now rises, ever since the Easter of 627, when
Paulinus baptised the newly converted
Edwin, King of Northumberland, in a
little wooden oratory hastily built for the
occasion; the woodwork was soon replaced
by stone. The Minster was partly destroyed
by fire, once in 1137, then in 1829,
and, lastly, in 1840 by the carelessness of
plumbers. The fire of 1829 was the work
of a mad sailor, named Martin, who believed
Heaven had sent visions to tell him to burn
the Minster, where the prayers and sermons
vexed him as being mere forms, and not
prayers of the heart. This fanatic lodged
with a York shoemaker, whose house he
left some days before the fire, saying he
was going to reside at Leeds. The fire
was on Monday morning; on the Saturday
previous Martin suddenly returned to his
old lodgings, to his landlord's surprise.
Martin, however, told the shoemaker that,
having twenty of his books to sell in
Tadcaster, he had settled to come on to York.
He left on Monday early, and did not
return. He took with him from the old
shoemaker's a pair of pincers, afterwards
found on a stool near the last window of
the north transept, from which a knotted
rope was hanging.

About a week after the fire Martin was
taken at Hexham, in Northumberland. He
told everything with fanatical exultation
and triumph. At evening service he had
"laid down beside the Bishop"—that is,
hidden himself behind the tomb of
Archbishop Greenfield. Having heard the man
come down from the belfry after ringing
the bell for evening service, he soon
went up there, struck a light with a flint
and razor, then cut about a hundred
feet of rope, and, being a sailor, soon
constructed a scaling ladder, and went up,
hand over hand, over the gates into the
choir, where there was most woodwork for
his purpose. He had taken care to bring
a wax candle, tinder, and some brimstone
matches. When he got down into the
choir the madman fell on his knees and
thanked God, but felt a voice say he would
be caught, do what he would. The fringe
and tassels from the pulpit and bishop's
throne he carried off to prove the fire was
his work, and also to adorn a hairy jacket
he had at Lincoln. When he had torn up
the prayer books and music books in heaps
ready to light, "Glory to God," he told the
York magistrates, "I never felt so happy,
but I had a hard night's work of it,
particularly with a hungered belly." He
regretted he could not save the big Bible, but
he could not get it over the choir gates.
What the Lord had given him for his hire
he tied up in his handkerchief; and while
he was so doing he kept shouting, "Glory
to God" so often and so loud that he only
wondered it was not heard outside. The
mad sailor, who was confined as a lunatic,
died in 1858. It is a curious fact that up
to the time of his death, although
expressly forbidden to draw the Minster or
to write about it, he was always (with a
madman's craft) drawing portions of it
from memory under pretence of making
drawings of Kenilworth and other ruins.
To the last he believed that in a dream he
had seen a cloud reaching from the
Minster to the shoemaker's shop where he
lodged, and that he had seen an angel
shoot an arrow through the Minster door.
The great organ burst with a tremendous
noise during this lamentable fire. All the
choir carving was destroyed, the tombs of
Archbishops Sterne and Sharp were
injured. The rood loft was burnt, with all
the oak tabernacle work, and the celebrated
screen between the choir and Lady
Chapel had to be rebuilt. A curious old
altar chair and the great brass eagle were
saved in spite of the torrents of molten lead
and the falling rafters.

One of the greatest curiosities in the
Minster is the horn of Ulphus, which is of
ivory mounted in brass. It is preserved
in a chapel on the south side of the choir,
which is used as a vestry, museum, and
register room. This Ulphus, the son of
Toraldus, was a Danish chieftain, who
ruled the west part of Deira. A difference
arising between his eldest and youngest
sons about the succession after his death,
he adopted a plan to make their shares
equal. He rode to York with his largest
drinking horn, and, filling it with wine,
went on his knees before the altar, and
bestowed upon God and the blessed Saint
Peter all his lands, tenements, and
personal wealth. There is property to the
east of York which still bears his name.
This horn was stolen in the reign of
Elizabeth, but restored to the church by
one of the Fairfaxes, shorn of its precious
settings. It was remounted by the
Dean and Chapter in 1675 (Charles the
Second). There is in this chapel also a
curious pastoral staff of silver given by
Queen Catherine to her confessor when
he was nominated Catholic Archbishop of
York by James the Second. It is said
that when marching insolently in procession
to the Minster, the Earl of Darnley