End of Course

One of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse by John Thornton

There has been a lot of talk recently about the end of time, and this talk has resonated here at York because we have reached the end of the course and the end of the magical world we've been living in.  The time for final papers and final grades has arrived.  By tomorrow afternoon, only one Hamline student will remain on this side of the Atlantic.

Our medieval ancestors were always mindful of the approaching end of time, and one of the greatest depictions of the Apocalypse was rendered in glass by John Thornton of Coventry between 1405 and 1408 in the tennis court sized Great East window of the Minster.  That window is currently undergoing extensive painstaking conservation work and we had to content ourselves with viewing selected panels on display in the Lady Chapel and at the Bedern Studio.  But in a way being able to see only a few of the paintings magnified for us the achievement of the whole window, which is overwhelming when seen all at once.

Reproduced above is one of Thornton's Four Horsemen, a square yard of magnificent color and painting.  The photograph was taken by Peter Newton, my professor at York in the 1970s.  He took the slide from scaffolding that was erected in front of the East Window for cleaning it early in that decade.  The X across the Horsman's face is due to the Victorian protective glazing that was just outside the window at that time.  The newly conserved window will have protective glazing that matches the window's lead lines, allowing the image to reach us as it did those who stood in awe of it when it was new, 600 years ago.

Henry VIII's Mound.

Last London Posting.

An oak that has seen it all

We walked up on Saturday afternoon from the Thames at Richmound, and an excellent coffee shop under one of the bridge arches, to Richmound Park, the most extensive (at 2500 acres) of the "Royal Parks" in and around London.  The highpoint of the park is a prehistoric burial mound, now known as Henry VIII's mound, from which you can just make out the dome of Saint Paul's cathedral, 10 miles away.  Of course the prehistoric builders of the mound would only have seen a bend in the wild Thames, and Henry VIII, thousands of years later, would have looked out upon a much smaller London than we have today, crowned by a medieval Saint Paul's cathedral.  Charles II enclosed the land, irritating the local folk who no doubt had used it as common for grazing "time out of mind."  Charles instead established populations of deer in the park, and it now has a large population of deer grazing among the picnicking families.

We went, in fact, for the trees.  There's one in which Bertrand Russel, whose childhood home was here, used to play hide and go seek.  This was my best attempt at mathematical tourism, and I'm not quite sure if I learned anything particularly useful from it.

Where Bertrand Russel was often found.

And then, there's Two Storm Wood, on the north border of the park, which has a magical grove of medieval oaks, planted no doubt for building stock but never harvested.  It's clear, as you walk among them, that they are wiser and stronger, in their way, than we can ever be.   They were old and wise when Henry VIII rode among them, older still when London burned on the horizon in 1666.  Charles II had just moved into Richmound park to avoid the plague in 1665, and his enclosure of the land may well have saved these oaks from being used to rebuild London the following year.  Is there a destiny that shapes their ends, rough-hew them how we may?

The Best Wall

Tower Bridge from the Monument: The Best Bridge?

We took an architecturally themed walk in London's "Square Mile," from Saint Paul's Cathedral to the Tower on Saturday.  The walk zig-zags for five miles through the once medieval streets of the Old City of London.  Most of the actual medieval city was destroyed by the Great Fire in 1665, but the street plan remained close to its original geometry as the city was rebuilt by architects like Wren in the ensuing decades.  The famous Monument, a huge classical column designed by Wren, overlooks it all, and we climbed the 311 spiraling steps to the top to take in the view.

Along the way, we encountered St Mary's Wolnoth, the church which was a hotbed of anti-slavery movement in the late 18th century and where "Amazing Grace" was putatively first sung.  Our book told us that the north wall of this church is "certainly the best wall in Britain."   One tends to throw around a lot of questionable superlatives in London (the climb to the top of the Monument was "one of the most satisfying architectural experiences in the City"), but this one seemed to verge on absurd.  Nevertheless, thanks one's need to have seen the best of everything, we stood a while and appreciated what was indeed certainly a very interesting piece of architecture.  It's a wall.  Saint  Bernard said that if the wall is unbroken, it has no window.  But there are windows here, though the wall is unbroken, delightful windows that dance across the otherwise blank surface.  Grey, hidden, pigeon-dung encrusted, fabulous.

