front of S. Michael, Dijon; considerable portions of S. Remi, Dieppe; S. Clotilde, in Andelys; the upper stages of the western towers of the Cathedral of S. Gatien, Tours; and the churches of Gisors and Argentan. In England, as has been before observed, we have no remarkable example, the chapel of S. Peter's College, Cambridge, is probably the best that can be cited.

The monumental architecture of this age, though incorrect in taste, was exceedingly rich and elaborate in detail, most of our larger churches will furnish specimens of it, the earliest are probably those of Henry VII., in Westminster Abbey, by Torrigiana, in 1518, and of Sir Thomas Pope, in Trinity College Chapel, Oxford, 1558. The tombs of Cardinal Amboise, and of the Duke de Brézé at Rouen, of Réné, Duke of Lorraine, at Nancy, and of Louis XII. and Francis I., all executed prior to 1550, are probably amongst the best French examples.

The revival of church principles in this country in the earlier half of the seventeenth century, tended in some degree to check the growing taste for classical architec ture. And though the church work of that age is of a debased character, it is essentially Catholic and Christian in its impressions.1 To English churchmen of succeeding ages, the remnants of this period are peculiarly sacred, as precious relics of such men as Laud and Andrewes, of Herbert and Hooker, of Hammond and Taylor, and Sanderson, and many other venerated names. The great Rebellion, with its twenty years of accompanying desolation, spread like an overwhelming flood over these brighter prospects, and swept away the last vestiges of appreciation for pointed architecture. For though we

1 There is but one solitary, though that a very noble instance of a like revival in France. The Cathedral of S. Croix, at Orleans, blown up by the Hugonots in 1567, after having been previously desecrated by them for a stable, and other ignominious purposes, was (with the exception of the west front and part of the south transept, added in a mongrel style by Gabrielli, in 1764,) completely rebuilt in Middle-Pointed of so pure a style, that it can with difficulty be distinguished from the best works of the medieval ages. The first stone was laid by Henri IV., in 1601, who furnished the funds, and the works were carried on and completed under his successors, Louis XIII., XIV., and XV,

find Bishop Hacket rebuilding the great central spire of Lichfield Cathedral, and Bishop Beveridge setting up a high and elaborate rood-screen in the parish church of S. Peter upon Cornhill, yet the new Cathedral of S. Paul, and the parish churches of the City of London, were rebuilt by Wren in a strictly classic style. There were some even in these degenerate days who could appreciate the works of earlier ages, as appears from the following remarkable extract from the concluding chapter of a work published in 1688, entitled, "The faith and duty of a Church of England man." "I do confess, I witness with great pain the modern corruptions which have prevailed since Signior Palladio's taste, introduced by Master Inigo Jones, hath got the upper hand here, which hath debased our church building, and bids fair to drive into utter oblivion all knowledge of Christian forms for Christian churches."

The consummation thus predicted, was most fully brought to pass under Wren's successors, Hawkesmoor, Gibbs, Dance, &c. ; so much so, that towards the close of the eighteenth century, everything deserving the name of church architecture had died out, and our churches were reduced to mere brick rooms, bedecked with sundry Pagan but no Christian emblems. This was the state of things at the commencement of the present century, just previously to the revival. The Church of England, however, even in that dark age, was not without a witness of better things. An eminent divine, the Rev. W. Jones, of Nayland, in a treatise entitled "Reflections on the growth of Heathenism among modern Christians," laments that the fabulous creations of Greek mythology should ever have got possession of our churches, and he instances the village church of Wharton, Northants, "where there is a monument with figures as large as life of the three fates, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, spinning and clipping the thread of a great man's life; by which species of memorial he is taken as it were out of the hands of the true GOD, whom we Christians worship in our churches, and turned over to the miserable blindness of heathen destiny, not to mention the insult and profa1 Republished by Masters, 1854.

nation of bringing heathen idols into a Christian Church.1 In this same church the font is very mean, and removed almost out of sight, so natural is it for those improvements which exalt heathenism to debase Christianity. Again, at Stowe, in Buckinghamshire, the temples of the heathen gods conspicuously adorn the pleasure grounds, while the adjacent parish church is planted out of sight by evergreens, as an object impertinent to a spectator of mo dern taste."

We may conclude our chapter with another excellent quotation, "When I see the figure of a cock upon the top of a steeple, I am reminded of that sacred bird who was a monitor to S. Peter, and through his example, is now giving a daily lesson to all believers. When I see the globe and cross at the top of S. Paul's, I rejoice in the exaltation of Him Who was humbled for our sakes, but is now the head of all principality and power, to the Church and to the world. But when I see the dragon upon Bow steeple, I can only wonder how an emblem so expressive of the devil, and frequently introduced as such into the temples of idolaters, found its way to the summit of a Christian edifice."

