CHAPTER III

BEVERLEY

When the great bell in the southern tower of the Minster booms forth its deep and solemn notes over the city of Beverley, you experience an uplifting of the mind--a sense of exaltation greater, perhaps, than even that produced by an organ’s vibrating notes in the high vaulted spaces of a cathedral. The exceptional mellowness and richness of the whole peal of bells removes them from any comparison with the harsh, hammering sounds that fall upon the ear from so many church towers. Peter, the great tenor bell, was probably cast in the latter part of the fourteenth century, and has therefore given forth his sonorous notes ever since the two towers were built.

The charm and glamour of Beverley is perhaps most accentuated towards sunset on a clear evening, when you can stand by the north transept of the Minster and see the western towers thrown out against a soft yellow sky. From the picture given here something of the scene may be imagined, but to the beauty of the architecture and the glowing tones of the sky should be added the sound of the pealing bells, each carillon being concluded with a reverberating _tangg-g boomm-m_, whose deep notes seem to send a message to the very gates of Eternity, lying somewhere beyond the golden light in the west.

Beverley has no natural features to give it any attractiveness, for it stands on the borders of the level plain of Holderness, and towards the Wolds there is only a very gentle rise. It depends, therefore, solely upon its architecture. The first view of the city from the west as we come over the broad grassy common of Westwood is delightful. We are just sufficiently elevated to see the opalescent form of the Minster, with its graceful towers rising above the more distant roofs, and close at hand the pinnacled tower of St. Mary’s showing behind a mass of dark trees. The entry to the city from this direction is in every way prepossessing, for the sunny common is succeeded by a broad, tree-lined road, with old-fashioned houses standing sedately behind the foliage, and the end of the avenue is closed by the North Bar--the last of Beverley’s

gates. It dates from 1410, and is built of very dark red brick, with one arch only, the footways being taken through the modern houses, shouldering it on each side. Leland’s account and the town records long before his day tell us that there were three gates, but nothing remains of ‘Keldgate barr’ and the ‘barr de Newbygyng.’

We go through the archway and find ourselves in a wide street with the beautiful west end of St. Mary’s Church on the left, quaint Georgian houses, and a dignified hotel of the same period on the opposite side, while straight ahead is the broad Saturday Market with its very picturesque ‘cross.’ On the further side of this square we look back and see the bright and cheerful scene depicted here. The cross was put up in 1714 by Sir Charles Hotham, Bart., and Sir Michael Warton, Members of Parliament for the Corporation at that time.

Beyond the Market-place the streets become narrow, except at the triangular space, half-way to the Minster, called the Wednesday Market, and I cannot honestly say that there is any charm or attractiveness to be found in this portion of the city. There is a rather poverty-stricken appearance in the houses and the shops that seems unnecessary, and hardly what we should expect on approaching the Minster precincts. When, in time, the splendid pile appears in front of us, it is with a sense of intense disappointment that we find the surroundings utterly unworthy. All who know Winchester or Salisbury or Canterbury realize the intense charm of their beautiful closes, where stately cedars pronounce a benediction over the gables and ancient leaded windows of houses whose every detail is exquisite. At Beverley, instead of any small suggestion of such charm, we find modern cottages, which, if not aggressively ugly, are so woefully out of place that they should be swept away at any cost. On the south side there is a space of uneven ground partially enclosed by dilapidated fragments of fence, littered with rubbish, and surrounded by squalid little houses. The unfinished aspect of this miserable scene is less depressing than it might otherwise be, in the hope it inspires that some scheme of improvement may make use of the present opportunity. It is on account of its dismal environment on the south side that I prefer the north, and in painting the western towers under an evening light I have chosen a time when the commonplace cottages facing them lose their offensiveness. Without the towers I should not regard the exterior of the Minster with any real pleasure, for the Early English chancel and greater and lesser transepts, although imposing and massive, are lacking in proper proportion, and in that deficiency suffer a loss of dignity. The eulogies so many architects and writers have poured out upon the Early English work of this great church, and the strangely adverse comments the same critics have levelled at the Perpendicular additions, do not blind me to what I regard as a most strange misconception on the part of these people. The homogeneity of the central and eastern portions of the Minster is undeniable, but because what appears to be the design of one master-builder of the thirteenth century was apparently carried out in the short period of twenty years, I do not feel obliged to consider the result beautiful. The five pairs of turrets at the outer angles of the transepts and chancel are so ponderous and so tall that they dwarf the great gables and spoil the general outline by their wrong proportions. And as for the windows, they are unrestful and unpleasing to the eye in a way that is typical of the period. I explain my dislike for this style of English church architecture from the lack of those continuous lines that made their appearance in the Decorated period, and not only softened the crude angularities of the earlier style, but gave an impression of reposeful strength, instead of the detached effect of decoration in stories, each independent of what was below or above.

