only abolished paganism, but in the stead of three arch-flamins, and twen ty-eight flamins, as they are called, procured from Cleutherius, then bishop of Rome, the appointment of as many Christian archbishops and bishops to instruct his people in the divine religion; thus becoming the first monarch who gave a national establish ment to Christianity. It is also related of Lucius, that he converted the pagan temples into churches, and built several new ones; among others, one where St Peter's Cornhill London now stands. Now, sir, if we admit that the establishing of Christianity was followed in Britain by the same im mediate effects that subsequently took place elsewhere, namely, the casting down of the idols, and breaking them and their altars to pieces, we need not be perplexed to account for the extinction of all Roman remains of this kind. I am not satisfied that much light has yet been thrown on the origin of what is called the Saxon style of architecture; but it is matter of historical fact, that with the Saxons a new species of idolatry was introduced, and perhaps, some of the old aboriginal paganism revived, in so much, that a second public conversion to Christianity subsequently took place in the person and courtiers of Ethelbert king of Kent, at which epoch the bishop of Rome was grown into the Pope. The Chris tianity of this latter period was accordingly infected with the corruptions of the church. Instead of the simple preaching of that meek and lowly religion, which won the affections of Lucius from the gods of his fathers, the gorgeous harlot came with her blandishments, arrayed in the abominations of crimson and fine linen, attended by a train of friars, " black, white, and grey, with all their trumpery." By the conversion of Ethelbert, Christianity, as the Roman Catholic religion is still called, was established, and idolatry finally abolished in Britain. It is therefore not assuming too much, to say, that if we consider the first suppression of paganism by Lucius, the restoration of idolatry in the time of the Saxons, and the reconversion during the heptarchy, it is not difficult to conceive how it has happened that there are no remains of the sacred architecture of the Romans now existing in this island, especially, when we reflect that the temples erected by them probably were never numerous. But still there is something very unaccountable in this matter; for in a period comparatively short, we find the art of architecture, and of course the art of drawing, necessary to form architectural designs so far advanced, that in less than five hundred years from the accession of Ethelbert the cathedral of Durham was built, and it is still one of the greatest and noblest piles in the island. Within the last five hundred years, with the single exception of St Pauls, no temple of equal magnitude of design and gran deur of architecture has been attempted in England. But to consider the subject more generally, I would ask if it ever has been investigated, whether any of those churches which are esteemed the earliest specimens of Saxon architecture, do not contain within them portions and fragments of Roman temples? The sacred architecture of the Greeks and Romans was exterior in its object and composition. Their religious ceremonies consisted of processions and of rites, which their climate permitted them to perform in the open airg their temples were in consequence small, and the ornaments arranged on the outside of the building. In this island, we are obliged to adopt another method; our ritual is constrained by the uncertainty of the weather to be performed under cover; our temples have accordingly been erected of vast properties to accommodate a great number of worshippers, and our chief ornaments have been displayed in the interior of the pile. The distinction, although important, requires no particular elucidation. Upon the supposition, then, that some of the temples built in the Roman taste introduced by Agricola (allowing what Tacitus has said to be true), have been, in the course of time, enlarged to cathedrals, or other distinguished churches, the process of their conversion would be simple and obvious. The parallelogram of that taste would easily admit of being changed into such a building, for example, as that of Durham-minster.By removing the roof, and flinging arches from column to column, and raising on those arches a superstruc ture with windows in it, to support the new roof, the middle aisle of the church, with its lateral insulated colon nades would be formed, and by merely building round the original edifice a wall with windows in it, and carrying a roof from the top of that wall to the base of the superstructure raised on the arches, a perfect specimen of a church in the Saxon style would be obtained. For the cell of the classic temple would stand for the choir. It is not however probable, that such an alteration as I have described would be effected at once. I have only adverted to the likelihood of the thing, in converting a temple into a church; and would only infer from it, that if Agricola and the Romans did introduce into this island the