Saint Mary's Wolnoth: the best wall in Britain

But there are other walls in Britain in stiff competition for the Best.  One of them rings York.

This Majestical Roof

Shakespeare's Globe: May 6, 2011.

Friday night at the Globe Theatre (Shakespeare's Globe), we all watched Hamlet, the Dane, in a spare and energetic production that opened on the Bard's birthday a couple of weeks ago.  It was off-putting, at first, that the same actor playing Claudius played the elder Hamlet's ghost, the actor playing Horatio played also Rodrigo, etc, and all played instruments at one time or another, but this gave the work a sinew we soon appreciated, and the pace kept our minds off our weary legs, standing as we were in the "yard" for nearly three hours.  I was told later that someone had fainted behind me and had to be carted out, but I never noticed.

"this brave ore-hanging, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire"

To stand there for the entirety of Hamlet is to drink it neat.  The language needs no glossary, the tragedy and its balancing dark comedy were plain to us.  And more than this, it all seemed new, as if we were hearing it for the first time.

After Horatio commended Hamlet to his flights of angels and Fortinbras delivered his lines on the stage littered with bodies, we all stood there breathless, unable to applaud.  This was as it should be: Fortinbras then began a beat with stamping feet and this evolved into an athletic dance, joined by the rest of the company,  each springing back into life in the order they had succumbed to blade or poisoned cup.  The door back into our own time, into living reality, was thus thrown open and we stumbled out onto the bank of the Thames with its many bridges alive with trains and busses.

Another Day at the British Museum

Waiting for the All Clear

I think that all the students had in fact already been to London, most of them most recently for the great event of April 29, but we all went down together for three days this weekend anyway.

Our first stop as a group was the British Museum, where we spend a couple of hours formally showing each other things we had taken an interest in.  Objects ranged from the Admonition Scroll to the Lewis Chessmen, from a millions of years old stone knife, to the intricately decorated Holy Thorn reliquary.  Treasures, all.  As Abi was wrapping up her presentation of the glittering Mosaic Mask of Quetzalcoatl, perhaps a gift to Cortez, the fire alarm sounded and we were all ushered through many passageways under the museum and finally out into the front courtyard, while firemen in big yellow suits stormed the building through the monumental main entrance.  Happily, for all that wealth of art, a false alarm.

There were many things we saw this weekend which had "miraculously escaped" the Blitz, the Great Fire, the Iconoclasts, etc.  Humanity is hard on its treasures, and these treasures are also vulnerable to destruction day after day by random chance.  Today, we got the "All Clear."

Four Parish Churches

Today we toured and studied the glass in four of York's nineteen parish churches.  This put is in pretty close touch with glass from York's two great stained glass periods, 1330-40 and 1410-50.  There was a great deal of work being done on the Minster at those times, so there must have been large workshops in the city ready to improve the parish churches.  There were also a lot of people around who had the means to donate the needed funds.

Falling Angels at Spurriergate Centre

Two nicely contrasting churches are Saint Michael's, Spurriergate, now the Spurriergate Centre, comprising a sort of counseling center and informal tea and coffee shop, and All Saints North Street, very much still an active, formal church.  At Saint Michael's, we sat and had a cup of tea and some cake while we admired the windows, including the one at the right here, showing the fall of Lucifer.

In All Saints North Street, we took time in the chancel to observe the fine painted angels sculpted into the C15 hammer-beam roof.  Angels who have managed not to fall in 600 years, through the Reformation, and through fire.  Angels playing instruments, angels bearing souls into heaven, angels swinging censors.

The fire that blackened but did not burn the angels in the roof did in fact destroy the choir screen of the chancel.  It was replaced by a beautifully carved Gothic screen in 1906.  There's a long tradition of keeping the decorations in churches consistent: back in Saint Michael's Spurriergate, new arches were added to the C12 arcade in C14, but carved in C12 style.

