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WORCESTER CATHEDRAL. The first Cathedral Church of Worcester was established about the year 680, and dedicated to St. Peter, but in the next century was more generally called St. Mary's. At that time, it was in the hands of secular priests, that is, clergy who were allowed to marry, and to live among their relations; it being thought that this would not prevent the faithful discharge of their clerical duties. But King Edgar, at the advice of Dunstan (better known, perhaps, as St. Dunstan), determined otherwise; and Oswald, bishop of Worcester, assisted Dunstan in procuring the King's authority for throwing out all the secular priests from Worcester, and fixing monks in their place, according to a law, which afterwards, until the reign of Henry the Eighth, was extended over all England. The keys of the church of Worcester, with all its estates and privileges, were accordingly given up in 969, and from that time, the church of St. Mary became the bishop's Cathedral of Worcester. In 983, Oswald finished the building of a new cathedral, in the churchyard of the former; and it is said, that during the progress of the works, he frequently preached to crowded congregations, in the open air.
The next memorable event in the history of this cathedral is the injury which it received from Hardicnute's soldiers, to whose fury the city of Worcester was abandoned in 1041. These ravages were, however, repaired in 1084 by the good Bishop Wolstan, the second of that name, parts of whose Structure, as we shall see presently, still exist.
After being damaged by fire in 1113, (when the whole city was burnt, and many lives were lost,) and having undergone a similar injury in 1202, together with the surrounding buildings, this cathedral was once more restored; and it soon afterwards received within its walls the body of King John, who was buried in the choir, before the high altar, between Oswald and Wolstan. In 1218, it was, in the presence of the young King Henry the Third, and a large train of bishops, noblemen, and clergy of various degrees, solemnly dedicated to " St. Mary, St. Peter, St. Oswald, and St. Wolstan." After this, many repairs were made, and a new front added.
The form of the building is that of a double cross: the eastern part, erected in 1084 by Wolstan, (including what was afterwards converted into the Lady Chapel,) forming, with its transept, a cross of itself. Wolstan's building includes the great cross-aisle at the top of the nave, the body of the latter having been built in 1224 by Bishop Blois. At the lower end of the nave are the supposed remains of the church built in 983 by Bishop Oswald, united by Bishop Wakefield, in 1380, to the present cathedral. In 1301, the pillars of the choir and of the Lady Chapel at the east end were beautified.
The choir was new vaulted in 1376. The clustered pillars of the choir are very beautiful, as well as the east window, over the communion table; nor must we omit to mention the pulpit, and the altar-piece, both of oak, and the bishop's throne, the latter being a curious specimen of ancient workmanship. In 1380, Bishop Wakefield added two arches to the west end of the nave, and a rich and stately window; and, in 1386, built the north porch, a fine specimen of the architecture of that period.
This cathedral has all the pleasing features of the simple Gothic style, abounding in lofty pointed arches, and elegant pinnacles, rising from each termination of the building; but, with the exception of the tower, it is less decorated with ornaments than the generality of our cathedrals. The following are stated to be the dimensions: the length in the whole, from east to
west, is 394 feet, of which the choir is 120 eetj the breadth of the body and side aisles, 78 feet • the breadth of the choir and side aisles, 74 feet; the height of the tower, which is adorned with pinnacles and battlements, 200 feet; height of the roof, 90 feet, Beneath the choir is a crypt or undercroft, 72 feet in length, 11 feet high, and as broad as the church, divided into aisles. Adjoining the south side of the nave are the Cloisters, forming a square 125 feet in length on the east side, but only 120 feet on the south, west and north sides; beyond it, is the ancient refectory, now the King's school; and eastward of the cloister is the chapter-house, with a curious roof, supported by a pillar in the centre, all built in 1372. A bell-tower, which stood on the north of the Lady Chapel, was taken down about the year 1647.
During the troubles in England, occasioned by the civil war, in the time of Charles the First, Worcester Cathedral had a full share of the wanton and wicked ravages committed by the Parliament's forces.— "When their whole army," says Dugdale, " came to Worcester, under the command of the Earl of Essex, the first thing they did was the profanation of the Cathedral, destroying the organ, breaking in pieces divers beautiful windows, wherein the foundation of that church was lively historified with painted glass, and barbarously defacing divers fair monuments of the dead; and, as if this were not enough, they brought their horses into the body of the church, keeping fires and courts of guard therein. Also, to make their wickedness the more complete, they rifled the library, with the records and evidences of the church; tore in pieces the Bibles and service-books pertaining to the quire, putting the surplices and other vestments upon their dragooners, who rode about the streets in them.'.'
