Chapter I: The History of the Cathedral (2)

The mere fact that the detached tower was built suggests many questions which are not easily solved. Why was it at all necessary? Perhaps the cathedral bells hung in the south-west tower, and those of the sub-deanery church in the other, or _vice-versa._ At all events, we know that in the fifteenth century the sub-deanery church was removed from the nave to the north arm of the transept. The great window of the north end of the transept is also early fifteenth century in date, and the detached tower likewise. Angle turrets were placed upon the four angles of the transept during the same century; and if Daniel King's drawing of 1656 is any guide, the tops of the central and western towers had battlemented parapets added during the same period. In any case, it appears that it took much longer to complete the repair of the central tower than that at the south-west. In fact, it is doubtful whether the former was finished until about the end of the thirteenth or the beginning of the fourteenth century, for its fall apparently wrecked much of the vaulting of the transept; and this, from the character of its moulded and carved vaulting ribs in the south arm of the transept, is of the same date as the rose window in the east gable of the presbytery, the rose windows in the east gables of the lady-chapel and the chapels at the east end of the north and south aisles of the choir. This argues that at the end of the thirteenth or the beginning of the fourteenth century, during Bishop Leophardo's episcopate, these works were completed.

About the middle of the fifteenth century a stone rood screen was built up between the western piers of the central tower. It thus separated the choir under the crossing from the nave; but through the middle of this screen there was an open archway with iron gates. On either side, as parts of the screen, to the north and south was a chapel, each with its altar. This new work had been known as the Arundel screen, and its erection is often attributed to the bishop of that name, and at the altar in the south side of it Bishop Arundel founded a chantry for himself. Except that the cloister was added and some details of the building altered during the fifteenth century, no other architectural work of any size appears to have been done for many years.

The next work of importance was begun by Sherburne. He invited Lambert Bernardi and his sons to decorate the whole of the vaulting of the cathedral. This they did by covering it with beautifully painted designs. But unfortunately, excepting the small remnant now on the vault in the lady-chapel (see page 92), their work was entirely destroyed early in the nineteenth century. Some idea of its original beauty may be formed by an examination of similar work by other hands that may yet be seen in S. Anastasia at Verona, in two churches at Liege, and at S. Albans Abbey. An engraving by T. King, of about 1814, shows some details of the design that was painted on the vault of the choir in the bay next but one to the central tower. The cathedral was at this time an open book, with its walls covered with painted stories. The reredos, the stalls of the canons, as well as the walls, were rich with colour. Now all has gone except a meagre, faded scrap under the arch from the present library into the transept, and one or two other slight remnants. Sherburne also had some large pictures painted by the Bernardis. They represented the kings of England and the bishops of Chichester, and used to hang upon the west and east walls of the south transept.

From Sherburne's death until the seventeenth century little but a tale of destruction is to be recorded; for this period witnessed the dissolution of the monasteries, the beginning of a wholesale system of spoliation urged by self-interest and hypocrisy, and the establishment of "Reformation" methods of procedure in Church and State. By each of these both the fabric and the diocese suffered, even though by some they gained. But especially did vandalism help to destroy, unnecessarily, many things which, legitimately used, might still have been allowed to remain as evidences of the artistic influence of the Church in England. For though some of them were dedicated to uses which the reformation necessarily condemned the wholesale destruction of much beautiful workmanship must be regretted by any who are interested in such treasures. In 1538 it was ordered that all shrines should be abolished. This seriously affected Chichester, as the fate of the feretory of S. Richard was involved by the mandate. Two commissioners were named, whose duty was to see that his shrine was removed. The instructions issued served a double purpose, since in this case, as in others, "reformation" helped to satisfy the claims of avarice. Henry told the commissioners that

"We, wylyng such superstitious abuses and idolatries to be
taken away, command you with all convenient diligence to
repayre unto the said cathedral church of Chichester and
there to take down that shrine and bones of that bishop
called S. Richard within the same, with all the sylver,
gold, juells, and ornamentes aforesaid, to be safely and
surely conveighed and brought unto our Tower of London,
there to be bestowed as we shall further determine at your
arrival. And also that ye shall see bothe the place where
the same shryne standyth to be raysed and defaced even to
the very ground, and all such other images of the church as
any notable superstition hath been used to be taken and
conveyed away." [16]

[16] Walcott, p. 34.

Then in 1550

"there were letters sent to every bishop to pluck down the
altars, in lieu of them to set up a table in some convenient
place of the chancel within every church or chapel to serve
for the ministration of the Blessed Communion."

