have just alluded must approve itself to every one as complete (TEλov TI) by the evident harmony of its parts, the identity of character exhibited in its vaulting, its clustered pilasters, and its windows. Here, then, we might suppose that taste would have rested satisfied, and that none but puerile lovers of novelty would have attempted any thing beyond.

Yet, if we turn to the style which immediately succeeded, we find starting at once into sudden existence a form totally new, yet unquestionably the right one, the true note to complete the chord. Fig. IV. is a window in Cologne Cathedral, designed about 1250, one of the earliest, as well as most beautiful, specimens of tracery. We shall now attempt to suggest a process, by which it may have occurred to its designers.

As far back as the reign of Stephen, when the windows of churches were beginning to assume the lancet character in its rudest form, we find occasionally in their towers what looks like the germ of a different style. A very rude specimen occurs in the tower of Christ Church Cathedral: vide fig. I. This is obviously a blank window, with three openings cut in the back to admit light to the belfry. My second specimen, fig. II., is taken from the tower of St. Giles's Church, Oxford; its date is not historically known, but can scarcely be fixed much later than the middle of the 12th century. It looks like an imitation of Christ Church, and is clearly an improvement upon it. It will be observed, that this window, in its present form, is not adapted for the reception of glass, which, if introduced in the position D E, would destroy the relief of the shafts, by cutting them in two, and shewing only half on each side. In order to fit such a window for this purpose, without injuring its effect as seen either from the inside or the out, it would be necessary to adopt some such plan as that represented in the section fig. III., where there is a duplicate of section fig. II., inside the casement F G, and the same work which connects the counterparts is so arranged as not to interfere with the circular appearance of the shafts.

With the exception, then, of the quatre foil, fig. III. is fig. II. just so far altered as to adapt it for the body of the church instead of the belfry. An instance does not at this moment occur to us, in which the quatre foil is so introduced in a window of this character, but the variety would certainly suggest itself to any one that had seen Christ Church and St. Giles's.

Now, fig. III., inelegant as it is, resembles, in many respects, the most elegant specimens of early tracery, especially in the following three, which are critical, as they distinguish the early tracery from that which succeeded it.

1. The mullion in early tracery is made up of two shafts, as

000

D D, connected in such a manner as to leave them apparently free, and not to interfere with the simplicity of their effect by introducing other lines; in this respect it materially differs from B, and still more from C, the forms which afterwards superseded it:

i. e. when viewed either from within or without, it much more resembles the simple shaft of St. Giles's than they do.

2. In early tracery, the bending lines at the head of the window are not continuations of the straight shaft, but are separated from it, as in the window of St. Giles's, by a capital. This was afterwards dropped.

B

3. In the early windows, the points p p are detached from the sides of the main arch, and each compartment is similar to the whole, pas in fig. A. Afterwards this leading form was superseded by that of fig. B.

A

P

These three characteristics of the early tracery seem to indicate an origin something of the kind which we have assigned to it. They are all points of resemblance between figs. III. and IV., or, indeed, II. and IV. Still, however, the chasm which separates these specimens is a wide one, and we must be content, for the present, to leave it so. In the mean time I would suggest that it is not so wide in reality as in appearance.

If we leave out of consideration the minor details, proportion of mullions, &c., and look only to the bending lines, the difference between the two forms reduces itself to something very simple. The step from the first to the second of the annexed figs. is not a very bold one, and if made at all, would be made at once. But, whatever may have been the process that suggested the first conception of tracery, there can be no doubt that its introduction added greatly to the harmony of Gothic architecture, that its substitution for the lancet window was not capricious, but natural, and in an especial manner promoted that very effect, towards which all the changes which we have noticed had for a long time been tending, elasticity.

N.B. It will be observed that the writer of these articles has assumed the date of Coutance Cathedral to be unknown; he does not profess to have examined the question with minute attention, but of this he is certain, that the evidence commonly put forward, viz. the record quoted in Mr. Cottman's Normandy, does not of itself warrant a conclusion so inconsistent with every well established fact in the history of architecture.

THE HOLIDAYS.

"O that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me wheff his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle when the Almighty was yet with me."-Joв xxix, 2—5.

NOTWITHSTANDING the manifest mutability and transient nature of the world, we are sometimes witnesses to scenes and situations, beauties and enjoyments in it, which declare the elements of a more permanent and more elevated condition. The state of conscience, which accompanies a pious and innocent life, that peace of God that passeth all understanding, possesses us with intimations and knowledge of a spiritual and unsuffering kingdom. The same conscious spirit of delight and liberty seems especially to dwell within us in the days of our childhood and early life, and the elevation, grandeur, and beauty of all our enjoyments then, seem to cast upon the scenery of nature and society a splendour and perfection not made to fade and pass away. Indeed the childlike simplicity of character and detachment from the world which Christianity recommends us to hold through life, would preserve, (if we were obedient to it) the conviction strongly and vividly in our nature; and we find it to be the characteristic of genius that it is strong enough to effect this triumph over the world, that it carries the joys and delight of youth into manhood and old age, proving the words of the poet, that

"To things immortal time can do no wrong,

And that which never is to die, for ever must be young."

But the passions and businesses of the world, for the most part, soon overwhelm us with the veil of their mortality, obscuring all those brilliant intimations and sweet assurances of our original nature, its gay fearlessness of decay, its bright earnests of enjoyment.

In manhood, then, when we look back upon the glorified feelings which were spread over every object, and our then belief in their unalterableness and permanency, we should remember them as declarations and acknowledgements by our nature, of its estate of immortality and blessedness; we should recall them, as the first, and often strongest, evidence to the essential character of our nature, to its adaptation and appointment for glory and happiness. Nor do these feelings arise, as some would account for them, from the then novelty of all external things about us, for that novelty would not awaken a pleasure in the same degree pure and splendid in an evil and a worldly spirit,

"Who beholds undelighted all delight."

It is rather explained by a daily analogy of which all are conscious, the peculiar and happy feeling of the morning, when the

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