The cathedral is best entered through the handsome porch in Tom Quad which was cut by Mr. Bodley through one of the canonical houses; in order, perhaps, to announce that the old rÉgime had passed away, and the time at last arrived when "the teachers of theology no longer dwell on the ruins of the church they should protect," as a writer fifty years back had half-despairingly foretold. This porch is a happy compromise between the old heart-breaking descent into a half-ruined nave, and the rather impossible scheme of continuing the church into the middle of the Quad. The former spoilt the cathedral, the latter would have spoilt the college; but by the present arrangement the church serves very creditably for both its purposes, and one may well spend a day there without remembering what Wolsey did to the nave.

On entering the cathedral itself the visitor finds himself in a kind of narthex which is in fact the ante-chapel of a college chapel. Before him is the organ-screen, the entrance under which is veiled by a curtain at service time; on either side he has a glimpse of the aisles. The effect is peculiar, but not unpleasant, although the ante-chapel is a bare bit of modern restoration, wisely left unsculptured, and unrelieved except for some monuments, of which one may gratefully say that they are best where they are. But passing under the screen, all is changed. We find ourselves in one of the most charming and distinctive interiors of a country of interesting churches. The curious and happy arrangement of the great pillars and triforium, the variety and originality of the sculptured capitals, the rich pendent vaulting of the choir, and the touch of mystery in the further chapels, all combine to give to this creation of a long and chequered history an attraction peculiarly its own.

Yet the same bluntness of aspect which impresses one in the spire is the leading characteristic of the interior also. Only in this case the effect is not part of the original plan, but is due to the destruction by Wolsey of the three Western bays. Things must have seemed far worse before the new western bay added twenty feet to the nave, and brought the church right back to the cloister around Tom Quad, for though it only serves as an ante-chapel, it yet helps considerably to break the enclosed appearance, which must have been almost oppressive before.

As it is, Christ Church is the smallest of our cathedrals; for even with the new ante-chapel it measures but 175 feet in length. Instead of being of the usual cruciform plan, it is now almost square,—in fact, the length from the reredos to the organ-screen is 132 feet, while the breadth across from the Latin Chapel to St. Lucy's Chapel is 108 feet. The church is made up of the shortened nave with its two aisles, and ante-chapel, the central tower, the north transept with its one aisle, the south transept, and the eastern half of the church, which itself contains no less than six divisions,—the choir, with its two aisles, the Lady Chapel on the north, and the Latin Chapel (or St. Catherine's) on the north again of that, while on the south is the small chapel of St. Lucy.

If the unusual appearance of the cathedral is partly due to Wolsey's destruction, it is partly due also to its being used as a college chapel, and partly to the fact that in general plan, and to some extent in detail, it is Ethelred's design, commenced seventy years before the great developments of Norman architecture began. Ethelred himself probably only completed the choir and adjacent parts, and even there the work was very much altered in late Norman times; while the nave itself seems to be principally Norman (though built in imitation of Ethelred's work), with the exception of the pillars, which must be earlier than the Norman restoration, and may be of Saxon date, though we have no documentary clue as to what happened from the reign of Canute to that of Henry I., except that the church was, during the latter part of the time, in a very bad way.

The following are Mr. Park Harrison's conclusions as to the general plan of the church, which he set before the British ArchÆological Association in 1892:—"The design of the building is clearly derived from the original pre-Norman church. The uniformity of plan throughout affords a remarkable instance of the way in which early church-builders imitated previous work, the process being, at Oxford, slow enough to make stages in the construction, that must have occupied instead of thirty years, as stated in the explanatory cards suspended in the cathedral, and quoted in some of the guide-books, at least 160. There were three changes in the profiles of the bases, and three in the abaci, all before the years 1170 or 1180."

Thus the cathedral is a most important evidence of the high state of civilisation at which our Anglo-Saxon forefathers gradually arrived after the landing of St. Augustine. It is some satisfaction to our national pride to discover that they did not owe their culture to the Norman settlement, nor worship in wooden sheds before the arrival of the Conqueror, as was till recently supposed; but that the people who produced poets like Caedmon, artists like Dunstan, and scholars like Alfred and Bede, were also able to build churches worthy of such great names. More will be said about their workmanship when we come to discuss the capitals in the choir, but here we may refer the reader to a drawing in Mr. Harrison's pamphlet, "The Pre-Norman Date," of the apse of a church from the "Dunstan" MS., which shows at what elaborate architecture the Anglo-Saxons had arrived by the year 1000, and illustrates the curious foliage found on the cathedral capitals.

The Nave was probably completed during the priorate of Robert of Cricklade (c. 1160-1180), the restoration being begun shortly after 1158, when the Pope's charter was secured. The clerestory, which is transitional, may therefore have been still unfinished at the time of his death.

The remarkable arrangement of the triforium is characteristic of all the four main divisions of the church. From the large pillars spring circular arches worked with heavy round mouldings. Underneath these arches, not above them, is the triforium which is a blind arcade of two arches set in the tympanum beneath the main arch. The reason why there is this space under the main arch is because corbels in the form of half-capitals are set on the further side of the great pillars, a good way below the true capitals, to support the vaulting of the aisles. In this way, says Scott, "the pillars and arches have been divided, as it were, into two halves in their thickness, the half facing the aisle retaining its natural height and proportions, but that facing the central space being so raised as to embrace the triforium stage, the openings of which appear between the two ranges of arches; the clerestory ranging above." Of course, by this arrangement, the pillars avoid the low and stumpy proportions they would otherwise have, and the general effect of height in the nave (which is actually only 41 feet 6 inches) is considerably increased; for, were the triforium in the usual place above the main arches, the main pillars would not come any higher than the lower half-capitals. The arrangement is very unusual in England; though it is found in Italian Gothic, and even in Renaissance work in that country, as in St. Petronio, Bologna. It occurs in the transept of Romsey Abbey, in the choir at Jedburgh, in Dunstable Priory, and in Tewkesbury Abbey. That it existed in Saxon times is proved by a drawing in CÆdmon's Paraphrase (c. 1000) in the Bodleian (c.f. "The Pre-Norman Date"). Dr. Ingram, who wrote in 1830, thought that this arrangement was made in order to raise the height of the building in the twelfth century, the triforium being the clerestory of the old Saxon church peeping out under the later work. And though his zeal was not according to knowledge (he thought the chapter-house doorway was Saxon), yet there is a possibility that this theory of his may have some truth in it.

Until lately, the church was thought to belong altogether to Prior Guimond's time. Sir Gilbert Scott fixed the date of the rather heavily carved capital over Bishop Berkeley's monument at 1170-80, owing to its close resemblance to certain capitals at Canterbury Cathedral of this period. The others seem to be of earlier date than this, and possibly of Ethelred's time. Strange as they are, however, they do not suggest a Saxon origin so strongly as do those of the choir. They are unique in design, and have neither the massiveness of Norman, nor the crisp severity of Early English work. The light, graceful, and rather fantastic foliage of the three eastern capitals on the south side—almost like iron-work—will be noticed. The third capital on the north side bears some resemblance to two of those in the choir.

The pillars of the nave also present problems of some difficulty. They are alternately circular and octagonal, and the masonry of six of them points with something like certainty to a date considerably earlier than the twelfth century restoration. In the four western pillars the stones are a good deal smaller than those in the two octagonal ones of the next bay: this makes it highly probable that they are of earlier date than the octagonal pillars, which are certainly Norman of the period of the restoration c. 1160. Mr. Harrison believes there is also considerable evidence that the two cylindrical pillars were reduced in girth in order to make them of the same size as the octagonal pillars then introduced; for the lower half-capitals project nine inches on either side beyond the pillars, while in those of the choir, which are unreduced, their projection is only five. There is also reason to suppose that the other pair of octagonal pillars, those by the organ-screen, were cut out of older ones at the same time.

The clerestory windows are transitional, as is proved among other things by their being pointed, for purely Æsthetic reasons, and not (as in the case of the north and south tower-arches) from any structural necessity. Each window has a smaller blind arch on either side of it, making a triple opening within to a single window in the wall; and the shafts of this triple opening are made to carry small attached shafts which bear the arches above. The capitals of the larger and lower shafts spread in an unusual manner, having to support a mass of walling.

The Roof is a fine example of sixteenth century woodwork, and doubtless replaced a simpler Norman roof of wood; but the brackets which support it were added later to the Norman shafts, in order to carry a Perpendicular vault of stone, which was never carried out. It is divided into small panels, whose ornament, though rich, is rather mechanical.

The nave and choir are used as the College Chapel of Christ Church. In the returned stalls by the organ-screen sit the two censors; most of the undergraduates occupy the benches of the nave (which are modern woodwork carved by Chapman after Sir G.G. Scott's designs), as far as the raised seats where the choir sits; the central benches under the tower are reserved for the freshmen; while the dean, canons, students (i.e., fellows), and graduates fill the stalls of the choir, the other seats of the choir being occupied by the Scholars. The public use the aisles, transepts, and chapels on Sundays, but on weekdays are free of the nave for the two special cathedral services.

Monuments of the Nave.—Berkeley's monument is attached to one of the north pillars, which it entirely defaces. George Berkeley was Bishop of Cloyne, and died in 1753, during a visit to Oxford; he was as good as he was famous, and his monument is as large as it is ugly. The epitaph, though not altogether untrue, and doubtless well meant, has the unfortunate effect of prepossessing the reader against its subject,—Si Christianus fueris, si amans patriae, utroque nomine gloriari potes Berkleium vixisse. Beneath is inscribed the quotation from Pope,—

"To Berkeley every virtue under heaven."

