While many may praise the Chapter House, built at the same time as the cloisters and finished in 1284, for being a most delicately beautiful, light-filled, fan ceilinged, octagonal chapter house (now that's a mouthful of adjectives), its main points of interest are the historical relics that it contains.

The most important of these relics is one of four surviving copies of the Magna Carta. It sits in a case on the opposite side of the huge room designed after the Chapter House at Westminster Abbey. One word of warning: while pictures are allowed in all other parts of the cathedral, neither these nor videos are allowed here, even without flash.

The Magna Carta was a charter signed by King John in 1215 and was a predecessor to such documents as the American Bill of Rights. It came about because many English barons felt that the king was abusing his power and captured the city of London in June of that year; these barons then forced the king to sign the "Articles of the Barons" in a meeting at the meadow of Runnymeade. No one knows quite how many copies of this document were made to send to the various barons and other high-ranking officials, but as I've stated above, it is known that only four still exist, and none that bear the royal seal.

The charter was supposed to limit his rights and make him respect the law. However, throughout the Middle Ages, it did not quite serve this function, and by the 1800s, the majority of the charter was no longer part of British law. In fact, King John had the charter revoked as soon as the angry barons left, and the Pope even renounced it, saying it was "a shameful and demeaning agreement, forced upon the king by violence and fear." Luckily, the Bill of Rights has had a slightly better fate!

The guide standing next to the case holding the charter, written on vellum, was very knowledgeable and answered everyone's questions about the charter and its origins. More people than I ran into in the entire cathedral seemed to be crowded around the case, politely jostling for a look at the charter. It did take quite a close look to actually read the charter, since it was written in tiny, perfect hand.

Many people stopped to look at the many other relics in the Chapter House, but I didn't dilly-dally too much longer after seeing the Magna Carta, being a bit tired from a long day of touring. You could definitely spend more time than I did in there though, especially if you are a history buff.

The Cloisters were one of the later additions to the cathedral and were finished around 1284; Salisbury Cathedral propaganda touts them as the largest cloisters in Britain. I'm no cloisters expert, but they did seem to be a good size. I noticed that the stone ceilings were vaulted just as those inside the cathedral; these were just a bit closer and a bit less baroque. Splendidly designed archways opened up to the large courtyard. One side of the cloisters was partially taken up by seats for the Refectory Cafe.

I quickly found the entrance to the courtyard, which was right in front of the doors to the Chapel House, my next destination. A sign stood on the grass, warning people that this was a courtyard within a cloisters that contained quite a few graves and was to be respected as such. I did tread slightly lighter after that...not that I was stomping to begin with, as my nom de plume may imply.

The courtyard is dominated by a few large trees, which shaded the opposite side of the cloisters and the small shrubs that squatted next to the cloister walls. I appreciated the arches of the walls even more from this viewpoint. A larger arch had a flower-like design carved out of it, and underneath, two smaller arches met with a cross between them. I know, this may be somewhat hard to envision, but it's also hard to describe. Perhaps I should just say it was beautiful, completely symmetric stonework that can be seen in this entry's pictures.

Standing in the center of the courtyard, I could look up and see the cathedral's spire reaching up and getting in the way of any passing airplanes. This was the best view I got of the spire all day, mainly because the entire other side--the side you see when walking up from Cathedral Close towards the fantastic West Front--was being restored/strengthened. Unfortunately, the sky was still ashen, although I was lucky--I was standing only semi-covered by the courtyard's trees and wasn't getting soaked!

Clearly the most distinct stained glass in Salisbury Cathedral, the Prisoners of Conscience windows are set in the walls behind the High Altar and immediately catch your attention as you walk into the cathedral near the West Front, 449 feet away. Their blazing sapphire pulled my attention away from the tall vaulted ceilings and everything else in my path; my eyes just seemed to naturally fixate on the brilliant blue light. As I got closer, the windows only became more fascinating, and they managed to work their way into nearly all of my pictures of the nave and Quire.

These windows are a modern splash in the oldest part of the cathedral, the Trinity Chapel, and area recent replacement for stained glass blown out in World War II. The Prisoners of Conscience windows are very distinct from any other stained glass windows I have ever seen, not only because of their vibrant color but because of the people depicted in the windows' scenes. These bodiless people had the most expressive eyes; many of them looked serene, while others seemed to be in deep distress. Central of these prisoners was Jesus himself, who was depicted, from what I could tell, many times on the window. The central vision is of Christ, the original prisoner of conscience, on the cross.

Sitting below the windows in the center of the chapel was a large stone slab marking a tomb, which was surrounded in lit candles.

The High Altar is outside the Trinity Chapel itself and is best seen from within the Quire. You cannot walk right up to the altar, which is situated at the top of some stairs some distance behind a metal guardrail, but you can stand and admire it. The cloth (at least, I think that's what it was, even though it definitely looked painted) that covered the altar was a swirl of much paler blues than those in the window just behind it. A golden cross stood out in the center of the whirlpool of white, cerulean, sky blue, and steel blue. The archway and windows behind and the Gothic ceilings above made a perfect frame for the altar.