In the Perpendicular work of the western towers everything is in graceful proportion, and nothing, from the ground to the top of the turrets, jars with the wonderful dignity of their perfect lines. No towers I have seen in this country compare with those of Beverley in the masterly way in which they combine continuous lines and rectangular ornament with the most exquisite grace and dignity.

A few years before the Norman Conquest a central tower and a presbytery were added to the existing building by Archbishop Cynesige. The ‘Frenchman’s’ influence was probably sufficiently felt at that time to give this work the stamp of Norman ideas, and would have shown a marked advance on the Romanesque style of the Saxon age, in which the other portions of the buildings were put up. After that time we are in the dark as to what happened until the year 1188, when a disaster took place of which there is a record:

‘In the year from the incarnation of Our Lord 1188, this church was burnt, in the month of September, the night

after the Feast of St. Mathew the Apostle, and in the year 1197, the sixth of the ides of March, there was an inquisition made for the relics of the blessed John in this place, and these bones were found in the east part of his sepulchre, and reposited; and dust mixed with mortar was found likewise, and re-interred.’

This is a translation of the Latin inscription on a leaden plate discovered in 1664, when a square stone vault in the church was opened and found to be the grave of the canonized John of Beverley. The picture history gives us of this remarkable man, although to a great extent hazy with superstitious legend, yet shows him to have been one of the greatest and noblest of the ecclesiastics who controlled the Early Church in England. He founded the monastery at Beverley about the year 700, on what appears to have been an isolated spot surrounded by forest and swamp, and after holding the See of York for some twelve years, he retired here for the rest of his life. When he died, in 721, his memory became more and more sacred, and his powers of intercession were constantly invoked. The splendid shrine provided for his relics in 1037 was encrusted with jewels, and shone with the precious metals employed. Like the tomb of William the Conqueror at Caen, it disappeared long ago. After the collapse of the central tower to its very foundations came the vast Early English reconstruction of everything except the nave, which was possibly of pre-Conquest date, and survived until the present Decorated successor took its place. Much discussion has centred round certain semicircular arches at the back of the triforium, whose ornament is unmistakably Norman, suggesting that the early nave was merely remodelled in the later period. The last great addition to the structure was the beautiful Perpendicular north porch and the west end--the glory of Beverley. The interior of the transepts and chancel is extremely interesting, but entirely lacking in that perfection of form characterizing York. On entering the great transept of Beverley the intelligent visitor is inclined to look about him and comment on the fine Early English work; at York, in the same part of the Minster, he will probably be silenced by the overwhelming sense of perfection conveyed by the ideal proportions of every part. Beverley is merely on the road to York.

A magnificent range of stalls crowned with elaborate tabernacle work of the sixteenth century adorns the choir, and under each of the sixty-eight seats are carved misereres, making a larger collection than any other in the country. The subjects range from a horrible representation of the devil with a second face in the middle of his body to humorous pictures of a cat playing a fiddle, and a scold on her way to the ducking-stool in a wheel-barrow, gripping with one hand the ear of the man who is wheeling her. Bears, foxes, lions, deer, and birds are the most favourite subjects, while the most unique is perhaps the elephant at one end of the front row of stalls on the south side. It is shown with a howdah on its back, a most curious trunk, an ear resembling a bat’s wing, and a monkey behind, in the act of dealing a tremendous blow with a stick. This cannot compare with the remarkably fine elephant, with a tall howdah filled with armed men, carved as a finial in front of the Bishop’s throne in Ripon Cathedral.