Class in the chancel of All Saints North Street

Fell Walking and Running

A spectacular day, certainly one for enjoying the natural beauty of Yorkshire.  So we drove wast about 60 miles to the western Dales, a designated AONB (Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty).  The anagram includes "outstanding" because there aren't a lot of country vistas in Yorkshire that don't offer something to appreciate.

We targeted Ingleborough, a flat-topped fell on the western edge of the Dales and one of the renowned "three peaks."  The three peaks (Ingleborough, Pen-y-ghent and Whernside) make up the vertices of a famous triangular walk, 24 miles long (not including the elevation gain) that fell walkers from all across Britain like to complete in a single day.  And since walkers like to do it, fell runners also make it a destination.  On Saturday, there was an annual race being held on the three peaks, with 1000 contestants. The fastest among them complete the circuit in just over three hours!

Descent from Ingleborough

Though you wouldn't know it from the picture postcard blue sky in the picture, the wind, out of the east, was at gale force, gusting above 60mph.  On the top, as we took in the views of the Lake District peaks to the north and the Irish sea to the west, we could hardly remain standing.  And yet, there were all the runners, struggling up and then leaping from rock to rock downwards after checking in with the officials at the summit cairn.  We shared their path for a couple of miles before peeling off to the south to complete, exhausted, our modest 12 mile single peak circuit.

The Royal Wedding

The dignitaries, the dresses, the hats (!), the DRESS, and finally the vows.

A bit of Chaucer, quoted in the ceremony.

From the Franklin's Tale, here in interlinear translation.


761         For o thyng, sires, saufly dar I seye,
                    For one thing, sirs, I dare say confidently,
762         That freendes everych oother moot obeye,
                    That friends must obey each other,
763         If they wol longe holden compaignye.
                    If they will long hold company.
764         Love wol nat been constreyned by maistrye.
                    Love will not be constrained by mastery.
765         Whan maistrie comth, the God of Love anon
                    When mastery comes, the God of Love immediately
766         Beteth his wynges, and farewel, he is gon!
                    Beats his wings, and farewell, he is gone!
767         Love is a thyng as any spirit free.
                    Love is a thing free as any spirit.
768         Wommen, of kynde, desiren libertee,
                    Women, by nature, desire liberty,
769         And nat to been constreyned as a thral;
                    And not to be constrained like a slave;
770         And so doon men, if I sooth seyen shal.
                    And so do men, if I shall say the truth.

Translation provided on
http://www.courses.fas.harvard.edu/~chaucer/teachslf/frkt-par.htm#PROLOGUE

Still to come: "the kiss."

A bit of tourism

Today, a formal guided tour of York Minster.  For a guide we had an a retired fellow, as interested and knowledgeable  in what he called the quirks of the Minster as he was in the history.  A little sketchy on the dates, especially of the glass, but charming nonetheless.  It's interesting to do the same tour with different guides who have fun bringing out different details.  This fellow showed us a Victorian memorial plaque which actually states that, if you want more information on the character and accomplishments of the deceased, you should have a look at a certain issue of Gentleman's Magazine!

The tour was somewhat compromised by the presence of a full brass band playing for a high profile military service in commemoration of the battle of Kohima (against the Japanese in India in 1944), in which 10,000 soldiers were killed.  But it served to remind us that the Minster is a working building.  On 24 January, 1328, (when there would have been no question about the dating of the windows just installed in the nave) King Edward III was married to Philippa of Hainault in the Minster.  Edward was in the neighborhood fighting the Scots.  His father, Edward II, had been defeated by the Scots at Bannockburn 14 years earlier in a battle in which perhaps 20,000 soldiers were killed.

Hamline atop the South Transept of York Minster

After the tour we all climbed the 275 narrow spiraling steps to the top of the Minster's central tower.  The climb involves a somewhat precarious walk along the roof gutter of the Early English south transept, built in 1230 or so.

Tomorrow we have another Royal Wedding, and most of the Hamline students left this afternoon to be in London to celebrate.  People are stringing up hundreds of little plastic Union Jacks around town.  Students who stayed in York to take exams from their spring term courses will have to content themselves with the champagne parties in the college common rooms.  It's a national holiday, so we can't hold class.

