their erection, a right line had been drawn from the angle of the chantry of William Swayne, parallel to the wall of the nave, it would have struck against the wall of the tower, and, (exclusively of its northern buttresses) would have included within it so much of the wall thereof, as would have been found equal to the thickness of the present wall of the south aisle. In proof of this let it be remembered, that the window of the belfry and its original entrance door, both now stopped up, line with the inner face of the wall of the aisle. This obstacle to the plan of the architect was, therefore, thus judiciously removed; he cut away the whole of the lower portion of the buttresses, that there might be no unsightly projection of their remains within the Church, and, of their portion above the roof, he cut them down, or, in other words, reduced their thickness from their top to half, more than half, of their original diameter, in order to lessen their weight upon the roof of the aisle. This fact is visible, on an external view, to the inquiring spectator. or I must now pass a few remarks on the assimilation of the panelled ceilings, and of the windows of the side aisles, and the chantries, as I am aware, that this fact will, otherwise, be placed in opposition to my theory as to the progressive rise of this curious Church, when, indeed, the fact itself truly supports my opinions. If, then, I reason à priori, I should say, that it is less probahle, that the architect of that day would erect the side aisles, and then replace the windows, and panelled ceiling of Swayne's Chantry to correspond, than that he should erect the side aisles in conformity with that chantry already built, and thus save both trouble, and expense, and yet produce an uniform handsome building-he had his prototype before him, and he could not improve on it. Now the ornamental part of the ceiling of the chantry of William Swayne pertains to his family alone, yet the like panelled ceilings of the two aisles are studded with shields of various arms, which are, probably, those of the benefactors to the alterations. The windows, again, of the chantry just spoken of, and of the two side aisles, are alike of the architecture of the fifteenth century, whilst those in the clere-story, or upper tier of the nave, inserted, evidently, when the aisles were erected, are most plainly of the later style-that of the sixteenth century-that of the wide-spreading Tudor Arch, though without its point. The archetypes of the windows, and of the panelled ceilings, of the aisles, were, I doubt not, those of the chantry of William Swayne; and the benefactors of these improvements seem to have extended their liberality around the Church for the laudable purpose of producing uniformity to the chantry of Robert Godmanstone, where, on a beam of the panelled ceiling, may be observed the arms of the Hungerford and other families. The ceiling (more ancient than that of Swayne's) may, also, at that time, have been much out of repair. To close this architectural discussion I now advance the opinion, that the only portions of this Church, which I can recognise as of the original building, are-the arch, dividing the nave from the chancel, (which is formed on the same principle as those of the coeval, and neighbouring, Cathedral, that is, struck on the base line of an equilateral triangle,) and so much of the walls of the nave and the chancel, as is above the summits of the arches and beneath the line of the capitals in the former, and the base of the windows in the latter; and, of course, this line of wall must be understood to include the shafts between the windows in the nave surmounted with the shields, and capitals. I have thus endeavoured to explain my views as to the progressive advance of this curious Church of St. Thomas à Becket from its original to its present state; and, I hope, that I have succeeded in giving that explanation to those of my readers, who, perchaunce, may feel an interest in the subject, in comprehensive, and intelligible, terms. Since I penned the foregoing humble dissertation (if dissertation it may be yclept) on the architecture of the abovementioned Church, I have reviewed the building with Mr. Osmond, an eminent architect of Salisbury, who corroborated the whole of my opinions. Having completed my observations on the architecture of this interesting Church, (whither the worthy John Halle, and his amiable family, without doubt, did customarily, and piously, resort,) I cannot close my note without acquainting you, gentle reader, with a singular discovery, which has been lately made, literally, within the walls of the sacred edifice. On the north side of the Church was a large entrance porch surmounted by a room, which had not been used within the memory of man, and the access to which was by a staircase, entered from within the Church, and winding through its wall. In this room was a A SMALL CRUCIBLE real size/ which was found, with four others, on taking down the Northern Porch of the Church of S Thomas, Salisbury, March 12th 1835. fire-place, and, by its side, was discovered, on taking down the walls, a small niche, which had been plastered over. In this niche were found five crucibles, of which the one pourtrayed in the accompanying plate is the largest. I immediately recognised them (when I viewed them) as the crucibles of some Alchymista Rosicrucian, who, locked within the walls of this sacred edifice, passed his solitary hours at a distance from the business of life, and, unannoyed e'en by the hum of men, Apart from noise, and ceaseless strife, he assiduously, and perseveringly, passed his time in vain endeavours to counteract the silent, but resistless, approaches of old age-to connect the spring of youth with the autumn of declining years but no!-he toiled in vain; and, at length, perceiving, that his smooth, and rosy, visage yielded to the furrows of time, and the pallor of advancing age-that the serenity of his mind, too oft, was discomposed by the twinges of rheumatism, and the pains of gout-that his eyes became dim, and that, in hearing, he heard not as he was wont-in fact that, in spite of Alchymy, he was-as all men are mortal; he, then, at length, allowed, that Horace had good cause to exclaim to his friend Posthumus "Eheu! fugaces, Posthume! Posthume! Rugis, et instanti senecta Afferet, indomitæque morti."* He then―in the vexation of spirit, and in the bitterness of disappointment-walled up his crucibles-folded his arms-and quietly, and piously, awaited the universal doom of nature. In the dark, and middle, ages the Philosophers of the day yielded themselves to the most subtle researches; and, in the • The above lines are thus elegantly translated by Francis :"How swiftly glide our flying years! Alas! nor piety, nor tears Deep-furrow'd wrinkles, posting age, Are strangers to delay."" "Poetical Translation of the Works of Horace." Book 11. Ode 14. |