on the ground of its intrinsic beauty, it must be admitted that much of the peculiar feeling awakened in our minds on entering an ecclesiastical edifice, arises from the associations with which it is connected. It is a spot rendered sacred by the religious worship of succeeding generations; and the very edifice itself is often a monument of the piety of its founder,—mistaken, it may be, but yet expressive of the yearning of a soul towards its great Creator. Shall it be said that the feeling awakened in such places partakes of superstition? Then, we may add, it has been shared by the noblest minds that ever lived; not only by those whose early habits and education have taught them to look on such edifices with a conscientious reverence, but also by those whose religious principles have been of an opposite tendency. Milton, the sternest of republicans, and the ornament of a party which waged war against the ecclesiastical antiquities of the country, could not but feel the inspiration which seems to breathe from the walls and windows of the Gothic cathedral, and exclaimed

"But let my due feet never fail

To walk the studious cloisters' pale,
And love the high embowered roof,
Like antique pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light,—
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced choir below;

In service high and anthems clear,

As may with sweetness through mine ear,

Dissolve me into ecstasies,

And bring all heaven before my eyes."

And to the name of Milton, may be added another,* one of the most illustrious of modern times, who with the greatest strictness of religious principle, united the utmost susceptibility of feeling from all that is beautiful in art. Nothing could exceed the delight with which he would survey one of our magnificent churches; and the author is informed that once, as he was walking through Wells cathedral, he exclaimed, in answer to a remark on the durability of the structure, "Stand, sir! it will stand to the day of judgment."

It has been said that St. George's Chapel was one of the latest buildings in the Gothic cathedral style, erected in this country. The style had reached its perfection, and rapidly declined. As with nations, so with arts; refinement leads to luxury, and luxury contains within it the seed of its own dissolution. Besides, the change in the style of architecture on the continent-the passion for what was classical completely subduing all admiration of Gothic grandeur-soon produced an effect in this country, and excited a corresponding taste. The increased attention to domestic architecture, moreover, tended to divert into a new channel, much of that wealth which had before been devoted to the erection of gorgeous ecclesiastical edifices; while, at the same time, the Reformation, by teaching men to look for salvation somewhere else than in their munificent donations for the building of churches, tended to cut off one very great source of supply for that purpose. But although the sun of ecclesiastical architecture has long since set, the great objects contemplated by all such ancient edifices are, in the present day, more than ever

* Rev. Robert Hall, of Bristol.

attained; and though taste may mourn over the decay of art, piety will rejoice over the revival of pure and undefiled devotion, and will be consoled for the lack of grandeur, by the reflection, that the infinite Object of our adoration prefers

"Before all temples, the upright heart and pure."

Windsor Castle in the fifteenth century is not deficient in historical associations. The first circumstance of interest that occurred in connection with it, during this century, was the long imprisonment of James I., of Scotland. On his way to France, in 1405, to receive his education, being then eleven years of age, he was taken prisoner by an English corsair, contrary to the law of nations, for England and Scotland were then at peace: but knowing the importance of keeping such an hostage, the English king, Henry IV., resolved to detain him, exclaiming, "In fact, the Scots ought to have given me the education of this boy, for I am an excellent French scholar."* After two years' imprisonment in the Tower of London, he was removed to Windsor, where for sixteen years he was unjustly detained by the English monarch. It may seem strange that no vigorous efforts were made by the Scotch to recover their young prince from his captivity, but it should be remembered that the Duke of Albany, after the death of James's father, which took place in 1406, was Regent of Scotland, and it was to his interest to allow the royal boy to remain a prisoner, that he might himself exercise the dominion of a sovereign. Henry and the Regent seem to have understood each other, and poor young James was the victim of * Sir Walter Scott's "History of Scotland," vol. i., p. 240.

their crafty policy. During the period of James's imprisonment, however, his education appears to have been carefully conducted, as his literary taste and attainments amply proved. Nor were there wanting other influences to cheer the captive's sorrows. The tale of his love for Joanna Beaufort, the niece of Richard II., a tale to which the author of the "Sketch Book" has imparted additional charms, is familiar to every reader. The lovely countenance and form of Joanna made a tender impression on the heart of the royal youth, as he looked from his prison window, and saw her walking in the gardens below; her image was engraven on his memory, her charms were the subject of his song; and true to his early attachment, he afterwards sought and won her hand, when he had the prospect of returning to his country, and ascending his throne. The poem by James, entitled the "King's Quair," in which his love for the Lady Jane forms the leading theme, contains a minute description of the garden at the foot of the round tower; and enables us, as we read it, to transport ourselves to its green arbours and shaded alleys, as they were in the days of the royal poet. "He had risen, he says, at day-break, according to custom, to escape from the dreary meditations of a sleepless pillow."

"Bewailing in his chamber thus alone,"

despairing of all joy and remedy

"Fortired of thought, and woe-begone,"

he had wandered to the window, to indulge the captive's miserable solace of gazing wistfully upon the world from which he is excluded. The window looked forth upon a small garden,

which lay at the foot of the tower. It was a quiet, sheltered spot, adorned with arbours and green alleys, and protected from the passing gaze by trees and hawthorn hedges:

"Now was there made, fast by the tower's wall,

A garden faire, and in the corners set
An arbour green, with wandis long and small
Railed about; and so with leaves beset
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet,
That lyf* was none, walkyng there forbye,
That might within scarce any wight espye.

"So thick the branches, and the leves grene,
Beshaded all the alleys that there were,
And midst of every arbour might be seen
The sharpe, grene, sweet juniper,
Growing so fair, with branches here and there,
That, as it seemed to a lyf without,

The boughs did spread the arbour all about.

"And on the small grene twistis+ set

The lytel swete nightingales, and sung
So loud and clear the hymnis consecrate
Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among,
That all the garden and the wallis rung
Right of their song-

The royal captive was liberated, in the year 1424, by Henry VI., on the Scots agreeing to pay £40,000; not for the king's ransom,—that would have been an acknowledgment on the part of the English sovereign, that he had taken and held him as a prisoner, and would have reflected on his justice;-but for the

* Lyf," person."

+ Twistis, "small boughs or twigs."

+ " Sketch Book," vol. i., p. 157.