Christ Church
PART II The City SECTION I Christ Church Cathedral "How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear the...
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PART II The City SECTION I Christ Church Cathedral "How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear the...
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**
PART II**
*The City
SECTION I**
*Christ Church Cathedral *
“How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads
To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made steadfast and immovable
Looking tranquillity.” - Congreve.
Unlike most old cathedrals, Christ Church is quite easy of access from the modern part of the town. A main thoroughfare, about half a mile in length, consisting of Dame Street and its continuations, Cork Hill and Lord Edward Street, leads directly from College Green to the open space, in which the old church stands. It is the most ancient building in Dublin. The see was established in 1038 by a Christianised Danish king, Sitric III., the first bishop being Donatus, whose name is possibly a Latin rendering of the Irish appellation Donough. A rude edifice was probably constructed on this spot by the inhabitants of the little seaport. A vague tradition asserts that the Danes built certain vaults, which were incorporated in the later structure.
In 1172, Strongbow and his captains, fresh from the conquest of Leinster, determined to construct a church more in accordance with Norman notions of what was fitting in ecclesiastical architecture. It is likely that they swept away the Danish erection, or used its stones as building material. The cathedral took some 50 years to build, and was completed early in the 13th century. For 700 years Christ Church, from its little hill, has watched over Dublin city.
The exterior shows little of the luxuriant ornament and soaring spire and pinnacle usually associated with Gothic edifices. Like most Dublin buildings it produces its effect by the harmony and broad dignity of the design rather than by elaboration of detail. The high-peaked central tower, whether seen from the west at the end of an avenue of flying buttresses, or, as it appears from the east, lifting itself serenely over a cluster of picturesque one-story chapels, combines with the rest of the church to form a spectacle full of quiet charm and restfulness.
The ages, as they pass, leave this stamp on almost every antique building. The tower, curiously enough, for all its venerable appearance, is not nearly so old as other parts of the fabric. It was built about the year 1600, two previous steeples having been destroyed, one by fire, the other by tempest. The old doorway in the south transept is worthy of notice. It is a low arch ornamented with a peculiar zig-zag moulding, which was often used by those who designed this cathedral.
The interior is strikingly beautiful. The most remarkable feature is the splendid stonework of the nave and aisles. The arches are very graceful in shape and the supporting piers, though very massive, are chiselled with such elaboration and delicacy that no heaviness is perceptible anywhere. A modern screen of yellow stone divides the chancel from the body of the church. Handsome as it is, it undoubtedly breaks up the view of the choir and the transept.
The upper story of the north wall of the nave contains some very old work. In fact this part of the building has tilted nearly a foot out of the perpendicular, as may be clearly seen by anyone standing at the communion rails and facing west. The subsoil here is part of the great subterranean peat bog, which lies below Dublin, and the foundations have gradually subsided. The flying buttresses of the exterior, which formed no part of the original plan, have been introduced to prop these weak portions. The floor is covered with tiles of a bold design and a very rich colour. They are exact copies of the ancient tiling, some specimens of which are preserved in one of the side chapels.
christchurchinterior1.gif (41476 bytes)The transepts, though not so beautiful as the nave, are very interesting. Their great age and the black limestone of which they are built give them a sombre aspect, which rather takes away from their architectural effect. They date back to Strongbow’s time, and present several examples of the zig-zag ornament characteristic of that period.
The southern transept contains two remarkable monuments, one a fine group to the memory of the 19th Earl of Kildare, representing his family in attitudes of grief around his corpse, the other an Elizabethan wall tablet to Francis Agard and his daughter, who are shown in the full costume of the period kneeling opposite one another as if in prayer. These devotional figures in ruff and hooped petticoat appear on the walls of several Dublin churches, and have always a quaint old-world appearance.
A chapel dedicated to S. Lawrence O’Toole opens off the south transept. Here are to be seen two ancient effigies, one apparently of a bishop, the other of a lady. The male figure has been identified with S. Lawrence himself, the Irish cleric, who, with Strongbow, built Christ Church in 1172. The woman is said to be Eva, the daughter of Dermot MacMurrough, and wife of the great earl. There is also a 14th century inscription in Norman French, believed to refer to one “John Lumbard of Parma and his wife,” who lie buried below. The words, however, are not very legible, and a rival interpretation declares the “John” in question to be the “master-builder” or architect of the cathedral.
