NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE—DURHAM.

We arrived in Newcastle at 10 p. m., after a five hours' ride from Melrose. The city has quite a history, and as we desired to break the long ride to Durham, we were ready to stop here over night, for we made it a rule to refrain from night travel.

This is the chief town of old Northumberland, on the right bank of the River Tyne, eight miles from its mouth, and has a population of 128,443. It is built on three steep hills, although between them are the business portions on level ground. It extends two miles along the river, and is connected with Gateshead, on the opposite side of the river, by a handsome stone bridge. There are remains of ancient fortifications. The streets are spacious, and there are many elegant buildings, but there is that smoky condition characteristic of large manufacturing places. There are here fine buildings for public baths and wash-houses, built in 1859. The High Level Bridge across the Tyne was built by Robert Stevenson. It is supported by six massive piers 124 feet apart, and has a carriage-way 90 feet above the river; and 28 feet over that is the viaduct, 118 feet above the water. The cost was $1,172,250. There is an antiquarian museum in the old castle tower, containing the largest collection of lapidary inscriptions and sculptures in England. The castle was built in 1080, by Robert, eldest son of William the Conqueror. It has been restored in many parts. Though very small, being scarcely more than a low tower some 75 feet in diameter, it is one of the finest specimens of Norman architecture in the kingdom. Situated at the junction of the principal streets, and being readily seen from the station, the contrast between the ancient and modern is impressive.

The harbor, now greatly improved, has a quay 1550 feet long. The traffic is principally in bituminous coal, for which the city is the greatest mart in the world; hence the adage about the impropriety of carrying coals to Newcastle. This trade has been important from ancient time, for the burgesses obtained from Henry III. in 1239—more than 644 years ago—"a license to dig coal," and by the time of Edward I. the business had so increased that Newcastle paid a tax of £200. In 1615 the trade had so advanced as to employ 400 ships, and the traffic extended into France and the Netherlands. 200,000 tons of coke are sent out annually. Lead is also shipped in large quantities. The ore is brought from Cumberland, and the northwestern Northumberland Hills, and also from Durham, and is here worked into piglead, and manufactured into sheets and pipes. This trade is even more ancient than the coal traffic.

About a mile from the place is the holy well of Jesus Mound, now called Jesmond, which was formerly a favorite pilgrim resort. During the reign of Charles I. the city was taken by the Scottish army in 1640, and again in 1644. The Church of St. Nicholas is an ancient but spacious structure of decorated English style, having a tower and spire 193 feet high, of elegant and graceful proportions. St. Andrew's Church is an ancient Norman edifice with a large, low, embattled tower. There are other churches of considerable renown,—such as All Saints, with a circular interior, and Grecian steeple 202 feet high; and last but by no means least, the Roman Catholic Church of St. Mary, of magnificent early English architecture.

At 9.30 a. m. of the next day, Friday, we left for

DURHAM,

where we arrived in an hour. In all England no more picturesquely situated place exists, for it is embowered in trees, and stands on a rocky hill, rising from the River Wear. On the summit is the cathedral built of yellow stone. It has three towers without spires, which, together with the roof and a part of the church walls, rise imposingly out of the surrounding foliage. The place has a population of 14,406. The river banks are skirted by overhanging gardens with fine walks, beyond which the houses rise above each other, till all are crowned by the cathedral itself. To add an intensity of beauty, on the summit of a rocky eminence near by are the remains of a Norman castle. The division north of the castle contains most of the stores, and has one of those English commercial conveniences, a market-place.

Among the public buildings are a town-hall in the Tudor baronial style, a theatre, seven parish churches, a school of art, and a university. The old Church of St. Nicholas, now in thorough repair, is one of the finest specimens of church architecture in the North of England. The old castle is opposite the cathedral. It was founded by William the Conqueror, who died Sept. 9, 1087, so that the structure is eight hundred years old; and was built for the purpose of maintaining the royal authority in the adjacent district, especially by resisting the inroads of the Scots. Many additions have been made to it, so that it is now difficult to say which parts are old and which new; but no question exists in relation to the great antiquity of the foundations and lower portions, and of the very ancient date of some of the higher parts of much above them. For many years it was the residence of the bishops of Durham, but of late has been given up to the use of the university.

The See of Durham is the richest in England. The revenues are very great, and one bishop left $1,000,000 at his decease a few years ago. Collieries and railroads have given a powerful impetus to this aristocratic place, which has now considerable trade and large carpet manufactures. It has long been noted for Durham Mustard, a commodity to be found in the best groceries of America.

In the vicinity of Durham is Neville's Cross, erected by Lord Neville, in commemoration of the defeat of David II. of Scotland, in 1346. There is also a Roman fortress, called the Maiden Castle.

