The Cathedral Towns and Intervening Places of England, Ireland and Scotland: / A Description of Cities, Cathedrals, Lakes, Mountains, Ruins, and Watering-places.

by Thomas W. Silloway; Lee L. Powers

O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us,
To see, oursels, as others see us.

We are depending a bit on punctuation to aid the thought and application. Not so much as having heard of these ruins beforehand, we were the more surprised; in plastic condition of mind the impression was made, and it is indelible. "Forget what we may, let what will of our thought become bedimmed,—let memories of St. Mary's remain and be good and fresh as now," said we then, and repeat ever. Our first visit to York Minster was made soon after our arrival. At 6 p. m. the doors are closed, and as it was near or quite that hour, we were content with the good and great privilege of examining the elegant grounds and magnificent exterior. The former are quite large and properly enclosed. The same carpet-like lawn-grass abounds, with a few grand avenues and paths over it, and trees of good age. All was cathedral-precinct-like, tranquil and sanctified; but even here sin and its consequences were present in material form, and the manifestation was quite what happens in Boston, where we have no venerable cathedral nor such grounds.

Off a hundred or more feet from the building, reclining on the grass and asleep, was a man beastly drunk. Two policemen came and aroused him and led him away. As at home, boys and women were interested and followed. To the credit of the policemen they did their work well, and in a way befitting the place, they could not well use less force, and they needed to use no more. As we saw the old, old sight, we thought of the terse and comprehensive verdict of Boston's once famous coroner, Pratt, who had held an inquest on one found not only dead drunk, as this man was, but drunk dead; and the simple verdict was, "Rum did it." Many instances occur where we have to repeat the old verdict. It's a good safety-valve to our feelings, and having said a true, a comprehensive, an all-the-ground-covering thing, we "rest the case." Rum does it there and here and everywhere, the world over.

The great edifice is built of a yellowish and perishable sandstone; parts of it are now in much decay, and the dust or sand lay in small heaps, even about the threshold of the main entrance doors. It reminded us of the yellow dirt we call powder-post, from a dry-rot decaying pine timber. For the most part, however, the structure is in good repair, and in a short time this great west front will be attended to. The decorations of this part are very rich and elaborate. The whole is of exquisite proportions and design, even to minute details. This is the most highly wrought of all the cathedral churches of England. It is the largest so far as extent of ground covered, though not the longest, as it is excelled in length by Winchester, and perhaps by one or two others. The history of the establishment begins in the seventh century; but the present edifice was not begun till after 1150, and it was not completed till 1472, and had been twenty years finished when Columbus discovered America. It is in the form of a cross, with a magnificent square central tower at the intersection, 213 feet high, or only seven feet lower than Bunker Hill monument, though it has not that effect of height. There are two other towers flanking the west front. These are each 196 feet high. They end with an elegant light parapet, and turrets at the four corners and centres. The extreme length is 524 feet. The breadth at transepts is 247 feet. The great east window is 78 feet high and 32 feet wide, filled with elegant stained glass representing about 200 historic events. The tower has a peal of 12 bells, one of which weighs 11½ tons, and is with the exception of that on the great clock tower at the Houses of Parliament, and the new one just placed on the tower of St. Paul's at London, the largest bell in the kingdom.

We have spoken especially of its exterior, and are to speak of its interior and its bishops; but before we do so, we are inclined to think we shall once for all render a good service if we devote part of our space to saying a few words in defining or explaining these terms, minster and cathedral, for as a general thing they are not well understood. We have previously said something on the point, but at the risk of being accused of repetition, will more definitely state the case.

Till the time of Constantine no houses for Christian worship existed. After his conversion to Christianity, or as soon as a. d. 325, they were not only tolerated but encouraged. Soon some of them came to be large and imposing, and the assemblies were composed of rich and influential persons. These congregations being able to well support and appreciate preachers of ability and renown, such divines were established at important stations. By and by assistants were demanded; next, canons or special preachers; and yet again others, as assistants in parish work. A place like this was called a cathedral, and all such churches were known by that name. In process of time the term came to denote only the one church in a diocese at which the bishop presided, or was identified with, and is so used to this day. There were of course other large churches or edifices quite equalling in financial standing, or in social and general dignity and influence, the cathedral itself, and these were not inclined to pay obedience to the bishop, and they simply remained as they were,—in fellowship, if we may use the expression, with the whole Church, but yet independent of it so far as the bishop's, or any outside authority, was concerned; so it is seen that Independency did not originate with the Puritans or Dissenters. Westminster Abbey is of this class, and this accounts for the independent condition of Dean Stanley, who from his office of Dean of Westminster, owed no allegiance to the Bishop of London, although the abbey is but a mile from, and in sight of, St. Paul's Cathedral. An abbey like Westminster is, if we may so say, the church of an abbey once at Westminster; while the abbey itself was destroyed, the church has remained. A minster like this at York, or that at Beverly, is the church edifice, or place of religious worship, of a former monastery, and so is called York minster.