The effect of some of these injuries is still perceived in the absence of the ancient coloured glass, whose deep and rich hues the art of these times tries in vain to reach; but, notwithstanding the attacks above mentioned, on the monuments of the dead, many interesting tombs yet remain in excellent order. At the head of these we must place that of King John, to which we have alluded, as situated in the choir, before the high altar. His figure, the size of life, and crowned, lies on the tomb, on which was written, though the letters are now difficult to be made out, "Johannes, RexAngliae," or "john, King Of EngLand;" in his right hand is a sceptre, in his left a sword, the point of which goes into the mouth of a lion at his feet. On the sides of the monument are two images of a smaller size, of Bishops Oswald and Wolstan, between whom he had desired to be laid, to keep off evil spirits! He died in 1216.
A very curious search was made on this spot, in 1797, by order of the Dean and Chapter, in consequence of a doubt respecting the real place of John's interment. The result was the discovery of his corpse under the tomb, in a dress, as far as could be judged, exactly like that of the figure on his monument, except as to the gloves on its hands and the crown on its head, there having been found on the skull a monk's cowl, in which he is said, according to his wish,„to have been buried. On the top of the head, a few gray hairs were still to be seen. The robe which covered the body, appeared to have been of strong crimson damask. The left arm bone was found lying on the breast, the cuff to the left hand yet remaining, with pieces of the sword and of the scabbard, which latter was more perfect than the sword itself. On the day following this investigation, the body and the tomb were restored to their former condition.
To the right of the choir is the Chapel of Princb Arthur, which is enriched with ornamental openwork, and contains the tomb of that amiable young prince, the eldest son of King Henry the Seventh, and brother of Henry the Eighth. This is considered one of the most curious and interesting parts of the Cathedral, particularly since the ornaments, which had been hidden by repeated coats of whitewash, have been opened to view. These ornaments are intended to convey to the mind of the spectator the history of the union of the two Houses of York and Lancaster, under the emblems of a white and red rose, this union having been effected by Henry the Seventh's marriage with Princess Elizabeth.
On the opposite side of the altar is the monument of Bishop Bulliitgham, which is divided in two by the wall of the choir, the image of the Bishop lying on the tomb with the head resting on a book. In the Dean's Chapel are two ancient tombs, one of Sir Gryffith Rice and his lady, the other of Sir Robert Harcourt, a crusader, whose figure appears in full armour. The Lady Chapel contains monuments supposed to be those of St. Oswald and St. Wolstan.
There are many other old and curious monuments in Worcester Cathedral, to the memory of bishops, noblemen, warriors, and others, once eminent in the busy scenes of life. Our space will only allow room for an account of a few of them. On the right hand, in entering the north transept, is the beautiful monument to Bishop Hough, the work of Roubiliac. On the tablet, is represented the memorable interview between James the Second's commissioners and the prelate, of which an account is given, in p. 191 of our first volume.
Wolstan (the second of that name), Bishop of Worcester in 10C2, when accused of incapacity by Archbishop Lanfranc, who wished to remove him, is said to have struck his pastoral staff so far and so firm into the tomb of Edward the Confessor, that nobody but himself could pull it out. It is also told of him, that he preached severely against the foolish fashion of his time, of letting the hair grow to a great length; but that, probably finding his advice little heeded, he took the opportunity, when any one bowed down before him to receive his blessing, to cut off a lock of his hair with a little sharp instrument which he had at hand, and to urge the person to cut off the rest of his hair in the same manner.
Walter De Cantilufe, 1236, whose tomb is supposed to be under the easternmost arch of the north wall in the choir, deserves notice for his spirited conduct on an important occasion. When Rustand, one of the Pope's legates, in an assembly in London, improperly demanded a large sum as a tax from the clergy, for which he had got the King's consent, Fulk, Bishop of London, stood up and said, " Before I will consent to such an intolerable oppression of the church, I will have my head cut off;" when Walter de Cantilupe manfully seconded him, and said, " Before the Church shall be subject to such unjust spoil, I will lose my life at the gallows!"