Behind the scenes at the museum

York's Museum Gardens today.  Reminds one of Seurat.

Another superb spring day in York.  We spent half of it on the excellent Bedern Glaziers Studio tour, learning the intricacies of ancient stained glass restoration, and half of it exploring the ruins of Saint Mary's Abbey, the museum gardens, the Yorkshire museum, and Saint Olav's Church on Marygate.

St Dunstan at St Olav's, c 1410.

At Saint Olav's we had a good look at the current East window, painted probably by John Thornton, master painter of the Minster Great East Window, panels of which we got to see in the conservation studios earlier.  One of the saints in the St Olav window is Saint Dunstan, the most popular English saint up until the martyrdom of Saint Thomas of Canterbury.  Saint Dunstan was also archbishop of Canterbury, 200 years before Saint Thomas.  In his early life, while a hermit at Glastonbury, he was said to have encountered the devil, and to have taken the devil's nose in a pair of tongs (Dunstan was an artist and metalworker).  So Saint Dunstan is often depicted with the tongs of his metalworking trade.  In this glass, according to  Pevsner, St Dunstan carries "tongs and devil's nose."  After you get over that, you can look at the superb painting of the head of the saint, which bears the tell-tale bulbous nose, an attribute of many of John Thornton's heads.  St Dunstan's feast day is May 19, the final day of the current course.  We'll be celebrating!

First Day of Class

A rather brilliant first day of class, though the first in recent memory without the sun shining.  We had lecture in the morning and then a tour of city parish churches in the afternoon.  Above, the class assembled on top of Clifford's tower with the Minster, All Saints Pavement and Saint Mary's Castlegate in the background.

The Trinity, C15.

In 1400, York had 45 Parish churches.  Nineteen of these remain, and we managed a quick look at nine of them on a tour that ended in the park to the north of the Minster.  Holy Trinity Goodramgate appeared to be closed (as it always seems to  be when I bring a class around to see it), but this time we scored a private session: it was reopened specially for us by a compassionate church warden who heard me beefing outside the gate.  From him we learned something I'd forgotten, that the central light of the east window depicts the eponymous Holy Trinity, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  The Father head is an insert in both this depiction and it the one we saw earlier at Saint Martin le Grand, Coney Street.

It's simply amazing how much there is to see and learn in this city.

Course begins tomorrow

It's the Easter Monday Bank Holiday, so we all have the first day of Summer Term off.  We will meet tomorrow at 9:00 for our first intensive session dedicated to the study of mostly local medieval art.  In relief of a little preparation fatigue, and to get some needed exercise, I took a busman's holiday and rode the 10 miles or so south to the small town of Ricall where Pevsner tells me there is a fine Norman doorway.  It's a sunny day with a north breeze and I was there in just half an hour taking the old railway line, now converted into a popular bicycle path, directly there.

The superb ornately carved doorway is protected by a porch facing south into a quiet churchyard.  It was made there in the early to mid 12th century, probably by the master sculptors working on the well funded and sumptuous Selby abbey (q.v.) five miles down the river.  It has  four orders becoming more abstract moving outwards.  The overall effect is stunning.

Unfortunately, there's a locked gate across the porch, so I couldn't get very close.

 There are several surviving Norman doorways in the city of York and we'll visit a couple of them tomorrow on our first look tour of the city's monuments.  Nine hundred years ago, we suppose, most of the churches had entrances like this one.  You would pass under them often, the hair on the back of your neck standing up in the presence of the scary beaked birds, your heart pumping a little faster in the presence of the serpent curled around the tree in the garden of Eden.

Pevsner tells us that the entire church except this door was dismantled in the 1830s.  Each stone was labeled, then put back in its original location once the foundations were updated.  So the church looks very healthy despite its impressive age.  This kind of love of heritage has a lot to do with why England is such a treasure trove of art and architecture today.

