Durham Cathedral has one advantage over the others I have seen, there
being no organ-screen, nor any sort of partition between the choir and
nave; so that we saw its entire length, nearly 500 feet, in one vista. The
pillars of the nave are immensely thick, but hardly of proportionate
height, and they support the round Norman arch; nor is there, as far as I
remember, a single pointed arch in the cathedral. The effect is to give
the edifice an air of heavy grandeur. It seems to have been built before
the best style of church architecture had established itself; so that it
weighs upon the soul, instead of helping it to aspire. First, there are
these round arches, supported by gigantic columns; then, immediately
above, another row of round arches, behind which is the usual gallery that
runs, as it were, in the thickness of the wall, around the nave of the
cathedral; then, above all, another row of round arches, enclosing the
windows of the clerestory.
The great pillars are ornamented in various ways--some with a great spiral
groove running from bottom to top; others with two spirals, ascending in
different directions, so as to cross over one another; some are fluted or
channeled straight up and down; some are wrought with chevrons, like those
on the sleeve of a police inspector. There are zigzag cuttings and
carvings, which I do not know how to name scientifically, round the arches
of the doors and windows; but nothing that seems to have flowered out
spontaneously, as natural incidents of a grand and beautiful design. In
the nave, between the columns of the side aisles, I saw one or two
monuments....
I left my seat, and after strolling up and down the aisle a few times
sallied forth into the churchyard. On the cathedral door there is a
curious old knocker, in the form of a monstrous face, which was placed
there, centuries ago, for the benefit of fugitives from justice, who used
to be entitled to sanctuary here. The exterior of the cathedral, being
huge, is therefore grand; it has a great central tower, and two at the
western end; and reposes in vast and heavy length, without the multitude
of niches, and crumbling statues, and richness of detail, that make the
towers and fronts of some cathedrals so endlessly interesting. One piece
of sculpture I remember--a carving of a cow, a milkmaid, and a monk, in
reference to the legend that the site of the cathedral was, in some way,
determined by a woman bidding her cow go home to Dunholme. Cadmus was
guided to the site of his destined city in some such way as this.
It was a very beautiful day, and tho the shadow of the cathedral fell on
this side, yet, it being about noontide, it did not cover the churchyard
entirely, but left many of the graves in sunshine. There were not a great
many monuments, and these were chiefly horizontal slabs, some of which
looked aged, but on closer inspection proved to be mostly of the present
century. I observed an old stone figure, however, half worn away, which
seemed to have something like a bishop's miter on its head, and may
perhaps have lain in the proudest chapel of the cathedral before occupying
its present bed among the grass. About fifteen paces from the central
tower, and within its shadow, I found a weather-worn slab of marble, seven
or eight feet long, the inscription on which interested me somewhat. It
was to the memory of Robert Dodsley, the bookseller, Johnson's
acquaintance, who, as his tombstone rather superciliously avers, had made
a much better figure as an author than "could have been expected in his
rank of life." But, after all, it is inevitable that a man's tombstone
should look down on him, or, at all events, comport itself toward him "de
haut en bas." I love to find the graves of men connected with literature.
They interest me more, even tho of no great eminence, than those of
persons far more illustrious in other walks of life. I know not whether
this is because I happen to be one of the literary kindred, or because all
men feel themselves akin, and on terms of intimacy, with those whom they
know, or might have known, in books. I rather believe that the latter is
the case.
We went around the edifice, and, passing into the close, penetrated
through an arched passage into the crypt, which, methought, was in a
better style of architecture than the nave and choir.... Thence we went
into the cloisters, which are entire, but not particularly interesting.
Indeed, this cathedral has not taken hold of my affections, except in one
aspect, when it was exceedingly grand and beautiful.
ELY [Footnote: From "Old England: Its Scenery, Art, and People." Published
by Houghton, Mifflin Co.]