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and, from its position in the principal seat of religious communities, and from the impressive performances of Christian devotion in its cathedral and its abbeys, the youthful imagination would grow up in the love and admiration of piety, and in attachment to the high interests of the church. Wykeham himself, while at school here, performed his daily devotion in the cathedral; and that high intellectual character and generous expansion of heart displayed in the intelligence and charities of his after life, was probably produced, and assisted greatly, by the presence of educated churchraen, of noble architecture and spiritual music, in the midst of which his youthful character was so fortunately reared.
The present aspect of the college has all the separation and privacy required in a place of study. The quarter of the city in which it is placed is its own, almost exclusively, and is undisturbed by any of the passing movements of life; the youths seen at intervals, in their gowns of black cloth, give to it an air anterior to the Reformation, when Dominicans, Franciscans, Benedictines, and Carmelites were the established dwellers of the place. The ancient gateway, likewise, preserves this appearance of Catholic times unimpaired. The image of the Virgin remains over it; in the niches, also, over the gateway to the second court, figures of the Founder in prayer, the Virgin, and an Angel, are seen, as in its earliest days. The elegant tower of the chapel (temp. Hen. VI.), which forms the southern side of the quadrangle, the apartments for the Fellows, and the dormitories of the boys, which occupy the other sides, present, both in forms and arrangement, and in the soft and exquisite colouring upon them, a picture of rich and quiet beauty; and within the chapel is preserved, in every lofty window, that rare relic in our Protestant churches, a completeness in its painted glass, where angels and patriarchs, prophets and evangelists, scriptural incidents and texts of Holy Writ are made, through the richest colours of green, of crimson, or of blue, from every side
“ To pour in virtue at th’attentive eye.”—Bishop Lowth. The sepulchral brasses that ornament the floor in the ante-chapel record the names and characters of former Wardens (custodes), Fellows, Masters, and of various and numerous children reared up by this liberal parent. The grateful and affectionate attachment to the founder and the place is touched upon in many. of their epitaphs, and the hope often expressed, that by being interred here their grave would not escape perhaps a notice and a regret from their grateful pupils or their old school-fellows,
“Nec mihi fama tamen de marmore quæritur ulla,
Sed spes magna piis ponitur in precibus,
Hocq puer puero (dixerit alter) eram.”
These monumental records of Wykeham's sons, in brass and in marble, are extended throughout the cloisters that adjoin the chapel ; and when we recall the splendid names of those that have belonged to this society, that have not their burial here, but who live in the memory of every Wykehamist-Collins, Otway, Young, the Wartons, among the poets, and a constellation equally brilliant in every branch of literature—we can understand the associations and enthusiasm felt in later life, on hearing the pathetic notes of their school melody of “ Domum," which, like the Ranz des Vaches to the Swiss peasant, brings tears for the recollection of departed pleasure. There is, indeed, here every thing that is calculated to awaken and enrich the youthful imagination ; the serious dignity of every object around them—its connection with our national history--the course of study of the place in communion with all the proud feelings and refined taste of antiquity, must bring forward and cherish in every mind where the germ exists, its most pure and noble faculties, and bestow on it the ingredients of its most refined enjoyments. And when, with these tranquil sources of intellectual happiness, we remember the sportful mead' of athletic pleasure, the energy of the Fives' Court, and the healthful liberty of the hills,' we must feel fully the verses of one of the most learned of her sons, who carried to the grave with him a heart full of the youthful simplicity and joyousness he so beautifully describes.
“O felix puerorum ætas, lucesque beatæ !
Vobis dia quies animis et tristia vobis
Dotalemque domum et promissas Isidis undas?” T. Wartox. The crowded variety of churches which once stood in Winchester will give a notion of its ecclesiastical aspect: “a passenger could no way enter into this citie, either through any of the gates or single posternes, but of necessitye, either they must goe under a church, or close unto one, or some oratorye; the testimonyes whereof are at this time by the ruines.” Out of fifty churches which once existed (besides chapels in all the religious houses), nine now only remain : abbeys, priories, convents, hospitals, and colleges, were sold and plundered; and the present appearance of the place, in reference to these records of its early splendour, awakens feelings similar to those which the prophet expressed, on viewing the Holy City in the days of her children's captivity
“How does the city sit solitary, that was full of people !
How is she become as a widow !
LAMENT., ch, i.
The college of Wykeham, indeed, as we have seen, escaped in the hands of the destroyer, and the mighty services it has sui. been bestowing upon us, must make us mourn the solitariness of the exception, for in the meadow adjoining it on the east, stood, previous to the Reformation, another college for learning and piety, of nearly similar character, founded by John de Pontissara, Bishop of Winchester, A.D. 1300, and dedicated to St. Elizabeth. Immediately opposite to this are the ruins of Wolvesey castle, the once splendid palace of episcopal residence destroyed by the anti-prelatists of the 17th century. The architectural decorations which yet remain are beautiful, and as we walk through the ivy-clad chambers of the palace, we cannot but reflect on their former state, and on the opposite spirits with which, at different periods of our Church history, they have been garnished, the princely haughtiness of Beaufort, and the religious meekness of Andrewes, having each abided here.
