LINCOLN,
and in two hours arrived there. Another cathedral town, and a grand one, the capital of Lincolnshire and a county in itself. It is situated on the River Witham, and has a population of 26,762. It has grand elements of antiquity flavoring its history. It abounds with ancient remains, including the castle of William the Conqueror, and traces of town walls, a gateway of which, still standing, is one of the most perfect relics of Roman architecture to be found in the country. It has a fine old conduit; also the palace of King John of Gaunt, and many antique houses. There is no single place of England where there is a better blending of the very old and the very new than is to be found here. After the departure of the Romans, Lincoln became the capital of the Saxon kingdom of Mercia, and suffered much during the struggles of the Saxons and Danes. It was at the time of the Conquest, and long after, one of the richest places in England. It suffered greatly during the baronial wars, and also in the civil ones, when its grand cathedral was used for barracks. The city is well built. It has an old and substantial look, though not one of antiquity like parts of Chester and Shrewsbury. These two are the ones of all England that carry us—by many of their houses, stores, public buildings, and entire streets—far back into an exquisitely interesting antiquity. Here we have all the marks of age, of good old-fashioned domestic life and comfort,—whole streets of stores of a fair average grade, and a busy population; and so it is a good place of residence, and a very desirable spot to visit. The principal buildings are the county-hall and jail, within the old castle walls; the ancient guildhall; a session-house; city jail, and house of correction; and a grammar school founded in 1583. There is a very old Roman canal called Fossdike, connecting the city with the River Trent. The place is distinguished for having given birth to the renowned King John of Gaunt, or Ghent, the fourth son of Edward III., born in 1340, and died 1399.
The principal industries are breweries, tanneries, iron-foundries, grist-mills, boat-yards, and rope-walks, and in the vicinity are good nurseries, lime-kilns, and brick-yards. It may be said that this, as well as most English cities, is built mainly of brick. The land is level at the railroad station, and in a part of the business portions, and then rises very abruptly and at an inclination quite hard to climb. Full two thirds of the place are on this hill. The streets here are much steeper than any in our Boston, at the West End, and a few of the thoroughfares are so conditioned as to make it necessary to put iron hand-rails on the sides of buildings, and even at the edgestones of sidewalks. All is very clean, well paved and lighted, and thoroughly supplied with water. At the top of the hill and surrounded by houses, mansions, and stores, are the grounds of its grand and indescribably fine cathedral.
As we have before said, when we approach one of these structures, so imposing and wonder-inspiring,—so out of proportion with everything else to be seen or imagined in the region,—when we suddenly come upon one of these, we are inclined to consider this to be the cathedral, and as though there was, or could be, but one in all England, and this enough for all, and that the remainder were simply parish churches. We wonder every time anew, how they could have come into existence; where the means for their erection came from, and what influence could possibly have been brought to bear on any lot of mortals to induce the required interest.
The later thought is that it was done centuries ago, when monastery and abbey and priory and convent were in full action, church and state one, Papacy powerful in the extreme, this life nothing, and the other everything. A superstitious reverence was superior to an intelligent Christian faith; and so time, labor, money, all were free to erect these great centres of religion and faith.
Next, the country was divided into communities with interests of their own, and composed, as it were, of tribes, often hostile to each other, though entertaining a common superstition and reverence for what they thought to be truth and divine things. There were few roads across the country, and so comparatively little intercommunication or exchange of thought. With no books and no newspapers, the people were shut in and ignorant; and only was the condition disturbed and the lines removed when by some invasion,—as of Saxons or Normans, of Danes or of Scots,—or the result of civil war, the kingdom of Mercia or of Northumbria became weakened and was absorbed by a stronger power. These cathedral towns or provinces were then realms with an identity of their own; and so cathedrals were not only possible, but necessities, and were begun, and continued, and used for centuries, till by-and-by, isolation being unnatural, the great laws of association acting,—for "He made of one blood all nations of men, to dwell on all the face of the earth,"—as enlightenment came, advancement came also; a union of interest followed, which meant a division for use of the best things; and then cathedrals became in a sense common property, not only to people of England, but by-and-by to those of America as well.