On the pier by the pulpit the talented Dean Aldrich is commemorated by a bust, which shows him to have had a very good face, and bears by way of further adornment a winged skull that is quite unnecessarily hideous. Aldrich has been already referred to: he was the architect of Peckwater and All Saints, the composer of many well-known anthems and services, the author of the once standard "Oxford Logic," and "a most universal scholar." He succeeded Massey, the Roman Catholic dean, who had to "make off and retire across the seas" in 1689. Browne Willis says of Aldrich that "as he spent his Days in Celibacy, so he appropriated his Income to Hospitality and Generosity, and, like Bishop Fell, always encouraged learning; as a celebrated Author tells us, 'to the utmost of his Power, being one of the greatest then in England, if we consider him as a Christian, or a Gentleman,' to which give me leave to add that he always had the Interest of his College at heart; of which I may experimentally say, he was an excellent Governor." He was very modest, and desired to be buried without any memorial, a wish which was at first complied with by his "thrifty nephew." Sunk into a pillar opposite is a curious old brass, to the memory of John Walrond, student, who died young in 1602.

A marble slab on the pavement in the midst of the nave commemorates Dr. Pusey, who was canon of Christ Church, in virtue of his Hebrew Professorship, and lies buried here. The Latin inscription mentions also his wife and daughter, and of him it speaks as "Professor of the Hebrew tongue, and Canon of this church (aedis), who in the peace and pity of Jesus fell asleep, September 16th, 1882, being 82 years and 24 days old."

The Organ stands on a fine Jacobean screen, dating from Duppa's time (c. 1635); it was removed here from before the choir during the restoration. The outer casing belonged to a former organ built by Father Schmidt in 1680. The present instrument was built by Willis & Son in 1884. It has four manuals and pedals, thirty-nine speaking stops, nine couplers, ten pneumatic pistons, six composition pedals, and other accessory movements. It has a very fine tone, and is well placed for sound. Its external appearance is much improved by the pretty green appliquÉ curtain which now hangs in front of the organist's seat.

The Pulpit.—Christ Church is fortunate in possessing an old oak pulpit, escaping thus the garish ventures in marble which have been disastrous to so many other cathedrals. This pulpit is Jacobean (c. 1635). It is a remarkable piece of workmanship, elaborately carved, and well designed: the grotesques on the panels should be especially noticed, as well as the light elevated canopy, surmounted by a pelican, which was at one time transferred to the episcopal throne, and has recently been restored to its original use.

The Tower is not square, the nave and choir sides being wider than those of the transepts. For this practical reason (and not because of the transitional character of the work, though transitional it is) the north and south arches are pointed, while the east and west are round-headed. The tower arches seem originally to have sprung from the imposts ornamented with trefoil leaves which can still be seen, though they were cut through when the present capitals were introduced at the time of the Norman restoration. The Norman shafts and capitals were attached to the older and ruder piers. Round these piers are the shafts of very firm and graceful proportions, their capitals decorated with foliage. The lower parts of the vaulting shafts of the great piers are cut off and finished with a narrow beading, which shows that the ritual choir originally stood here, and did not correspond with the structural choir.

The lantern, which had been blocked up, was reopened at the time of the recent improvements, and adds considerably to the appearance of the church. Its first stage is ornamented with an arcade of stout Norman shafts, whose capitals are carved with a breadth and simplicity well suited to the height at which they stand: the arcade is bounded above and below by a heavy round string course. The upper stage has another arcade, of four large round arches on each side, the corner ones pierced as windows. Above is an early sixteenth century roof: it is divided into square panels, in most of which marks of the old ornaments (in the form of Maltese crosses like those of the nave roof) can be clearly discerned. At the springing of the main arches Fifteenth Century corbels have been inserted. In the south-east pier of the tower occurs the break in the masonry which marks, it is thought, the cessation of the building operations when Ethelred was driven out of England by Sweyn. It can be clearly seen from the south choir aisle. The tooling of the masonry half way up the tower has also been found to be marked with the cross lines, which distinguish Saxon from Norman mason's work.

During Mr. Billing's restoration in 1856 a remarkable crypt was opened three feet beneath the paving of the choir between the north and south piers of the tower. This crypt, which was covered up again after investigation, was 7 feet long by 5 feet 6 inches, and just high enough for a man to stand upright; its walls were of stone, and contained aumbries or lockers at each end. There were also slight remains of indented crosses on the western side, and at the east enough was missing to suggest a doorway. The entrance to this chamber may have been through a trap-door, or by a passage leading into the east side. It was clearly not intended for sepulture, as its length was from north to south; and the absence of passages giving convenient access on each side seems to prove that it was not intended for the exhibition of relics. The most likely theory is that it was used as a secret chamber to contain the University chest, which was called the Frideswide chest, because it was kept in a secure place in this church, its keys being in the hands of certain canons by appointment of the chancellor. If this seems a very public place for a secret chamber, it must be remembered that originally it was immediately under the rood-loft, and therefore admitted of a trap-door being concealed; though the resting-place of the chest may not have been kept very secret for all we know. This crypt was probably made in Norman times, and is unique of its kind.

The Aisles of the Nave and Transepts show the progress which was made at the end of the twelfth century in vaulting: Mr. Ruskin says of the work here that it is "bad and rude enough, but the best we could do with our own wits, and no French help." Vaulting originally began with square ribs, after wards the ribs became plain half-rounds, and later were moulded Here we find good specimens of the development of all three stages. In the choir aisles the vaulting arches are partly square and the ribs on the groins half-round, of a heavy character. These ribs were inserted at a later period, as is sufficiently clear from the awkward way they are fitted to corbels at the side of the capitals which carry the vault. In the west aisle of the north transept the vaulting is the same, but lighter in character; and there are no corbels, though the fitting is still awkward. In the north aisle of the nave the vaulting is pointed but still with plain half-round ribs, a little lighter than in the transept-aisles. But in the south aisle of the nave, as the builders got on with their work to the westward, their style underwent a further development, and a pear-shaped moulding with a fillet along the edge proclaims that the Early English period had begun. With the completion of this aisle they seemed to have become bolder; for the vaulting shafts in the transepts with their unmistakable Norman capitals, and the solitary ribbed stones resting on those of the south transept, prove that they intended to go beyond the practice of Norman architects and throw a vault across the wider span of the transepts themselves. Perhaps they immediately afterwards discovered that the task was beyond them: at all events the vaulting shafts were left as they are, and the transepts have never been vaulted.

The windows of the nave and transept aisles are uniformly uninteresting. They were originally plain Norman lights, then Perpendicular, then seventeenth century Gothic, and finally "restored" by Scott, in imitation of the Perpendicular work. The windows of Dean Duppa, which they replaced, were certainly not beautiful in their tracery, as may be seen by that at the west end of the north nave aisle, which only the delightful Dutch glass of Van Ling redeems,—but they at least had some character. In the south nave aisle an attempt has been made to hark further back by the introduction of a window in Norman style; but fortunately this has not been persevered with. Only one of the original Romanesque windows remains, by which to judge the effect contemplated by the first architects; it is that containing Bishop King's portrait.

Glass in the Aisles.—The glass in the restored Perpendicular windows of the nave aisles (by Clayton and Bell) is very unsatisfactory both in colour and design. Of that in the round-headed window of the south aisle of the nave by an Irish artist (O'Connor) one can only say that it was better conceived than executed. Over the door that leads into the cloister is a half-window by Mr. Wailes.

The "Faith, Hope, and Charity" window next to this (namely, at the west end of the aisle) was Sir Edward Burne Jones' second essay here in this craft. If his first, that in St. Catherine's, the Latin Chapel, was a wonderful success, this one is a not unpleasant failure, but a failure none the less. None of the figures are very graceful; the firing seems to have gone wrong in the most important places, especially in the faces, which are coarse and expressionless, though one cannot help admiring the fortitude of Charity in carrying the bulky infant who presents his vast back to the spectator. The colour is strong, and free from the miserable timidity of the work in the Perpendicular windows,—for the whole thing is of course a work of art (and not of commerce), though an unsuccessful one,—still it fails to harmonise. The window as a whole, however, is saved by the beautiful foliage which forms the background, and by the four slender figures in the tracery.

Others have admired it more. Here, for instance, is an appreciative description from the columns of "The Builder" for April 1888:—"The figure of Hope has a greyish-blue drapery, varied in tint, and diapered with the pattern of a flower in stain. The scarf floating round the figure is sky-blue in tone and lighter than the dress. The figure of Charity has a ruby over-mantle, with a white dress underneath; while the figure of Faith has a blue dress beautifully and richly diapered, the upper portion with a sumptuous Venetian design familiar on the brocades of the sixteenth century, and the lower portion with a sprig of foliage. The tone of the backgrounds is a rich, warm green, and is very carefully painted with foliage, and the contrast yielded by the pale blue of the drapery, and the rich, warm green of the background in the two outside windows, is most harmonious and striking. The detail in this window is very elaborate, and every part of it bears traces of care and thought."

In a corner of this window is an inscription,—In Memoriam Edwardi Denison hujusce Aedis commensalis Cur amicorum, A.D. 1870. Edward Denison, nephew of the Speaker, and son of the Bishop of Salisbury, was the pioneer of those who have since founded the numerous settlements in the neglected parts of London. At a period of acute distress he convinced himself that no good could be done by sending money from the West End unless educated people could be found who would give up their lives to making friends with the poor. Accordingly he took the novel step of going to live in the East End; there he founded a club, and lived apart from the brilliant society to which he was accustomed. Besides teaching and organising, he studied carefully the social conditions of his neighbours, and many of the methods now universally practised date from his experience. Shortly after he had been elected M.P. for Newark he died, at the early age of twenty-nine, and there was "hardly a home within his district that had not some memory left of the love and tenderness of his personal charity."

