A golden-brown cathedral crowning the summit of a solitary hill rising
from a wide plain--so Lincoln lingers in one's memory!
Few towns have their situation more clearly described by their names
than this one, derived, as it is, from "llin" a mere, and "dun" a hill,
a hill above a mere. The plain is now drained of the marshes which
formerly overspread it, but the great isolated mount remains always the
same, and upon the summit is stationed, like a splendid sentinel, the
mighty bulk of the cathedral. Rarely, indeed, does a great church have
so dominating and superb a site, nor is it often that so prominent a
point is crowned by such a noble structure. Near it is the ancient
castle, built first by the Romans and later strengthened by warriors of
other races equally quick to appreciate the military strength of its
commanding position. From the tower at one corner of its perfectly
preserved ramparts is afforded a most inspiring view in every direction.
Nor were the great walls of the cathedral less serviceable in affording
a strong refuge in war. It needs but a glance at the sturdy west front
to show why Stephen in 1141, during the war of the Barons, finding the
Earls of Lincoln and Chester in possession of the castle, threw himself
into the adjacent cathedral and thus secured as strong a fortress as
they. Not only is the western facade very beautiful, but it is also a
manifestation, rare in England, of the practice usual in France of
making this portion of the exterior the most important of all. Here at
Lincoln it is as if a wide mask of stone had been built on to the end of
the nave, lending as great an impression of width as one gets of height
by a similar trick at Peterborough. These two are almost the only
attempts in England to use this facade for other than simply closing the
end of the edifice. The result at Lincoln is most imposing, but it
produces its best effect when seen from a little distance, because then
one gets the great sweep of the lines, relieved by the galleries of
statues and warmed by the yellowish brown of the stone. A nearer
inspection discloses how the later work has been pieced on to the older,
which tends to distract our attention from the front as a whole. Not
satisfied with the great strength of the building itself, permission was
early obtained from the Crown to surround the Close with walls and
gates, of which the picturesque Exchequer gate survives. This enclosure
goes by the name of the Minster Yard. When visiting the little hamlet
of Dorchester we will remark upon how great was once its glory and how
widely the sway of its Bishop then extended. This glory departed when
Bishop Remigius (who built the central and oldest part of the Lincoln
west front) decided about 1072 to remove his seat to the more lofty and
far safer site upon Lincoln Hill. Before concluding the inspection of
the cathedral's exterior, it is timely to remark that through all the
centuries it has been famous in story and song for its chime of bells.
During the period when that delightful industry, the making of ballads,
prevailed throughout England, there were many whose scenes were laid at
Lincoln, and in almost every one of these some reference is made to "The
bells o' merrie Lincoln."
Sad havoc has been played with the ancient glass, but here we cannot
blame the Puritans alone. To be sure, they exercised their usual zeal in
destroying the windows as far up as they could reach, but it must be
admitted that they only completed the task earlier begun by the
citizens, who were wont to amuse themselves by shooting with arrows and
crossbow bolts at the roof and at the windows. This appears in the
defence set up by the Dean when, during the time of Henry VIII., charges
had been brought against him for permitting the cathedral to fall into
such shocking disrepair. Notwithstanding the efforts of the crossbow
vandals and their successors, the Puritans, there has been preserved for
us a very considerable amount of old glass, and that, too, of the Early
English type, a period of which there are so few remains in England.
These remnants are so placed as to be seen to great advantage. They fill
the east windows of the north and south aisles of the choir, and the
large windows in the end of the great northerly transept. The old
glazing of the eastern windows of the north and south choir aisles is
complete and very interesting. It is not so beautiful as it would have
been if the spaces between the brilliant medallions had also been filled
with colour instead of the greenish grisaille which the practical
Englishman used so as to admit more light than would have been possible
through the entirely coloured panes of his more artistic, if less
utilitarian, French contemporary. He succeeded in getting his
illumination, but he lost the jewelled shimmer that meets one's eyes at
Chartres and Reims. Moreover, there is also lacking the richness and
solidity of tone which is so enjoyable in France. The French system was
followed at Canterbury, and there is a marked difference in the effect
of that glass from this at Lincoln. Unfortunately, the great east window
between these two excellent aisle ones is filled with modern glass that
suffers sadly by comparison with its ancient neighbours.
Passing to the transepts we shall encounter the pleasant custom so rare
in England (though common in France) of giving a familiar name to a
great window. Here the splendid northern rose is called "The Dean's
Eye," and its sister to the south "The Bishop's Eye," which names they
have borne for more than six hundred years. Many are the reasons that
have been advanced for these titles, but probably the practical one is
correct, viz., the Dean's Eye faces the Deanery and the Bishop's Eye the
Bishop's palace. Among the many fanciful and more poetic explanations
there is one which, although it is less reasonable, we must be pardoned
for finding more attractive, viz., as the north is the region of the
Evil One, it is proper that the Dean's Eye should look into that
direction in order to guard against any attempt on his part to invade
the sanctuary. The Bishop's Eye is turned toward the sunny south, "The
region of the Holy Spirit whose sweet influence alone can overcome the
wiles of the wicked one." The older of the pair, the Dean's Eye, was
probably glazed about 1220. It is best seen from the gallery or from the
triforium which runs along just below it, and is a fine rose of the
usual type. Below it there extends a row of five pointed lancets
containing very light toned grisaille which almost entirely lacks the
usual touches of colour. Below these are two larger lancets flanking the
doorway; the one to the east has grisaille quarries as a border and
within, geometric designs in colour. The westerly lancet shows a vine in
whose branches are angels playing upon musical instruments, the whole
surrounded by grisaille touched with colour. Across in the southern end
of these transepts is one of the most delightful windows to be seen
anywhere, the Bishop's Eye. Not only is this rose window a jewel of the
glazier's art, but the mason as well has added a wondrous charm by the
lightness of his stone traceries and the curious interpenetrated stone
frame which he has placed about it. The architect, too, has joined in
beautifying the _ensemble_ by stationing below it four large lancets of
such harmonious proportions as admirably to balance and set off their
more important neighbour just above them. In these lancets are found
some Early English glass--broad borders of grisaille enframing the
rich-toned medallions within. The Bishop's Eye was glazed about the
middle of the fourteenth century and yields a warm greenish grey light.
Instead of having its lines radiate from the centre in the customary
manner, its gracefully curved mullions tend to flow up and down and
suggest the fibres of five great leaves standing upright side by side.
[Illustration: ROSE WINDOW, LINCOLN CATHEDRAL
Tracery unusual in that it does not radiate from centre.
Quantity of greenish grisaille used emphasises leaf-like design.
Thirteenth Century medallions in the tall lancets below]