WORCESTER.
We arrived at 2 p. m. in a mild rain, the first we had been compelled to walk out in since our journey began. Valises deposited at a hotel, we were, as usual, soon out to survey the place. Like Shrewsbury, it is situated on the River Severn, which runs along the rear part of the place. It contains 33,221 inhabitants, was once a walled city, and vestiges of the walls remain. The Danes destroyed it and rebuilt it about 894, and it was burned by Hardicanute, the last of the Danish royal dynasty in England, in 1041. It suffered from frequent incursions of the Welsh, and was one of the principal cities of the ancient Britons. In the early period of the Saxon dynasty it became the second bishopric of Mercia. Having espoused the cause of Charles I. it was greatly troubled by the soldiers of Parliament; but on Sept. 3, 1651, the final battle, termed by Cromwell "a crowning mercy," was here fought by the Royalists under Charles on the one side, and Cromwell on the other, which resulted in routing the former, and ended in a defeat from which he never recovered.
Samuel Butler the poet, of "Hudibras" celebrity, received the rudimentary elements of his education in the schools here; and the celebrated Lord John Somers was born here in 1651.
The city is built mostly of brick, and, from the number of gardens and shade-trees, has a rural appearance. The river is crossed by an old stone bridge of several arches, and along the bank next the city proper, and below the land elevation, is a promenade, a mile or more long, following the curve of the river. In portions of the place an active business is done, and enterprise is everywhere manifest. Except that the buildings are of brick or stone, it well reminds one of our Massachusetts Worcester. A few of the houses are two or three centuries old.
It is a marked place for antiquities, and foremost among them is the cathedral, which is built of light-drab sandstone, in the form of a double cross, having four transepts. It is 426 feet long; the western transepts are 180 feet through, and the eastern, 128 feet. The tower is at the centre, or at the junction of the nave, choir, and east transepts, and is 193 feet high. It is very elaborately decorated, ending with a rich battlement and lofty turrets. It was founded in 680, but the present edifice dates from the fourteenth century. It has surrounding grounds, and is in most perfect repair, both the exterior and interior having been lately restored.
A few words once for all are needed in relation to this word restored. As will readily be conceived, buildings erected of a somewhat perishable material are more or less in constant decay. The degree depends on the nature of the stone, its exposure, and the extent of its elaboration; but all stone is subject to disintegration, and the buildings were so long in process of erection, that the older portions were in need of repair before the newer were finished. In these latter days, being more neglected, much dilapidation existed, and important parts of the edifices were threatened with entire destruction. A new spirit of enterprise has been infused into the people, and repairs have been vigorously prosecuted. In some instances, large portions have been refaced on the outside.
In the instance of Worcester Cathedral, the great tower was nearly rebuilt ten years ago. More particularly has there been an interest in the work of re-decorating the interiors. This has consisted, first of all, in the removal of whitewash, which had been put on. A time has been when the common judgment of all bishops approved its use. It gave a clean look, but injured the general effect. Cathedrals are generally finished over head with stone arches and ribs; and the wooden roof is slated, tiled, or covered with metal. Sometimes the stonework of the ceilings was plastered and blocked off in imitation of stone. The present taste—without doubt largely induced by the late Sir Gilbert Scott—is to clean off this wash and leave the stone as nearly as possible in its natural condition. It was a common practice in olden times to color and ornament stonework, and as the wash has been removed, paintings, often grotesque, are found, and always left as a memento of the past. Eventually, all cathedrals will probably be decorated in high colors and fancy designs. Some such paintings are already begun in unimportant parts by way of experiment. As the walls now look somewhat bare, and as a love for display in service is on the increase, there is a strong desire for new glass of the very highest colors. It is to be expected that the same spirit will not rest till the decoration is also in gorgeous hues. In a few cases the stone is so well put together, and of such a tint, as to make it sacrilege to interfere with it; but in a majority of churches such decorating would harmonize well with the gay windows and rich interior stone finish, and really be an improvement.
Another change is the removal of the organs from the choirscreens, originally located at the line of choir and transepts. They have been removed in a majority of cases to the side of the choir, and much to the improvement of the edifice. All cathedrals that we visited have been restored more or less as described, and a majority of them are finished. When a restoration of stonework has been made of any especial part, as new door-work or a window, the work has been done in the style of the period. Of course all changes since the last period of Gothic architecture—the perpendicular—have been made in that style; so that at times we find in one structure all the styles, from the Norman down through the whole four. This method of operation must receive general, if not universal sanction, since we find it invariably pursued.
