The Count began to collect materials for his work in the bad times even of the Restoration; strange to say, one of the most calamitous periods for all that was venerable amongst the ecclesiastical monuments of France- and he has continued his labours ever since. Part of his work appeared in the form of a letter to M. Victor Hugo, some time since; long before the reaction in favour of the national antiquities of the country had taken place; long before the Comité Historique des Arts et Monuments was appointed, and when some remnants of the Bande Noire were still disfiguring the fair face of France. He has since added some important appendices and notes, modifying the strictures which he had formerly drawn, and putting his observations upon a level with the actual condition of Christian art amongst his Gallic brethren. We say his Gallic brethren, for the noble author is maternally a Briton, and is well known to his Catholic brethren in England for his warm sympathy in their

cause.

It is laid down as a kind of axiom in this book, and the more we reflect on it ourselves the more we are disposed to concur in it, that Christian art alone is appropriate to the external development, the material embodying, of the Christian religion, and of its attendant ceremonies; and that the attempt to borrow from Greek, from Roman, or from Egyptian, art symbols to express Christian ideas, and architectural rules to suit Christian tradition, is not only false taste, but can never succeed æsthetically, and cannot, in the long run, be consonant to the exigences of the Christian mind. True it is that the early Christians were in some degree indebted to Roman art for their earliest buildings, and partly to Greek tradition for many subservient portions, if not for the general ensemble, of the first Oriental Christian churches; but it is not less certain that soon after Christianity became allied to the state, in the time of Constantine, it introduced, both in the east and the west, most important modifications of its own devising into all its architectural efforts. The Roman style soon yielded to the Romanesque, the early Greek to the Byzantine: political revolutions, and national degeneracy, no doubt, acted powerfully at the same time; but the continually developing wants and ceremonies of the Christian churches (their abstract value we do not stop to consider) were by themselves alone most efficient stimulants to the inventive genius of Christian architects, and the gradual formation of the pointed style in north-western Europe, and of the complete Byzantine in the southern parts of this division of the globe, was the consequence. We, the inhabitants of the districts on the Barbaric side of the Alps, are not much concerned with the physical or outward development of the Greek church, nor, indeed, do we yet know enough about Byzantine architecture to follow up all its successive steps with their concomitant analogies. Before we can say any thing upon that matter, we must wait until

the French archæologists, now exploring Greece, Turkey, and Asia Minor, (places, it should seem, far beneath the sublime indifference of the British antiquarian,) shall have thrown more light upon the subject. But we cannot avoid at once asserting that all Europe, that is to say, all western Europe, owes a deep debt of gratitude to Rome and the Roman church, for the magnificent system of Christian architecture, and Christian. ceremonial, which, in part of the Catholic system, she has handed down to us.* To a certain point, we have borne our testimony to this even in England: the hierarchy of the established religion, the uses and denominations of her buildings, much of her liturgy, and more of her ideas as a corporate body, are, in no small degree, identical with those of the ancient Roman church; we may add that, at the present period, the veneration for Roman Catholic architecture, whatever may have been the case one hundred years ago, is carried to a great height; and, were this respectful feeling rather more enlightened, did it but know rather more clearly how strictly analogous Christian architecture is to Christianity, Christian art in all its branches to outward Christian ceremonial, we should no longer see the gross contradictions of good sense and good taste, which modern architects are still fond of inflicting upon simple-minded though well-intentioned congregations. On the Continent, where Catholicism flourishes, and in parts of Germany, where Protestantism of the most enlightened kind thrives in mutual charity with the Roman faith, it is essential that Catholic architecture should be scrupulously maintained; and it is a happy circumstance that this is becoming daily more and more In England, where the gorgeous pageants of a sumptuous religion, (partly, perhaps, obnoxious, but certainly preferable for their effects upon the common people to the melancholy fanaticism that is such a plague-spot in our national character) have all passed away, much of early Christian art, and much of Christian architecture, has become almost inapplicable, or, at least, is but rarely called into use. If English Protestantism can claim any kind of art as its own, it must only be the later portion of the Tudor style, or, perhaps, the earliest periods of the Romanesque; for all that is intermediate falls to the share of Roman Catholicism. Still, taking the existing ceremonials of the Church of England at their highest pitch, taking the full cathedral service, as it is called, for a type, they are somewhat out of harmony with the architecture of our cathedrals and our older parish churches. The sacred enclosure of the choir still has its use; the chapter-house is still indispensable, and, we hope, notwithstanding our threatened reforms, will long be so; the nave is still calculated to hold,