taste and arts of Rome, it is probable, that what is called the Saxon architecture took its rise from endeavours on the part of inhabitants to adapt the exterior style of the Romans to those interior purposes, which were rendered necessary by the uncertainty of the weather in the climate of Britain. To the Saxon succeeded the Gothic, or pointed-arch style. It is the dotage of antiquarianism to effect to trace the origin of this style to any particular era or country; and it is, at best, but an amusing ingenuity which endeavours to discover in it the imitation of a grove of trees. The history of it, as connected with that of the arts in this country, admits of being divided into two epochs. The first terminates in the reign of Edward III., when the style of the acute-pointed arch was brought to the greatest perfection, and of which the relics about the House of Commons are the finest specimens extant. The second, dating from the same reign, is closed in that of Henry VIII., when the obtusepointed arch was brought to the greatest perfection, and of which the finest specimen is the mausoleum completed by that monarch for his father, and known as Henry VII.'s Chapel, attached to Westminster-Abbey. The Chapel of King's College, at Cambridge, is also a very noble example of this style, but, owing to the foundation having been laid by Henry VI., it is commonly ascribed to his time. t was not however finished till late in the reign of Henry VIII., and ought properly to be classed among the great edifices of that age. It From the reign of Henry VIII. ar chitecture, for many years, declined. A barbarous attempt to ingraft the classic orders upon edifices in the Gothic taste commenced; nor was it confined to this country, but extended over all Europe. It probably originated in the revival of the ancient Roman style of building, which took place in the pontificates of Julius II. and Leo X., and perhaps derived encouragement from the views of classic edifices with which it was common at that period to ornament books. We find the earliest indications of it in a multitude of pillars and pillasters on tombs, constructed somewhat in the style of the triumphal arches of the Romans. But, although the taste deserves condemnation, yet it was not incompatible with beauty of effect, a very imposing example of which we have in Burleigh-house, near Stamford. This mixture of the Classic and Gothic styles, with a gradual tendency to more simplicity, prevailed during the reign of Queen Elizabeth and James I. of Great Britain. In Charles I.'s time the Classic architecture was decidedly in fashion; and the fragment of the palace intended for him by Inigo Jones, although far from being fine, cannot be contemplated without pleasure. The change in the public taste was still more generally expressed when Sir Christopher Wren came forward as an architect. In his buildings there are some fine instances of the proper adaptations of the style of the building to its uses, but the greatest of all his works, and, indeed, the greatest pile of the fine arts, in some respects, ever raised by one man, St Paul's Cathedral, is in its details lamentably defective. The main body of the building is, in its principle, taken from the design of Inigo Jones' for Whitehall, and the dome, the best part of the whole, is not in unison with the rest of the building. It is a superb edifice of itself, set on the top of another; taken as a whole, the Cathedral of St Paul's does not certainly harmonize in its parts, and it possesses the radical defect of being unadapted to the climate; the exterior being covered with ornament, while the interior is mean, and unworthy of the grandeur without. Of Sir John Vanburgh's style it is impossible to speak too contemptuous- and ponderous porticos, which give to ly or too highly. He was a man of the houses of the nobility the air of magnificent ideas, and the picturesque capitols rather than of habitations. forms, in which the outlines of his Our architects still seem to think, that buildings cut against the sky, are so there are not only beauties in architec◄ extremely beautiful, that they may be ture, independent of fitness, but even said to be full of poetry, so singular that ornaments may be stuck on, withand superb are the associations which out any apparent utility either to the they awaken in the minds of those plan or in illustration of the purposes who see them for the first time. of the building. One of the most reBlenheim is considered his greatest markable examples of this is in the work; but, for myself, I prefer Castle mansion of the late Sir Francis BarHoward. ing, near Southampton; and it is the more deserving of notice, as some of your correspondents have been urging that the Parthenon of Athens ought to be taken as the model of the proposed National Monument of Scotland. It is no less than an exact copy, inch for inch, of one of the porticos of that celebrated structure. Nothing can be finer of its kind, or more absurd than its application. The next great pile erected in this country, after Blenheim, was Somerset-House; but, although in the grammar of the art, it is more correct