infinity, and prolongation of some parts in the more magnificent churches, all united and blended together by the rich and subdued light reflected through the stained-glass windows, must be productive of religious emotions. "On entering a Gothic cathedral," says Coleridge, "I am filled with devotion, and with awe! I am lost to the actualities which surround me, and my whole being expands into the infinite; earth and air, and nature and art, all swell up into eternity, and the only sensible impression left is, that I am nothing."
These effects will, we believe, be found by those who closely examine the subject, to proceed mainly from the cruciform and tripartite arrangements, joined with the principle of verticality of which we shall here take some notice.
“It is not less the beauty, and the perfection of Gothic architecture,” says Mr. Poole, quoting Professor Whewell, “that it is vertical, aspiring, indefinite, than it is the beauty and perfection of Grecian architecture, that it is horizontal, reposing, definite.” The idea of each is beautiful, though its beauty be of a different character from that of its rival sister, and the very forms in the Gothic style, which Evelyn calls fantastic and licentious, and which Wren sneeringly attributes to the builders “spiring up all they could, are the apt expressions of the distinctively beautiful idea of Gothic art.” Now in the churches of the middle era of Christian architecture, which we have said contain the best specimens of ecclesiastical art, we find the principle of vertical tendency to prevail. The arcades of nave and aisles, the arches of doors and windows, the canopies of niches and tabernacle work, in fact, every detail from the floor to the spire-top, “whose silent finger points to heaven,” are governed by the aspiring idea of verticality, and its symbolical allusions. The substitution of the pointed for the semicircular Romanesque arch, was the first step taken by the ancient church builders towards the development of the vertical principle. The forms and details of the half pagan Romanesque hung heavily on Christian art, till the introduction of the pointed arch, from which period verticality quickly developed itself; and it was only towards the close of the fifteenth century, when the idea was in a great measure abandoned by the substitution of the low four-centred arch that art began to be debased; so long as verticality in treatment was preserved, pointed architecture was a living and progressive art. How much greater degree of height was obtained with the same features, and a smaller quantity of material, by the use of the pointed arch instead of the semi-circular, is shown by Mr. Pugin, in his excellent “Contrasts.”
Another of the peculiarities of detail of Christian, as contra-distinguished from pagan art, is the aggregation of minute parts, and this, experience teaches us, is a chracteristic of the beautiful, and is peculiarly appropriate in Christian churches. by the smallness of the several parts, our idea of the vastness of the whole is magnified; thus we find on closely comparing ancient works with modern of the same actual dimensions, the smallness of the stones used in the walls of the former, gives the entire an effect of greater magnitude than is conveyed by modern works, in which it appears to be a fixed principle to use the largest blocks the quarry can produce. The representation of the human figure works never approached to any thing like life size. We will often find the jambs of a door of moderate dimensions decorated with various groups of figures, as at Lichfield, Wells, Malmsbury, and several other cathedral and monastic churches in England, Bayeux Cathedral in Normandy, and in some of hour humble less pretending churches in Ireland. At the neglected and almost forgotten church of Clontuskret, in the County of Galway, there remains a west door, the minute sculptures of which are in an excellent state of preservation. The part over the arch,, contains representations of bishops and other ecclesiastics; the sides of the jambs contain figures of grotesque character, the meaning of which we have not heard explained. Immediately within the door, on the angle of the inner jamb, there is a small holy water stoup, contained within a niche, which is adorned with two bass reliefs, one of St. Augustine, probably, and the other, undoubtedly, of St. Catherine, as she is represented with her usual symbol, the wheel. Often a story of Sacred Scripture, or ecclesiastical history, was contained within a space which would scarcely contain a fragment of a heathen divinity or of a monstrosity of modern sculpture. Our old Irish crosses contain many beautiful examples of such aggregation of minute parts. On several ancient fonts are figures in bass relief, representing the crucifixion of our Lord, and the seven sacraments.[1] We do not mean to contend, that in every case the form of these details is correct in delineation, and that in general the oderns are not superior to the ancients in this respect. But the beauty of form is altogether apart from that of aggregation, and affects us in a different way, though, perhaps, towards the same end; and in this particular, we hope for great improvements in future developments of Christian art. Beauty of form and correctness of outline may be given to the details of aggregation, without infringing on the ancient idea. In painting already great triumphs have been achieved by Overbeck, and others of the new German School of Catholic ar, who, while preserving the entire spirit of the artists of the middle ages, have corrected their defects in outline, and perspective. Flaxman, who may be considered an impartial, as well as a competent judge, appreciates highly this ancient sculpture. For speaking of the west front of Wells Cathedral, he says, “This work is necessarily ill drawn, and defective in principle, and much of this sculpture is rude and severe; yet, in parts, there is a beautiful simplicity, an irresistible sentiment, and sometimes a grace, excelling more modern productions.”
The construction of medieval architecture is so important a feature of its fitness, as to call for our utmost attention, particularly when it is contrasted with contrivances for the support of modern edifices. In no point, perhaps, does the superiority of medieval to modern art appear more strikingly than in this, notwithstanding the much boasted improvements of modern science. If any one will take the trouble of comparing the ground plans and sections of relative buildings, of the pointed and the revived pagan styles, he will find that, in buildings covering the same superficial area, the touching points occupy a much greater extent in the latter than in the former; that is, that of the areas within the walls a greater space of ground is required for the supports of the structure (such as piers and columns) in the pagan than in the Christian styles. He will also find that a greater degree of altitude is arrived at in the Christian styles, with, as we have before mentioned, a smaller quantity of materials. These facts demonstrate the superior practical know-
- ↑ Vide Paley's Fonts, Britton's Antiquities, &c.
