On Monday morning last, this magnificent structure was discovered to be
on fire. Soon after the alarm was given, the bells of twenty-three
churches announced the dismal tidings; but for some time the people
looked upon the report as a hoax, and it was not until after the lapse
of an hour that the city was fairly roused to a sense of the impending
calamity.
On the Sunday evening previous, there was service in the Minster, as
usual, and all appeared to be left safe. A light was, however, observed
in the building, by a man passing through the Minster-yard, about four
o'clock on Monday morning; but he supposed some workmen were employed
there, and passed on without inquiry. Between six and seven o'clock,
the discovery was made in an extraordinary manner. One of the
choristers passing through the Minster-yard, accidentally stepping on a
piece of ice, was thrown on his back, in which position he saw a
quantity of smoke issuing from the roof.
In a letter dated York, February 2nd, the writer thus hastily describes
the extent of the conflagration:--
The first appearance I observed was the issue of an immense volume of
smoke from the junction of the western towers with the nave, a smaller
column from the great tower, and a third column from the roof of the
choir, thus presenting the appearance of the building being on fire in
all parts, whilst a dense smoke filled the interior to such a degree as
to preclude the immediate entrance of the firemen. At length, the
engines were rolled into the august edifice, when a scene beyond all
description presented itself; the interior of the choir enveloped in
flames, reflected upon the beautiful stained glass. The flames soon
burst through the roof of the choir, and in less than an hour the whole
was in a blaze, and the melted lead poured down the spouting. The roof
soon fell in, in about five or six dreadful crashes. Every effort was
made to prevent the flames spreading to the transept and nave, and I
trust with success, for though the engines are now (midnight) still
playing, I do not find that there is any other fire than the remains of
the roof on the floor of the choir.
[Footnote 1: No. 162, vol. vi., of the MIRROR, contains a fine view of
the Minster. The first religious foundation here by the Christians was
about the year 672. The Minster was burnt down in 1137, and lay in
ruins till the year 1171. The late cathedral was completed about the
year 1370. Appended to our engraving is an accurate historical and
architectural description of the whole fabric.]
The damage may be summed up thus: The roof of the choir quite gone, the
wood work on each side consumed, the matchless organ entirely
destroyed, many monuments broken, and the communion plate melted. On
the other hand, the east window is entire to the surprise of every one,
the screen is uninjured, although immediately below the organ, the
records in the vestry, the horn of Ulphus,[2] the coronation chair, and
the brass eagle are saved, and the wills in the Prerogative office are
all safely lodged in Belfrey's Church. For some time the city was in
considerable danger; flakes of fire were carried as far as the Lord
Mayor's Walk; providentially there was very little wind.
[Footnote 2: The horn of Ulphus is one of the greatest curiosities in
possession of the church of York. It appears like the hollowed tusk of
an elephant, and the length of its curvature is from 18 to 24 inches.
It is the title deed by which the church of St. Peters holds lands to a
considerable value, given to it before the Heptarchy by Ulphus, king of
Deira and Northumbria. It is said, that when he presented it to the
church, he filled it with wine, which he drank off to its future
success. If the story be true, Ulphus must have been one of the most
strong-headed, as well as one of the must pious kings of his day; for
the draught which he is alleged to have swallowed would be sufficient
to upset the sobriety of any two men, such as men now are. The horn was
preserved by the successive possessors of St. Peter's with the most
careful affection during all the commotions of the Danish and Norman
invasions; but was stolen from them in the general confusion which
pervaded the city of York after the battle of Marston-moor and it was
delivered up to the Parliamentarian forces under the command of Lord
Fairfax and Cromwell. By some of the accidents of war, it came into the
possession of Lord Fairfax, who is reported to have purchased it of a
common soldier. On the restoration of Charles II., when church-properly
was again secure, his lordship restored it to the cathedral; and there
is now an inscription upon it, recording the gratitude of the Dean and
Chapter for having so valuable a possession restored them. It has now
escaped singularly enough from the destruction which has fallen upon
the other curiosities which were usually kept in the vestry-room; and
remains, as it has done for years past, to be sounded by all those
strong-winded visiters of the Minster who have strength enough to blow
it.]
From another account we learn that communication with the roof was not
at first apprehended, but the roof of the choir being very dry wood,
soon joined in the conflagration. It is impossible to describe the
awful picture of the flames rising above this majestic building. The
effect produced by the glare of light upon the stained glass of the
windows exceeds description. On the falling of the roof, the house of
prayer, which but the evening before had resounded with the voices of
worshippers, and where all was order and harmony, now resembled a fiery
furnace. The pillars, which once served to divide the choir from the
two side aisles, now stood alone, the whole being an open space, with
the roof burning on the ground, and nothing above but the blue canopy
of heaven.
Mr. Britton, in his valuable work on York Cathedral, gives a minute
description of that part of the Minster which has been destroyed; from
which the following is extracted:--
"After passing through the screen, the visiter is introduced to the
choir, which is grand in scale and rich in adornment. On each side is a
series of 20 stalls, with 12 at the west end, beneath the organ. These
are of oak, and are peculiarly rich in their canopies and carved
decorations. Each seat, or stall, has its movable miserecordia, with
projecting rests for the elbows, from which rise two detached slender
columns, supporting an elaborate canopy. At the eastern end of the
choir is the altar-table, raised above the regular floor by a series of
15 steps.
"On the north side of the altar, over the grated window that lights the
crypt, is an ancient pew, or gallery, to which there is an ascent by a
flight of narrow stairs, of solid blocks of oak. The exterior of this
gallery is very neat, and it is certainly older than the Reformation.
"Behind the stalls of the choir are closets, some of which are used as
vestries by the singing-men: modern staircases have been constructed,
leading to the galleries erected above, and which disfigure the view
into the aisles. These closets are fronted, next the aisles, by open
screens of oak, some of which are of excellent carving, and more
elaborate than others. In the centre of the choir stands a desk for the
vicars-choral to chant the litany in; it is enclosed in a pew of carved
wood."
The Minster was lighted with gas, to which the conflagration was at
first attributed; but the fire appears to have originated in one of the
vestries. When we remember the beauty of the carved work which has thus
been destroyed, and the elaborate skill which had been bestowed on its
execution, our sympathies are deeply awakened for its fate. Indeed, the
most listless admirer of art, as well as the antiquarian devotee, has
just cause to lament this accident; especially as the taste and labours
of our times fall far short of the olden glories of architecture. When
we think of the "unsubstantial pageant" of the recent "Festival," and
associate its fleeting show with the desert remains of this venerable
pile, our feelings deepen into melancholy, and the smoking fragments of
art seem to breathe--
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
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