In the other chapels behind the altar there are some curious memorials. In one is a casket containing the heart of Bishop O’Toole. While returning from Rome, he fell suddenly ill at Eu in Normandy and died, entreating with his last breath that his heart might be preserved for burial in his beloved church. His wishes were respected by his followers, who brought home this somewhat gruesome relic and deposited it in the cathedral. There is also an effigy said to represent Basilea, that affectionate sister of Strongbow, who referred to her deceased brother as “that great jawtooth, which had long been troubling her.” However these identifications of nameless figures are pure conjecture.
The stonework of the choir and the eastern chapels is very fine. A good deal of it is modern, but two of the old arches of the chancel still stand, showing that the restorer has faithfully followed the ancient design. The old work in Christ Church may be easily distinguished from the new by its much darker appearance.
A brass lectern standing inside the communion rails is a link with the early days of the Reformation. The first public reading in Ireland of an English translation of the Scriptures took place on this spot Out of service hours the volume was left open on the lectern that “he who runs might read,” but was secured against theft by massive chains, the holes for fastening which are still visible at the sides.
At the head of the main aisle to right and left are the pews of the Lord Lieutenant and Lord Mayor, marked respectively by old oak carvings of the Lion and the Unicorn of Royalty and the Three Castles of Dublin City.
strongbow.gif (18431 bytes)The warrior earl, who founded the cathedral, lies buried under one of the southern arches of the nave. His monument (pictured, right) is a strange one, embodying a story characteristic of the ferocious warrior of the period. Strongbow’s son, a hish-spirited lad, but still too young for war, had obtained from his father the command of a troop of cavalry in some expedition. When battle was joined, the boy, rash and inexperienced, was overwhelmed by masses of hostile Irishmen and disgraced his ancestry by a wild panic-stricken flight. Strongbow, in ungovernable fury, plunged his sword in the body of his child.
The tomb in Christ Church commemorates the tragedy. Father and son lie side by side, the former at full, the latter at half length. The youth has his hand pressed over a gaping wound in his stomach. The subject is a singular one for a sculptor. Possibly Strongbow died penitent for his “most unnatural murder” and took this method of confessing his guilt and repentance to succeeding generations, or it may be that the monks of Christ Church themselves ordered the sin to be recorded permanently as a warning to all those inclined to offend in the like way. Far from horrifying or impressing people, however, the monument became in later times the ‘Change of Dublin. In old leases and deeds it is the place usually specified for making the payments agreed on by the parties, and a cup-shaped depression in the head of the statue marks the place where the money was deposited. The clink of coin and the Coming and going of merchants must have marred the religious atmosphere of the great church, but, as will be shown, the men of the middle ages were not particular in such details.
In the north aisle nearly opposite to Strongbow ‘s tomb is an incomplete monument to Sir John Stevenson, who collaborated with Moore in the production of the famous “Melodies.” Like the Homeric poems, the tunes in this collection were composed in the remote past by obscure minstrels, and lived for centuries in the hearts and on the lips of the people without ever being set down in definite musical form.
In the 18th century the old airs, so full of tender pathos and infectious gaiety, were harmonised and arranged by Stevenson, while Moore substituted his graceful lyrics for the trivial or obscene words, to which they were often sung. Such was the genesis of “The Vale of Ovoca” and “She is far from the land.” Stevenson’s monument requires another choir boy to complete the design, but the tale goes that the sculptor found such difficulty in getting payment that he refused to supply a second figure.
Christ Church has played an important part in Irish history. In 1486 Lambert Simnel, king for a brief space, until fortune’s wheel flew round and made him a mere scullion to a king, was crowned as Edward VI. amid great enthusiasm. The lad was hoisted on the shoulders of a tall country gentleman named Darcy, so that all might see and acclaim their new lord.
In 1551 the English Liturgy was read for the first time. In 1562 a good half of the building, including the roof and the south wall, fell in. The damage was repaired at the expense of Sir Henry Sidney, Lord Lieutenant, whose action is recorded by a commemorative tablet on the wall.
The coming of the Reformation did not improve the behaviour of the frequenters of the cathedral. Laud and Strafford were horrified at the state of things they found there. The adjacent Winetavern Street, which received its name from the number of inns it contained, had turned the crypt into a sort of annexe. The vaults of the church became a series of wine cellars and underground shebeens. The situation gave rise to an irreverent distich:-
“Spirits above and spirits below,
Spirits divine and spirits - of wine.”
