This subject therefore naturally brings me to notice the principal Temple of Worship in which the rites of either religion seem, for a long time, to have been alternately exercised; and this temple can be no other than the Minster—­or, as we should say, the Cathedral. Ere I assume the office of the historian, let me gratify my inclinations as a spectator.  Let me walk round this stupendous structure.  At this moment, therefore, consider me as standing in full gaze before its west front—­from which the tower springs.  This tower seems to reach to heaven.  Indeed the whole front quite overwhelms you with alternate emotions of wonder and delight.  Luckily there is some little space before it, in which trees have been recently planted; and where (as I understand) the fruit and vegetable market is held.  At the further end of this space in approaching the Cathedral, and in running the eye over the whole front, the first thing that strikes you is, the red or copperas colour of the stone—­which I presume to be a species of sand stone.  This gives a sort of severe metallic effect.  However you are riveted to the spot wherein you command the first general survey of this unparalleled front.  The delicacy, the finish, the harmonious intricacy, and faery-like lightness, of the whole—­even to the summit of the spire;—­which latter indeed has the appearance of filigree work, raised by enchantment, and through the interstices of which the bright blue sky appears with a lustre of which you have no conception in England—­all this, I say, perfectly delights and overwhelms you.  You want words to express your ideas, and the extent of your gratification.  You feel convinced that the magnificent edifice before you seems to be the ne plus ultra of human skill in ornamental gothic architecture.  Undoubtedly one regrets here, as at Antwerp, the absence of a corresponding tower; but you are to form your judgment upon what is actually before you, and, at the same time, to bear in mind that this tower and spire—­for it partakes of both characters—­is full four hundred and seventy four English feet in height![206]—­and, consequently, some twenty or thirty feet only lower than the top of St. Peter’s at Rome.  One is lost in astonishment, on bearing such an altitude in mind, considering the delicacy of the spire.  There is no place fitting for a satisfactory view of it, within its immediate vicinity.[207]

This western front, or facade, is divided into three stages or compartments.  The bottom or lower one is occupied by three magnificent porches; of which the central is by far the loftiest and most ornamental.  The period of their execution is from the year 1270 to 1320:  a period, when gothic architecture was probably at its highest pitch of perfection.  The central porch is divided into five compartments on each side—­forming an angle of about forty-five degrees with the door-way.  The lower parts of these divisions contain each a statue, of the size