Durham is permeated and enveloped not only with a pleasure-inspiring element, but with those Æsthetic conditions which, although obscured, here and there crop out in cathedral towns. These latter words contain the secret of all this interest—cathedral towns. Once England was absolutely controlled by the Church.

There is a vast deal more in the expression Church and State, than is generally understood by a young American. The Church, both temporally and spiritually, was above king, prince, potentate, or judge. This was distinctly claimed by a bull of Pope Urban, and was acknowledged till the time of Henry VIII., who struck it a death-blow by proclaiming himself Head of the Church. How far this was in advance of the act of Richard Coeur de Lion,—"the lion-hearted," who died April 6, 1199,—who, when he left for the Holy Land, placed his realm definitely in the hands of the Bishop of Durham, where it had practically been for a long time before.

Of course the all-absorbing object of interest is the cathedral itself. As much soil is not covered by any other building in all England of more historic renown. It is indeed a feast of intellectual "wine on the lees, and well refined." It was founded in 1093, and so was four hundred years old when the realm was being disturbed by reports that Columbus was seeking aid for the exploration of a new continent of doubtful existence. It is 507 feet long, and 200 feet wide at the transepts. It has a central tower 214 feet high, and two others that are alike, at the west end, facing down to the river, almost on the verge of the cliff-like embankments. On account of its great height it is commanding in appearance. These west towers are 143 feet high, with a lofty gable between them. The whole west front is elaborately finished, though not bold in detail. There is great boldness of outline, though no deep and very distinct ornamentation. The material is yellowish sandstone, somewhat dingy, but plainly betraying its original tint. The edifice is mainly of Norman architecture, but repairs and restorations have been made; and, according to usage, each new part was in the style of architecture presented at the period of restoration,—which was not restoration but alteration; for there was really no restoration of design, and sometimes not even a reproduction of form. All styles of ecclesiastical architecture are to be found in one building,—from the Norman, down through the Early English, to the latest or Perpendicular Gothic. This is illustrated in Durham Cathedral, for here are examples of each style, though the Norman prevails; especially in the never overpraised interior, where the ponderous round columns, with their diagonal and lozenge decorations, and the huge round arches, with splendid chevron mouldings, intersecting arches,—and every contour and combination peculiar to the best of the old Norman works,—exist in their perfection.

While the beautiful work at Winchester and York Minster, and at Salisbury and Lincoln—in their soaring columns and lofty arches, their rich traceries and decorations, their long lines of groined ceilings, and (as at Salisbury and Lichfield) their grand heavenward-pointing spires—suggest the Resurrection, and the aspiration of humanity, and so do honor to Christianity as distinguished from the low and grovelling tendency of Egyptian or Grecian temple, or even Roman,—while Gothic architecture is suggestive of these higher qualities, the solid columns and arches of Norman Durham speak of eternity, and suggest that nothing good dies. These two were the great steps taken by humanity as it became Christianized. First came a consciousness of existing good, and an accompanying desire to perpetuate it. Next came aspiration,—a reaching out and up, after still better life.

The Egyptian or Grecian mind was satisfied with things as they were, and found consequent satisfaction in the low temple of Edfu or the unpinnacled Parthenon. It was for the Christian aspiration to demand and only be partially satisfied with—tall columns and lofty arches, high towers and spires, reaching sometimes, like that at Salisbury, more than four hundred feet toward

"The third heaven where God resides,
That holy happy place."

The ponderous pyramids of Egypt, the fantastic temples of India, had height and breadth, but not a suggestion of anything above and beyond themselves. They were, after all, only heaps of material, plain like the pyramids,—or gorgeous and uncouth Indian piles, having in view the honor of some earthly king or some imaginary god, one among many. There was no attempt to do honor to the "King of kings, and Lord of lords." Nowhere were the contributions of the people concentrated for their own good, and for the blessing of generations to come. A cathedral embodies this idea. It is a connecting link between the old dispensation and the new; and, unlike our Bible, it has no blank leaves between the Old and New Testaments.

Two things in Durham Cathedral demand our particular attention. One is the Sanctuary Ground, and the other is Galilee Chapel at the west end.