Protestantism has not thus far been favorable to the production of cathedrals equalling those of old; but it has of late begotten a new spirit and desire for restorations and repairs, and is to-day, and for a half-century has been, conscious of its responsibilities to care for and preserve these great achievements of genius and taste; and so this seed sown will germinate and bear its fruit, which will be in the "good time coming." Those of that day, greatly advanced and advancing, will build new ones outglorying even the old. This is sure to come. The race does not recede. At times the work goes slowly, and seems to be retarded. The march is yet on and up, despite appearances to the contrary. As one in looking at a company of persons passing up the inclined road of the tower of Pisa, when the company are in particular positions would consider them at a standstill, so to observers of humanity, inaction appears sometimes to be the condition; but it is on and up, and when farther around on the great road, the whole is seen at a flank view, and the entire procession is found to be grandly advancing.
We are now back from a long detour, and speak of this elegant cathedral. It is built of a drab-colored stone, and is in fine repair. We pass through a large arched gateway, with keeper's lodge at the left hand, and into the cathedral precincts. Not now have we a great lawn or close, but nicely macadamized streets and roads in front of the great structure, and along the right side and back around the rear. On these borders are buildings belonging to the corporation,—schools, canons' residences, and those of curates. On the other side of the building, and at part of the rear end, is a fine old burial-ground, of some two acres, and charming in the extreme. All is on a grand scale—cathedral, streets, and grounds.
The great front has a peculiar construction, with two elegant towers just back of it, each 180 feet high, of very elaborate finish. There is another grand tower, at centre of building, 53 feet square, and 300 feet high, equalling Bunker Hill Monument in height, with a third of another like it on its top! In this is the famous bell, Tom of Lincoln. Cathedral bells have often had names,—that is, the large ones,—as Big Ben at Westminster, Great Peter, Large David, and others. The cathedral is 524 feet long, and 250 feet wide at the transepts. It is in all respects one of the finest in the kingdom. The interior is very light, having large windows; many of them are of elegant colored glass, and superior to those at York Minster.
This cathedral, like the others, has a good history. In 1075 Remigius removed the Episcopal see from Dorchester to Lincoln, and was the first bishop. Immediately after his arrival he began to build this church. It is known to have been nearly finished, or at all events ready for use, in 1092. Remigius, feeling his end to be near, being then very aged, invited all the prelates of the realm to be present at its consecration, which was to take place on the 9th of May. Robert, Bishop of Hereford, was the only one who refused the invitation, and his excuse was that he foresaw that the cathedral could not be dedicated in the lifetime of Bishop Remigius. In those days astrology was much believed in, and its predictions were relied on as prophetic truth; and strange to say, the Bishop of Hereford's casting was right, for Remigius died May 8, 1092, the day before that set for the consecration.
Robert Bloet was the second bishop, and he completed the work and dedicated it in 1124, which was not till thirty-two years after the time originally set. Of course great repairs and restorations have from time to time been made, and there have been large extensions and additions. The interior has an unusual number of old and new monuments. We are hoping that the few hints we throw out will induce readers to investigate the cathedral question, and an abundance of good information can be found in Winkle's "Cathedral Churches of England and Wales."
It was indeed a hard blow to the Romish Church to lose these fine buildings. There was, however, an advance made, but "the end is not yet." The intelligence of this nineteenth century will not long be satisfied with present conditions. Another and fresh Reformation is sure to come. As in John Wesley's day, the great Church needs new life infused into it. Rather than ask Methodists to come and be absorbed by herself, as has of late been suggested, better that the venerable Mother Church go and dwell with the Daughter; but neither will be done. The grand old historic Church will in good time come into the ranks of a more every-day and less formal life; and the Methodist, while retaining a good per-cent of her activity, and the element that reaches the common people, will drop some of her peculiarities; and as humanity advances, both will move toward each other, and, acting in unison, hasten the time when there will be but "one fold, and one shepherd."
At noon of this day we left for Boston; and, as ever, the step was somewhat reluctantly taken, because we were in love with Lincoln; but Boston also had charms, and so we wended our way there on this fine Whitsunday. This is the paradise of the year for travel in England, and this is an Eden-like portion of the old kingdom to go over. How hallowed the hour is; what better one in which to go from this cathedral town, almost celebrated for its hostility to all that savored of non-conformity, to the one where New England Boston's John Cotton, her early minister,—here not vicar nor even curate,—left, because of his non-conformity, 243 years ago.