Next a word in regard to the Archbishopric of York. An archbishop is the head bishop, to preside at meetings of the house of bishops, and to exercise some especial functions, like the president of an association, but subject to rules and regulations in the performance of his work as set forth by ecclesiastical laws made by the convocation of bishops. Canterbury has from the first been the seat of the archbishop, and of course great importance and dignity attach to the place where the archbishop's seat is. York having for centuries been very important in wealth and social standing, and possessing the grand old minster, disputed this claim, and at times was influential enough to seriously interfere with the ancient arrangement; and, as a sort of compromise, York was advanced to a position second only to that of Canterbury. Its bishop, or head official, is dignified with the title of Archbishop of York, and is therefore the second primate of England; or, as we may better express it, he is the vice-bishop of the entire English Church. The principal seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and of the whole Church, is at Lambeth Palace, on the Thames below Southwark, and opposite the Houses of Parliament. Here are held all great convocations of bishops, and the business of the Church is done here; but by ancient usage Canterbury Cathedral is the seat of the archbishop, or, as he is termed, the Primate of all England. Some years ago an arrangement was made whereby some few places, or Sees, hereafter named, were given into the charge of the Archbishop of York, so that he is an archbishop by virtue of his office, though yet inferior to his lordship of Canterbury. We next proceed, after the long digression, to speak of the interior of the cathedral, or minster.

It is grand and imposing, and its great width and height impress the beholder with a feeling of reverence and awe. The windows are of painted glass. Most of them are ancient and dim-appearing, and probably were never of rich design or very brilliant color. Every part of this vast interior is in the best possible repair, and the utmost neatness prevails. The cathedral has a crypt, or basement, and centuries ago it was customary to hold services in it. By the payment of a sixpence each, persons are permitted to visit it in company with the verger; and at all cathedrals, and in waiting, are these guides. It should be understood that visitors are freely and gratuitously admitted at any time from sunrise to sunset to all the cathedrals, but for visiting especial parts, such as the top of the tower, the crypt, if there is one, or places where valuable relics are kept, this small fee named is taken, first, as payment of salary for the guides, who are in constant attendance, and next, the surplus goes for repairs of the cathedral; and we may add that we visited none where workmen were not making repairs.

We cheerfully paid our fee and went down into the grand old crypt, now full one thousand years old. Indescribable are the sensations experienced and the emotions awakened as one is here. The place is but dimly lighted, and there are antique and grotesque columns and arches, solid, prison-like masonry, and groined ceilings of stone. It is not hard to imagine the former sound of sandal-footed monks or nuns, of subdued voices engaged in prayer,—to know of the odor of incense, wandering about the columns and arches as it did of old. All is solid, fortress-like, and secure; but in spite of solidity and thick stone walls, the aspirations of monks and nuns went out through them, for their prayers were not confined. Centuries now are gone since their spirits went out of their bodies, and the custom even of their service here came to an end. The new dispensation has come, "a better covenant, established on better promises." The race has advanced; and now, nought but the grand and vast light room above, the incense of an intelligent devotion, and the music of the great organ can render the desired aids to devotion. We find here a superb reminder of a vast antiquity, in a piece of Saxon work in stone, of the herring-bone pattern. This was part of an ancient Saxon church, built before the visit of the Normans. Do we comprehend the fact? No. We believe the story, and admire the place; and next, as best we can, we try and know the thing as no one can know it for us, but with only partial success.

At the rear of the altar is the tomb and monument of Tobias Matthew, one of the early translators of the Bible into the English language, who was the author of the address, or preface, to the King James translation in present use. The chapter-house is entered from the north transept, and is a room of remarkable elegance. All is of course built of stone. The ceiling is strangely elaborate, and there is a wainscot around the room, at the top of which is elegant flower and leaf work, and vines, with a profusion of grotesque figures of nondescript animals.