Walmgate Stray

The city of York has had, from as far back as history can inform us, common land for the grazing of cattle. Grazing rights were granted to every Freeman of the City of York on one of the many commons, and Walmgate stray is among the largest.  The land is apparently untouchable for development even though it represents very attractive real estate potential, near the University and close to the city walls.
For the citizens of York, and for visitors, it is a welcome break from the cityscape, a large tract of undeveloped land.  In the summer, animals are still let out upon it to graze, and the popular walking and cycling route from the river and points south through to the University becomes all the more pastoral.

The stray looking towards the Retreat from Heslington Lane

The Loos of York: 1

When we were in France in 2003, our daughter's English teacher remarked to her class that in England there were a lot of public toilets because they drink so much tea there and therefore they were always in need.  This may or may not be true, but what is true is that there are a lot of excellent public facilities in English towns, and York has its share. They even give out awards for distinguished loos, the loo of the year award was awarded to the men's loo at Ely cathedral.  So from time to time I'll introduce the readership to a loo in York.

Bootham Bar with Minster behind. Loo under steps to right.

The first one has to be the Bootham Bar loo, which occupies the ground floor of Bootham Bar, the western gate to the city.  Bootham Bar is now a medieval gate with an excellent barbican upstairs, but it was built on the roman gate that has been there since the first century CE.  It isn't known if there were always facilities in the gatehouse.

Thirsk to Knaresborough

We took the Grand Central service to Thirsk on Saturday and  biked from there to Knaresborough, a distance of about 25 miles.  It took five hours with frequent stops and a harsh spring wind that made it necessary to pedal even on steep downhill slopes.  We stopped in Ripon, where the noble Norman minster is built on the foundations laid by Saint Wilfrid in 673.  As we approached that fabulous building, pretty much in the middle of nowhere (Ripon is a modest market town without a train station), I thought about how it's both a burden and a treasure to have monuments like this one slowly crumbling across the countryside, hardly used and visited only by eccentric tourists.  But the Minster was overrun with people!  There was a rehearsal in progress of Britten's War Requiem with two choruses and two orchestras, not to mention a large number of auditors and a few eccentric tourists.  Music filled the place, and light, and life, though life crying out against death.

Burne-Jones Window at Topcliffe

Half the way to Ripon we rode through the village of Topcliffe which has a fine small church with a spectacular Pre-raphelite window painted by Burne-Jones before he was famous.  It depicts the Annunciation, the Visitation and the Nativity.  Lush coloring and brilliant in design.


We missed our train in Knaresborough, but the next train came an hour later, just enough time for an excellent coffee on the High Street.

Rain in York

Heavy Rain Solace

Today: Heavy Rain.  Sunday: Heavy Rain.  Monday: Heavy Rain.  Spring, yes; spring in the south of France, no.  So, if you're in Yorkshire, and you're not a sheep or a "dook," you need a cup of coffee.  Our favorite, currently, in this line, is the Coffee Culture in Goodramgate.

Goodramgate (with oddly coloured sky)

Coffee Culture occupies a four story building which, according to Sir Nikolaus Pevsner, dates from the late 15th century.  (Pevsner has researched and written about every notable building in England, from York Minster to Coffee Culture to the Uni campus.)  But Pevsner only wrote about the outside of the building, which, to be fair, is the part that future citizens of York will inherit.  But inside, is the life.  The kitchen and till are on the ground floor where you can also find a couple of stools and a shelf along the front window.  The main counter has arrayed upon it various cakes and pastries, including some of the best sultana scones we've experienced.  The staff will tell you there if there is room for you upstairs somewhere.  The first and second floors, reached by extremely narrow and steep medieval stairs, each can seat about eight cozily, at tiny tables or in armchairs.  On Heavy Rain days, the windows steam up and the warmth that goes in to you lasts you most of the day.

Spring in York

Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious spring by the sun in York. (Or something like that).  It's frosty in the mornings, but it hasn't snowed for a month and our neighbors have hung out planters filled with jonquils (daffodils).  Our green grocer has congratulated us on "coming through the winter alright," which seems an odd thing to say during the week that is the coldest of the year in Minnesota.  But here, the trees are budding up, and some are flowering.

Witch hazel at the Merchant Adventurer's Hall garden.

