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Page 34
LETTER XI.
_York Minster--The Great Organ--Newcastle-on-Tyne--The Labouring
Classes--The American Slave--Sheffield--James Montgomery._
_January, 1850_.
Some days since, I left the Metropolis to fulfil a few engagements to
visit provincial towns; and after a ride of nearly eight hours, we were
in sight of the ancient city of York. It was night, the moon was in her
zenith, and there seemed nothing between her and the earth but
glittering gold. The moon, the stars, and the innumerable gas-lights,
gave the city a panoramic appearance. Like a mountain starting out of a
plain, there stood the Cathedral in all its glory, looking down upon the
surrounding buildings, with all the appearance of a Gulliver standing
over the Lilliputians. Night gave us no opportunity to view the
Minster. However, we were up the next morning before the sun, and
walking round the Cathedral with a degree of curiosity seldom excited
within us. It is thought that a building of the same dimensions would
take fifty years to complete it at the present time, even with all the
improvements of the nineteenth century, and would cost no less than the
enormous sum of two millions of pounds sterling. From what I had heard
of this famous Cathedral, my expectations were raised to the highest
point; but it surpassed all the idea that I had formed of it. On
entering the building, we lost all thought of the external appearance by
the matchless beauty of the interior. The echo produced by the tread of
our feet upon the floor as we entered, resounding through the aisles,
seemed to say "Put off your shoes, for the place whereon you tread is
holy ground." We stood with hat in hand, and gazed with wonder and
astonishment down the incomparable vista of more than five hundred feet.
The organ, which stands near the centre of the building, is said to be
one of the finest in the world. A wall, in front of which is a screen
of the most gorgeous and florid architecture and executed in solid
stone, separates the nave from the service choir. The beautiful
workmanship of this makes it appear so perfect, as almost to produce the
belief that it is tracery work of wood. We ascended the rough stone
steps through a winding stair to the turrets, where we had such a view
of the surrounding country, as can be obtained from no other place. On
the top of the centre and highest turret, is a grotesque figure of a
fiddler; rather a strange looking object, we thought, to occupy the most
elevated pinnacle on the house of God. All dwellings in the
neighbourhood appear like so many dwarfs couching at the feet of the
Minster; while its own vastness and beauty impress the observer with
feelings of awe and sublimity. As we stood upon the top of this
stupendous mountain of ecclesiastical architecture, and surveyed the
picturesque hills and valleys around, imagination recalled the tumult of
the sanguinary battles fought in sight of the edifice. The rebellion of
Octavius near three thousand years ago, his defeat and flight to the
Scots, his return and triumph over the Romans, and being crowned king
of all Britain; the assassination of Oswald king of the Northumbrians;
the flaying alive of Osbert; the crowning of Richard III; the siege by
William the Conqueror; the siege by Cromwell, and the pomp and splendour
with which the different monarchs had been received in York, all
appeared to be vividly before me. While we were thus calling to our aid
our knowledge of history, a sweet peal from the lungs of the ponderous
organ below cut short our stay among the turrets, and we descended to
have our organ of tune gratified, as well as to finish the inspection of
the interior.
I have heard the sublime melodies of Handel, Hayden, and Mozart,
performed by the most skilful musicians; I have listened with delight
and awe to the soul-moving compositions of those masters, as they have
been chaunted in the most magnificent churches; but never did I hear
such music, and played upon such an instrument, as that sent forth by
the great organ in the Cathedral of York. The verger took much delight
in showing us the Horn that was once mounted with gold, but is now
garnished with brass. We viewed the monuments and tombs of the departed,
and then spent an hour before the great north window. The designs on the
painted glass, which tradition states was given to the church by five
virgin sisters, is the finest thing of the kind in Great Britain. I felt
a relief on once more coming into the open air and again beholding
Nature's own sun-light. The splendid ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, with its
eight beautiful light gothic windows, next attracted our attention. A
visit to the Castle finished our stay in York; and as we were leaving
the old city we almost imagined that we heard the chiming of the bells
for the celebration of the first Christian Sabbath, with Prince Arthur
as the presiding genius.
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