The Close is certainly a fit setting for the jewel it surrounds, and with full remembrance of the superb position of Durham, the picturesque eminence of Lincoln, the dignity that marks the isolated hill whereon Ely towers over the fens around it, the harmonious environment of Wells, and many another site made memorable by its cathedral, Salisbury is, in its own way, not less beautiful. The quiet tranquillity of the large lawn, the half-hidden houses that nestle among its trees, the sense of being completely shut off from the work-a-day world, impress one as much as the apparent vastness of the area thus devoted to the cathedral. Leland, in his "Itinerary," was equally struck with its beauty, although, as the frontispiece shows, the surroundings were very different before Wyatt's exploits, and probably in Leland's time preserved still more of their mediæval aspect. He says: "The great and large embatelid waulle of the palace having 3 gates to entre into it thus namyd: the close gate as principale by north ynto the town, Saint Anne's gate by est, and Harnham gate by south toward Harham bridge. The close wall was never ful finished as in one place evidently apperith I redde that in Bishop Rogers days as I remembere a convention was between him and the Canons of Saresbyri de Muro clausi."
Whether the builders of our great churches were conscious of the beauty of their surroundings, or whether no little of that loveliness is but the slow result of centuries of care and the accident of natural growth, need not be discussed. That to an American especially this peculiar beauty tells with great force we can readily believe, and Mrs. Van Rensselaer, whose paper on Salisbury has been quoted before in this book, expresses admirably the feeling, which, whether it be true or only imaginary, is no doubt the impression of such a place as the Close of Salisbury on many an educated visitor. "Salisbury," she writes, "is the very type and picture of the Church of the Prince of Peace. Nowhere else does a work of Christian architecture so express purity and repose and the beauty of holiness, while the green pastures that surround it might well be those of which the Psalmist writes. When the sun shines on the pale grey stones, and the level grass, and the silent trees, and throws the long shadow of the spire across them, it is as though a choir of seraphs sang in benediction of that peace of God which passeth understanding. The men who built and planted here were sick of the temples of Baalim, tired of being cribbed and cabined, weary of quarrelsome winds and voices. They wanted space and sun, and stillness, comfort and rest, and beauty, and the quiet ownership of their own; and no men ever more perfectly expressed, for future times to read, the ideal they had in mind."
The Bell Tower, a striking feature of the close as it was before 1789, is shown on page 19, in the facsimile of an engraving originally published in 1761, and re-engraved in the superb County History in 1804(?). This shows the campanile standing at the north-west corner of the inclosure.
In style it was about the same period as the chapter house and cloisters. The plan appears to have been square, although one writer, frequently quoted, calls it multangular; the stone tower was in two massive stories with lancet windows in the lower, and windows with plate tracery above, with a spire apparently of wood crowning the whole. Leland speaks of it as "a notable and strong square tower for great belles, and a pyramis on it, in the cemiterie." It was evidently massive enough to have stood for centuries, and the single pillar of Purbeck marble, "lying in its natural bed," which was the central support that carried the bells, the belfry, and the spire, is specially mentioned by Price as perfectly sound, but he owns that the leaden spire, and a wooden upper story, were decayed, and puts forward a design of a sham classic dome which he hopes might be erected in its place. When the cathedral was visited in 1553 by the Royal Commission there remained a peal of ten bells, and the re-casting in 1680 of the seventh and eighth by the Purdues, local founders, is recorded among the muniments. The sixth is now the clock bell of the cathedral, but the fate of the others is absolutely unknown.
DEATH AND THE GALLANT.[ToList]
Several of Wyatt's iconoclastic blunders have been already mentioned; we now come to his chief iniquity. The Hungerford Chapel, demolished by Wyatt, stood at the east end of the building on the north side of the Lady Chapel, with which it was connected by openings cut in the main wall. This chapel was one of those of which Fuller so quaintly wrote, "A chantry was what we call in grammar an adjective, unable to stand of itself, and was therefore united for better support to some ... church." An addition to the building in a much later style, it was founded by Margaret (daughter and sole heir of William, Lord Botreaux,) in 1464; she was interred within its walls in 1477. Her history, too full to note here, is a sad one, the loss of her movable goods by "fyre" in Amesbury Abbey being but a small incident among her many troubles. A peculiarly interesting inventory of the ornaments and furniture that she gave to this chantry has been preserved; it is printed in Dugdale's "Baronage," vol. ii., p. 207, and also in "The Wiltshire Archæological Magazine," vol. xi. The chapel, in the somewhat florid late Perpendicular style, had a large east window of five lights, and three of triple lights in its north wall. The outside was adorned with shields and devices of the family, and crested with battlements. Within it had a richly-groined roof, and underneath a large arch cut in the north wall of the Lady Chapel, and therefore opening into the hall of the chantry, stood the monument of Lord Hungerford, surmounted by an ornamental four-arched canopy. This altar tomb, now devoid of the gold and colour that once enriched it, is in the nave. Its armour, "like a lobster," with its peculiar pattern, its large shoulders and elbow-pieces, and its jewelled girdle, is quoted by Meyrick as a very fine example of its period. Above were eight niches of demi-quatrefoiled arches, with a fascia of quatrefoils surmounted by a cornice of oak leaves. Between the monument and the doorway was a series of wall-paintings of great interest. One, "Death and the Gallant," has been engraved, and the dialogue below it preserved. As the verses are archaic in spelling, it may be best to follow a more modern version ("Wilts Archæological Magazine," vol. ii., p. 95):
"Alas, Death alas! a blissful thing thou were
If thou wouldst spare us in our lustiness,
And come to wretches that be of heavy cheer
When they thee ask to lighten their distress.
But out, alas, thine own self-willedness
Harshly refuses them that weep and wail
To close their eyes that after thee do call.
Graceless Gallant in all thy lust and pride
Remember this, that thou shalt one day die,
Death shall from thy body thy soul divide—
Thou mayst him escape not certainly,
To the dead bodies (here) cast down thine eye;
Behold them well, consider too and see,
For such as they are, such shalt thou too be."