Adam De Orleton, 1327, took an infamous part in the deposition, and murder of King Edward the Second. He sided with the Queen,
"Isabel, she-wolf of France," and Mortimer, and having obtained the great seal from Edward, then a prisoner at Hereford, he sent to his murderers that line of uncertain, but (considering what followed) horrid meaning,
"Edvardum occidere nolite timere bonum est;" which, according to the place of a comma in the Latin, may be either,—
Do not fear to kill Edward, it is a good thing; or,
Do not kill Edward, to fear is a good thing.
Hugh Latimer, the son of a husbandman in Lincolnshire, one of the first reformers of the Church of England, was appointed Bishop of Worcester in 1535, but on popery being again introduced, under Queen Mary, he resigned his bishopric. Having been one of the most learned, eloquent, and favourite preachers of the day, he was cited before the council, to give an account of his doctrines; the result of which was his committal to the Tower of London as a heretic. Shortly afterwards, he was conveyed to Oxford, where, after undergoing the form of a mock dispute with papists, he was burnt at the stake, together with the learned Dr. Ridley, Bishop of London, in 1555.
Bishop Hooper, of this see, was another sufferer for the Reformation. He was, after a long persecution, burnt at Gloucester, in 1555.
Dr. Richard Hurd was distinguished not only for his eminent learning, but for his benevolence of disposition and kindness of manners, which endeared him to the diocese over which he presided. V. Green, Esq., author of The History of Worcester, concluding the list of bishops with Hurd, speaks of him, as "the venerable successor to a long series of prelates, illustrious by their station, and many of them yet more so by the brightness of their characters."
Bishop Heber's amiable and exemplary character, has lately been placed before our readers. The following beautiful passage is from a volume of his Sermons preaches in India.
ON THE LOVE OF GOD.
Beware how you neglect that species and degree of intercourse with your Heavenly Father, to maintain which, His mercy permits, and His word invites, and His grace, if you will make use of it, enables you! Beware, lest by thinking of Him but seldom, but seldom addressing Him in prayer, and seldom hearing His voice in His Holy Scriptures and His public ordinances, you estrange yourself, by degrees, entirely from His love, and allow the pursuits and pleasures of the world to establish an empire in your hearts, left empty of holier affections! It is by daily prayer, and daily thanksgiving, by patient study of God's word, and by patient meditation on our own condition, and on all which God has done, and will do for us, that a genuine and rational love for Him is kindled in our hearts: and that we become unfeignedly attached to the Friend of whose kindness we have had so much experience. It is to be expected, that in the earlier stages of our approach to God, wo should experience but little of that ardour of devotion, those pleasures of earnest piety, which are in this world the reward of love, as well as its most convincing evidence. Our prayer at first will often be constrained, our thanksgivings cold and formal; our thought will wander from our closets to the world, and we shall have too frequent occasion to acknowledge with shame and sorrow the imperfection of those offerings which we as yet can make to our benefactor. A religious feeling, like every other mental habit, is slowly and gradually acquired. A strong and lasting affection is not ordinarily the growth of a day; but to have begun at all, is, in religion, no trifling progress; and a steady perseverance in prayer and praise, will not only, by degrees, enlist the strength of habit on the side of holiness, but will call down, moreover, and preserve to us, that spiritual support and influence, without which all human effort must be vain, but which no one will seek in vain, who seeks for it in sincerity and by the appointed means.
MALHAM COVE, YORKSHIRE. Amidst the hilly and mountainous tracts of the West Riding of Yorkshire, and almost in the centre of Craven, is the village of Malham, near to which is Malham Cove, the wild and beautiful spot represented in our engraving. This is an immense perpendicular crag of limestone, 300 feet high in the middle, and spread across the whole valley in the shape of an amphitheatre, making a scene so grand and awful, that the mind can scarcely picture any form of rocks within the bounds of probability, that can exceed it. From the foot of the rock, a small stream breaks out, which has been sometimes supposed to be the source of the Aire, one of the most considerable rivers in Yorkshire. The Aire certainly takes its rise in the neighbourhood of these mountains, but most probably, according to Dr. Whitaker, at Malham tarn, that is, Malham lake, within a mile of the village. This lake is circular, about a mile in diameter, and remarkably situated on a high moor. In rainy seasons, the waters of the lake overflow the rocks, and rushing from the centre of the Cove form a tremendous cataract of nearly 300 feet.
