y,--the poor and
sorrowing, those that would be strengthened. Here voices sink to a
reverent whisper, for curiosity is hushed into awe. "I could never
fathom how a man dares to lift up his voice to preach in a
cathedral,--what has he to say that will not be an anti-climax?" says
Robert Louis Stevenson, and you are struck by the force of his remark
when you compare the droning voice coming from one corner of the
building with the glorious expression of man's faith rising above and
around you. The quiet majesty and silent eloquence of the one
accentuates the feebleness of the other.

For the interior is as simple and restrained and the planning as logical
and lucid as the exterior is blameworthy and unreasonable. Here is
rhythm and harmony. The constructive problems have been ingeniously
mastered, and the carved and decorated portions subordinated to the
gigantic scheme of the great monument. The sculptures are limited to
their respective fields. Structural and artistic principles go hand in
hand. Eloquently the carvings speak the language of the time,--they
become a pictorial Bible, open for the poor man to read, who has no
knowledge of crabbed, monastic letters. They are the language of true
religion, the religion that may change but can never die.

The plan is unquestionably the _grand_ feature of the Cathedral; the
beauty and scale of it challenge comparison with those of all other
churches in Christendom. The vaulting and its development, the
concentration of the thrust upon the piers and far-leaping flying
buttresses are unquestionably on such a scale and of such character as
to place it among the mightiest, if not the most pure and well-developed
Gothic edifices. It is like a giant that knows not the strength of his
limbs nor the possibilities in his mighty frame.

You do not feel the great height of the nave, owing to the immensity of
all dimensions and the great circumference of the supporting piers. The
nave and the double side aisles on each side are all of seven bays. The
transept does not project beyond the outer aisles. The plan proper has
thus, at a rough glance, the appearance of a basilica and seems to lack
the side arms of the Gothic cross. The choir consists of one bay, and
the chevet formed by an apse to the choir of five bays. Both aisles
continue around the chevet. Outside these again, and between the
buttresses of the main outer walls, lie the different chapels, the
great cloister and the differe