On cathedrals generally are chimes of bells, on which the quarter and half hours are struck by a few notes; and in Worcester Cathedral is, also, a large barrel, of music-box construction, by which at especial times in the day, as at 9 a. m., 12 m., 3 and 6 p. m., an entire tune is played on the bells. For every day of the month there is a new tune, a list of the music being at the door. On the day of our visit was played "The Harp that once through Tara's Halls."
It would be an impossibility to describe in detail these great works of art, the cathedrals of England. Little more can be done than name things of especial interest. So far as the interior of Worcester Cathedral is concerned, it is very inviting, and has interesting monuments. The impression is not quite what one would imagine as he thinks of an edifice over four hundred feet long, for sight never conveys an idea of its actual length; but the impression is that you are looking at a colossal church—one larger than you have ever before seen. You admire the lofty tower, think it of elegant design, proportions, and finish, that it looks new,—as it really is,—but get no impressions of the great age of the building.
From the bridge, looking back to the left, you see an elegant picture—the river low down, a terraced walk at its side, the land surface some ten or fifteen feet above. An eighth of a mile or so distant, half embowered in fine trees, is the cathedral. The upper parts loom high above the branches, and the tower rises still higher. The rear end of the cathedral choir, with its great east window, projects beyond the grove, and is in full view from our point of observation. From this place the city has a rural rather than a commercial or manufacturing appearance. Let one stand on the bridge and view this scene, and listen to the sweet notes of the bells. The mellow and refined sound—we had almost said the intellectual demonstration—of the cathedral bells, as by an intuition of its own, institutes a comparison between this day of civilization and that of the rude savage, and then if ever, one sees and knows that the world moves.
In the cathedral are monuments of marked and distinguished men. Here reposes the dust of King John; and bedimmed with dust, in sombre repose and ancient glory, is an effigy to his memory. He died in 1216, or more than 667 years ago. Here lies the body of Bishop Stillingfleet, who was made Bishop of Worcester in 1689, and died ten years later.
Adjoining the cathedral are fine cloisters, or covered and partly enclosed corridors, for walking and meditation. These on the open side are built with piers and arches, filled with stone tracery. They open into the quadrangle, which is grassed over, but roofless, of which the cloisters form the sides. On the grounds, and in those adjoining, are the residences of the bishop and other dignitaries of the cathedral; also, the Cathedral, or King's School. One can hardly imagine the beauty of these great cathedral grounds,—the grouping of its buildings; the finely kept lawns; the shady walks; the atmosphere of repose, broken only by the sound of the rooks, that are in the ancient tree-tops, or by the quarter-hour bells so sweetly disturbing it, and solemnly proclaiming that a new division of time has been joined to those before the flood. How admonitory the sounds are! Not to all listeners are they thought-hardening, but the reverse. Now and then, by night and by day, all do think, and so the inanimate bells preach effectually, and as the living preacher cannot always do.
Among the many interesting churches here is St. Andrew's, with its fine old tower and spire, 245 feet high,—a Bunker Hill monument in height, with 25 feet added.
The pottery manufactories must be named, for their productions are among the finest of our times, competing even with those of Sévres. The management of these establishments kindly opens them to the public, and all parts of the work may be inspected. Their warerooms present a display that is interesting in the extreme. The results of many years of experiment are here on exhibition, and they are remarkable triumphs of mind over matter. The fine blending of tints, the high degree of finish attained in representing fruits, landscapes, and flowers, are truly wonderful. We were informed that our own Boston has its constant share of these products.
Remaining over night, in the evening we are entertained by a thunder-shower, the first we have experienced for the season. Heavy thunder and vivid lightning, accompanied by warm and refreshing rain, remind us of home.
We should have before stated that in this, as in all the English cathedral towns, service is held in the cathedral at 11 a. m. and 3 p. m. daily. There is no sermon, but the regular morning and evening prayers of the Church. We were present and enjoyed the grand organ music and singing; but the intoned services and its accompaniment of echoes, confused and neutralized the spirit of worship. A few persons, perhaps twenty in all, were present, aside from the clergy and choir. Most of them were strangers, as we were, drawn thither by curiosity, but treated in the kindest manner, and every facility given for enjoyment. We were even invited into the stalls, which are the chief seats in the synagogue. We occupied them readily; at the expense of being accused of Phariseeism we may say, in a whisper, that we desired them. We went to the top of the tower and were delighted by the view of highland, vale, river, grove, and the city itself. Here, as in all cathedrals, men are in waiting to show persons over the edifice, and call their attention to things of especial interest. They are dressed in black, with white cravats and flowing black robes, which add much dignity to their appearance. At 10 a. m., Tuesday, we left Worcester for another cathedral town,