Biography.

JEREMY TAYLOR, D.D.

AMONG the brilliant circle of Divines and Prelates which added lustre to the era of the earlier Stuarts, without a rival for eloquence, and scarcely surpassed in suffering at the hands of the Puritan faction, was the great Jeremy Taylor. Like many others of those memorable worthies, he sprang from humble parentage, being the third son of Nathaniel Taylor, a barber and

1 This warning against monumental Paganism is not without weight even in the present age of increased light and knowledge. Urns, inverted torches, and other heathen symbols, still pertinaciously intrude themselves into places of Christian sepulture.

churchwarden, residing in Trinity parish, in Cambridge, and was baptized on August 15, 1613. His family had been despoiled of their patrimony in Gloucestershire, during the persecution of Queen Mary's reign. He was at a very early age sent to the School founded by Dr. Stephen Perse, under the care of Mr. Lovering. He was no more than thirteen years old, when entered as a sizar, or poor scholar, at Caius College, Cambridge: in the year 1631, he became a Fellow on that foundation. In those days students in the Colleges shared a common room; Jeremy Taylor's chamber-fellow, Mr. Risden, then lecturer of S. Paul's Cathedral, desired him to supply his place; his powers of elocution and noble strain of oratory, combined with a striking person, recommended him to the favour of Archbishop Laud. He was commanded to preach at Lambeth; his new patron praised his energy and success in the pulpit, adding that he was too young a clergyman to remain in London. Like Venerable Bede, Bishop Bull, the primate Usher, and Sharpe, the English Chrysostom had been ordained before the canonical age for admission to the priesthood. Taylor, meekly bowing with a graceful vivacity, replied that "if he lived, he would amend that fault." Laud, however, found a home for him in All Souls' College, in Oxford, over which presided Sheldon, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Some difficulties were made to his admission; and in the interval, he resided at Maidly Hill, in Warwickshire. On October 20, 1635, he graduated M.A. in University College, Oxford, and on January 14, 1636, entered on his rooms in All Souls'. The busy world had more charms for Taylor than the literary leisure of a College recluse. He seldom tarried long in cloister or library, but, as Laud's Chaplain, was constantly absent attending the primate. On March 23, 1638, Bishop Juxon presented him to the rectory of Uppingham; his cure drew him still more frequently from Oxford: and his marriage on May 27, 1639, with Phoebe Langsdale, the daughter of a widow in his parish, entirely severed his connection with the University as a Student. The first sorrow of his life shortly came. In 1642, the mother and a young infant were laid to rest in the little churchyard near his

parsonage. Two boys survived; their melancholy deaths in manhood were to bring fresh trials towards the close of their father's pilgrimage.

Two years after, he was deprived by the Presbyterians; a schismatical intruder appropriated the living, and Taylor went to take his share in the King's troubles at Oxford; he found a friend in Christopher, afterwards Lord Hatton, of Kirby, and lately his neighbour at Uppingham. In 1643, he was enduring the pains of poverty and reverse, in the home of his mother-in-law. In the year following, he was acting as chaplain to the Cavaliers, in Wales: throughout his writings, the careful reader will observe in his vivid images traces of his familiarity with camps and tented fields, and hard-fought days. When the Parliamentarians routed Colonel Gerard and the Royalists before Cardigan Castle, on Feb. 4, 1644, Taylor was one of the most eminent of their prisoners made on that fatal day: he was at length released by the Committee of the District. He had again, with singular imprudence in troublous times, entered on the married state. His second wife was Joanna Bridges, an heiress, residing on her estate of Mandinam, in Carmarthenshire.

In August, 1647, as a royal chaplain, he was permitted to take his last leave of the ill-fated Charles; the King gave him his watch and a few pearls and rubies once inlaid in the ebony casket which held his bible. Like other eminent Divines in that age of anarchy, he betook himself to teaching school with William Nicolson, afterwards Bishop of Gloucester, at Newton Hall, near Llanfihangel: Judge Powell, so distinguished at the trial of the Seven Bishops, was one of his pupils. Probably, amercement, ransom, and fine, had reduced his wife's fortune, and compelled him to the ungrateful toil. In the most unlikely situation friends arise; near the village where he was apparently secluded from notice, was Golden Grove, the mansion of Richard, Earl of Carbery; an officer of distinguished merit as a Cavalier, both in Ireland and Wales; decorated with the Order of the Bath, a Privy Councillor, and Lord President of the Marches. Within its hospitable walls, when debarred from the public exercise of his office, he ministered and preached some of his best