*We beg it to be distinctly understood by our readers that, while we are desirons of bestowing its just praise on the Roman Catholic system, we are stanch, but not bigoted, Protestants, warm friends of the established church, but anxious for a better understanding and more charity among all denominations of our fellow.

christians.

though it seldom does hold, and the more the pity, the people. But the Lady Chapel is an extinct member of the Church; the crypt still more so; the triforium galleries no longer hold the holy brethren or the fair penitents; the rood-loft is desolate; the niches are tenantless; the lateral chapels are mausoleums; the receptacles for holy water are defiled; the fair proportions of Christian art are mutilated or misapplied; Christianity wears a mournful appearance, notwithstanding her immense wealth and power; and an English cathedral, compared to a Continental one, is cold as a corpse when the spirit has left it, dull and cheerless as the English Liturgy compared with the rich and enthusiastic pomp of the Roman Ritual. We do not blame this state of things; we know that it depends upon national character and national feeling, to repine at which would be as unavailing as to lament the existence of a natural phenomenon: we only notice it for the sake of bringing in an argument used by M. de Montalembert, and to which we assent, that the less Christian worship divests itself of outward Christian historical forms, the less it borrows from Paganism, the better. Our author demonstrates that it is a gross contradiction to expect a Greek or a Roman temple to satisfy the wants of a christian congregation: it would be as well to borrow some of the rites of Serapis or the Venus genitrix, and, clothing them in Christian names, expect to find them suited to Christian worship: he does not contemplate the grosser absurdity of borrowing Egyptian traditions, thinly disguised by a Greek veil, for the uses of any thing like a Christian ministry.

This argument may even be carried so far, that St. Peter's, at Rome, may be declared to be a mistake, and a great mistake, committed even by papal infallibility itself. Count de Montalembert, in this book, traces out most satisfactorily the decline of Christian art, from the accession of the Medici family to power at Florence, and afterwards at Rome: he bears full testimony to the immense powers of Michael Angelo, of Rafael, and of all the great masters, as they are usually termed; but he contends that they are not Christian artists; they took heathen models; they fell into the school of materialism, as opposed to spiritualism; they developed the anatomical, the physical, and the poetical beauty of the human form, but they did nothing for Christianity. The fact is, and M. Michelet, the historian, has made the same remark, that Christian art, Christian tradition, and both the power and purity of the Roman Church, all attained their acme together, during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries: and no sooner had the great Jubilee, in 1300, ceased, than Roman power, Roman purity of doctrine and ceremonial, Roman, or rather Christian art, in general, showed symptoms of decay. In Italy, Christian architecture and art have never held up their heads since the days of Julius II.; in France, since the reign of Henry IV.;

in England, since the Reformation. Every body knows the influx of what are called "classical" ideas, that has swallowed up artists and architects, till within a comparatively recent period; it is only now that a purer and more rational taste is appearing among us; and we may very well adopt M. de Montalembert's terms of Catholicism and Vandalism, as applied to art, according as we find a tendency prevailing to consult Christian practice and Christian tradition, in Christian matters, or a leaning to resort to Pagan ideas and Pagan customs.