In the west end of the north aisle of the nave is the last remaining relic of the glass which the Dutchman Van Ling painted in Dean Duppa's time. The rest, which filled the aisle, was removed about twenty-five years since, on the ground that it made the church too dark. There are various opinions about this window, which represents Jonah sitting under his gourd, and the town of Nineveh in the distance. We must confess to a great admiration for it; the foliage is fine and rich, and if it is a little over-strong in its green, that only makes it more characteristic of its age. And, however that may be, there cannot be two opinions as to beauty of the town in the background, which reminds one irresistibly of DÜrer; and, with its rich brown houses, bluish roofs, touches of greenery, and fair purple hills beyond, makes the right-hand light of the window a picture of which one never wearies. The whole is leaded in rectangular panes, like Bishop King's window.

Monuments of the Nave Aisles.—In the south aisle there are two monuments of interest; that of Corbet (1688) for the characteristic decoration of cupids and wreath work; that of Pococke for further reasons. Edward Pococke (1604-1691), whose bust was moved here from the north aisle by Scott, is represented with pointed beard and wearing the old tufted college cap. He was the great Arabic scholar of his day; the first text in Hebrew characters printed at Oxford was published by him, and his 420 oriental MSS. were bought by the University. Yet he was condemned, under the Commonwealth, by the Berkshire "Committee of Scandalous Ministers," on the ground of "insufficiency," his real offence being that he had used part of the Prayer Book in the public service. There are two portraits of him in the Bodleian, representing him with light hair and dark eyes; and a fig-tree which he planted still flourishes on the south side of the Professor of Hebrew's house. A striking biography of him has come down to us in a sentence—"His life appeared to me one constant calm."

The North Transept has the unnoticeable peculiarity, that it turns slightly westward. This is because the choir (into which it is built at right angles) turns a little to the north, to symbolise, it is said, the droop of our Lord's head upon the cross. The western aisle of this transept still remains; the eastern aisle has been lost in the chapels, of which it now forms the respective western bays.

The north bay of this transept bears the marks in its clerestory of late Perpendicular restoration; the carved heads on the string-course above the arch afford an interesting comparison with the Norman heads above the capitals, and are vigorous sketches of contemporary life. The capitals in this transept and those in the north aisle of the nave are strong and varied. The wooden roof of both the transepts was made in the early sixteenth century, earlier than that of the nave.

The tracery of the great north window had been altered and made ugly by the seventeenth century restorers; it was accordingly restored back to its original design by Sir Gilbert Scott.

Under this north window is a panelled tomb belonging to Henry VII.'s time. It is attributed to James Zouch, a monk of the priory, who died in 1503. In his will, dated October 16, 1503, and preserved in the Prerogative Office in London, he directs that he shall be interred under the window of the north transept, and a tomb be erected for him in the midst of the same window. He also bequeathed £30 to the convent for vaulting that part of the church, in consideration of his being there buried.

On each of the shields in the quatrefoil compartments of the tomb is an inkhorn and pen-case, indicating, it is said, that the monk was a notary or scribe by profession, though Dr. Ingram speaks of "the pen-case and inkhorn of Zouch" as an heraldic blazonry.

In the north transept aisle there are curious thin, wavy scrolls of brasses, commemorating "Leonardus Hutten," and hard by are two pleasant kneeling figures also in brasses.

Some of the monuments that disfigured the church have fortunately been removed; of these is Chantrey's great sitting figure of Cyril Jackson, which took up most of the north transept, but is now removed to the Library. Of these sequestrated monuments some have been placed in the ante-chapel; among them are the large and simple memorial of Bishop Fell, and those of Dean Gaisford (d. 1855) and Bishop Lloyd (d. 1829).

One cannot but admire the spirit which has caused so many brasses to be set up in recent years to deceased members of the House; and yet it has become an abuse which calls for serious protest. It is now so much a precedent that every member of the foundation should have a brass set up to his memory at his death, that the tribute is become mechanical, and indeed it would now be a marked slight if any don should die without a memorial brass being erected. At this rate the cathedral will in a few generations be entirely defaced unless the tradition be interrupted. As it is, the brasses are all the reverse of beautiful; and, after a period of lacquered obtrusiveness, they become leprous, and afterwards black. A modern brass, indeed, defaces a wall as much as a modern tablet. Surely some more beautiful form of memorial could be devised. The cathedral is in need of many things, of colour, and hangings, and furniture. Could not those tributes of respect take in the future this more honourable form? Then, when an inscription is necessary, the enamelled tablet, with its endless possibilities of jewel-like colour, might be used in place of brass or marble. Something has already been done by the erection of the beautiful eastern windows, and the cathedral has been fortunate in escaping an eruption of episcopal tombs; but latterly there has been an epidemic of brasses, which makes one fear that the artist's work is being forgotten in the temptation to set off an epitaph with a display of Latinity.

Glass in the Transepts.—The great window of the north transept is by Clayton and Bell. Mr. Tyrwhitt says of it that it "glows with all the fires which a fervid fancy can bestow upon the inwards of the Dragon."

The glaring glass in the clerestory of the north and south transepts is by Henri and Alfred GÉrente (1854), artists famous in their day. It was originally in the great east window (now destroyed), and must have thrown the members of the House into a stupor when in that prominent position. As it is, the clerestory windows are a very inappropriate place for colour, violent enough to "scare a chameleon"; though the glass was evidently put there as the least conspicuous position. It might now be taken out and buried, on the chance that time and the earth may have a mellowing effect.

The half-window above the vestry in the south transept is filled with glass, coloured to look as if it were old, by Clayton and Bell, and given in memory of Dr. Liddon.

The South Transept was originally on the same plan as the north, but its aisles have disappeared: that on the west to make room for the cloister; while that on the east is now represented by the chapel of St. Lucy. Its appearance has also been much altered by the division of its southern bay into two stories, which reduces its length, since the lower story is the slype or passage that leads from the cloister to the cemetery, and is therefore to all intents and purposes outside the church. The upper story is reached by steps from the transept floor. The whole of this curious structure, which has the appearance of a small house built into the transept, is a modern restoration, its immediate predecessor having been literally a house where dwelt the verger and his family. In earlier times, however, there had been some kind of erection here, which was used as a sacristy, and of this traces were found by Gilbert Scott which led to the present restoration. As these traces, however, consisted principally of some fragments of a staircase, the present Early English restoration is only conjectural. On the whole it is tolerable, though the heavy and unnecessary central buttress one may well suppose not to be part of the old design. Why the slope of this buttress, which stands in the middle of the transept, should be so stoutly protected against the weather, it is hard to imagine. The carving on the tympanum over the door that leads into the slype is stiff and repulsive. Just to the right of this door is a holy water stoup, very simply cut into the pillar, which proves that this entrance from the slype was usual in old times, when the monastic buildings lay on that side of the church; at present, however, the door is commonly kept locked.

The chamber above the slype, representing the old sacristy, is now used as a vestry. It is reached from the transept, and a staircase in it leads to the gallery above, whence in all probability a door led straight into the dormitory of the monastery. A similar arrangement to this existed at Bristol, which was also an Augustinian house; and there are traces of a door in the wall of Canon Sanday's house which further substantiate the conjecture. Some direct access to the church from the dormitory was a great convenience in the days when matins was said in the middle of the night.

The gallery is now used as a kind of museum for any odd fragments that are discovered in the precincts. Among them is the quaintly carved base of a Norman cross, which before the Reformation stood, together with a pulpit, at the west end of the nave, near the place now occupied by the fountain. The subjects represented are the Fall, Abraham's Sacrifice, the Giving of the Law.

The open triforium directly over the Lyttleton monument in this transept is an important relic of the second Saxon church, and a good instance of the slight things which sometimes turn the scales in antiquarian disputes. Professor Willis had in 1840 pronounced (as against Dr. Ingram, whose pet theory it was that the triforium was the clerestory of Ethelred's church) that the triforium must be of Norman design, because no grooves could be found for the insertion of glass in the shafts, as would be the case if it were Saxon.

Mr. Harrison accordingly, in December 1891, made a close examination of the shaft and small arches in the open triforium which had struck him as of Saxon character, with the result that the grooves for glass were discovered to exist beyond a doubt, but so neatly stopped with mortar as previously to have escaped notice. They can be clearly discerned inside the arches, by anyone with good sight, from the floor of the church. The base of the shaft which carries these arches is equally decisive, for it is "pudding shaped," entirely different from the other bases, and most unmistakably Saxon: it also can be seen from the floor, but is worth an inspection from the gallery over the choir-vestry, whence there is also an impressive view of the church. With this exception, the triforia and clerestories of the transepts are similar to those of the nave, though Saxon tooling has been found on the wall, and there is a break in some of the masonry on the angle shaft near the vestry door, which possesses a Saxon base. The principal arches of the clerestories are not pointed, which proves that the transepts were rebuilt earlier than the nave. Two corbels on the east side of the transept mark the site of a musicians' gallery which once projected beyond the triforium.

St. Lucy's Chapel in the second bay of the old south transept aisle was used as a vestry in the days when the transept was devoted to domestic purposes. It must have ruined the effect of this part of the church, and formed an extremely inconvenient vestry. Now the chapel is used, not very appropriately, as a baptistery; it contains a font, well designed and carved, which was executed in 1882. It is Norman or earlier, with the exception of the eastern wall, which was rebuilt in order to hold the present beautiful window. This window is of an uncommon type; the three lights, less than half the height of the tracery above them, commence considerably below the spring of the arch. The tracery, which reminds one of that in Dorchester Abbey, a few miles away, is flamboyant in character, suggesting the form which the decadence of Gothic architecture took in France; only in this case it is a decadence that is vigorous as well as graceful.