Bishop Daye replied that

"he could not conform his conscience to do what he was by
the said letter commanded."

In explanation of his attitude towards this order he wrote that

"he stycked not att the form, situation, or matter [_as
stone or wood_] whereof the altar was made, but I then toke,
as I now take, those things to be indifferent.... But the
commandment which was given to me to take downe all altars
within my diocese, and in lieu of them 'to sett up a table'
implying in itselffe [_as I take it_] a playne abolyshment
of the altare [_both the name and the things_] from the use
and ministration of the Holy Communion, I could not with my
conscience then execute."

The churches were so ransacked and destroyed in this way that Bishop Harsnett [17] said he found the cathedral and the buildings about the close had been criminally neglected for years, so that they were in a decayed and almost ruinous condition. Such was the deliberate opinion which he expressed early in the seventeenth century.

[17] "Records."

During the first half of the sixteenth century a stone parapet, or screen wall (taken away in 1829), was built up in front of the triforium arcade. It rose to a height of about four feet six inches, and was continued throughout the whole length of the church. It has been supposed that it was intended to render this gallery available as a place from which some of the congregation might observe the great ceremonials. So we see that after the close of the fifteenth century little but decline is to be recorded. Since Sherburne's day no care had been taken of the fabric; and except that an organ was introduced above the Arundel screen, no new schemes were devised, no new building done. It should be remembered, however, that the Reformation did not at once destroy all the beauties of mediæval art that the cathedral contained. Certain things, such as shrines, altars, chantries, and chapels, were removed, dismantled, or totally wrecked. It was with the coming of the Parliamentary army to the city that wholesale pillage and destruction began.

The removal of the altar and other derangements of the building had been effected during the preceding century; but now the vestments, plate, and ornaments were stolen. The decorative and other paintings on the walls, and all parts that could easily be reached, were scratched, scraped, and hacked about until they were mere wretched, disfiguring excrescences; and in this mutilated condition they waited for the whitewash that came later, to cover up these vulgar excesses with a cheap but clean decency. Such criminal procedure culminated in the wilful wreckage of all the beautiful glass. The store of three centuries of labour and consummate skill was destroyed till it lay all strewn in broken fragments, mere rubbish, about the floors. But the decorations on the vaults were saved, because they could not be reached without expensive scaffolding. They were thus preserved to be dealt with by the wisdom and taste of a later century.

Let me quote the remarks of one who lived when these things were done. He says they

"plundered the Cathedral, seized upon the vestments and
ornaments of the Church, together with the consecrated plate
serving for the altar; they left not so much as a cushion
for the pulpit, nor a chalice for the Blessed Sacraments;
the common soldiers brake down the organs, and dashing the
pipes with their pole-axes, scoffingly said, 'hark how the
organs go!' They brake the rail, which was done with that
fury that the Table itself escaped not their madness. They
forced open all the locks, whether of doors or desks,
wherein the singing men laid up their common prayer books,
their singing books, their gowns and surplices; they rent
the books in pieces, and scattered the torn leaves all over
the church even to the covering of the pavement, the gowns
and surplices they reserved to secular uses. In the south
cross ile the history of the church's foundation, the
picture of the Kings of England, and the picture of the
bishops of Selsey and Chichester, begun by Robert Sherborn
the 37th Bishop of that see, they defaced and mangled with
their hands and swords as high as they could reach. On the
Tuesday following, after the sermon, possessed and
transported by a bacchanalian fury, they ran up and down the
church with their swords drawn, defacing the monuments of
the dead, hacking and hewing the seats and stalls, and
scraping the painted walls. Sir William Waller and the rest
of the commanders standby as spectators and approvers of
these barbarous impieties." [18]

[18] "Mercurius Rusticus" (1642). Quoted by Walcott.

This is a history in little of what took place in nearly every cathedral and other church in the kingdom, and this after the Reformation and its best work had been a fact for a century.

The most important disaster to the fabric during the seventeenth century was that which so seriously affected the structure at the west end. It is difficult to decide exactly when and how north-west tower fell or was removed. Professor Willis [19] is content to say:

"Mr. Butler informs me that there is evidence to show that
the north tower was taken down by the advice of Sir
Christopher Wren, on account of its ruinous condition."

[19] "Archaeological History," Chichester, p. 6, note _c_.

