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ALAN OF WALSINGHAM

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century monkish designers, and chiefly to Alan of Walsingham, the sacrist who became prior of the monastery, that the cathedral owes much of the work for which it is notable among the fanes of Europe. Alan of Walsingham it was who designed the great octagon in which, it is said, "elegance, magnificence, and strength are so happily blended that it is impossible to determine in which respect it is the most admirable"; and again, that there exists no other building in which " "the characteristics of power and beauty are so harmoniously

blended into a complete unity of design." To the same inspired architect is due the admirable design of the first three bays of the choir; the Lady Chapel with its magnificent decorated work and splendid sculptures; Prior Crauden's Chapel, the Fair Hall, and other notable portions and adjuncts of the cathedral. He was buried "before the Choir," and tradition says that a large worn marble slab in the centre of the nave marks the position of his tomb. The Cotton MS. contains his epitaph, which has vanished from the slab. It is

Y

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contained in the last ten of some lines of which Dean Stubbs

gives the following translation:

"These things ye may at Ely see,

The Lantern, Chapell of Saint Marie,
A windmill mounted up on high,
A vineyard yielding wine yearly;
A simple folk whom bridges guard,
High lands enrich, and rivers ward:
Its name does come, so old men say,
From throng of eels in water-way :
Of all the wealth of many lands
This wonder choir before all stands,
Which Brother Alan raised on high,
Let travelled men his fame deny :
A Sacrist good and Prior benign,
A builder too of genius fine:
The Flower of Craftsmen, Alan Prior,
Now lies entombed before the Choir;
For twice ten years built, Sacrist, he,
Then Prior crowned all in twenty-three:
A Sextry Hall he made from ground,
And Mepal, Brame, Church manors found:
And when one night the old Tower fell
This new Tower built, yea, mark it well;

So now to end his labours great

God gives him seat in Heaven's high gate."

The "old" tower referred to in the above lines was a square Norman tower which, in the year 1322, fell and greatly damaged several adjoining arches. Its collapse is reported in Liber Eliensis to have sorely troubled Alan of Walsingham, who for a time was at a loss to know how the damage could be repaired. But "taking courage, and putting his whole trust in the help of God and His most Holy Mother Mary, and also in the merits of the Holy Virgin Etheldreda," he eventually set to work on the restoration of the church, and in the end accomplished an architectural success which has made his name famous for all time. Having cleared away the fallen masonry, he designed eight stone columns to support the entire buildings,

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ELY CATHEDRAL

CHAP.

and found a firm foundation for them, the chronicler says, "on solid rock." And so was brought about the erection of that magnificent octagon which has no equal in the "vast treasury of mediæval art.”

It is impossible to give a satisfactory general description of Ely Cathedral. Its beauty is such as can only be depicted, and that must be left to abler hands than mine. I can only wonder and be thankful, and wander in a kind of waking dream from nave to chapel, from choir to tomb. I stand by Ovin's Cross, that old Saxon stone erected to the memory of Etheldreda's steward, and re-echo the prayer inscribed upon it, "Grant, O God, to Ovin light and rest." Wonderfully preserved Norman work in the long transepts sets me mentally restoring the church begun by the first Norman abbot of Ely; after gazing up at the vaulted roof of the octagon my thoughts naturally stray to Alan of Walsingham's tomb. Beautiful sculptures, mouldings, and arcadings testify that not only could the Ely monastery boast of architects with master minds, but that its abbots knew where to go for masons of wondrous skill whose hearts were in their work. From chapel to chapel, from tomb to tomb I pass, conjuring up visions of the saints and bishops whose names they bear; and at last my eyes grow weary of deciphering half effaced inscriptions and peering into shadowy and dimly-lighted recesses. So I return to the sunlit street, and, passing under the old gatehouse—the Ely Porta or Walpole Gate-stroll among the ruins and restored portions of the monastery whose inmates have left such marvellous evidence of their zeal, patience, and skill. The further I go, and the more I see, the greater is my wonder at the priceless and incomparable possessions of this staid old town. And before I leave Ely I am compelled to re-enter the cathedral, for its beauty possesses me, and for a long time will let me think of nothing else. Where the shadows steal slowly up the tall columns and across the floor of the aisles, I stay until the vergers are ready to close the doors and leave the cathedral to

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nave.

those silent ones who alone may sleep within its walls. And again, next morning, I am irresistibly drawn to it, and I spend an hour in studying the fine paintings of the tower roof and "The sacred history of man from his creation by the Word of God to the final consummation in the glorified humanity of the Son of Man reigning in majesty" is the grand subject of the nave roof paintings, and amazement is often expressed at the fact that they are the work, not of "professional artists" or Academicians, but of "two English

country squires," Mr. Henry Styleman Le Strange, of Hunstanton Hall, and Mr. Gambier Parry, of Highnam Court. Such work testifies that now, as in the past, there are men for whom the work they accomplish is their sufficient reward. "Sit splendor Domini Dei nostri super nos, et opera manuum nostrarum dirige super nos, et opera manuum nostrarum dirige," were the words Mr. Le Strange inscribed at the west end of the roof when he began his painting; "Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomine tuo da gloriam," were the words with which Mr. Gambier Parry finished it.