than either St Paul's or the great work of Sir John Vanbrugh, a little ness of conception pervades it throughout, that must ever prevent it from being highly esteemed as a work of art, and the architect, Sir William Chambers, from being considered as a great artist. It is impossible to notice the number of fine buildings in the Classic style raised in the long course of his late Majesty's reign. For the most part, however, they have not been conceived in a good taste, and consist of abortive attempts to unite the grandeur of the temple with the elegance of the villa. Hence the origin of those vast It was my intention to have taken some notice of the architectural taste which prevails in Scotland at this time; but I have already occupied too much of your paper, and the subject, in itself, deserves to be treated more in detail than the matter which forms the substance of the cursory observa tions of this letter. D. B. RECOLLECTIONS. No III. MARK MACRABIN, the Cameronian. My Cameronian friend pondered for some time ere he ventured to commence the history of his own adventures. He was not one of those of whom the poet complains-" Fond to to begin, but for to finish loath." He was as tardy to commence as he was tedious in continuing his narratives. Were I a lover of brevity, I would have to make the same abatement in Mark's memoir which the peasant made in the sermon of John Rowat the Cameronian professor-" Take the whole as it came," said he, "and it would heap the bushel, deduct the coughs-the drawls-the intrusive "well thens"-and above all The but again, and the furthermore. The henceforth and the heretofore From the manner in which Mark pondered with the punch-spoon in his hand, it was evident he proposed some express and particular exordium. He added water to the punch-a token of deep abstraction, for the liquor needed it not he added an equal quantity of whisky-a proof of returning reflection --still he obtained not the mastery of his subject. Finally, he admonished the dull inward man, with a reeking cupfull of the social beverage, but it denied the inspiration to him it has conferred on so many. He then turned to contemplate a huge blue Lowland bonnet, which hung over a large sheep-headed sword, as a target of old over a chieftain's claymore in some mud fortress in the Highlands. A single feather from the wing of the heron, contrary to all usage, true or traditional, adorned its stem, and a steel-hilted dirk was just visible under this azure canopy. Though the large brand and its lesser companion had furnished subjects for many a tale being chosen heir-looms of the ancient house of Macrabin-yet, as their virtues pertained more to the peroration than to the exordium, they evidently failed in suggesting a com mencement. Mark turned to me, and said, "Miles Cameron, there be sundry ways of beginning a story, and though I began the world but in one way, and though truth is truth, whether she appear in figured silk or in coarse plaiden-still I feel some difficulty concerning the precise garb she should wear, and the way of introducing her. Should I commence my pilgrimage with a measured step, and salute wayfaring men with lofty words and with choice classical sentences-truly my natural step would be constrained and my language artificial. Or, should I come forth among menmy ellrod in my hand, with a kindly Scottish " peace be here" on my lips, as I was accustomed to enter the abodes of the peasants of Caledonia-then verily, I might be accused of vulgar and unseemly homeliness, and men might say of Mark Macrabin, as my favourite Cowper said of my bosom-favourite Burns, "This man hides his genius in a dark lantern.' Suppose now, I should give you the two stiles time and time about, like riggs of rundale on the hip of Tinwald hill, or card them through each other like black wool and white hawslock to make parson gray stockings-a professional simile. Truly the latter seems precisely the kind of manner I must adopt-its mixed nature accords with the motley matter; but as I see by these two homely similies, that my leaning is to the native, still I shall merely use the other as an agreeable seasoning to elevate and enliven. But even as sparingly as douce Doctor Hun ter did the lime, when he manured or rather powdered his land with it out of a sowing sheet." Give me back, said he, a bonny crop of corn, for faith I have warmed the heart of thee." And now the beginning comes as naturally to my hand as the loop of this ladle-I have always admired the first verse of the Ballad of Barbara Allen-it introduces the subject-tells the place, the time of the year, and the names of the luckless heroine and her more luckless lover, in a manner of unequalled simplicity and brevity. So I shall even press the beginning of the bonny ballad into my memoir, as the devout people of Scotland impressed the lovely heathen songs into the devotional service of the kirk-and conscience!" John, come, kiss me now," or, " Coming through the rye," were ticklish auxiliaries. In the middle of a lovely night of August, with the new-risen moon for my guide-and the world which she looked on for mine inheritance, I turned my steps in sorrow and in anger from my father's door. Whither to wander, or what vocation to pursue, I knew not -the east-the west-the north or the south had all alike charms for me-so I even set up my staff-and followed the road it fell to. I'll not deny, that I think my staff had a kind of sympathy for a road I had frequently walkedfor it fell with its head as straight for the dwelling of Henney Haining as if I had laid it parallel with the long lines of light which came towards me from her window. At her window I arrived, and out came Kimmer so ripe and so rosy, with a kind kiss, and a 66 preserve me! Mark, this can never be Thursday night." "I shall say nae ill, my bonny lass, of the night-though it is a black ane for me."