We are not disposed to mince the matter, and we will give examples of how we would apply these terms. In all the cathedrals of England, except one, on entering them, we instantly feel ourselves in a Christian church: there is nothing to hinder such a conviction from pressing on our minds: we see many of the glories of Christian art developed around us: we look out for a train of white-robed clergy; we expect to hear a Christian liturgy; we hear the solemn organ, and the silver-toned chant of the choristers with feelings all in unison: the mind is pleased, the heart is cheered, and we leave the sacred edifice more at peace with ourselves, and more in harmony with mankind. This is the effect of Christian art; this is Catholicism; and it is an effect produced involuntarily, in a greater or smaller degree, upon any man of any denomination of the Christian family. But if we go into the only cathedral in England, not built after Christian tradition, we find a vast dome, it is true; we see all the wonders of architectural force and hardihood displayed there; we see much monumental richness, but we see nothing that talks to the soul of Christianity we should not be shocked to find the edifice occupied by a grave assembly of senators; we can conceive it well adapted for a metropolitan or national congress; we do not expect to see any clergy in it, nor are we disappointed; we see no sacristy; we know not what the aisles are intended for; we find much to remind us of ancient Roman grandeur, but we see nothing that records any of the past stages of the Christian faith. We hear the liturgy, the organ, and the solemn chant as before, but it seems as if the service was accidental to the building, not the building subservient to the service. This is the effect of pagan art; this is Vandalism; and ninety-nine persons out of a hundred who go into St. Paul's come out thinking a good deal of Nelson's tomb, perhaps, Dr. Johnson's monument, the flags in the dome, and the wonders of the whispering gallery; but it is a chance if even the hundredth is, by the physical impressions of his senses, improved as a Christian and a man. Let any body go into Westminster Abbey, and afterwards into the new church of Marylebone, half church, half theatre, and let him honestly say where he witnessed Catholicism, and where Vandalism. Let any one pace the ancient church of the Temple, and meditate on the brave knights who died for their faith in the Holy Land; and let him then go to St.

Pancras church in the New Road, and inspect the marvels of the tower, and the matchless beauty of the cariatides, and then let him declare on his conscience which is Christian and which is Pagan; which awakens best in his mind the remembrance of Christian story, and which ties him most closely to the bygone noble deeds of his Christian predecessors; which is Catholic, in short, and which is Vandalic. Go to Oxford, hasten to Christ Church; which quadrangle is Catholic, and which Vandalic? Go to Cambridge-can any thing be more Vandalic than the Fellows' building at King's College, placed by the side of that great monument of Catholic Christian art, the chapel? Look at the new churches and chapels of the Establishment and of the Catholics, rising in many parts of England, especially in Lancashire, where a new school has revived the present tradition of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; and look at the dissenting chapels and meeting-houses all over the country: which of these two categories is most indebted to Christian, and which to Pagan art? which is Catholic, and which Vandalic?

To step over to the other side of the Channel, we hold with Count de Montalembert that the new churches of the Madeleine, and Notre Dame de Lorette, at Paris, are gross misapplications of skill and labour applied to Christian purposes, just as much as the Pantheon was in former days; a building that never inspired a Christian idea and never will. Go into Notre Dame de Lorettethere," with all appliances and means to boot," you can hardly pray if you would go into the Sainte Chapelle, encumbered, as it is, with the archives of the Courts of Law; the religio loci overcomes you, and you perform an inward act of devotion in spite of yourself. In the same way, at St. Peter's, one's ideas of vastness, of wonderful magnificence, of all that is most exalting in pomp and ceremonial, are excited to the highest possible pitch perhaps; but the Christian feeling of inward awe, of sacred communion, of piety warmed and cheered by recollection and tradition, are more powerfully acted on in the Duomo of Milan. One is an instance of Vandalism, the other of Catholicism.

It is well said by M. de Montalembert, in applying a similar train of observations to France, that

Long recollections make great nations; and the memory of the past becomes importunate only when the consciousness of the present is a cause of shame. It will be a sad page in our annals that mentions the divorce pronounced against all that our fathers have left us to remind us of their manners, their affections, and their faith.... The Mont St. Michel, Fontevrault, St. Augustin-lez Limoges, Clairvaux, those gigantic testimonials of the genius and patience of the middle ages, have not had, it is true, the fate of Cluny and Citeaux; but is not their destiny a still more shameful one, and would it not have been better to wander over the ruins of these celebrated abbeys, than to see them defiled and mutilated, changed into prisons, and become the dens of crime and vice the most monstrous, after having been the asylums of sorrow and science? . . . The Goths themselves, the Ostrogoths, did not so much as this. History has handed down to us the memorable