The chapel recalls the time when King Charles held his court in Christ Church, at the time of the Civil War, many cavalier knights being buried here.

Monuments of the South Transept and Chapel.—There are the tombs of several prominent royalists in the transept as well as in St. Lucy's little chapel, most of which might well be spared were it not for their historic interest. That of Viscount Grandison, for instance, consists of an urn on a pedestal, altogether huge and hideous; yet Grandison was a brave and doubtless a graceful cavalier, who died in Oxford of wounds received in the attack on Bristol in 1643. Another ugly, big monument is that of Sir E. Littleton, keeper of the Great Seal, who took up arms "for the royal majesty, during the execrable siege of this city." Sir John Smith is also buried here: he "redeemed the banner royal" at the battle of Edgehill, was knighted on the field by the King, and died of his wounds in 1644, at the early age of twenty-eight.

A very odd monument is that to Viscount Brouncker, who died in 1645, having been chamberlain to the young Charles, then Prince of Wales. A smartly dressed gentleman and his wife are represented seated in meditative attitudes, each with an elbow on the table, while between their two elbows is propped a skull.

In the tracery of St. Lucy's chapel is to be found the finest old glass in the cathedral. It belongs to the year 1330, or thereabouts, and enables one to imagine what the church must have looked like when glass of this magnificent description abounded, and hangings and altar-pieces and wall-paintings, hardly less rich, filled every conspicuous position. In the uppermost compartment of the tracery is a figure of our Lord seated in glory; below there are angels with censers, and next two Augustinian monks in blue and white robes, kneeling with outstretched arms; then come coats of arms, and various grotesque beasts, all most richly coloured in ruby and blue and green and gold. Below, in the principal spaces, are (1) St. Martin on horseback giving his coat to the beggar; (2) the martyrdom of St. Thomas À Becket: St. Thomas' head has been knocked out by some fanatic, and replaced with white glass; the armour and shields of the knights should be noticed; (3) St. Augustine, who holds a pastoral staff, is teaching his monks and others. In the next four spaces are:—The head of a king; St. Cuthbert, carrying the head of St. Oswald, and wearing a green chasuble; St. Blaise, in a mulberry-coloured chasuble; the head of a queen. The glass in the three main lights was destroyed, and then replaced by some of seventeenth century work, but this too is now gone, all except a portion of the upper part, which shows that the design was architectural in character, and the colour that of fog-smitten stone-work.

The Choir is in four bays with a presbytery; it is in the same style as the rest of the church, with the exception of the Perpendicular alterations in the upper part. It was formerly filled with heavy, ugly woodwork, and half way up all the pillars may be traced the modern stone-work which had to be inserted when the stalls and panelling that had encased the pillars were removed. Not a wreck of the old wood remains, and the choir is now seated with walnut-wood stalls by Farmer and Brindley, along which runs a light iron screen, very carefully wrought by Skidmore of Birmingham in 1871. It is copied from Queen Eleanor's tomb in Westminster Abbey. The pavement relaid in 1871 contains representations of the cardinal virtues, copied from the church of the Knights of St. John at Malta. Yet there were original artists to be found twenty-five years ago!

The pillars of the choir are larger than those of the nave, which appear to have been reduced in girth (see p. 54). They are (according to the theory of p. 9) part of Ethelred's church, dating from the first decade of the eleventh century; but their bases belong to the Norman restoration, and were probably put in by Cricklade. The triforium is also Late Norman, here as throughout the church, with the single exception of the one window in the south transept.

It is in the capitals of the choir that the most striking evidence of Saxon work in the church is said to lie. Thus they are of remarkable interest, besides being very fine specimens of stone-carving. If the visitor sits in a stall in the middle of the south side of the choir he will have the three most important capitals before him, and can study them at leisure. One striking feature common to them all is that they bear very evident traces of having been worn by the weather. It has been found by Mr. Drinkwater that the stone of which they are made is too durable to have been affected by the atmosphere while under cover; which would prove that they must have been in their present position exposed to the driving rains from the south, during the long period when the church was in ruins, that is to say, before the restoration of the twelfth century.

Another significant feature which these three capitals have in common, not only with each other but with all the others in the choir, is that their abaci are extremely thick, just twice as thick as those in the transepts and nave; and thick abaci are a mark of early work.

Their ornamentation is remarkable, partly Saxon and partly Oriental in character, and said to be unlike Norman work. Sir Gilbert Scott himself noticed the latter characteristic of these and other capitals in the church. "The foliated ornament," he wrote, "assumes a noble character, evidently evincing a study of the ancient Greek, which was effected through a Byzantine medium." We have already seen, in the History of the Cathedral, how this Byzantine influence is to be accounted for by the fact that Greek clergy flocked to the court of Ethelred's brother-in-law Richard; and further, it must be noted that many illuminated MSS. of Saxon date show that Greek ornament was admired and studied at the time. Professor Westwood, in his "Lapidarium," points out that in Saxon art the designs of stone-carving are so completely identical with those in the MSS. as to lead us to suppose that the artists of the illuminated drawings were also the designers of the architecture. So much is this the case that, "the age of a particular MS. being ascertained, we are able approximately to determine also the age of the carving." Professor Westwood was, in fact, among the first to be convinced of the Saxon origin of the capitals we are discussing.

It is worth while to give a few illustrations of this very important point. The first capital from the tower on the north side of the choir is ornamented with that curious spuma or wave-shaped work which has just the dip and swing of a wave of the sea as it curls over before breaking.

In a Psalter of the beginning of the eleventh century (B.M. Har. 2904) is to be found precisely the same vivid conventionalism. 2

The second capital is the most curious one in the church, and is also the most strikingly Saxon, the stalks issuing from pipes or tubes being as characteristic almost of Saxon as interlaced work is of Celtic art.

Standing immediately under this capital, one is able clearly to discern the faces on the corner volutes, which have each a crown of leaves like one found in the famous tenth century "Dunstan" MS. in the British Museum. One of these faces is that of a man, very heavy and stupid-looking; the other that of a comely woman. It is hardly fanciful to suppose that they are portraits of the blundering Ethelred and his wife Emma.

The third capital is decorated with some branching work hardly less curious, and above it is a head wearing the unbifurcated mitre, which dropped out of use in the eleventh century. Of the three capitals on the south side of the choir, which do not bear the same signs of weathering, one has branching work, and the other two reworked leafage, such as is found also in one on the north side of the nave.

As for the triforium and the rest of the work of the choir, it was all so much restored in the twelfth century that one cannot find in it any sign of pre-Norman work.

The pendent ceiling is one of the most striking features of the cathedral, and is worth careful study. Ferguson considers this work to be the most satisfactory attempt ever made to surmount the great difficulty presented in all fan-tracery by the awkward, flat, central space which is left in each bay by the four cones of the vault. At Gloucester, King's College Chapel, Cambridge, Henry VII.'s Chapel, Westminster, and other places, various attempts were made to deceive the eye, and hide the unmanageable space; in Henry VII.'s Chapel the well-known pendants were boldly introduced with this object. None were wholly satisfactory, but, says Fergusson:—

"Strange as it may appear from its date, the most satisfactory roof of this class is that erected by Cardinal Wolsey in the beginning of the sixteenth century [this is a mistake, the roof having been built some time before] over the choir of Oxford Cathedral. In this instance the pendants are thrust so far forward, and made so important, that the central part of the roof is practically quadripartite. The remaining difficulty was obviated by abandoning the circular, horizontal outline of true fan-tracery, and adopting a polygonal form instead. As the whole is done in a constructive manner and with appropriate detail, this roof, except in size, is one of the best and most remarkable ever executed."

Fan-tracery is a peculiarly English feature, and was invented, according to Fergusson, in order to get rid of the endless repetition of inverted pyramids which earlier vaulting produced. He therefore considers it an improvement on the vaulting of the early English and Decorated periods; and, as he thinks the ceiling of Christ Church Cathedral to be the best example of fan-tracery, he comes near to pronouncing it the finest in the world.

It certainly must strike every observer as possessing exceptional beauty. At once rich and light, it yet accords wonderfully with the homely Norman work that it crowns, and gives a happy finish to the most important part of the cathedral. Even the lantern pendants seem more graceful than is usually the case with those strange architectural solecisms. Mr. Ruskin calls the ceiling "true Tudor grotesque, inventively constructive, delicately carved, summing the builder's skill in the fifteenth century."

The ceiling is certainly too early in design to have been built by Wolsey, as was supposed. But there are traces in the work which have led some antiquaries to suppose that, though begun about 1480, its western bay may not have been finished till the Cardinal's time, or even till the end of Henry's reign. The head on the large corbel over the Dean's stall certainly wears a Tudor crown, and is bearded. This would lead one to suppose it to be a likeness of Henry VIII.: furthermore, the face is broad but emaciated, with the beard straggling; and we learn from historians that the King did let his beard grow longer at the end of his life, when he was worn and ill, and expressed more penitence for his many misdeeds than he is generally given credit for. The woman's head on the corbel opposite, also wearing a Tudor crown, would probably be the last of his wives, Katherine Parr. The face wears the happy expression of one delivered from great anxiety.

In the arched space nearly above these heads are four canopied figures: on the north, St. Peter with his keys, and St. Mary Magdalen (suggestive of Wolsey's own college in Oxford); on the south St. Luke, over his bull (possibly because of the connection of St. Frideswide's with the healing art), and St. Catherine, holding the remains of a sword in her right hand, and retaining a fragment of the wheel in her left. St. Katherine will be found in the same attitude in a painted window of the Latin Chapel. The central bosses of the roof are interesting. Over the altar is the head of our Lord, surrounded by an aureole, the beard twisted into three points: in the next bay is the Madonna and Child, and next a graceful figure, identified as St. Frideswide by the curious sceptre with heavy foliage at the end, which she is again represented with in the middle window of the Latin Chapel. An angel is on either side of this figure. In the next bay is an archbishop (Augustine?) with his cross; and on the last a bishop (perhaps Birinus), holding his pastoral staff and supported by two figures which may be chaplains or acolytes.