But Præcentor Ede, in a paper written about 1684 A.D. and quoted by Præcentor Walcott, [20] gives

"an account of Dr. Christopher Wren's opinion concerning the
rebuilding of one of the great towers at the west end of the
Cathedral Church of Chichester, one third part of which,
from top to bottom, fell down above fifty years since, which
he gave after he had for about two hours viewed it both
without and within, and above and below, and had also
observed the great want of repairs, especially in the inside
of the other great west tower, and having well surveyed the
whole of the west end of the said Church, which was in
substance as followeth; that there could be no secure
building to the remaining part of the tower now standing;
that, if there could and it were so built, there would be
little uniformity between that and the other, they never
having been alike nor were they both built together or with
the Church, and when they were standing the west end could
never look very handsome. And therefore considering the vast
charge of rebuilding the fallen tower and repairing the
other, he thought the best way was to pull down both
together, with the west arch of the nave of the church
between them; and to lengthen the two northern isles to
answer exactly to the two southern; and then to close all
with a well designed and fair built west end and porch;
which would make the west end of the church look much
handsome than ever it did, and would be done with half the
charge." [21]

[20] "Early Statutes," p. 21.
[21] Walcott, "Early Statutes" p. 21

Such was Dr. Wren's opinion of the west front. It is fortunate that his advice was not followed, for have we not the same west front still in existence? However, Wren spoke of "the remaining part of the tower now standing," and King's print, publishing 1656, shows the portion to which he referred. Fuller [22] remarked in 1662 that the church "now is torn, having lately a great part thereof fallen to the ground." He no doubt refers to the same ruin, for it is not to be conjectured that any other part fell then.

[22] "Worthies," II, 385

Sir Christopher Wren says the towers never were alike in design, nor were they "both built together."

The edition of Dugdale's "Monasticon," published in 1673, gives a view of the north façade of the church. Ede, writing in 1684, said that "above fifty years" before one-third part of the north-west tower had fallen from top to bottom; yet this illustration shows that same tower complete. This affords an opportunity of comparing portions of the two towers. The upper part of each is shown to finish on top with a battlement parapet. It is evidence in itself that during the fifteenth century certain alterations had been effected in them both at this part. But this print must have been made from an original which had been executed quite twenty years earlier--for King's drawing, issued in 1656, shows the north-west tower already partly destroyed; so it is necessary to conclude that the drawing for the "Monasticon" was done before 1656, but after 1610, when Speed's map, or bird's-eye view, of the city was brought out.

Præcentor Walcott has supposed that the two towers in Chichester referred to in the "Annals of Dunstable" as having fallen during the year 1210 were the two at the west end.

But taking Sir Christopher Wren's report with the discovery made by Mr. Sharpe in 1853, quoted by Professor Willis, it would seem rather that those two towers were the original central tower and that at the south-west angle of the west front.

Wren in writing of the tower at the north-west, which had fallen about 1630-1640, said that it had not been built at the same date nor in the same manner as the other then remaining to the south of the same front. The upper part of the central tower itself had been built perhaps during the second quarter of the fourteenth century or even earlier. Consequently it seems probable that the two towers which fell in 1210 were the original twelfth-century central tower and that of the same date to the south of the west front. In Speed's map of 1610 both the western towers are represented as having small spires.

Hollar's print in the "Monasticon" shows what appear to be some fifteenth-century buttresses to the north-west tower; but in excavating for the foundations of the new north-west tower, now completed, no traces of any projecting buttresses were discovered, so it may be that it was the original twelfth-century tower which fell about 1630, and the peculiar character of its masonry suggested the remark to Wren when he said it so distinctly differed from its companion.

Towards the close of the seventeenth century the central spire was in an unstable condition, and Elmes, in his "Life," says of Wren that he

"took down and rebuilt the upper part of the spire of the
cathedral, and fixed therein a pendulum stage to counteract
the effects of the south and the south-westerly gales of
wind, which act with some considerable power against it, and
had forced it from its perpendicularity."

It is interesting to have this record, for the spire during the following century was still a cause of trouble.

Spershott's memoirs show that about 1725

"a new chamber organ was added to the choir of the
cathedral, the tubes of which were at first bright like
silver, but are now like old tarnished brass."

Whether this organ contained any parts of that which was destroyed in the previous century is not known; but many old prints and drawings show that the case of the one that was now built on the top of the Arundel screen was quite as beautifully designed as the one in Exeter Cathedral, or King's College Chapel at Cambridge.

