and the bursting forth of the leaf must have appeared fale symbolism, although they knew too well that of which autumn and evening were typical. So, to quote only one other example, the law of self-sacrifice is beautifully shadowed out by the grain that "unless it die, "abideth alone; but if it die, bringeth forth much fruit.”

We may argue next from the analogy of all art. Sculpture, perhaps, has least to offer in our support. But in painting we may refer to the conventional colours appropriated to various personages: and the mechanical symbolism of poetry is known to all. Nor must we forget the conventional use of language. Archaisms, studied inversions, quaint phrases, and the like, have always been affected by those who were treating of high and holy subj cts. None has employed these with happier effect than Spenser, whose language, it need not be said, never was and never could have been really used. The solemnizing effect of a judicious employment of this artifice is no where more strongly felt than in works of Divinity. Compare for example the English language, where the conventional Thou is always addressed to the Deity, and where a stern simplicity runs through the whole of our Divine Offices, with the French which can only employ Vous in prayer, and with the Portuguese, where, in the authorized translation of the Holy Scriptures, Apostles, and Prophets,-nay, our Blessed LORD Himself, speak in the polite phrases of conversational elegance.*

*It is on grounds similar to these, that, in our translation of Durandus, we have adopted that conventional style which has been objected to by some recent criticks :—not that any one ever naturally conversed or wrote in it, but for the sake of producing the effect which the subject seems to require. The brilliancy of a summer's day is beautiful in its place: admitted into a Cathedral, it would be totally out of character.

Musick, however, has the strongest claims to our notice. We know, for example, that each instrument symbolizes some particular colour. So, according to Haydn, the trombone is deep red,-the trumpet, scarlet, -the clarionet, orange,-the oboe, yellow,-the bassoon, deep yellow,—the flute, sky-blue,—the diapason, deep blue, the double diapason, purple, the horn, violet:while the violin is pink,-the viola, rose,-the violoncello, red, and the double bass, crimson. This by many would be called fanciful:-therefore let us turn to a passage of Haydn's works, and see if it will hold. Let us examine the sun-rise in the Creation.' At the commencement, as it has been well observed, our attention is attracted by a soft-streaming sound from the violins, scarcely audible, till the pink rays of the second violin diverge into the chord of the second, to which is gradually imparted a greater fulness of colour, as the rose violas and red violoncellos steal in with expanding beauty, while the azure of the flute tempers the mounting rays of the violin as the notes continue ascending to the highest point of brightness, the orange of the clarionet, the scarlet of the trumpet, the purple of the double diapason, unite in increasing splendour, -till the sun appears at length in all the refulgence of harmony.

This may serve as a specimen of the manner in which the expressions of one art may be translated into that of another, because they each and all symbolize the same. abstraction.

Again, the language of flowers is a case much in point. This is a species of symbolism which has prevailed among all nations, and which our devout ancestors were not slow in stamping with the impress of Religion. Witness, for example, the Herb Trinity, now generally called Hearts ease, the Passion Flower, and the Lacrima Christi. And

in the present day, who knows not that the rose is for beauty, the violet for modesty,-the sun-flower for faithfulness, the forget-me-not for remembrance,--the pansy for thought, the cypress for woe,-the yew for trueheartedness, the everlasting for immortality? The flowers introduced into the ornament of churches we shall consider presently.

Furthermore, whatever was the character of our LORD's teaching, such is likely to be that of His Church. If the former were plain, unadorned, setting forth naked truths in the fewest and simplest words; then we allow that there is a primâ facie argument against the system which we are endeavouring to support. But if it were parabolick, figurative, descriptive, allegorical,-why should not the Church imitate Her Master? His parables are at once the surest defence, and the most probable originators, of Her symbolism.

We shall have occasion in another place to draw from a consideration of the nature of our LORD's parables an argument in behalf of symbolism against one of the most formidable objections that has been raised against the system. It would here be sufficient for our purpose to notice the figurative character of our LORD's general teaching. But we have His own authority for much more than a general adoption of such a principle. Tradition hands down that He was within sight of the Temple when He pointed towards it, and uttered those gracious words, I AM THE DOOR. Be this as it may, we have from it a sufficient precedent to justify us in seeking for an emblematical meaning in the external world, and more particularly in the material sanctuary. S. Paul, on the same principle, allegorizes the Jewish Temple, detail by detail:-the Holy of Holies was heaven; the High Priest, CHRIST; the veil even, His flesh. It is inconceivable

:

that the Temple should be so symbolical, and so holy that our LORD Himself cleansed it from its defiling moneychangers and yet that a Christian church, wherein the Great Sacrifice is commemorated and our LORD is peculiarly present, should be less symbolical,-particularly when its arrangement is in exact conformity to that of the Temple,*-or should be less holy. At any rate the Door must be significant: at any rate the Altar, which S. Paul claims for the Christian Church, in opposition to those who 66 serve the tabernacle."

Again, the holy Sacraments of the Church are examples, in the highest degree, of this principle of figurative or symbolical teaching. They, indeed, are not only signs of unseen things, but the channels and instruments of grace. The latter quality we do not claim for the speaking symbolism of a material church: but architecture is an emblem of the invisible abstract, no less than Holy Baptism and the Lord's Supper. Besides the two Sacraments Kar' óxηy, our Church recognizes other offices, such as Marriage, Confirmation, and the like, as Sacramentals. In short the whole Church system is figurative from first to last not indeed therefore the less real, actual, visible, and practical; but rather the more real and practical, because its teaching and discpline are not merely material and temporary, but anticipative of the heavenly and eternal. This quality, then of symbolism cannot be denied to one, and a most important, expression of the teaching of the Church, namely its architecture. The Cathedral (to repeat the general in the particular) is not the less material, the less solid, the less real, because we see it in the figurative exhibition of the peculiarities of our Religion and the articles of our Creed.

* See Appendix A.

CHAPTER IV.

PHILOSOPHICAL REASONS FOR BELIEVING IN SYMBOLISM.

WE now propose to offer a few remarks on the philosophical reasons there seem to be for concluding that Ecclesiastical Architecture has some esoterick meaning, some figurative adaptation, more than can be appreciated, or even discerned, by the casual observer, to the uses which produced it, and which have always regulated it. We venture to approach this consideration, however, rather from a feeling that our Essay would be incomplete without some reference to this kind of argument, than from any idea of our own ability to treat on subjects so abstract and infinite; and fearing that we may not be able clearly to express or dissect those thoughts which, nevertheless, appear to our own minds both true and very important.

It is little better than a truism to assert that there is an intimate correspondence and relation between cause and effect: yet this thought opens the way to a very wide field of speculation. Mind cannot act upon matter without the material result being closely related to the mental intention which originated it: the fact that anything exists adapted to a certain end or use is alone enough to presuppose the end or use: who can see a moinua, without distinguishing its relation to the want or necessity which brought about oinog? In short, the pyov, whatever it may be, not only answers to that which called it forth, but, in some sort, represents materially, or symbolizes,