The sun is noticeably higher and warmer but the night is still a whole lot longer than the day.  We're almost able to dry laundry outside.  February, just two days away, is "lambing season" as far north as Scotland, so there is probably lambing going on in the Vale of York at this very minute.

Burns Night

For the first time in 15 years, we had the opportunity to feast on a Haggis this Burns night. A Macsween's Haggis, no less, bursting with offal and oats.

Haggis neeps, and...gratin dauphinois (the auld alliance)

BBC Scotland has just completed the recording of all of Burns' poems.  Here's the link to "To a Haggis," the poem read as the haggis is presented and stabbed.  A great reading.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/robertburns/works/address_to_a_haggis/

Selby

Just 15 miles to the south of here,  along the Ouse as it becomes tidal, lies the town of Selby.  The town has been around since the Romans, perhaps before, but its heyday was in medieval times when it was dominated by prosperous monastery founded by Benedict of Auxerre in the 1069.  While William the Conqueror was subduing the North, his wife Matilda gave birth to their fourth son in Selby in 1069, just as Benedict was arriving, watching three swans land on a lake, and thinking, "this is the place."  That baby went on to be king Henry I, reigning from 1100 to 1135.  William and Matilda jointly chartered Selby Abbey and consequently it had a cathedral sized church, much of which survived the dissolution in 1539.  (The Abbot in 1539 was a friend of Henry VIII, so maybe got off easy).  The architecture is mostly Norman, like Durham, and it bears its age with dignity and pride.  A beautiful place.

Stars and Stripes

The glass is mostly gone, victim to fires or iconoclasts, but there's an interesting (mostly replaced) Jesse window at the west end and, in the choir clerestory, a remarkable coat of arms, that of the family Wessington, later Washington, ancestors of our dear George.  The coat of arms features stars and stripes.

Ruth and I rode our bikes down to Selby, about an hour and a half mostly along a converted railway line (so straight and level).  The Vale of York is beautiful at this time of year with the fields very green with cover crops and forest muted but budding up.  The ride back north was complicated by a northerly wind, but we still completed the whole trip in four hours.

The Oxfam Charity Shop

There are 750 Oxfam charity shops in Great Britain, 100 of which are bookshops.  In York, we have two bookshops (Micklegate and Low Petergate) and at least one shop specializing in clothing, on Goodramgate.  Joy did her internship in two of these last semester; Adam will be alternating between the two bookshops this semester.  Oxfam shops, depending on donations and volunteers, raised 17 million pounds last year.  Oxfam is the largest retailer of used books in Europe.  I love to stop in at the Micklegate shop on my way to town.  There are three small rooms with floor to ceiling bookcases.  The stock turns over fast; you can visit weekly and expect to see new things every time.

Bookshop on Micklegate

Oxfam was founded in Oxford in 1942 to raise money and awareness for famine relief in Greece, then under blockade by the Axis powers.  

Ouse in Flood

The Ouse floods regularly when there is a lot of rain in the hills to the west and north of us.  Right now, it's flooding because the snow has melted and the ground has unfrozen in the near Dales.  York residents are blase about it, citing REAL floods from the past that they've witnessed, but to those of us who have limited Ouse experience, the river suddenly going up by eight to ten feet is exciting to watch.  The King's Arms pub, shown below, is a popular place to have a pint sitting outside on the riverfront.

The King's Arms Pub, King's Staith, closed for the day.

Spring in northern England; Durham Excursion

Our spring term group is here and have settled in well in their first week.  We had the typical phone purchasing trip to town on Monday and a rushed tour around the historical city on Saturday.  Meetings with lecturers tutors and internship contacts also took place.  So they're off to a great start.

On Sunday then, the first out-of-York excursion to Durham, founded posthumously by Saint Cuthbert who appeared a monk and told him to lay his body to rest on a nearby "hill island," or "dun helm."  This was in 995 or so.  The cathedral and castle that we toured extensively today were built spectacularly atop the dun helm just after William the Conqueror visited the city a century after Cuthbert arrived.  A beautiful city nearly surrounded by a graceful meander in the useful (defensively) river Ware.