About 1749 the Duke of Richmond's vault was "diged and made" [23] in the lady-chapel, and ten years later "the kings and bishops in the cathedral" were "new painted." The floor of the lady-chapel was raised to give height to the vault beneath, and a fireplace and chimney built up in front of the east window. Portions of the other windows were plastered up, and so left only partly filled with glass. These served to provide light in what was now to be the library, since, apparently, the originally well-lighted library, above the chamber now used for the purpose, had lost its proper roof and been otherwise made useless.

[23] Spershott.

There is little else to be said concerning the history of the building during eighteenth century; but it is stated by a careful observer, [24] writing in 1803, that "in the interior of this cathedral few innovations have been effected." He says that the east window of the lady-chapel is plastered up, and that

"we find that the great window in the west front of the
cathedral has a short time back had its mullions and other
works knocked out, and your common masoned 'muntings'
(mullions) and transoms stuck up in their room, without any
tracery sweeps or turns, of the second and third degrees;
which work may before long be construed by some shallow
dabblers in architectural matters into the classical and
chaste productions of our old workmen. On the north and
south sides of the church are buttresses, with rare and
uncommon octangular-columned terminations; but they have
likewise, to save a trifling expense in reparation, been
deprived of their principal embellishments, and are now
capped with vulgar house-coping....

"It may be well to speak of the west porch as an excellent
performance; and the statue over the double entrance is
remarkably so."

[24] _Gentleman's Magazine_, Part I., 1803, pp. 22-25.

Proceeding, the same writer relates that:

"Against the east and west walls of the said transept are
affixed historic paintings; those on the west side (the
figures as large as life) relate to the founding of the
church and its re-edification in Henry viii.'s time. Among
the various portraits is that of Henry viii. himself. Here
are also in separate circular compartments, the quarter
portraits of our kings, from William the Conqueror to Hen.
viii. (and since his day, in continuation to George i.) On
the east side is the entire collection of the ancient
bishops of the see (quarter lengths, and in circular
compartments). A short time back the faces of the several
portraits were touched upon by some unskilful hand; however
we have before us most curious specimens of the costume of
Henry's day, when the whole of these paintings were done
(excepting those of subsequent dates), in dresses, warlike
habiliments, buildings, etc....

"Looking towards the north, on the outside of the choir, is
the monumental chapel and tomb of St. Richard. The groins
above are embellished with paintings of foliage, arms, etc.,
conveying the eye over the choir; thence into the north
transept, intercepted in the way by the galleries over the
side-aisles, when the general combination of objects is
terminated by the north transept window, which, though
inferior to the southern window, still has its own peculiar
attractions."

At the time these words were written the north porch was in a wrecked condition. Both gables of the transept were in ruins, and the high-pitched roofs of the old library, the lady-chapel, and the south arm of the transept were absent altogether.

But soon the authorities began to take some interest in the condition of the building. James Elmes had been called in to deal with the spire in 1813-1814, and under his direction the "useful piece of machinery" which had been put there by Wren was "taken down and reinstated." In his "Life of Wren" an illustration is given of the device, which he had carefully examined and measured. He describes it thus:

"To the finial is fastened a strong metal ring, and to that
is suspended a large piece of yellow fir-timber eighty feet
long and thirteen inches square; the masonry at the apex of
the spire, being from nine to six inches thick, diminishing
as it rises. The pendulum is loaded with iron, adding all
its weight to the finial, and has two stout solid oak
floors, the lower one smaller by about three, and the upper
one by about two and a quarter inches, than the octagonal
masonry which surrounds it. The effect in a storm is
surprising and satisfactory. While the wind blows high
against the vane and spire, the pendulum floor touches on
the lee side, and its aperture is double on the windward: at
the cessation, it oscillates slightly, and terminates in a
perpendicular. The rest of the spire is quite clear of
scaffolding. This contrivance is doubtless one of the most
ingenious and appropriate of its great inventor's
applications."