We stated, in our account of Fountains Abbey, that the Percy family were its great benefactors *: and it appears that in 1175, William de Percy, and Maude, Count and Countess of Warwick, granted lands belonging to the manor of Malham, including Malham Cove, to the abbots of Fountains. Among the particulars of this gift, Malham Water, and the right of fishing therein are specified. Such a grant of water, unconnected with the land which it covered, would not, according to the present nicety of language in the English law, be valid.
The excellent writer whom we have just quoted
• Saturday Magaiine, vol. ii., p. 147/
observes, in his History of Craven, that the abundant stock of fine trout and perch with which this lake has always abounded, must at one season of the year have converted the fasts of the monks of Fountains Abbey into the most delicious of all repasts.
The poet Gray visited this part of the country in 1769, and described with great force and truth, " and with a master's hand," some of the splendid scenery which he met with in his tour. The following sketch relating to Malham, is found in a letter to his friend Dr. Wharton.
"Oct 13.—Came to Malham (pronounced Maum), a village ir. the bosom of the mountains, seated in a wild and dreary valley. From thence I was to walk a mile over veryrough ground, a torrent rattling along on the left hand. On the cliffs above, hung a few goats: one of them scratched an ear with its hind foot in a place where I would not have stood stock still
'For all beneath the moon.' As I advanced, the crags seemed to close in, but disco, vered a narrow entrance closing to the left between them. I followed my guide a few paces, and the hills opened again."
THE CHANGES OF INSECTS. The insect-tribes were amongst the " creeping things" which were called into existence by our AlmightyCreator, on the sixth day of the Creation. In point of number, they are certainly the most remarkable of all living creatures. We may form some opinion of their vast multitudes, when we understand, that there are at least three thousand different kinds of insects in Great Britain alone; and that every other part of the globe possesses its almost endless varieties. Yet numerous as they are, whoever duly studies their varied forms, their peculiar habits, and their several uses, will naturally come to a full conviction, that they have all been created for some good and benevolent purpose, and such persons may at the same time derive from the study as much pleasing entertainment as valuable instruction.
It would not be just indeed to say, that the insect kingdom is the next most favourite production of' the Creator after man, because each class of his creatures equally comes under that description. All His works on earth have been with Him favourite operations, though most of all, our own most highly favoured race, Mankind. Yet this we may safely admit, that in no other class has He generally united so much that is curious and wonderful, with so much that is beautiful, and even graceful, in bodies so minutely small, and yet so exquisitely and perfectly formed, as in the insect-race.
It is not my intention now, to trace out those marks of difference in formation, or habits, by which the several classes are distinguished one from another, or to dwell on any of those extraordinary proofs, which these little creatures give, of their possessing in themselves, as much as exists in any of the larger races of animals, that amazing principle of action, which we are accustomed to style instinct, by which, like reason or judgment in man, their operations are regulated and governed. I shall here confine my observations to what may be considered the peculiar feature of the insect-tribe.
It is well known, that most insects undergo, in the course of their existence, a threefold metamorphosis, transformation, or change. Any persons who have amused themselves with keeping silk-worms, or have watched the common caterpillar, in its changes, will readily understand what is here alluded to.
As the common cabbage-caterpillar is well known to us all, and may be easily observed by all classes, we will take that as an instance for the purpose of illustrating the subject. We have all, I suppose, seen on the leaves of the garden-cabbage, the little parcels of eggs, from which the caterpillars come forth. From each of those eggs, in due time, there breaks out a little caterpillar. It is seen worm-like crawling along upon sixteen short legs, greedily devouring leaves with its two jaws, and seeing by the means of twelve eyes, which are so minutely small as scarcely to be discerned without the aid of the microscope. This is the creature's first state of existence.
