MISCELLANY 30
An
Excursion to Southwell Minster
It is the
morning; bright, beautiful, and balmy. The blackbird's note is heard from the
umbrageous ilex ; the trill of the chaffinch and linnet makes the heart dance
with delight. The air is steeped in the perfume of a thousand roses. The pink,
the sweetpea, and sweet-briar, are beset with the bee and the butterfly. All
nature is as full of life as of fragrance. Who would not be stirring on such a
morning,— beneath a canopy of fleecy clouds?
It was settled that at ten we should start for the
ruins of Southwell Minster, taking Newark in our way. But first I made a
somewhat familiar acquaintance with the miniature beauties of the churches of
Caythorpe and Claypole, —the former constantly in view from my friend's
drawing-room, the latter directly in the road to Newark. The charm of Caythorpe
is its tall and tapering spire, perhaps too elevated for the tower or base. The
interior is rather singular, the roof being supported by a tier, or screen, of
three arches, precisely in the centre of the body, and immediately under the
apex of the roof. The dimen sions of the church are sufficiently diminutive;
but its situation, and the church-yard, are anything but despicable. I must not
forget to notice that, on the screen—which divides it from what may be called
the chancel—that there has been a representation, in distemper, or body-colour,
of the "Day of Judgment," now so thoroughly embedded in white-wash,
as to render the draft of the design very imperfect, if not unintelligible. On
enquiry into the cause of such a barbarous act, the clerk informed me that
" the churchwarden was so desperately fond of the brush this church is in
all respects a nobler, as well as more ancient, building. An immediate edict
should be issued by the Corporation, to dispense with all the houses which
flank and conceal this noble edifice in the square opposite the " Clumber
Arms," the principal inn of the town. The Newarkites can have no notion of
the grandeur of their church, elbowed and smothered as it now is, by such an
immediate neighbourhood of brick and mortar: and I feel abundantly persuaded
that the Rev. John Sykes, of the Chauntry House—who rejoices in such a
collection of relics, connected with the town and the church, as might startle
even the most curious, and disarm the most sceptical,—would be among the first
to rend the air with an "hurrah!" were such a neighbourhood removed.
The body of Newark Church is of greater dimensions than that of Grantham; and
the height of the nave, on entrance, is full sixty feet. The clustered arches
which form the basis of the tower, exhibit a specimen of architecture, as
remarkable for its substantiality as neatness. One might suppose it capable of
sustaining the dome of St. Paul's. If there be not much to attract the minute
attention of the antiquary, in the exterior of this edifice, there is not a
little to amuse, and perhaps horrify him, within. Why was the organ placed over
the rood-loft, to intercept the view of the chancel and Ladye Chapel? —and why
has this most curiously and elaborately carved screen, or rood-loft, been
desecrated by that yellow ochre poison, which churchwardens seem to have an
exclusive and prescriptive right to administer, and to make the people swallow?
Away with this repulsive stain; and place the organ, as at Grantham, over the
entrance door of the nave. The church is suffocated, as well as disfigured, by
pews. I saw several, in the south aisle, which could be scarcely less than
eight feet in height,—a wooden tomb,— whence the figure and the voice ofthe
clergyman could be neither discerned nor heard. In the galleries, the
pew-choking system seems to have no limits; while, hanging over them, may be
discovered very strange and bizarre ornaments, in the character of brackets and
corbels, attached to the spandrils of the arches ... built some four or five
centuries ago. The chancel contains a fine set of old seats, or stalls, wherein
the monks of ancient days might have mused and slept, as well as chanted and
made responses. These seats, as is usual, turn up; and exhibit occasionally
some very clever, as well as curious, carvings in the wood of which they are
made. From the last, to the left, on facing the altar, was selected the
specimen which heads this chapter of my work. The drawing, in pencil, is by an
indigenous artist. There is what may be called much roomy space about the
eastern extremity of the church: together with many monuments, of which a very
large one, in brass, bears the date of 1320. The library, neither of extent nor
importance, is hard by... and to comfort me for a little minute, I opened a
royal copy of Walton's Polyglot Bible, and a very respectable large-paper copy
of the works of the immortal Joseph Mede. These almost made me forget the
ochered screen and the Brobdignagian pews. We now started for Southwell, some
eight miles distant. A pair of fresh horses brought us there easily within the
hour: and the day continuing to be cheeringly fine, we were infinitely
gratified as we approached the precincts of the Minster. On leaving Newark, and
rolling over the bridge, across the Trent, you discover, to the left, a large
if not magnificent ruin, in the shape of a castle, of which the greater portion
is of the seventeenth century, affording frightful evidence of the
destructiveness of Cromwell's cannon. Few spots have been more fertile of
events, in the civil wars of the seventeenth century, than Newark and its
vicinity. It was at Southwell where Charles, in an evil hour, surrendered
himself to the Scotch commissioners. The room in which that infatuated act took
place, is nearly in its original state, on the left hand of the gateway of the
Saracen's-Head inn. The country immediately about Southwell is rich, and
diversified with many pretty villas. The Abbey, or Minster, is, on very many
accounts, alone worth an express visit from London. It has been sadly treated
by Cromwellian fanaticism. The horse-troopers were quartered within the nave,
and all attest the period of the earlier parts of the structure. The exterior
of the chapter-house, to the left, on entering the north transept, may be
classed among the bijouterie of Gothic architecture of the very end of the
thirteenth century. Its interior will be presently developed. The first living
object upon which mine eyes alighted, on entering the Minster, was Mr. Henry
Shaw,* occupied with his magical pencil in copying some seductive capital of
the thirteenth century. I was instinctively peeping into the choir or chancel,
when Mr. Shaw urged my immediate entrance, and minute attention to everything
about me. He was so obliging as to accompany me. Bating a too decided tint of
whitewash, this choir is thoroughly gratifying to the eye of the most
fastidious antiquary. Its style is early English, in its most perfect form; and
the beauty and justness of its proportions make you forget its limited
dimensions. "Look at the stalls," exclaimed my instructive cicerone;
"you observe all the back-ground is stone fret-work, executed with a
delicacy of finish like Mechlin lace." They were even so: and when parts
of this intricate sculpture were relieved, as in the olden time, by gold, and
blue, and red, what a blaze of splendour would present itself to the eye of the
spectator! I was now rivetted to the stained glass window, above the altar.