The clerestory of the choir was converted into Perpendicular at the time when the roof was vaulted. The old walls were simply covered with panelling, and the old windows enlarged into Perpendicular ones.

The East End, now one of the most characteristic features of the cathedral, is the work of Sir G. Gilbert Scott, and is supposed to be a reproduction of the original twelfth century design: for enough fragments of the old work were said to remain on the walls to leave no doubt as to its original plan. Of course the detail has the usual machine-made look of modern carving; but it is something to have recovered the original effect, especially as the Decorated window which it has replaced had been spoilt in the seventeenth century, when it was altered from its original five lights to three. The design, says Mr. J.H. Parker, is very rare in England, and not common anywhere. It consists of a large wheel-window, with an intersecting arcade under it, and two round-headed windows below: the wheel-window is set in a large round arch that seems to rest on two stout pillars. This round window is an imitation of an old one in Canterbury Cathedral. The arcade has a truer and less mechanical look than most of the restored work. The whole effect of the East End is excellent; dignified and varied, it has something of that refined homeliness which is so strong a characteristic of the cathedral. The stained glass in the windows by Clayton and Bell is not at all unpleasing when seen from a distance. It is in character with the stone-work, and only just fails to be really fine in colour. Dr. Liddon and Sir John Mowbray were the donors of the glass.

It was formerly thought that the Norman presbytery was part of the original choir, and therefore presumably the earliest portion of the church; but Mr. Harrison gives the following technical reasons for holding that it was an addition to an older building with an apse, built by Ethelred:—

1. The arches of the two side windows cut through string courses which run eastwards on both sides of the presbytery, being, in fact, continuations of the abaci proper of the half-capitals at that end of the choir. 2. If the east windows were designed from fragments of previously existing Norman ones, these cannot have been of the same date as the choir arches. The mouldings are later, and the old bases of the windows still in the east wall are clearly of transitional character, differing essentially from those belonging to corner shafts in the east aisles of the transepts. 3. The east walls of the choir aisles, which had been heightened to carry the vaulting, abut against and cover the jambs of the two side windows of the presbytery on the outside, a thing which could not have happened had the presbytery and choir aisles formed part of the same design.

The Reredos, an anonymous gift, erected in 1881 in red Dumfries sandstone, is a pleasant contrast to the chilly erections which now deface so many of our cathedrals. It has been said to be "perhaps the most exquisite piece of modern workmanship in Oxford," though this would not necessarily be very high praise. But, though a little too small for

its position, a little wanting in breadth and overstrained in detail, it is a sound and sincere piece of work. Nor can we agree with the criticism which says that nothing can make it look like part of the structure, for this is the fault of the structure in its present condition; when the old colouring is revived, the reredos will certainly not be too rich for it, and there is plenty of late Gothic in the choir to harmonise with its carving. Mr. Bodley designed it, and Mr. Brindley was the sculptor of the figures. They are of marble (rosso antico), and are excellent both in feeling and execution. The central panel represents the Crucifixion, with Our Lady and St. John at the foot of the cross, and Jerusalem in the background. In the niches on the left are St. Michael in armour, and St. Stephen in a dalmatic; on the right, St. Augustine, in cope and mitre, and a very feminine looking St. Gabriel. Above the niches are carved and gilt shields bearing the emblems of the Passion. The warm effect of the whole is heightened by two handsome, green curtains on either side. The inscription, under the crucifix is Per crucem tuam libera nos Domine.

The High Altar, of cedar wood, is less successful. Its eight clumsy legs, which are the only part visible, are covered with unpleasant, geometrical carving, most inappropriately accentuated by gilding: the result is that an impression of some strange, many-legged insect fastens on one in entering the church, and is hard to dislodge. One could wish that the altar were panelled, or frontals used to cover the legs.

The two silver-gilt candlesticks are extremely fine examples of seventeenth century plate; they are rather squat in shape, with large bases richly embossed. The alms-dish which stands over the credence is also silver-gilt of the same date, magnificently embossed. These were given at the Restoration, and bear the date 1661-2. The chalices, patens, and flagons have been made to match them in more recent times. The altar books are good specimens of binding in velvet and precious metal. They were given in 1638 by Canon Henry King. On the fly-leaf of each book is a curious inscription in Latin, of which the following is a translation:—"Bequeathed to the Church of Christ, Oxford. A brand snatched from the burning, 1647, by the zealous care of R. Gardiner, Canon of Ch. Ch., but displaced from his rightful position by the greed of his times." These books were in use when Charles I. worshipped in the cathedral during the civil war.

The lectern, of ancient, pale brass enriched with filigree work, and garnished with amethyst, cornelian, and agate stones, is the gift of two former censors of the House, the Rev. T. Vere Bayne and the Rev. H.L. Thompson. The stem, surmounted by a globe and a good conventional eagle, bears the figures of St. Frideswide, Cardinal Wolsey, and Bishop King. At the base are three lions bearing the arms of the Priory, the College, and the University. The bible bears the date 1674. A beautifully illuminated lectionary on vellum, a relic of Cardinal Wolsey, and used by him in this church, can be seen in the Christ Church library.

The Bishop's Throne (in Italian walnut) is a not very inspired work of Messrs. Farmer and Brindley. It was put up as a memorial to Bishop Wilberforce, at a cost of £1000, and has a medallion of the Bishop with mitre and pastoral staff at the back.

The South Choir Aisle is of an earlier period than the nave and transept aisles, the walls being, it is thought, of Ethelred's time. A stone bench runs along its south side, adding to its bright and pleasant appearance. The southern windows were rebuilt by Scott in Norman style of a different character to the window containing Bishop King's portrait which has its original capitals and bases. The corbels which carry the vault are carved into heads of men and baboons: the vaulting ribs have been unmistakably fitted on to the earlier Norman work. The Decorated east window, which, owing to the Burne Jones glass, is such a prominent feature of the cathedral, is restored, but there is a good deal of the original ball-flower moulding around it. At the side is a late Perpendicular piscina, with bold, square flowers cut on the jambs; and on the pillars opposite there are traces of paintings, which must have been very bright-coloured once, and would very likely be so still, had it not been for Brian Duppa's wood-work.

Monuments.—There is an old brass on the wall, near the eastern end, to Stephen Pence, who died in 1587. Near this is a not very pleasing life-size medallion of Prince Leopold in statuary marble set in Sicilian marble; it was sculptured by Mr. T. Williamson of Esher. The bronze tablet, with the portrait in relief of Dr. Mackarness, the late Bishop, is very much better both in colour and design. Further west another medallion in statuary marble, set in giallo antico, commemorates Sarah Acland, the wife of Sir Henry Acland, who is an Honorary Student of the House, and was for many years Regius Professor of Medicine in the University; the Sarah Acland Home for Nurses keeps her pious memory fresh in Oxford.

The late Tudor monument to the first Bishop of Oxford, Robert King, has been removed from its former place under his window to the bay between the aisle and St. Lucy's Chapel, where it now forms a sort of small screen to the little chapel. Bishop King died in 1557; his tomb is recessed, canopied, and covered with shallow panel-work in minute divisions, but without any effigy, sculptured or incised. Though it is among the last works of the mediÆval school of monumental architecture, it is still graceful and restrained; and indeed a great contrast to the new style of monument which came in a few years later. Inscription:—Hic jacet Robertus King sacre theologie Professor et primus Ep'us Oxon. qui obiit quarto die Decembris Anno (Domini M.D. LVII).

Crossing to the north side of the choir, one reaches the beautiful cluster of chapels which add so much to the grace of the cathedral, relieving it of any grimness of aspect which its unbroken array of massive columns might otherwise have produced, and by their unaffected dissimilarity enhancing at once its historical interest and its visible charm. Here the eye wanders among pillars and arches which branch away in so many directions that the grandest churches can scarcely give more thoroughly the idea of infinity. And here one stands on the site of St. Frideswide's first little church, with the very arches that she had built for her, still standing in all their primitive simplicity. These three aisles, and the south aisle on the opposite side of the choir, are indeed eloquent of the unpretentious, lasting work that brave women have done for humanity: the latter has become, through its window, sacred to the memory of St. Catherine, whose own Latin Chapel is now for the same reason inseparably connected with St. Frideswide. St. Cecilia looks down upon the aisle next the choir, and the chapel of Our Lady is separated from it only by the monument of the Saxon maiden, while St. Lucy has given her name to the fifth and smallest of these eastern chapels. Thus has this great society of learned men taken pleasure in doing honour to the good women of Christendom.

The North Choir Aisle and the two aisles which adjoin it were lengthened one bay by the gradual inclusion of the eastern aisle of the transept. A heavy pier has been left with no attempt at decoration on the transept side but with a cluster of shafts on the side facing east; and the next pier to the north has been similarly treated. It will be noticed that the arches over these western bays of the north choir aisle and Lady Chapel, being the arches of the old transept aisle, are extremely massive; unlike anything else in the church, except the one remaining arch, is the corresponding south transept aisle (now St. Lucy's Chapel): these are therefore thought to be unrestored parts of Ethelred's works. The fact that Norman vaulting shafts have evidently been inserted into the pier walls of the aisles point also to the conclusion that the aisle was erected at a date when vaulting shafts were not in use.

