MISCELLANY 32
Further description of Lincoln Cathedral (in 1838)
Lincoln
Lincoln
The central
tower has a great advantage, without, over that of York: it being both loftier
and more ornate. Its height is scarcely less than 270 feet. Perhaps the upper
part of it, just beneath the battlement, is not in the purest taste of the
time, towards the beginning of the fourteenth century: and I am not quite
certain whether the restoring hand of Essex have not encrusted it with some
ornament which had better have been away. However, there are those who give it
the preference even to Old Harry— the central tower of Canterbury Cathedral. It
is probably loftier; but it is less simple and grand. Upon each of the three Towers of Lincoln
Cathedral, were formerly Spires ; which were taken down some thirty years ago, from
an apprehension that they rendered the towers unsafe. The western towers, with
the exception of the upper parts, are of the twelfth century. There is no name
dearer to the lovers of the literature of the thirteenth century, than that of
Robert Greathead— consecrated Bishop of Lincoln in 1235. He was learned, I had
almost said, beyond his time; and his moral character and prelatical
jurisdiction were worthy of his intellectual attainments. Warton and Henry may
well expatiate on his talents.
. We will nowenter
the Chapter House. To those who have seen the brother, or sister, Chapter House
at York, that at Lincoln will appear both diminutive and uninteresting: but I
confess that I prefer a central pillar, as here, terminating in a fan-like
support, merging into the roof, than a larger roof, as at York, without such
support. In the latter instance, it is a wonder: in the former, it is a more
intelligible and safer-looking piece of business. But what associations affect
me, in particular, on entering this Chapter House!—for here I saw, on my first
entrance in 1813, the portrait of Dean Honeywood leaning against the pillar,
and the letter treasures of his library displayed—some upon trunks, others upon
tables. But in surveying the surrounding niches, where the monks of other times
sat, encircling their bishop, St. Hugh—the founder of the building—I could not
help filling them in imagination with the prebendaries that now be; and
reflecting upon the alteration of habit, and form, and revenue! The pavement of
this interesting apartment was surely more creditably preserved in former times
than now. Let us turn to the grand western front; and whatever be the
adulterations of the component parts, let us admire its width and simplicity
;—the rude carvings, or rather sculpture, commemorativeof the life of the
founder, St. Remigius: and although horrified by the indented windows, of the
perpendicular style, let us pause again and again before we enter at the
side-aisle door. All the three doors are too low: but see what a height and
what a space this front occupies! It was standing on this spot, that Corio, my
dear departed friend— some twenty-two years ago—assured me he remained almost
from sunset to dawn of day, as the whole of the front was steeped in the soft
silvery light of an autumnal full moon. He had seen nothing before so grand. He
had felt nothing before so stirring. The planets and stars, as they rolled in
their silent and glittering orbits, and in a subdued lustre, over the roof of
the nave, gave peculiar zest to the grandeur of the whole scene: add to which,
the awfully deepening sounds of Great Tom made his very soul to vibrate! Here,
as that bell struck the hour of two, seemed to sit the shrouded figures of
Remigius, Bloet, and Geoffrey Plantagenet, — who saluted each other in formal
prostrations, This must have been "Great Tom" the First, cast in
1610; preceded probably by one or more Great Toms, to the time of Geoffrey
Plantagenet. Great Tom the Second was cast by Mr. Mears of Whitechapel in 1834,
and was hung in the central tower in 1835. Its weight is 5 tons, 8 cwt.; being
one ton heavier than its immediate predecessor, and six hundred-weight heavier
than the great bell of St. Paul's Cathedral. The diameter of the bell, at the
extreme rim, is 6 ft. 10^ in.—being one inch wider than St Paul's. Its tone is
one note lower than that of the old bell, and considered to be about the same
as that of St. Paul's, but sweeter and softer. Great Tom the first was hung in
the north-west tower. Robert Bloet, was
a worthy successor of Remigius, The cock crew; the sun rose; and, with it, all
enchantment was at an end. Life has few purer, yet more delirious enjoyments,
than this.
Bloet was thirty
years a Bishop of this see—largely endowing it with prebendal stalls, and with
rich gifts of palls, hoods, and silver crosses. He completed the western
front—and, perhaps, finished the Norman portion of the nave, now replaced by
the early English. He also added rich manors to the see; and when it pleased
King Henry I and one. At the appointed place for the anthem, the organ made a
few flourishing sounds, and then ceased.
And now for the
interior. But before a word be said, or an opinion hazarded, upon its
architectural arrangements, let me notice what befel me on a recent visit. It
was about vesper-time—three of the o'clock—that I entered. The sound of the
organ was quickly heard ... and I instinctively thought of Mozart's Twelfth
Mass at Peterborough. I approached the eastern extremity of the choir. But
there was no choir, no music. The service ending, I enquired the cause.