About 1814 T. King made a plan of the whole building and several drawings of the church as it then appeared. One of these [25] shows some carefully copied specimens of the decorations on the vaults. The engraving was published in 1831, and on it is the statement, "Painted 1520. Erased 1817." Another drawing showed the interior of the choir looking west. In this was represented in careful detail the design of the eastern elevation of the organ-case and the "return" stalls against the Arundel screen. It also shows the original iron gates in the archway, which pierced the screen in the centre below the organ, and formed the entrance to the choir. These gates were evidently copied in design from the thirteenth-century iron screen that protected the sanctuary, part of which is now in the Victoria and Albert Museum. In the distance the decoration on the nave vaulting is lightly indicated. There is also an original drawing by T. King in the possession of the Chapter, which gives a view looking eastwards. Another drawing [26] which was made some time after 1829 shows the choir looking east towards the reredos. It is a careful study, and is of peculiar interest, since it is a record of many features now entirely removed. The early reredos appears still in its place, but the upper portion of it is gone. This was a gallery which was accessible from either triforium, across which boys early in the century used to run races by starting up the staircase in one aisle and down that in the other. The absence of the gallery in the drawing shows that it was made after 1829, the year in which the gallery was removed. The "glory" which was added to the reredos during the eighteenth century appears just above the altar. On the south side of the choir are some spectators in the gallery above the stalls. There were also at this time other galleries on the north and south of the sanctuary, and above the arch on the east side of the north arm of the transept was a gallery too. To this last there was access from the staircase that led to the chamber above the east chapel of the transept close by. These drawings show what the interior of the church was like up to the time when that extraordinary revival of activity in matters ecclesiastical began in the nineteenth century.

[25] See illustrations, pp. 33 and 125.
[26] Supposed to be by Carter, an architect of Winchester.

Like other churches, that at Chichester felt the sting of controversy in unnecessary vandalism. But it may be admitted that destruction, like a storm, carried at least some virtue in its clouds. In attempting to sweep away the accumulated refuse heaped within the building, some precious things fell before the broom of zealous furnishers, and were lost for ever in the dust raised by this new cleansing dream.

The removal of the gallery above the old fifteenth-century reredos in 1829 was the beginning of a serious attempt to repair, restore, and reanimate the fabric. This revival of faith began to try to do good works--but not always with discretion, not always with knowledge, wisdom, and taste. Here was rash ardour, often without the hesitation of true reverence.

It is certain the building was not all it should have been when these works were begun; it is not what it might have been had some of them been deferred. Consequently any illustrations which show its condition before the middle of the nineteenth century are of interest and value to those who would know what changes have been made.

In Winkles's essay on Chichester, in his "Cathedrals of England," published between 1830 and 1840, are many beautiful drawings of the fabric. There is one which shows the Arundel screen still in its original position with the organ above it; and in another the complete design of the back of the reredos appears. These careful studies of the building, which were made before it became so changed by the removal of its best remaining treasures, help to convey some idea of what the place was before it was so radically "restored."

None of the drawings, however, show any of the beautiful decorations of the vaults, for all this had been smeared over with a dirty yellow wash about 1815, which earned for the church the name of "the leather breeches cathedral." And when, later, the plaster on the stone-filling between the ribs was removed, the paintings were utterly obliterated for ever, excepting only the small portion remaining in the lady-chapel bearing the Wykeham motto upon a scroll. But this recital is but a prelude to the changes that were to follow. The energy of revival found expression in many ways, and English architecture suffered sorely at the hands of ardent ignorance. But the very desire to deal well with the fabrics of our churches that were to be repaired taught men to study closely the facts of archaeology. The studies had a practical end, and at Chichester they found their opportunity in the cathedral.

But first a new church of S. Peter was built in West Street in 1853, so that the north arm of the transept should no longer be used as it had been for about four hundred years. Then not long afterwards Dean Chandler, at his death, left a large sum to be used for the purpose of decorating the cathedral. To this sum other funds were added. The need that more space should be provided for the congregation arose, and to satisfy this it was decided that the choir should be opened out to the nave. Consequently, in 1859 the work of decoration was begun by the removal of the Arundel screen with the eighteenth-century organ above it--one of the most beautiful remnants of the art of earlier days that remained in the cathedral. The object of this act was most admirable, but it involved in addition the destruction of the fourteenth-century "return" stalls which were on the eastern face of the doomed screen. In taking down the screen, or shrine, all the stones composing it had been carefully numbered, with the intention that it should be rebuilt in a new position. But although these materials are still wantonly distributed about the cathedral and precincts, no attempt has been made to use them again, either as a screen or as an evidence to show by contrast that the result has justified the change. Its removal was the beginning of a series of alterations, both by accident and design. The old reredos, that quiet and beautiful witness of things so sacred and some so profane, was torn away. The whole of the choir was to be rearranged. But when the piers of the central tower were exposed by the removal of the screen, it was discovered that they were in a precariously rotten condition at the core. Other indications of weakness, which had been overlooked before, were now observed. Large and deep cracks and various earlier signs of apprehended weakness both in arches and piers were remarked. That the work now begun had given impetus to the fall has been denied on excellent authority, and to discuss such a question at this time is useless. The serious trouble now was that the whole tower with the spire was rapidly settling on its base. Every method that could be used was tried in order to save the piers. They were propped up with shores, and the arches held up with centres, while new masonry was bonded into the older work. But the labour availed nothing, for towards the end of the year 1860 matters had developed seriously.