At the east end there is a small arch, extremely rough, its ragstone voussoirs patched in one part with a block of modern stone. A similar arch is to be seen in the wall of the next (Lady) Chapel, and between these two are traces of another. These three arches led to one of the most interesting architectural discoveries of recent years; and one can hardly look at them unmoved, remembering that they form part of the original church which was built by St. Frideswide and her father. They were indeed the three "chancel arches" (if one may use the expression) which led into the three apses, the discovery of which we have described in our chapter on the exterior of the cathedral.

It was not till 1888 that the plaster was removed from the walls, and these arches exposed to view. It was then obvious that they had been part of a permanent church, and not merely temporary doorways for the convenience of Norman masons. Rough as they seem, to the expert they bear marks of care and repair, of having been, in fact, preserved as a specially venerated part of the church. As an instance of this, Mr. Park Harrison points out that one of the supporting stones is quite two feet long (longer than any other in the cathedral), and has Norman tooling upon it. It can scarcely be doubted, he says, that this was introduced to support the springing-stones of the arch, for there are clear signs that there had been some settlement. The head of the archways, too, had been plastered. In both archways there is an impost (a projection, that is, from which the arch springs), and this impost is continued through the thickness of the wall. It will be noticed that the jambs of these arches go more than two feet below the level of the floor, which is another sign of their early date. Within the apse that was reached through the southernmost archway lay the body of St. Frideswide in its first resting-place, and for long this part seems to have been held in special veneration, until the first translation in 1180, when the relics of "The Lady" were moved into a more noted place in the church, and this apse doubtless abandoned like the other two. Somewhere here the relics were then placed (as they lie to-day in the ground beneath this chapel), but the first monument has been lost. Of the second monument, which also was lost but is found again, it is now the place to speak. But, first, it may be well to explain that what is usually called the shrine of St. Frideswide is really the marble monument, or base, upon which the shrine itself formerly rested. In the Middle Ages, relics (with the two English exceptions of Westminster and St. Albans) were preserved in a shrine, usually of metal, which was enclosed in a coffer or feretrum.

The Shrine of St. Frideswide.—Foremost in historical interest, as well as in actual beauty, are the remains of the marble monument which have recently been put together and set up in the easternmost arch between the Lady Chapel and the north choir aisle. The coffer or shrine, which was made for the translation in 1289 (its base being therefore the most ancient monument in the cathedral), was knocked to pieces at the Reformation (1538), and, being of wood, must have entirely perished. But gradually, and from different places, fragments of the base were brought together: first, several pieces of delicately carved marble were discovered in the sides of a square well in the yard south-west of the cathedral; then a part of the plinth on the south side was found to be in use as a step, luckily with the carved portion turned inwards; next, a spandrel was detected by Mr. Francis, the head verger, in the wall of the cemetery; and last of all a piece of the plinth was found in a wall in Tom Quad. Though some portions are still wanting, it is not impossible that more may yet be found.

As the monument stands now, it cannot, of course, impress one as it would have done in its perfect state, with the rich superstructure crowning it: especially as the restored shafts are merely square stone supports of the clumsiest description, so studiously careful has the restorer been not to confuse them with the original work. One cannot but applaud this conscientious spirit (would, indeed, that it had been adopted earlier!), but at the same time the modern supports have been made quite unnecessarily hideous. Still, though the base of St. Frideswide's shrine is only a collection of fragments, these fragments are of remarkable beauty and interest. It is of Forest marble, measuring seven feet by three and a half; and consists of an arcade of two richly cusped arches at the sides and one at each end. On the top of this was fixed the feretrum, containing the jewelled casket that held the relics themselves. The spandrels are filled with wonderfully carved foliage, unusually naturalistic, and preserving still the traces of colour and gilding to remind one of its former glories. The plants have been identified by Mr. Druce of High Street, the well-known Oxford botanist. On the south side there is maple in the central spandrel, with a wreath of what is probably crow's-foot in a boss below: the two side spandrels contain columbine and the greater celandine. On the north side the foliage is mostly oak, with acorns and numerous empty cups; sycamore and ivy filling the adjoining spandrels. At the east end one of the spandrels contains vine leaves and grapes, the other fig-leaves, but without the fruit; the cusp under the vine has a leaf which may be that of hog-leaf. At the west end there is hawthorn and bryony. The choice of all this foliage was doubtless made for symbolical reasons, referring first to St. Frideswide's life in the oak woods near Abingdon, and next to her care for the sick and suffering at Thornberrie (now Binsey). And in this connection it is pleasant to think that the sculptor, with tender fancy, chose plants which were famous for their healing virtue.

The foliage at the angles takes the form of pastoral staves; and the intermediate spandrels at the sides have women's heads carved in the centre. The plinth, which has been set on a chamfered base and step of white stone, is ornamented with a series of quatrefoils, containing the head of a bishop at the north-west corner, and the heads of queens on the south side. Foliage, instead of a head, occupies the centre and end panels on the sides; and very delicate foliage is worked on a little roll moulding extant at two of the angles.

Here is an account of the destruction of the shrine, and the treatment of its relics, in the words of Dean Liddell 3:—

"It is a strange story. It is well known that, before the Reformation, the Church of St. Frideswide and her shrine enjoyed a high reputation as a place of sanctity. Privileges were conceded to it by royal authority. Miracles were believed to be wrought by a virtue attaching to it; pilgrims from all parts resorted to it,—among the number we find the name of Queen Catherine of Aragon, whose visit to the shrine shows the veneration in which it was held. Twice a year the Vice-Chancellor and principal members of the University visited the church in solemn procession, being considered (as we are told) the 'Mother Church of University and town,—there to pray, preach, and offer oblations at her shrine.'

"These practices and privileges not unnaturally seemed to the zealous Reformers of those times to call for summary interference. The old superstitions, which certainly gave rise to many abuses, must, they thought, be abated at once; nothing but strong measures would avail to withdraw the minds of the people, nurtured as they were in absolute belief in these superstitions, from belief in them. Accordingly, we cannot be surprised to find that this famous shrine was doomed to destruction, and was actually destroyed. When this happened it is not easy to determine,—probably in the time of Henry VIII. The fragments were used either at the time, or not long afterwards, to form part of the walls of a common well; and there we found them. The reliques of the Saint, however, were rescued by some zealous votaries, and carefully preserved in hope of better times. Meantime Catherine (the wife of Peter Martyr, a foreign Protestant theologian of high repute, who had been appointed Regius Professor of Theology here) died, and was buried near the place lately occupied by the shrine. Over her grave sermons were preached, contrasting the pious zeal of the German Protestant with the superstitious practices that had tarnished the simplicity of the Saxon Saint. Then came another change. The Roman Church under Mary Tudor recovered a brief supremacy. The body of Peter Martyr's wife was (one regrets to learn), by order of Cardinal Pole, contemptuously cast out of the church, and the remains of St. Frideswide, preserved, as I have said, by the piety of her devotees, were restored to their former resting-place. But it does not appear that any attempt was made to restore the shrine. Party zeal still prevailed. Angry contests continued between the adherents of the two parties even after the accession of Elizabeth.

"In consequence, the Queen, soon after her accession, ordered Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Grindal, Bishop of London, to look into this and other matters in dispute between the adherents of the Roman Church and those of the Reformed Faith; and these eminent ecclesiastics commissioned the authorities of this House to remove the scandal that had been caused by the inhuman treatment of Catherine Martyr's body. The matter was conducted by James Calfhill, lately appointed to a stall in this church, and then acting as sub-dean. In a letter to Bishop Grindal he gives an account of the ceremony that took place. He was resolved, if we may judge from his action, not to give a triumph to either party. On Jan. 11th, 1561, O.S., the bones of the Protestant Catherine and the Catholic St. Frideswide were put together, so intermingled that they could not be distinguished, and then placed together in the same tomb. This solution of the difficulty could not have been displeasing to the great Queen, who had been consistently endeavouring rather to win over her opponents by conciliation than to crush them by persecution. We may well suppose that she approved of the act of our Dean and Chapter. Death is the great reconciler; enmities should, at all events, be buried with the dead."

Calfhill, the sub-dean, wrote two epigrams on the burial of Catherine Martyr with St. Frideswide. The first ends thus: Ergo facessant hinc rabida impietas, inde superstitio; the other thus: Nunc coeant pietas atque superstitio. Perhaps these apparently contradictory sentiments led Isaac Disraeli (in his account of this curious transaction, which he selects in his "Amenities of Literature" as an illustration of the mutability of time) to remark that Calfhill "seems to have been at once a Catholic and a Reformer." Sanders the Jesuit was indignant at the "impious epithet," which he says was added, hic jacet religio cum superstitione; "although," says old Fuller, "the words being capable of a favourable sense on his side, he need not have been so angry."

The exact spot where the bones of The Lady now rest is supposed to be marked by a brass on the floor of the Lady Chapel, lately placed there by Canon Bright. But we can only be certain that, somewhere in this part of the church, "the married nun and the virgin saint," to use Froude's words, "were buried together, and the dust of the two still remains under the pavement inextricably blended."