"The gentleman in residence, Sir, does not like music." Of course, I
had too much courtesy to enquire who that gentleman might be,—whether "
fit for treason, stratagem, and spoil:" but such conduct is little short
of frightful heresy. The organist descended; and I poured into his willing ear
my deep complaint on the violation of so essential a part of cathedral duty. He
entirely sympathised with me.
The stalls in
the choir are of beautiful workmanship, in oak; and many of them apparently of
the fourteenth century. After the clean and striking condition of those at
Peterborough, these at Lincoln struck me as being scandalously neglected, being
enveloped in coats of dust. The interior of the choir is as disgraceful as the
exterior of the building is commendable. But a freezing horror pervades you as
you survey the whole interior. It is of a jaundice tint, begrimed with dirt—the
compound effects of art and time. The sooner a general scaffolding be raised,
and the tint of Ely or of York Cathedral adopted, the better.
One of the most
striking features in the interior of this Cathedral, is the Lady-Chapel —for
size and simplicity; and the adjoining altar, when in its pristine state, with
all its clustering shrines, must have been of surpassing splendour. There is
immense space at this eastern extremity; but too much modern stained glass has
been allowed to creep into, and to disfigure, the great window. Here are tombs
in abundance—of the olden time; but many of them miserably mangled by
Puritanical fury. The skill of Essex, in masking bands and buttresses by
rosettes and other ornaments, is here highly talked of: but it were difficult
to assign these to any precise period of Gothic architecture. After a few more
solemn pacings and musings, we seek the cloister and the Library. To the
pavement of the former has been transferred several Roman funereal inscriptions
and relics; while, in the small quadrangle, you descend, by a short flight of steps,
into a Roman tessellated chamber. Here once slept the body of Bishop St. Hugh in
a shrine of solid silver, of costly workmanship: and within these consecrated
precincts were kept "the jewels, vestments, and other ornaments to the
revestry of the cathedral, &c." Look, gentle reader, at the inventory
of these treasures, as taken in 1536, just before the battering ram of Henry
the Eighth's reforming pioneers was launched against the said
"revestry," as "made by Master Henry Lytherland, treasurer of
the same church," and to be seen in the new Dugdale, pt. li. p. 1278,
&c. Amongst them, arechalices, pyxes, and candlesticks of Solid Gold ! One
finds a difficulty in giving credence to what one reads "of the king's
letters, by force whereof the shrines and other jewels were taken away,"
as seen at page 1286, voL ii. of the same work; wherein "the said relicks,
jewels, and plate, were to be safely conveyed to the tower of London, into the
jewel-house there, charging the master of the jewels with the same." This
was in 1541, about five years after "Master Lytherland's Inventory."
pavement... upon which great stress is laid for its undisturbed genuineness,
and soundness of condition. The late Sir Joshua Banks is reported to have been
frenzied with delight, on its discovery; and to have paid it a regular annual
visit, as a pilgrim to his beloved shrine.
The reader may
here perhaps expect something like the institution of a comparison between
these two great rival cathedrals of Lincoln and York; although he will have
observed many points in common between them to have been previously settled.
The preference to Lincoln is given chiefly from its minute and varied detail ;
while its position impresses you, at first sight, with such mingled awe and
admiration, that you cannot divest yourself of this impression, on a more
dispassionately critical survey of its component parts. The versed antiquary
adheres to Lincoln, and would build his nest within one of the crocketted
pinnacles of the western towers—that he might hence command a view of the great
central tower; and, abroad, of the strait Roman road running to Barton, and the
glittering waters of the broad and distant Humber. But for one human being of
this stamp, you would have one hundred collecting within and without the great
rival at York. Its vastness, its space, its effulgence of light, and breadth of
effect: its imposing simplicity, by the comparative paucity of minute
ornament—its lofty lantern, shining, as it were, at heaven's gate, on the
summit of the central tower: and, above all, the soul-awaking devotion kindled
by a survey of its vast and matchless choir ... leave not a shadow of doubt
behind, respecting the decided superiority of this latter edifice. This,
however, is not the place for amplification of description, or for further
comparison; and accordingly it is high time to bring the reader back to
Lincoln, to request him to mount the old oak staircase with me, which conducts
to Dean Honeywood's Library. Good Mr. Garvey, the librarian, leads the way; and
requests us to wipe our shoes, on entrance, upon a rug, of which the materials,
for ought he knows to the contrary, might have been manufactured under the
superintendance of the Dean's grandmother, a sempstress of undoubted notoriety
in her day. On entering, you find yourself thrown all at once into the
book-characteristics of some four centuries back. It short, here is all that
remains of the Old Library, of the early part of the fifteenth century. The
roof, the timbers, the arrangement—all savours of that period ; while an old
catalogue, written in the Latin tongue, and inserted in a MS. Bible of the middle
of the twelfth century, is one of the greatest curiosities and treats for
bibliographical student. This library-room was erected about the year 1420.
[Dibdin, who was
a bibliophile as well as an antiquarian (and a clerk in holy orders), then
proceeds to give a remarkably full and detailed catalogue of the Library.]