-and so I told her briefly and boldly what had happened-called it a trial of true love, and spake something about bridal vows and a justice of the peace."My certe, said she, ye're a sweet chield-heard ever lugs the like o' that-that I should love ane of the fremitt as dear as my father or my mother!" And so we parted.-I took my forlorn and lonely road-and she took "her ain gray gate," a way many walk who slight a first leal love." My Cameronian confident made a full pause-busied himself with the quaigh which he lifted empty to his lips and drank my health, without observing perhaps the ominous circumstance of a health drunk dry. He proceeded. "In the pastoral parish of the Keir is a lovely hill, round and high, called the hill of Lagg. At its foot on the western side, commanding the narrow pass between the green valley of Dalgoner and the richer vale of Nith, stands a square tower-the roof shared between pigeons and jackdaws, and the rest lying in utter desolation-once the residence of a mandreaded in his own time, and detested in all that followed-even Grierson of Lagg, the noted persecutor. I seated myself on a fallen stone of this ruined tower, with which, in the bitterness of repentant affliction, I could not help comparing myself. The ascending buoyancy of spirit, which a father's sternness and a maiden's scorn had conjured up, began to subside, and left my heart in hopeless desolation. To return and humble myself, like the prodigal in the parable, never entered my mind-such is not the way of the house of Macrabin.-But there is amusement in all things if a man is ingenious enough to pick it out. While I sat there, I frightened swearing Jock of the Sware out of a year's growth, and what he liked worse, a Scotch pint of burnt brandy, as he was hastening to his aunt's "lyke wake." Up came Jock, boldly crooning the march of Montrose in preference of his favourite, "When she came ben she bobbit," and which he concluded might be more congenial to the airy forms with which popular belief, at unthrifty hours, had tenanted this mansion. He turned the corner and got a glimpse of me-stood statue still, breathing and snorting fast and audibly and taking me for a spirit of some slain Cameronian come to re joice over the ruin of his destroyer's house-homewards he flew, vowing as he went, and vowing aloud, never to VOL. VI. taste brandy more-except, said he, giving voice to his mental reservation as he crossed his own threshold-except at fairs, preachings, bridals, house-eatings, kirns, funerals, and daimen-times. The night was mild and balmythe heaven above glimmered with innumerable stars, and the earth beneath was veiled with that gauzy mist so lucid and silvery, which softens but does not shroud the scenery over which it hovers. I thought then, as I have often thought, on that divine Psalm the eighth, and I repeated aloud :"When I look up unto the heav'ns, Which thine own fingers fram'd, Unto the moon, and to the stars, Which were by thee ordained; Or what the son of man, that thou For thou a little lower hast Him than the angels made; With glory and with dignity Thou crowned hast his head." At this moment, many voices mingling wild and deep and melodious, in one full strain, came down from the hill of Lagg. It was a strain rather of exultation than of solemnity or sadness; and the silence of the night, and the loneliness of the hour, gave it a wildly impressive and mysterious effect, which a commoner occasion would have failed to produce. From whom this could come I could not conceive, but the mixture of voices of various kinds of harmony, made me conclude it was an anthem warbled forth from earthly lips; and having a love of music, and a spirit for adventure, up I started, and began to ascend the hill. As I continued to climb, the music proceeded, and it differed greatly from all other music I had ever heard. It wanted the grave simplicity and deep pathetic tone of some of the fine tunes of the Scottish kirk; but in variety, sweetness, and rapidity, it was far surpassing, and ornamented too with innumerable grace-notes, which are to music what conceits are to poetry. In this it differed from all our native devotional melodies-its chief fault was excess of ornament. Still it was decidedly devout; but it was devotion in a snood of pearlstrinkets in her ears, and slippers with gilded heels. The way up the hill was rough and difficult-on all sides 4 P |