The Lady Chapel, which is the aisle next to the north choir aisle, is sometimes called "the Dormitory," because many of the canons are buried here: the word being a literal translation of the Greek coemeterium (sleeping-place), applied to the catacombs of Rome. It was enlarged, with the Early English pillars and vaulting of the period, in the thirteenth century. The shafts are filleted, and the capitals carved in the characteristic curling foliage. It owes its position possibly to the original dedication of the eighth century church; though the Elder Lady Chapel of Bristol Cathedral, another Augustinian house, is similarly situated. Its eastern wall proves that it must have already existed long before the thirteenth century. The most casual observer will also be struck by the ingenuous clumsiness with which it has been patched together. There is a fine Decorated four-centred window at the East End, restored to its present condition from the mean two-light window that the seventeenth century had made of it: underneath, at the side of the blocked-up Saxon doorway, is a once richly coloured piscina, the outer moulding much damaged. The roof and arches of the second bay from the east bears many traces of colouring, which show among other things that the capitals were all painted green alike, the abaci red, and the ribs of the vault and arches red, green, and perhaps other colours. The figures of angels can be made out on the roof, a swinging censer being particularly clear. A glance from here at the high altar makes one realise how much more bright and strong the old colour was, and is indeed even now, than the modern. This decoration proves that in the second bay stood something of particular importance. It is generally agreed now that this was not the shrine of St. Frideswide but the altar of Our Lady, for shrines were placed behind and not before the altars. Such an arrangement would leave the eastern bay of the chapel free for the two shrines, the large one (commonly called the "Watching Chamber") and the small one recently discovered and placed opposite to it under the south-east arch. The fact that this arch is also coloured, and is the only other part which is thus treated, goes to prove that the small shrine did originally stand where it now is. Another sign is that the pillar nearest to the east end of it has been cut away, evidently to allow of a free passage round the shrine.

The Lady Chapel is divided from the Latin Chapel by four arches. Of these the first, being part of the original transept aisle, is very plain and massive, without mouldings and of one order; it springs from a square pier with shafts at the corners, and has an extremely broad soffit. It is almost beyond doubt part of Ethelred's church, and proves that the transept was finished early. The second arch is Early English, cut irregularly through the wall, which bears traces of a round arch above it. The first of the four arches which separate this chapel from the north choir aisle is similar to the one just described. The rest are very obtuse; for the two eastern bays of the Lady Chapel are two feet wider than the others, perhaps in order to increase the accommodation for worshippers at the shrine of St. Frideswide.

The "Watching Chamber."—Next in interest to the "shrine," and far more imposing in appearance, is the large tomb or watching chamber under the easternmost arch between the Lady Chapel and the Latin Chapel. Its real nature is still a matter of dispute: some maintaining it to have been used as a chantry chapel for the welfare of those who were buried below; others that it served as a "watching chamber" to protect the gold and jewels which hung about the shrine of St. Frideswide. But there is much likelihood that is was built for the new shrine of St. Frideswide, when the growing taste for elaboration in architecture tired of the comparative simplicity of the old one. If this be the case, the "watching chamber" would be in reality the third and last monument of St. Frideswide, the second being that already described, while of the first (that made for the Translation of 1180) no trace remains. The feretrum would have been removed from its position on the second monument, and placed within the little wooden chapel of the chamber.

Most elaborately carved and crocketed, the "watching chamber" is a beautiful example of full-blown Perpendicular workmanship; "most lovely English work, both of heart and hand," according to Mr. Ruskin. It consists of four stories, the two lower, in stone, forming an altar tomb and canopy, and the two upper in wood. A door from the Latin Chapel leads one up a small and well-worn stone staircase into the interior of the little upper chapel, which is now a rough wooden room. Its extreme roughness suggests that it was once panelled and otherwise adorned, while there are marks at its east end, which may be the site of an altar, or of the feretrum itself.

The "watching chamber" belongs to the turn of the fifteenth century, and may have been erected in 1500, under the patronage of Archbishop Morton, the inventor of "Morton's fork," who died in that year, having been Chancellor of the University, and a great benefactor of it. The stone altar-tomb is of rather earlier date than the wooden superstructure, and bears the matrices of two brasses, from which one can make out enough of the horned head-dress of the female figure to settle the costume as one that remained in fashion till about 1480.

In 1889 Mr. Park Harrison explored the interior of the tomb which forms the lower portion of the "watching chamber." Entrance was effected by the removal of two steps of the staircase which leads into the Latin Chapel, and the whole space beneath the stone slab was found to be packed with carved stones and rubble. The pretty battlemented coping, which is now happily placed on the sill behind the altar of the Latin Chapel, was thus found; and also a pillar piscina of Norman date, and a fine Early English piscina, with two trefoiled arches, divided by a slender shaft with foliated cap, and profusely enriched with the tooth ornament. This latter find can now be seen lying on the slab itself.

By an accident it was discovered that what seemed to be the floor of this tomb was really the ceiling of a vault beneath. The pavement was opened in the Latin Chapel just outside the tomb, and steps were found which led to the vault through a flat four-centred doorway. In the vault was a single oak coffin, widest at the head and tapering in a straight line to the foot, like the stone coffins of an earlier period. It was apparently of fifteenth century date, and contained a body closely swathed in cerecloth; but after the coffin was opened the dust within the cerecloth rapidly subsided. The body was pronounced by experts to be that of a woman about five feet six inches in height, and was probably that of the lady in the mitred head-dress whose brass can be traced on the altar-tomb.

Monuments in the Lady Chapel.—In the bay of the west of the "watching chamber" is the tomb of Elizabeth, Lady Montacute, who gave to the Priory the large field now known as the Christ Church Meadow, in order to maintain two priests for her chantry in the Lady Chapel. There seems to be no ground for the statement that she built the Latin Chapel; in her foundation-deed she expressly directs the masses and other offices to be said "within the chapel of the Blessed Mary," and, so far from her bequest proving sufficient to build a new chapel, it was soon found inadequate for the maintenance of the two chantry priests. Lady Montacute was the daughter of Sir Peter de Montfort, and was married first to William de Montacute, by whom she had four sons and six daughters, and afterwards to Thomas de Furnival. Her monument consists of a high tomb, the sides of which are divided into three panelled compartments. In these compartments are little statuettes of her children, and her own effigy rests on the top; at the head and foot of the tomb are quatrefoiled compartments containing sacred symbols and figures. It is very beautiful, and of great interest as showing many specimens of the costume of the period; but one can hardly imagine what its splendour must have been when the rich hues, with which it is painted in every part, were fresh. The colours mentioned in the following learned description by Mr M.H. Bloxham have long tended to monochrome, and the hand of the mutilator has been unusually painstaking and systematic.

"The head of the effigy reposes on a double cushion, and is supported on each side by a small figure of an angel in an alb; these albs are loose, and not girded round the waist. The heads of these figures are defaced, and they are otherwise much mutilated. She is represented with her neck bare, her hair disposed and confined on each side, the face within a jewelled caul of network; over the forehead is worn a veil, and over this is a rich cap or plaited head-dress with nÉbulÉ folds, with a tippet attached to it and falling down behind. Her body-dress consists of a robe or sleeveless gown, fastened in front downwards to below the waist by a row of ornamented buttons. The full skirts of the gown are tastefully disposed, but not so much so as we sometimes find on effigies of the fourteenth century. The gown is of a red colour, flowered with yellow and green, and at each side of the waist is an opening, within which is disclosed the inner vest, of which the close-fitting sleeves of the arms, extending to the wrists, form part; this is painted of a different colour and in a different pattern to the gown. This was probably the corset worn beneath the open super-tunic. The gown is flounced at the skirts by a broad white border, and round the side openings, and along the border of the top of the gown, is a rich border of leaves. The hands, which are bare, are joined on the breast in a devotional attitude. Over the gown or super-tunic is worn the mantle, fastened together in front of the breast by a large and rich lozenge-shaped morse, raised in high relief. The mantle, of a buff colour, is covered all over with rondeaux or roundels connected together by small bands, whilst in the intermediate spaces are fleur de lis: all these are of raised work, and deserve minute examination. They are apparently not executed by means of the chisel, but formed in some hard paste or composition [gesso] laid upon the sculptured stone and impressed with a stamp. The feet of the effigy appear from beneath the skirts of the gown in black shoes, and rest against a dog."

Of the statuettes on each side of Lady Montacute's tomb, which are each a foot and a half high, Mr Bloxham says:—

"The first and easternmost of these, on the north side, is the most puzzling and difficult of all to describe, as regards the costume, and the more so from the mutilated state in which it now appears. It is that of a male, who is habited in a red cloak, the borders of which are jagged. This is buttoned in front to the waist by lozenge-shaped morses, and may have been the garment called the Courtepye, and discloses a short white tunic or vest, plaited in vertical folds, with a bawdrick round the body at the hips."

"Next to this is the effigy in relief of an abbess, in a long loose white gown or robe, a black mantle over, connected in front of the breast by a chain, with a tippet of the same colour. The head has been destroyed, but remains of the plaited wimple which covered the neck in front are visible, as also of the white veil on each shoulder. The pastoral staff appears on the left side, but the crook is gone.

"Two daughters of Lady Montacute were in succession Abbess of Barking, in Essex, and so, next to the last figure is another abbess similarly dressed, with the exception that the left sleeve of the gown, which is large and wide, is seen, as well as the close sleeve of the inner robe. Sculptured figures of abbesses, especially of this period, are extremely rare.

"The next figure is that of a female, in a green high-bodied gown or robe, with small pocket-holes in front and sleeves reaching only to the elbows. The fifth figure is also that of a female, in a white robe or gown, with close sleeves, close fitting to the waist, where it is belted round by a narrow girdle, and thence falls in loose folds to the feet; over this is a black mantle. There are also indications of a plaited wimple about the neck, but the head of this, as of the other effigies, has been destroyed.

"On the south side, the easternmost figure, of which the mere torso remains, is that of a male in a doublet, jagged at the skirts, and buttoned down in front from, the neck to the skirts, with close sleeves buttoned from the elbows to the wrists,—manicae botonatae, with a bawdrick, round the hips, and buckled on the right side. From the bawdrick on the left side the gipciere is suspended. This much mutilated effigy presents a good specimen of the early doublet.

"Next to it is the figure of a male, in a long red coat or gown, the toga talaris, with a cloak over, buttoned in front downwards from the neck as far as the third button, from whence it is open to the skirts. This dress, in the phrase of the fourteenth century, would be described as cota et cloca. In the right hand is held a purse.

