The record-union., 1892-09-24


Saunter about ancient Southwark, or
mlngle among all the villageful, country
SIDE way over hill and through valley to
historic Canterbury town.
inns olden Pilgrims way undoubtedly
brings you with the most pleasant i'm
pfesslons TO your first view of Canter-
bury, It's cathedral and the rich pastoral
country roundabout. AT the outskirts of
f1arpledoWn, the last hating place, per-
maps Two miles southwest of the cathe-
draI, you are high above the city and the
Droad, poisoning valley of the Stour.
Inc roadway here runs to the northeast
Ior mile past the ruins of st. Nicholas
Hospital, where the pilgrims tarried tor
rest and were met by the olden monks
VINO hrst hghtened their purses and
sprlnkIed them with holy water. Then
outlying st. Dunstan's Church is reached.
NO city III England abounds in so large
number OF almost unaltered churches
OF the greatest antiquity as Canterbury.
81. Dunstan's Chapel was vestry room
0OO years ago. In the family vault of the
Ropers IN this church still lies the head of
Sir Thomas More. From this venerable
church, famous for its patron saint, its
great antiquity and its chimes, the way,
now Canterbury street, intersects the
ancient city from west to east, crossing
the TWO arms OF the river Stour, which
make an island OF the western precincts
OF the town, and passes straight on to
DoVer-the Veritable street and way built
by the legions of Julius Caesar.
Before you descend the hill at the east
OF Harbledown you cannot but long and
earnestly study the interesting scene be-
low. The valley of the Stour reaches far
to the north and south, an almost limit
less lawn, broken only by poisoning
nedge, the CLASSY threadings of the river,
nall hid hamletS and the city's central
mass of gray and red and green. Messy
81. Dunstan's is here to your left. At the
northeastern edge Of the city that huge
mass OF walls and towers is what is left
OF The once world-tamouS st. Augustine's
monastery. Nearer to where you stand
is Dane John hill and obelisk. Between
THIS and ST. Dunstan's that broken line of
gray marks the ancient city walls Some
OF THIS masonry is more than ], 100 years
Old. Five OF six of the turrets of these
ancient walls still show like castle towers
among the bright red city roofs.
Spires and round and square towers
here and there push above the foliage of
the huge old city trees. To the north,
along the winding Stour, are the bar
racks OF the soldiery: for Canterbury is
sun military station, as in ancient
Roman and Saxon times. Along the
horizon edge toward Ramsgate and
Dover huge windmills, like those of Hol-
land, Hap their winglike arms with sud-
den energy, or high and still upon some
rounded down, stand like ghostly sill
houettes between green of earth and blue
OF sky.
But all sights and seemings bring back
the eye to the one mass ofwhite, to which
the city towers, roofs and foliage and all
the valleys, fields and hamletS are as a
wide Etruscan base. 1t scars from but
tresses to towers, from towers to spires
ana from spires to pinnacles, fleecy and
glltterlng IN its wondrous dimensions
ana night, majestic, spotless, faultless,
ana as fancifully light and delicate as a
vast and shapely crag of coral from which
the sea has disappeared and left it among
the dallying clouds.
From st. Dunstan's church YOU pass
through historic old Westgate, which has
stood there thousand years. Its now q
Jail. Underneath it flows the Stour. TO
the night and left strange old structures
oNernang the stream and recall some of
the quleter sea lanes of Venice. From
WeStgate to the eastern arm of the Stour
the thoroughtare is called st. Peters,
Then, i'll the densest part of the city, the
way IS given the inevitable name of High
street, which you will find in nearly
every cathedral town of England. Here
are scores of the ancient houses like those
of Chester, Gloucester and Exeter Over
them all seems to brood a mournfill air of
departed glory.
AS you arrive opposite curious and
venerable st. Mary Bredman's church
glimpse is caught, to the west and north.
OF The qualnteSE lane in all Canterbury
This is Mercery Lane. In the olden DAYS
each trade or class of merchants was
given separate thoroughfare. The mer-
GERS or haberdashers occupied Mercery
Lane. 1t is now filled with all manner
OF little shops, where merchants instead
OF monks set upon the modern pilgrim.
overhead the houses protrude, story after
ho III
perlng proximity. 1t is pleasant place
in which to 1ofter, this Mercery Lane.
and when you have come to its northern
END you suddenly face the great cathe-
dral, and are given an oblique view of its
southern walls, transepts and it's south
ernmost angle of its far eastern apse,
while the top of the great central tower
looms vast and white and high above
the companion towers at either side of
the vast west window,
While no one can deny the grandeur of
the proportions and richness in details of
this SPLENDID Cathedral of Canterbury.
the feeling is irresistible that there is too
little room without and too much within.
i mean by this that the effect of so vast a
structure being closely crowded by
masses OF inferior buildings, precisely as
with the cathedral at Cologne, is dwarfinp
and insignificant. The interior lacks
warmth and there is no doubt that UNI
necessary vastness IN sacred edifice
lessons the desirable effect of repose.
For the student in ecclesiastic history
and architecture there is nowhere else in
England so grand and comprehensive
study. The cathedral certainly embraces
every variety OF the styles of English
eccIeslastlc architecture, from the rudest
Saxon to the most finished Gothic art. 1t
contains a greater number, more famous
and richer tombs, shrines and effigies
than any other cathedral church of
Britain. Since its erection out OF Canter-
bury's ninety Archbishops, eighteen
have been canonized, nine dignitaries
have been appointed Cardinals and
twelve have been made Lord Chancellors.
In its history, construction and all de-
tails of cathedral enrichment it lacks no
clement OF grandeur and deep impress
Siveness.
But to me there is an emptiness, glar-
ing Wilderness, a loneliness, a desolation.
indeed a dissertation, If that word may be
used, about this vast edifice which re-
minds one of tremendous mausoleum
rather than beautiful, venerable and
tenderly kept house OF God. In no part
or portion OF the entire cathedral is this
saddening impression modified. Even
most of the inscriptions on tombs and
brasses are OF the 'Stay, traveller, and
reverencer' variety. You are constantly
confronted with primacy, even in the
eternal set speeches of the dead. The
cloisters, though very great in extent, are
neither so beautiful nor reposeful as
those of Gloucester. The chapter house
is lofty, lonely and drear. The great un-
dercroft or crypt, where the Huguenot
weavers worshlped, suggests the charnel
house. The choir screen is of stone and
the Archbishop's throne is of stone, in
stead of the beautiful carved oak which
so distinguishes many English cathe-
drals, and there is no great glowing east
window above the high altar, with its
flood of warmth and light, as noble