"Old fissures extended themselves into the fresh masonry,
and new ones made their appearance.... But in the next
place, the walling began to bulge towards the end of January
1861, first in the north-west pier, and afterwards in the
south. Cracks and fissures, some opening and others closing,
and the gradual deformation of the arches in the transept
walls and elsewhere, indicated that fearful movements were
taking place throughout the parts of the wall connected with
the western piers."

On Sunday, February 17th,

"the afternoon service was performed in the nave of the
cathedral, as usual, but ... was interrupted by the urgent
necessity for shoring up a part of the facing of the
south-west pier.... On Wednesday, crushed mortar began to
pour from the old fissures, flakes of the facing stone fell,
and the braces began to bend. Yet the workmen continued to
add shoring until three hours and a half past midnight."

Next day the effort was resumed before daybreak; but by noon

"the continual failing of the shores showed, too plainly,
that the fall was inevitable."

Just before half-past one

"the spire was seen to incline slightly to the south-west,
and then to descend perpendicularly into the church, as one
telescope tube slides into another, the mass of the tower
crumbling beneath it. The fall was an affair of a few
seconds, and was complete at half-past one."

Such, briefly, is the record of the fall, which so admirably has been related by Professor Willis, from whose work these extracts have been taken.

Sir Gilbert Scott, [27] after the central tower had collapsed, was consulted concerning its reconstruction. He examined the remains; and by the great care his son Gilbert exercised in labelling and registering all the moulded and carved stone that was discovered in the debris, the new tower and spire was designed upon the pattern of the old one. Old prints and photographs were used to help in this work of building a copy of what had been lost. But this task could not have been done had it not been that Mr. Joseph Butler, a former resident architect and Surveyor to the Chapter, had made measured drawings of the whole, which supplied actual dimensions that otherwise could not have been recovered. These drawings had come into the possession of Mr. Slater, the architect associated with Sir. G. Scott in the rebuilding of the tower, and they enabled him

"to put together upon paper all the fragments with certainty
of correctness: so one thing with another, the whole design
was absolutely and indisputably recovered. The only
deviation from the design of the old steeple was this. The
four arms of the cross had been (probably in the fourteenth
century) raised some five or six feet in height, and thus
had buried a part of what had originally been the clear
height of the tower, and with it an ornamental arcading
running round it. I lifted out the tower from this
encroachment by adding five or six feet to its height; so
that it now rises above the surrounding roofs as much as it
originally did. I also omitted the partial walling up of the
belfry windows, which may be seen in old views." [28]

[27] See "Recollections," p. 309. Edited by his son, 1861.
[28] _Ibid._, p. 310.

These statements have been taken from Sir Gilbert Scott's own account of the work. He further assures us that many portions of the original moulded and carved work were re-fixed in the new tower. As we have now in existence so careful an imitation of the former tower, all praise is due to Sir Gilbert Scott, Mr. George Gilbert Scott, and Mr. Slater, for the admirable way in which they co-operated, so that their care has given to posterity this admirable instance in which a lost specimen of architectural art has been reproduced by successful copying. But the satisfactory nature of the work is chiefly due to the preservation of those careful studies of the original which were made by Mr. Joseph Butler.

In 1867 the wall enclosing the library in the lady-chapel was removed, and three years later, with the consent of the Duke of Richmond, the floor was lowered to its original level and the chapel restored in memory of Bishop Gilbert. Soon afterwards the windows were provided with new stained glass.

During the last half of the nineteenth century several small portions of the building were repaired, restored, or rebuilt. The cloister was carefully restored by the late Mr. Gordon M. Hills. More recently the roof of the lady-chapel, the two eastern pinnacles of the choir as well as those two lower ones to the chapels of S.M. Magdalen, and S. Catherine, have been restored by his son Mr. Gordon P.G. Hills, A.R.I.B.A., with much care and consideration for the fabric of which he is the surveyor. The latest act affecting the history of the building has been the addition of a new north-western tower to take the place of the unsightly rents and wreckage that have disfigured and helped to destroy the structure at that part during the last two hundred years. It was designed by the late Mr. J.L. Pearson, R.A.