This window, at once the monument of individual spirit and individual taste,f
is, to my eye, the most beautiful and perfect specimen I have ever beheld.
Larger windows, and loftier, and * Of Great Russell Street, London; and author
of many most beautiful and instructive works illustrative of the architecture
and furniture of ancient times. f The "individual spirit and individual
taste" of Henry Gaily Knight, Esq. M.P. of Furbeck Hall, Bawtry,
Yorkshire. He purchased the window entire, of the church of , in Flanders, at
the cost of £800; and presented it to the Minster at Southwell, as the
inscription testifies. broken into more dazzling compartments, I have seen,
both at home and abroad; but anything so systematic, so sobered by propriety of
choice of subject, so pressing upon the heart, as well as spiritstirring to the
imagination, I have nowhere else seen. Add to this, the colours are fervid and
intense; and what Mr. Shaw bade meparticularly remark, the ruby is even shaded
by ruby. I seemed to be entranced, while gazing upon this matchless window,
whether as a whole, or in parts; and was secretly wishing, if not sighing, that
I might obtain a copy of the last compartment of it, which exhibits our Saviour
exposed to the scoffs of the multitude. There is a profile of an infuriated
monster, in the shape of a man, which beggars all description—for hideousness
of feature and bitterness of insult. In the immediate neighbourhood of this
glorious specimen of the art of other days, are suspended several stained coats
of arms of the prebendaries of the Minster, and one small window is entirely
filled with them. Somehow or other they seem to be ill and inharmoniously
placed here. Mr. Miller, the facile princeps of all modern stainers of
glass—and who has immortalized himself by his window at Doncaster —would do
well to suggest a different arrangement for these modern appendages. Meanwhile,
unconsciously to myself, there stood by me a middle-sized, quiet-looking, and
respectably attired individual, in the character of a verger or sexton. He
followed me, as my shadow, into every recess, and on every turning. While
seated, standing, or walking, there was my man: and now, the G tinkling bell in
the great tower giving notice of the vesper service, and a few straggling
choristers and singing men bustling into their seats, I took my leave of this
most enchanting spot; and followed by my "shadow," turned to the
right. "My good friend, shew me your chapter house." "It is
strait before you, Sir. If you don't object to Books, it may interest
you." This was the first time he had broken silence :—and oh! what a
speech to utter! Could I ever forget the utterer, or the thing uttered? Nevertheless,
I continued, rather smiling than frowning, till the divided entrance of the
chapter library presented itself. And such an entrance !—so delicate, rich, and
rare: like that of Salisbury in form, but infinitely beyond it in subtle art,
and delicate, though of more diminutive, proportion. It was worthy of the
window, but of a considerably anterior date; and the window might be proud of
such a neighbour. But the interior dissipated every vestige of illusion. No
embossed bindings; no knobs; no clasps; no pasted vellum fillets; nothing
uncut; and only one tome membranaceous. This latter was a large fine MS. Bible,
in folio; which had once belonged (as its Latin inscription testified) "
to the Convent of the Common Brethren largest large paper copy of the Matthew Paris
of 1644, of which I ever turnedsover the leaves. There is a tolerably good and
pains-taking catalogue; but the books are chiefly modern, and referred to by
means of a letter or figure, pasted upon their backs... a sight, sufficient to
cause swooning in the breast of more than one legitimate Roxburgher! My "
shadow" still following me, I reverted to the entrance door; and affording
him substantial proof that there was no national suspension of specie, he made
me a measured or gradually lowering bow, adding, that "he should be most
happy to see me at all times." I doubted not the sincerity of the remark
;—but how could I ever get over his cruel insinuation about my fondness or not
for Books ? The precincts of Southwell Abbey are replete with antiquarian
objects of attraction. There is a large deserted mansion, once a palace of the
Archbishop of York; who, in former times, used to come and make joyaunce
therein, by a lengthy and hospitable residence; but now, all is silence and
desolation. The owl and the bat by night,—the blackbird and throstle by
day,—seem to have alternate and unmolested possession. There is only one
prebendal residence, which, as at York, is occupied by the Prebendary in
rotation: but to an appetite hungry and thirsty after antiquarian lore, I can
conceive few spots exciting a keener relish, or affording a more substantial
meal, than the Minster Of Southwell.
Next week: Lincoln Cathedral