After a short period, the caterpillar having several times changed its skin, and at length grown to its full size, seeks out some place of concealment, secreting itself in some hole in a wall, or burying itself under the surface of the ground, or sometimes only attaching itself by a silken web, to the under-side of a leaf. There it is changed into what we usually call a chrysalis, which in appearance is an animal shut up in a sort of egg-shaped case, of a bright greenish colour, variegated with spots of a shining black. Whilst in this state, the creature is without a mouth or eyes, without legs or wings. It takes no nourishment, but lies in a torpid and dormant condition, showing no other symptom of life, than a slight movement when touched. In this death-like torpor, the insect exists for several months.
flights. Of the sixteen feet of the Caterpillar *«n have disappeared, and the remaining six arc in most respects altogether unlike those, whose place thQy have taken. Its jaws have vanished away, and in their stead we observe a curled-up trunk, suited only for sipping liquid sweets. The form of its head is entirely changed: two long horns rise on the upper part, and instead of twelve almost invisible eyes, you behold two very large eyes, composed of at least 20,000 parts, (called lenses,) each of which is supposed to answer the purpose of a distinct and perfect eye.
Now looking at these three states of the same creature, we certainly behold in appearance, at least, three distinct animals, as different from each other, or nearly so, as the bird which flies in the air from the serpent and the shell-fish: and yet all one and the same living creature: all united by one and the same principle of life. This alone seems to continue permanent and abiding throughout this threefold change. The bodily substance undergoes the most striking transformations; but the existing and feeling self remains, increasing and unaltered through all. The same animal crawls in its caterpillar-shape, rests or sleeps in its torpid chrysalis, and afterwards springs forth into the air on _the feathered wings of the Butterfly. What a stupendous wonder is this transformation! How overwhelmed should we be with amazement at it, if we were now made acquainted with it for the first time, instead of being familiar with it from our earliest days.
It is very remarkable that the ancient Heathens,
though they had not] the glorious beams of the
Gospel to guide their' views on this subject, seem
to have regarded these insect-changes as foretelling
that which they hoped themselves to experience.
Hence we are told, that on some of their gravestones
which have been dug up in later years, the image of
the Butterfly is found sculptured over the name or
the inscription which they bear. They placed that
image there, as a fit representation of the soul, (in
Greek PsycM,) and as an intimation that it would
one day come forth again under a new form, and in
a new region of existence. And thus it answered to
that cheering word, which is read on some of the
hatchments set up in our churches, Resurgam, which
is, " I shall rise again." It clearly and beautifully
expresses what is contained in those words of not
unfrequcnt occurrence in our church-yards, Non
omnis moriar, or, " I shall not wholly die." Indeed,
the allusion is so striking, and so suitable, that the
writer from whom these observations are chiefly
taken, has not hesitated to express his belief that one
of the great purposes of the Creator in forming his
Insect-kingdom, was to excite this sentiment in the
human heart, and thus to raise the thinking mind to
look forward to a future revival and resurrection
from the tomb. D. I. E.
[Chiefly abridged from Sharon Turner's Sacrtd History
LETTING AND HIRING. Part I. When one man parts entirely\with anything that belongs to him, to another person, and receives payment for it, this transaction is called, as you know, selling and buying. When he parts with it for a time only, that is lends it, to another, and receives payment for this, the transaction is commonly called letting and hiring.
But there are various words used to express this kind of dealing. When any one allows me, for a certain price, the use of his coach, ship, or horse, this price is called hire. And so also if he lets me himself, that is, his labour, to wait on me or work for me, I am said to hire him; and the payment he receives is sometimes called hire, though more commonly, wages. But if, instead of a carriage or a horse, he lets me a house, or garden, the price I pay him is called rent. And if he allows me the use of his money, the price I pay for the loan of it is called interest. Now, though these different words are thus employed, you are not to suppose that they signify so many different kinds of transactions. If you consider attentively what is meant by the words Rent, Hire, and Interest, you will perceive that they all in reality signify the same sort of payment. It is only the fashion of the language to employ these different words according to the different kinds of articles that are lent.