Outside the cathedral, at the great northern side door, there is a large and grotesque brass knocker,—a head with staring, hollow eyes, and a ring in its mouth. In olden time a criminal, fleeing from justice, who was able to reach and lift this knocker, was safe from arrest. A monk was all the time stationed inside to open the door to every applicant. The ground-floor of the northwestern tower was the sanctuary ground. A work on the "Antiquities of Durham Cathedral" gives the following statement:—

The culprit upon knocking at the ring affixed to the north door was admitted without delay, and after confessing his crime, with every minute circumstance connected with it, the whole of which was committed to writing in the presence of witnesses, a bell in the Galilee tower ringing all the while, to give notice to the town that some one had taken refuge in the church, there was put upon him a black gown with a yellow cross upon its left shoulder, as a badge of Cuthbert, whose girth, or peace, he had claimed. When thirty-seven days had elapsed, if no pardon could be obtained, the malefactor, after certain ceremonies before the shrine, solemnly abjured his native land forever, and was straightway, by the agency of the intervening parish constables, conveyed to the coast, bearing in his hand a white wooden cross, and was sent out of the kingdom by the first ship which sailed after his arrival.

The old knocker remains at its post, though centuries have passed since it last rendered its sacred service, and was tremblingly grasped by a panting fugitive. We assumed this role, but, fortunately or unfortunately, could not knock as a genuine culprit could.

The Old Galilee is a room perhaps 55 feet by 75, divided by columns and arches into five sections. The architecture is decorated Norman, finely mixed with Early English, the Norman, or circular arches resting on rather slender columns. It was built by Bishop Pudsey in the twelfth century. In this chapel are the remains of the Venerable Bede, and more venerated dust reposes not in any cathedral. He was probably born in Monkton in Durham, in 672, and died at Girvy, May 26, 735. He was educated in a monastery, and his learning and ability as a scholar and writer were remarkable. He was ordained a priest at the age of thirty. His "Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation" was a work of great labor, and is still the most reliable authority on the early period of which it treats. He compiled it from chronicles and traditions handed down in the convents, and from miscellaneous testimony; and it is remarkably free from those exaggerations and contortions which fill many books of later monkish historians. His other literary labors were extraordinary, and his devotion to such work was singularly enthusiastic. It is stated that during his final illness, he continued to dictate to an amanuensis the conclusion of a translation of St. John's Gospel into Anglo Saxon; and that as soon as he had completed the last sentence he requested the assistant to place him on the floor of his cell, where he said a short prayer, and expired as the last words passed his lips. In the cathedral are copies of his "Historia Ecclesiastica," as first printed in German in 1475; others are in the British Museum and in Paris. They were translated from the Latin into Anglo Saxon by King Alfred in 1644, and into English in 1722,—and many times since, the latest translation having been made in 1871.

It should be stated that pretended bones of Bede are scattered throughout the world; and though his monument is here, but little if any of his mortal remains are beneath it. Large volumes of manuscripts in his handwriting are in the library of the cathedral, and they are of inexpressible interest. It is related in the old chronicles that, being blind during the latter days of his life, he was led one day by a dissembling guide to a pile of rough stones, and told that there was present a company of persons desiring to hear him preach. Inclined to gratify their request he preached to them, and when he finished, the stones, animated by divine power, ejaculated, like an assembled multitude, "Deo gracias, Amen."

In this Galilee room are also the remains of St. Cuthbert, the patron saint of the church, who died in 687. He was, in 644, prior at Melrose Abbey. His austerity and fondness for monastic life were remarkable, and in order to gratify his feelings he retired to the Island of Farne. It was a very barren place, and destitute of wood or water, but he dug wells and cultivated grain. The fame of his holiness brought many visitors, among them Elfleda, daughter of King Osway the Northumbrian, with whom he condescended to converse through a window; but for more effectual seclusion from the self-invited crowd, he dug a trench around his cabin and filled it with water. In 684 he was induced to yield to the prayer of King Egfrid and accept the bishopric of Hexam, and from this he removed to Lindisfarne. After two years he resigned this office, so uncongenial to his taste, and retired to end his life in his former hut on the Isle of Farne. He died in it, and when the Danes invaded the ecclesiastical domain of Lindisfarne, the fleeing monks carried his remains with them from place to place, till at last they were deposited on the banks of River Wear, where a shrined convent arose, then a church, and finally this cathedral at Durham.

The legends concerning him are among the literary treasures of the cathedral, and by reason of the traditions as well as history are not unworthily appreciated. No one dead has spoken more effectually to the living than he. His name and fame, as a great intercessor with the Almighty, were for centuries a household word. He was considered by the northern peasantry as the saint of saints, and constant, tedious, and sacrificing pilgrimages were made to his shrine. Bede says that his body was found incorrupt eleven years after burial, and that it so continued. The coffin was opened in 1827, and the corpse found to be enveloped in five silken robes. The eyes were of glass, movable by the least jar, and the hair was of a fine gold wire. These things were done by deceptive priests, who annually pretended to take or cut hair from his head, which they said grew immediately. This is not the St. Cuthbert who was a Benedictine monk, a pupil of Bede, and who attended him in his last hours, and finally wrote the memoir of his life. There was yet another Cuthbert who was Bishop of Canterbury from 740 to 758.