The entire time that I was in the Quire, exploring the fine 16th century woodwork, I felt like the little German children that had wreaked so much havoc at the Sibirica Minor Font had found the cathedral's organ. Named the "Father Willis Organ" and built in 1877, I didn't think that children would be allowed anywhere near it (and besides that, I could see the little German girls attempting to crawl under the barrier between the Quire and the High Altar), but it certainly sounded like someone was haphazardly banging on the keys. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear "Chopsticks"! It carried on for so long that it became part of the cathedral and it took me a few minutes to realize when whoever it was had stopped playing!

I actually missed the Medieval Clock on my first pass through the cathedral. Instead of taking the recommended route, which leads to the left of the nave, I walked up the center to the Sibirica Minor Font, which I have described in another review. I suppose I was so fascinated by it, so amused by the girl baptizing her umbrella in it, and so taken by the extraordinary expanse of the cathedral that I headed straight towards the Quire and completely skipped the clock.

Even though it is not hugely exciting, I still wanted to see the oldest working clock in Europe, so when a kind man handed me his extra brochure (which I seemed to have missed getting at the front entrance) and I saw that it was behind me, I retraced my steps and found the ancient contraption.

The clock had no face, being constructed no later than 1386 to simply toll each hour. It was a strange contraption of ropes, metal bars, and weights that I could not even begin to explain with my rudimentary knowledge of physics. It was slowly ticking away though, which after 625 years is not a bad accomplishment at all.

The clock sits to the left of the nave (when seen from the entrance at the West Front) near a miniature of the Cathedral. It used to have its own bell tower, but that was demolished in the late 1700s, so it is now just a showpiece.

I have already mentioned the nave in my West Front & The Font review, but it is worth mentioning again, being so gargantuan yet seeming so much more friendly than your average cathedral. The nave was brightly lit, courtesy of the Gothic lancet windows above the archways on each side of it. When I say brightly lit, I mean more than your average, dark and gloomy large church that makes you feel sad and tired if you spend any period of time inside (although it is quite possible this was the goal of church in the Middle Ages), but the dismal day outside wasn't doing us any favors.

An amazing thing about this cathedral is the fact that the vast majority of it was built all in one go. Most cathedrals have bits and pieces added on throughout a long period of time, each with a slightly different character and design, but Salisbury was built mostly within the 30-year timespan preceding its consecration in 1258. This was a huge task to take on and it is admirable that the builders constructed such a marvel--and the best example of Early English Gothic architecture in the country--in such a short period of time. The later add-ons to the cathedral were the Cloisters and Chapter House--built in the late 1200s--and the huge tower and spire that were added in the 1300s, which severely taxes the original structure of the Cathedral and adds some 6000 tons of weight for the pillars below to support!

After paying my "optional" entry fee into the cathedral (see the Overview for more information), I walked in to see a stunning sight. Stretching in front of me was the vast body of the cathedral, the Nave and Quire leading off to the horizon and the ceilings towering high above me. These ceilings were beautifully vaulted, yet not overdone; they were not decked out in the obscene ornateness of, say, the Chapel Royal in Hampton Court. While Salisbury Cathedral is huge and definitely makes a statement, it is clear that it was designed for worship, rather than the people that would be doing the worshiping.

The rows of plastic chairs filling the nave were only broken to make way for the Sibirica Minor Font in the center. This Font is actually a water sculpture designed by William Pye which is on loan to the cathedral. The first thing that struck me about the font was exactly what Pye himself said about it. He said, "The sculpture captures two states of water in one piece, contrasting its still reflective quality with the more animated overflowing spouts at each of the four corners." This is very true; the water in the font seemed to be completely still--so still that it perfectly reflected the ceilings and the stained glass of the cathedral in a way very difficult to capture on film. It was hard to believe that the cascading streams from each of its four corners could possibly be coming from such smooth water.

A sign near the font stated that the sculpture represented the "abundant grace of God given us in Baptism," and from what I understand, it has been used for quite a few baptisms since being installed in the cathedral in March, 2005. In fact, I was lucky enough to see a baptism while I was there, albeit, a slightly unconventional one. Two German women had two very unruly children that had obviously been kept inside most of the day due to rain; they were treating this house of God like it was a house of Ronald McDonald, climbing on anything they could. One little girl was armed with an umbrella, and when she saw the Font I swear she got a gleam in her eye before she ran up to it, popped open her umbrella, and stuck it underneath one of the falling streams of water. Not content that her umbrella had been fully baptized, she let it fill to the brims and overflow all over the stone floor of the nave. It was only then that the mother realized what was happening and ran over to whisk her away. Unfortunately, she didn't realize quite how much water her daughter had collected, and managed to soak both herself and the majority of the nave in the process. Needless to say, neither the mother nor the cathedral staff were very amused!