In the north-east corner of the choir, built across the opening to the lesser transept on that side, is the tomb of Lady Eleanor FitzAllen, wife of Henry, first Lord Percy of Alnwick. It is considered to be, without a rival, the most beautiful tomb in this country. The canopy is composed of sumptuously carved stone, and while it is literally encrusted with ornament, it is designed in such a masterly fashion that the general effect, whether seen at a distance or close at hand, is always magnificent. The broad lines of the canopy consist of a steep gable with an ogee arch within, cusped so as to form a base at its apex for an elaborate piece of statuary. This is repeated on both sides of the monument. On the side towards the altar, the large bearded figure represents the Deity, with angels standing on each side of the throne, holding across His knees a sheet. From this rises a small undraped figure representing Lady Eleanor, whose uplifted hands are held in one of those of her Maker, who is shown in the act of benediction with two fingers on her head. On the north side, the corresponding position is occupied by a figure of our Lord, with the right hand in the act of blessing, and the left pointed to the wound in His side. By climbing the winding stone staircase to the top of the screen a close scrutiny can be made of the astonishingly fine details of the carving on that side.

In the north aisle of the chancel there is a very unusual double staircase. It is recessed in the wall, and the arcading that runs along the aisle beneath the windows is inclined upwards and down again at a slight angle, similar to the rise of the steps which are behind the marble columns. This was the old way to the chapter-house, destroyed at the Dissolution, and is an extremely fine example of an Early English stairway. There are two medieval tombs surmounted by richly carved effigies to unknown people--one an ecclesiastic, and another, possibly, a merchant of note--both in an aisle of the great north transept; and in the Percy Chapel--a Perpendicular addition at the north-east corner of the chancel--stands the altar-tomb of the fourth Earl of Northumberland. This Earl was succeeded by Henry Percy, the fifth to hold the title, and the compiler of the ‘Household Book,’ mentioned in the next chapter in connexion with his great castle at Wressle, some twenty miles to the west. Near this chapel stands the ancient stone chair of sanctuary, or frith-stool. It has been broken and repaired with iron clamps, and the inscription upon it, recorded by Spelman, has gone. The privileges of sanctuary were limited by Henry VIII., and abolished in the reign of James I.; but before the Dissolution malefactors of all sorts and conditions, from esquires and gentlewomen down to chapmen and minstrels, frequently came in undignified haste to claim the security of St. John of Beverley. Here is a case quoted from the register by Mr. Charles Hiatt in his admirable account of the Minster:

‘John Spret, Gentilman, memorandum, that John Spret, of Barton upon Umber, in the counte of Lyncoln, gentilman, com to Beverlay, the first day of October the vii yer of the reen of Keing Herry vii and asked the lybertes of Saint John of Beverlay, for the dethe of John Welton, husbondman, of the same town, and knawleg [acknowledged] hymselff to be at the kyllyng of the saym John with a dagarth, the xv day of August.’

On entering the city we passed St. Mary’s, a beautiful Perpendicular church which is not eclipsed even by the major attractions of the Minster. At the west end there is a splendid Perpendicular window flanked by octagonal buttresses of a slightly earlier date, which are run up to a considerable height above the roof of the nave, the upper portions being made light and graceful, with an opening on each face, and a pierced parapet. The tower rises above the crossing, and is crowned by sixteen pinnacles. Its circular windows in the lower portion of the tower are filled with tracery, and are unusual in the period of its construction. The southern end of the transept receives additional support from the great flying buttresses, added by Pugin in 1856.

In its general appearance the large south porch is Perpendicular, like the greater part of the church, but the inner portion of its arch is Norman, and the outer is Early English. One of the pillars of the nave is ornamented just below the capital with five quaint little minstrels carved in stone. Each is supported by a bold bracket, and each is painted. The musical instruments are all much battered, but it can be seen that the centre figure, who is dressed as an alderman, had a harp, and the others a pipe, a lute, a drum, and a violin. From Saxon times there had existed in Beverley a guild of minstrels, a prosperous fraternity bound by regulations, which Poulson gives at length in his monumental work on Beverley. The minstrels played at aldermen’s feasts, at weddings, on market-days, and on all occasions when there was excuse for music. This ‘toune of Beverle,’ which Leland describes as being ‘large and welle buildid of wood,’ must have been a pleasant and exceptionally picturesque place to dwell in when we remember the old gateways, and replace the many dull buildings of to-day with such beautiful timber houses as those in the old streets of York. Above the curious gables rose the two stately churches, and if the minstrels were idle, no doubt the bells were filling the air with their music, telling of sorrow or gladness.

ALONG THE HUMBER