As we approach to the Cathedral, we find all the vacant spaces that surround it to have once been occupied by stately and holy edifices. On its south side was spread out the extensive monastery of St. Swithun, and the present residence of the Dean is part of the house (the hall) of the ancient prior, and the twelve prebendaries are the modern local representatives of the forty Benedictines once resident in the old establishment. In this monastery, Ethelulpb, one of the most pious of our kings, the father of Alfred, received his education under the care and tuition of St. Swithun; from this religious man he imbibed those high principles of conduct which descended in the person of his splendid and favourite son, to whom, indeed, in his very early years, St. Swithun was also the guardian and instructor. From such a parent, and such a teacher, he arose to be the light and protection of his own age, and the mirror of princes to all generations. As we muse, therefore, on his after greatness, and on the Christian characters of Ethelulph and St. Swithun, it is impossible not to pause with gratitude over this quiet monastery, and venerate the spot with the feeling of a traveller who has discovered the first source and spring-head of some noble river, which was destined to augment and diffuse refreshment, comfort, and beauty in its after wanderings upon the earth. And as the moral and religious infancy of the prince was cradled in this conventual spot, so doth the site of another abbey, on the north of the cathedral, recall his munificence and his habitual patronage of learned men,--the long avenue of trees quite on the northern side of the churchyard, running parallel with the cathedral, is a natural image of the “high embowed roof” of the abbey which stood there, founded by Alfred, as an establishment of dignity and honour for his friend St. Grimbald, an eminent scholar of the age, whom Alfred had invited from the Continent to enjoy his friendship and
protection, and to assist in kindling among his benighted people the light of literature. Here, also, in the parcel of ground be had purchased and endowed, was his own royal grave made, and here, for 200 years, he slept undisturbed, in his own abbey, and beside his learned friend, to whom it was dedicated, till Henry I. (for various reasons) removed the whole establishment to the northern quarter of the city, and the bones of Alfred, and his queen Alswitha, and many of his royal successors, were transferred with it to the new abbey in the meadows, at Hyde, and buried under the high altar. The irreverent conduct at the Reformation left barely a vestige of that splendid abbey, and, forgetful of all feelings but those of plunder and avarice, it gave no respect to the graves of great princes or holy men, and covered by modern buildings, or buried in the ruins of the old, now lie dishonoured the remains of the Saxon statesman, poet, philosopher, and king
The buildings that once surrounded our cathedral are all associated with this Saxon period of history. Another institution of this early age existed on the eastern side-St. Mary's Abbey, -a convent founded by Alswitha, Alfred's queen, who, under the veil, passed in it the years of her pious widowhood. The splendid state, therefore, of Wittan cearten may be judged from this local enumeration of religious houses, not less than from the little shrines or mortuary chests, placed on the partition walls beside the altar in the cathedral, which preserve the names and ashes of so many of our Anglian kings-Kynegils, Ethelulph, Kenewalch, Egbert, Edmund, Edred, &c. As we approach through the shadows of the lime-tree avenue to its northern aspect, we feel, upon the cathedral itself, compared with other cathedrals, a plain magnificence that breathes much of the spirit of these very early times. Yet the transepts and the tower are the only parts of the building of the Saxon and Norman period; and the nave (its principal feature) was the work of Wykeham, in the reign of Edward III. But we are assured that this prelate, in his improvement, did not destroy the old foundations and masonry of the Saxon church erected by St. Ethelwold an hundred years before the Conquest, but built upon and altered, rather than constructed the work anew. We cannot, therefore, be surprised that an impression anterior to Wykeham's time remains upon it; the old Saxon arrangement and proportions being his guides, had an equal influence with his own taste in giving a character to the work. From this real cause (and, perhaps, with some secret whisperings of tradition to help us) we receive from the whole building that impression of still dignity and unobtrusive grandeur, that speak of a remoter age. Too serious to solicit admiration, it seems to rest self-collected, and retiring into its own greatness. By the low tower in the centre, and small turrets at the western end, the plain and impressive form of the cross is more obviously declared to be ihe plan of the building. And if Salisbury, with its striking and beautiful tenuity of forms, its slim windows and its graceful columns, its attractive spire compelling immediate notice and admiration from every quarter, is (as she deserves to be) crowned the refined and delicate Queen of our southern cathedrals, Winchester may be considered their fatherly and ancient Sovereign, and its grave and noble aspect give to it the respectful feeling due to patriarchal years and thoughtful wisdom.
On comparing the Greek with the Gothic buildings, we observe the temples of the former to be placed upon a basement, while the latter arise simply from the earth, and from this cause they have of course a more flat and less striking aspect, and this difference is strongly felt in our first observance of this cathedral. It appears before us as if embedded and sunken into the earth, whose softness had yielded under the pressure of its gigantic weight and dimensions. And as cheerful and expanded impressions were attained from the Greek principle, so were gravity and sedateness attained by this opposite method in our religious structures. The former gave to the approaching worshipper proud and stately sensations as he ascended the steps that led him up to the place of his devotion. A sentiment altogether the opposite of this seems to be intended and produced, as we proceed to enter our Gothic churches. The low, narrow, and half-subterranean entrance, at the west end of Winchester, gives a restrained and subdued tone to the mind, removing at once all light and inconsiderate feeling, and the check it receives in passing this dark and narrow door-way, affords, from contrast, an effect of greater surprise and wonder on our entrance into the free and open magnificence of the nave of the building. Awe and astonishment are awakened, and take the heart by surprise; we are impressed with the grandeur and power of the place, or rather with the presence into which we have intruded, and with slow and silent tread acknowledge our timidity, respect, and submission. Nor is this a single and first impression only, which a few minutes will relieve and destroy, but throughout every part of the fabric some modification of deep and serious feeling is going on. If we advance under the lofty arches and great columns, we find ourselves no sooner to have crept around and compassed the basement of some clustered mass, but the impression is renewed by the sight coming again in contact with another, whose closeness again presses its strength and power upon us; or else some confused arrangement of them appears together, humbling and pressing down the mind with their number, as well as their vastness; or, if we escape from these forms that appear before it, and by wandering in the