Matters were not much better in the church overhead. Apprentices and servant maids sat tittering on the communion table, while no man thought fit to doff his hat even during service. The heavy hand of Strafford effected a considerable improvement. During the Puritan period, however, communicants received the sacrament seated at tables, which extended from the choir down the main aisle.
October 1689 is the last stirring period in the history of the fabric. James II.’s troops seized the cathedral, which was used again as a Catholic church until the Boyne ruined the hopes of that party. The tabernacle and candlesticks employed in the celebration of mass before King James are preserved in the crypt. During the wars and religious disturbances of the 16th and 17th centuries, the old stained glass disappeared. The present windows, though very effective, especially when the afternoon sun streams through the western front, are quite modern.
crypt.gif (19041 bytes)A few steps near the entrance of the south transept lead down to the crypt. The masonry of this great underground chamber is extraordinarily massive, so much so that its vaulting sometimes sustains the whole weight of the huge piers of the cathedral proper overhead. Its plan follows that of the superstructure very closely, and the area is almost exactly the same. The work is rude and antique. In fact the crypt has been thought to be anterior to the Norman invasion, but this is hardly likely to be the case. The dim, receding vistas of square pillar and low-browed arch produce a weird effect, which is heightened by the thought of the ancient torchlight burials here, and that grim tale of the lieutenant who was left behind on such an occasion and fell a victim to the rats. He was found a clean-picked skeleton, his hand still grasping his sword, while the desperation of his last struggle in the darkness and silence of the crypt was shown by the numbers of dead vermin that lay around.
Many monuments, whose artistic merits or historical associations deserve a better fate, have been relegated to this obscurity by the Chapter on the grounds that they would unduly crowd the church. Kirk’s masterpiece, the Sneyd memorial, lies here in a corner. Sneyd was shot by a maniac in Westmoreland Street. He is represented lying dead with a female figure weeping over him. The limpness of a body out of which the life has gone is beautifully rendered, and the fidelity of the details is really wonderful. In another monument here, that to the memory of Abbott, a philanthropist, Kirk has essayed, not unsuccessfully, the difficult task of reproducing a liquid form in the hard, unyielding material with which the sculptor has to deal. One of the orphans, whom Abbott befriended, is depicted lamenting his fate, and the very tear itself is shown trickling down her cheek.
Statues of Charles II. and James II., that once adorned the Tholsel and were dethroned for political reasons, now lie here, forgotten and unseen. There is also a Latin inscription to William Cadogan, secretary to** “Thomas the renowned Earl of Strafford.” He defended Trim against **“the wicked traitors Phelim O’Neill and Owen Roe,” and died in 1660, “having first witnessed what he so earnestly desired, the safe return of His Most Gracious Majesty Charles II. from his unjust exile.”
The stocks are here too. They only contain accommodation for five legs. The fifth hole is smaller than the others, and may have been used for naughty boys, who were perhaps rendered still more ridiculous to their companions by having one leg in durance and the other out.
And, lastly, there is the “cat and the rat.” These desiccated bodies were found behind the organ-case in a dry and leathery, but undecayed, condition, and were posed in a glass case so as to form a sort of tableau. The soil in this part of Dublin has often a strange preservative effect. At S. Michan’s, across the river, human bodies, centuries old, are shown in much the same state.
On emerging from the church, a tablet is to be seen in the porch, bearing a somewhat verbose Latin inscription to the memory of Thomas Prior, founder of the Royal Dublin Society. The remains of an old chapter house, which was burnt down, are visible in the churchyard. The lower portions seem to have escaped the fire, and were brought to light in some recent excavations. It must have been a singularly beautiful little building. It could have been no larger than a modern parlour, but every foot was enriched with most elaborate stone carving. Even mutilated as it is, the fineness and delicacy of the work command admiration. In the days when Christ Church was a monastery as well as a cathedral, the cloisters, where the monks took their exercise, ran along the northern side of the churchyard. However, the monastic side of the establishment came to an end, like all similar foundations in Ireland, during the reign of Henry VIII.
In 1871 the cathedral was mouldering away piecemeal, when it was most splendidly and lavishly restored by Mr Roe, a Dublin distiller. The cost ran into hundreds of thousands, and the generous donor, who had never anticipated so vast an expenditure, was brought to the verge of financial disaster.