I found my way by a sort of instinct, as directly as possible, to
YORK MINSTER.
It stands in the midst of a small open space,--or a space that looks
small in comparison with the vast bulk of the cathedral. I was not so
much impressed by its exterior as I have usually been by Gothic
buildings; because it is rectangular in its general outline and in its
towers, and seems to lack the complexity and mysterious plan which
perplexes and wonder-strikes me in most cathedrals. Doubtless, however,
if I had known better how to admire it, I should have found it wholly
admirable. At all events, it has a satisfactory hugeness. Seeking my
way in, I at first intruded upon the Registry of Deeds, which occupies a
building patched up against the mighty side of the cathedral, and hardly
discernible, so small the one and so large the other. I finally hit upon
the right door, and I felt no disappointment in my first glance around at
the immensity of enclosed space;--I see now in my mind's eye a dim length
of nave, a breadth in the transepts like a great plain, and such an airy
height beneath the central tower that a worshipper could certainly get a
good way towards heaven without rising above it. I only wish that the
screen, or whatever they call it, between the choir and nave, could be
thrown down, so as to give us leave to take in the whole vastitude at
once. I never could understand why, after building a great church, they
choose to sunder it in halves by this mid-partition.
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