The Israelites were forbidden in the Law of Moses to lend to their brethren on usury, that is, Interest. As they were not designed to be a trading people, but to live chiefly on the produce of their own land, they were not likely to have any considerable moneytransactions together, and would seldom have occasion to borrow, except when one of them happened to fall into distress; and then, his brother Israelites were expected to assist him freely, out of brotherlykindness and friendship; as is becoming in members of the same family. For they were all descended from twelve brothers, the sons of Jacob, who was also called Israel, and from whom they took their name: and they were commanded to consider each other as brethren.
But they were allowed by God's law to receive interest on the loan of money, or of any thing else lent, to a stranger; that is, any one besides the Israelites. And this shows that there can be nothing wrong in receiving interest, or any other kind of hire: for the law expressly charges them not to oppress or wrong the strangers, but to treat them not only justly but kindly and charitably.
I have said that there is no real difference between paying for the loan of money, and for the loan of any thing else. For suppose I have 100/. lying by me, you will easily see that it comes to the same thing, whether I buy a house or a piece of land with the money, and let it to my neighbour, at so much a year, or whether I lend him the money to buy the house or the land for himself, on condition of his paying me so much a year for the use of my money. But in the one case his yearly payment will be called Rent, and in the other case it gets the name of Interest.
Every man ought to be at liberty to sell, let, or use in any way he likes best, his house, or land, or any-thing that is his property. There are some countries in the world indeed, inhabited by halfsavage tribes, such as the Tartars, where land is not private property, but is all one great common on which every man turns out his cattle to feed. These people of course lead a wandering life, dwelling in
tents, and removing from place to place, in search of fresh pasture. And the land, as you may suppose is never cultivated; as no one would think of sowing seed, when another might reap the harvest.
There are other countries, again, where any man may keep possession of a piece of ground which he has ploughed and sown, till he has gathered in the crop; but as soon as ever it is out of his occupation, any one else is free to take possession of it. This is the case in many parts of Arabia at this day; and such seems to have been the state of many parts of the land of Canaan, while Abraham and Isaac dwelt there. (See Gen. xxvi. 12, and Acts vii. 5.)
But it is plain that, in such a state of things, it would not be worth any one's while to spend money in fencing, draining, and manuring the land; because he would know that if he were disabled by sickness from continuing to cultivate it, or if he died leaving young children, it would pass into other hands, and all he had spent would be lost to him.
In order, therefore, that the land should be properly cultivated, it must be private property: and if a piece of land is your property, you ought to be at liberty to dispose of it like any other property; either to sell it) or to cultivate it yourself, or to employ a bailiff and labourers to cultivate it for you, or to let it to a farmer.
When land is scarce, in proportion to the number of people, in any country, the hire, or rent, as it is called, which the farmer pays for the use of it, will be the greater. The reason of this is very simple, and easy to be understood. The price of land, either to buy or to hire, increases, like the price of everything else, in proportion to the scarcity of it, compared with the number of those who want it, and can afford to pay for it. When horses are scarce, in proportion to those who want them, and can affcrd to pay for them, the price, or the hire, of a horse, increases. And so it is with everything else, and with land among the rest. A farmer desires land, because he hopes to make a profit by raising corn and other crops from it; and he consents to pay rent for it, because he cannot obtain land without. And so it is with everything that we buy or hire. We consent to pay for it as much as we think it worth to us, when we desire to have it, and cannot obtain it without that payment. Land is desired, therefore, on account of the crops that may be raised from it; and rent is paid for it, because it cannot be had without rent. You may have land for nothing in the Arabian deserts; but no one desires it there, because it will produce nothing. But, again, in many of the uncleared parts of America, land may be had for nothing, though the soil is good, and will bear plentiful crops. But there the land is so abundant, and the people so few, that any one may have as much as he chooses to clear. In this country, therefore, land that will produce any crops is of value, because the supply of it is limited: in the wilds of America, it is of no value; not because (like the Arabian deserts) it will produce nothing, but because, though it is very fertile, there is enough and much more than enough for every one who wants it. But even in the newly-settled parts of America, the land becomes of some value, as soon as it is cleared of wood, and has roads made through or near it. And many persons are willing to buy, or to pay rent for, such land, even when they might have land for nothing in the depth of the forests. But then they would have to clear the ground of trees, and would be obliged to send perhaps some hundreds of miles to a market, to sell the corn and to buy what they wanted.
But as land grows scarcer in proportion to the