The cathedral has but few monuments, and these are not of great interest. It is somewhat remarkable that monuments seem to prevail in some cathedrals, and that there is an absence of them in the others. Some communities then, as in our own day, appeared to consider the commemoration of the dead as a religious duty, and others to neglect the practice, or consider it hardly worthy of their attention. The places of New England burial in their respective variety of care or neglect attest this.

"For thus our fathers testified,—
That he might read who ran,—
The emptiness of human pride,
The nothingness of man."

This cathedral has had a long list of bishops, and among them very distinguished men. The name Durham has an ecclesiastical charm to a churchman, and to him the phrase, "Bishop of Durham," suggests honor, dignity, and renown.

Here once presided Bishop Poore, the famous architect of the cathedral of Salisbury. He was translated from that See to this, and was bishop here from 1228 to 1237, when he died; and then, in 1311, Richard Kellow was elected bishop. He brought with him an inflexible piety, but colored with the extremest humility of the cloister. He was celebrated for a steady and unflinching sense of duty. The meanest vassal shared his protection, and neither wealth nor rank could with him screen a criminal from punishment; and the proudest baron within his bishopric was once obliged to submit to the public penance imposed by a humble ecclesiastic, who, without forgetting his duties, made the imposition, and was sustained by Kellow.

Richard Fox, the founder of Corpus Christi College at Oxford, was bishop here from 1494 to 1501, when he was translated to Winchester. He was afflicted with blindness for many years before his death, but under the pressure of age and infirmity, yet doing his work well, his spirit of integrity was yet unbroken; and when Cardinal Wolsey, desiring his place, wished him to resign his bishopric, he replied that he could no longer distinguish black from white, yet he could discriminate right from wrong, truth from falsehood, and could well discern the malice of an ungrateful man. He then warned the proud favorite of the king to beware, lest ambition should render him blind to his surely approaching ruin; and he bade him attend closer to the king's legitimate business, and leave Winchester to her bishop. The aged prelate died in 1528, and was buried in his own chapel in Winchester Cathedral, where his tomb and its monument exist as fine specimens of the latest style of Gothic architecture.

The cardinal was himself Bishop of Durham for six years, and by reason of his grasping spirit and hold on the king, he was at the same time Archbishop of York; but at the death of Fox, the longed-for chair was vacant; he at once resigned York, and was made Bishop of Winchester. He continued to hold the See of Durham, but was never afterwards known to visit it.

It would be pleasant as well as instructing to review the life of this remarkable man, but limits forbid. Other bishops could with advantage be spoken of,—and they are many, and the record is interesting,—but we must forbear.

We only say in closing, that very eminent and conspicuous among them is the name of Joseph Butler, who was made Bishop of Durham in 1750, having been translated from the See of Bristol. He was born in Wantage, May 18, 1692, and died at Bath, while there on a visit in hope of recovering his health, June 16, 1752. No man has possessed more strength of mind, or better acuteness and clearness of reasoning than he, and of this his well known "Analogy of Religion" is ample proof. Nor have any excelled him in goodness of heart. He held the See but eighteen months; and, although in advanced years, he is spoken of to this day as a person of genuine modesty and a natural sweetness of disposition. It is said that when engaged in the more immediate work of his office,—preaching,—that a divine illumination seemed to pervade his entire being, and to fill the whole atmosphere. His pale and wan countenance was lighted up by a transfiguring light, as though the Holy Ghost were indeed speaking through him.

We must refrain from a long description of relics and especial things of interest seen here, but will name a small box in which are three gold seal-rings, not long ago removed from the coffins of bishops; one from the finger of Flumbard, who died in 1128; one from William of St. Barbery, 1153; and the other from Galfred Rufus, 1140. Next, are rings and other iron-work from St. Cuthbert's coffin; also, gold hair-wire, and parts of his robe. Books written by monks, and other things of moment and interest, are in profusion.

We would speak of the remarkable marble pulpit just put in, which cost $25,000,—of the elegant stained windows, of the grand old carved reredos, with the great number of statuettes; but we must forbear, and now take leave of the grand old place and of Durham itself. We have named but a few of the many things of great interest and moment. As each of these chapters terminates, there is painfully apparent a consciousness of what has not been described or even named, as well as regrets at the fact of a mere skeleton of description when the best thing has been done. If, however, enough has been said, and left unsaid, to create a taste for further reading, pursuit of information, consultation of histories, cyclopÆdias, and repositories of information relating to these things, then our best work is done, and our highest anticipations realized. And now at 3.45 p. m., this same day of arrival, we leave for York, the seat of the celebrated York Minster, of not only English celebrity but of world-wide renown.