"Next to this is the figure of a Bishop, intended possibly to represent Simon, Bishop of Ely, 1337-1344, one of the sons of Lady Montacute. He appears in his episcopal vestments, a white alb, with the apparel in front of the skirt, a black dalmatica fringed and open at the sides, and a chocolate-coloured chesible, with orfreys round the border and disposed in front pall-wise. The parures or apparels of the amice give it a stiff and collar-like appearance. The head of this effigy has been destroyed, and the outline of the mitre is only visible. The pastoral staff has been destroyed, with the exception of the pointed ferrule with which it was shod. It was, however, held by the left hand. The maniple is suspended from the left arm, but no traces of the stole are visible. In more than one instance we may notice on episcopal effigies the absence of either the tunic or dalmatica, and sometimes of the stole.

"The fourth figure is that of a lady in a gown or robe buttoned down in front from the breast to the waist, and with sleeves reaching only to the elbows, from whence depend long white liripipes or false hanging sleeves; small pocket holes are visible in front. From beneath this gown or super-tunic the loose skirts of the under robe, of which also the close-fitting sleeves are visible, appear. Behind this figure are the remains of a mantle. The fifth and last figure is also that of a female in a gown or super-tunic, close-fitting, and buttoned in front to the waist."

The quatrefoiled compartments at the ends of the tomb are particularly good: they contain,—at the head, the Blessed Virgin and Child, between a winged figure at a desk and an eagle, which are the symbols of St. Matthew and St. John the Evangelist,—at the foot, the symbols of SS. Mark and Luke, and between them a woman in gown and mantle with long flowing hair, probably St. Mary Magdalene. The shields in the panels are blazoned with the arms of Montacute, Furnival, and Montfort.

On a pillar near Lady Montacute's tomb there are two brasses; one bearing a graceful kneeling figure of JohaÑ, Bishop filii Geo. Bishop, who died March 23rd, 1588; the other of Thomas Thornton, who died August 17th, 1613.

The next tomb to the west of Lady Montacute is that of a Prior, supposed to be Alexander de Sutton, prior from 1294 to 1316. It used to be called Guimond's tomb, and Prior Philip's, but it cannot, of course, be of their time: for the beautiful canopy, supported by Purbeck shafts with vine-leaf capitals, and powdered with ball-flower without, and groined within, as well as the figure beneath it, are Decorated, and belong to the reign of Edward I., about a hundred and fifty years later than Guimond's death in 1141. There were formerly figures at the angles, of which one on the north-west remains with a little of its original colour. The effigy, also of Purbeck marble, is thus described by Mr. M.H. Bloxham:—"The head of the effigy, which is bare and tonsured, with flowing locks by the sides of the face, reposes on a double cushion. The Prior is represented vested, with the amice about his neck with the apparel; in the alb, the apparels of which appear at the skirt in front and round the close-fitting sleeves at the wrists; with the stole, and dalmatica or tunic—which, it is somewhat difficult to say: these two latter are not sculptured, but merely painted on the effigy, and are only apparent on a careful examination; over these is worn the chesible. This vestment is very rich, and ornamented with orfreys round the borders, over the shoulders, and straight down in front. Hanging down from the left arm is the maniple. The boots are pointed at the toes, and the feet rest against a lion. There is no indication of the pastoral staff; the hands are joined on the breast." Another proof of its fourteenth century date is that the face is close-shaven: had it been an effigy of the twelfth century the face would have been bearded.

West of this is the tomb of Sir George Nowers (de Nodariis), who died in 1425. His effigy gives one a good idea of the armour of his time—or rather of a period slightly before his death. Mr. Bloxham, who devoted special attention to these three monuments, thus describes the armour:—

"On the head is a conical basinet attached by a lace down the sides of the face to a camail or tippet of mail, which covers the head and shoulders, epauliÈres, rere, and vambraces, and coudes incase the shoulders, arms, and elbows, and on the hands are gauntlets of plate. The body-armour is covered with an emblazoned jupon, with an ornamental border of leaves, and round this, about the hips, is a rich horizontally disposed bawdrick. Beneath the jupon, which is charged with the bearing—three garbs Or—is seen the skirt or apron of mail. The thighs, knees, legs, and feet are incased in and protected by cuisses, genouillÈres, jambs, and sollerets, the latter composed of movable lamina; or plates, and rounded at the toes. The feet of this effigy rest against a collared dog, and the head reposes on a tilting helm, surmounted by a bull's head as a crest." On a scutcheon at the head of the tomb are the knight's arms: they are—a fess between three garbs, impaling a chevron between three greyhounds.

On the pier at the foot of Sir George Nowers' tomb is fixed the remarkably characteristic monument of Robert Burton, the famous author of "The Anatomy of Melancholy," who died in 1639, having been Student of Christ Church for forty years, and also Vicar of St. Thomas', Oxford. His bust is coloured, and surrounded by an oval frame; it should be a good likeness, and one fancies that the face is drenched in melancholy.

On the frame are two medallions with a sphere, and a curious calculation of his nativity, composed by himself, and placed here by his brother William, the historian of Leicestershire. The inscription, written by himself, is:—

At the south side of the Montacute tomb there is a stone in the floor with a large cross upon it, and an inscription in Lombardic characters of which these words can be made out:— Johan: de: col ... v. le: gist: id: Dieu ... Merci. Pour: lame: prier: dis: jours: de: pardon: aver: amen.

In the north aisle of the choir a stone commemorates Andreas de Soltre quondam rector Ecclesiae de Kalleyn; and a brass, James Coorthoppe, Canon of Christ Church 1546, and Dean of Peterborough till his death in 1557. On the floor of this aisle there is also a small brass with the figure of a youth, with the Courtenay arms, and this inscription:—Hic jacet Edvardus Courtenay, filius Hugonis Courtenay, filii Comitis DevomÆ, cujus animÆ propicietur Deus. This Hugh Courtenay, the father of the lad, must have been either Hugh second Earl of Devon, or his son Hugh, surnamed le Fitz, one of the heroes of CrÉcy.

Glass in the Aisles.—The three lovely east windows of the aisles and Lady Chapel were designed by Sir Edward Burne-Jones and executed by Mr. William Morris. The only possible criticism is that made by Mr. Ruskin, who once said that they were beautiful pictures, but were they windows? They are perhaps open to the objection, but a comparison of them with the Reynolds windows in New College Chapel, which are flagrant offenders in this way, makes one feel that the objection is purely formal, and that these are true windows, adding colour and interest to the old cathedral in a perfectly legitimate way. One is naturally prejudiced against large figures pictorially treated, because of the atrocities of the Munich school, but these were made, not at Munich but at Merton, by the most accomplished craftsman of the century.

The first window, that in the Lady Chapel, was erected in memory of Frederick Vyner, an undergraduate of the House, who was murdered by brigands at Marathon in 1870. The figures represent Samuel the Prophet, David, King of Israel, John the Evangelist, and Timothy the Bishop. In the panels beneath are, Eli instructing the young Samuel, David slaying Goliath, St. John at the last supper, and Timothy as a little boy learning from his mother. The legends are:—(1) Loquere Domine, quia audit servus tuus, and in the panel Prope est Dominus quibus invocantibus eum; (2) Deus, Deus, meus, ad te de luce vigilo, and Tua est Domine victoria; (3) Qui recubit in coena super pectus ejus, and Quis nos separabit a charitate Christi; (4) Dabit tibi Dominus in omnibus intellectum, and Statuit super petram pedes meos.

At the end of the north choir aisle is the St. Cecilia window, presented in honour of the patroness of music by Dr. Corfe, a former organist, in 1873. In the centre light the saint is represented playing her regal or small hand-organ; two angels holding other musical instruments, with palms in their hands, stand by her. The drapery is wrought in white glass, the angels have pale blue wings, and the flesh tints matted over with red tell warm against the drapery. In the lower panels are three scenes from her life: "Here St. Cecilia teaches her husband," "Here an angel of the Lord teaches St. Cecilia," "Here St. Cecilia wins a heavenly crown;" the saint's figure in this last panel is most touchingly drawn. These lower panels are richer in colour than the rest, and a greater variety of tints is introduced; but the colours are so delicate, and so skilfully blended, that they fall in most harmoniously with the main parts of the window. As the neighbouring window just described is full of the robust strength of manhood, so this one, in colour as well as in design, is graceful, delicate, and feminine. Probably it will lead to the north choir aisle being known by the name of St. Cecilia, whose art has certainly many votaries in Oxford. Mr. Malcolm Bell, in his monograph on Burne-Jones, gives the following description of the St. Cecilia window:—

"A still more beautiful instance of the use of simple figures with complicated draperies is found in the lovely St. Cecilia window, executed in 1874-5, a companion to the 'St. Catherine,' executed in 1878, in Christ Church Cathedral at Oxford, in which, moreover, it is enhanced by the soberness of the colouring, which, with the exception of a few touches of stronger hues in the lower panels, is green, and white, and gold, symbolic of the lily of heaven, into which mediÆval commentators tortured the meaning of her name. The saint herself stands in the middle, with attendant angels on either side, bearing the palm of martyrdom, who hush their harmony while she plays. Below the left-hand angel, St. Cecilia, seated on her bed, reads to her husband Valirian the lesson of chastity. In the centre the angel brings to them the miraculous proof of the justification of her faith which he demanded from her:

"The lilies, symbolical of virgin purity; the roses, of victory over death. In the third, the executioner holds her by one hand as she kneels on the floor of her bath-room, which is seen in the background, the steam still rising in it after the ineffectual attempt to roast her to death. With his sword raised he is about to strike the first of the three blows which failed to cut off her head.

At the end of the south choir aisle is the third figure window of Burne-Jones. It is dedicated to St. Catherine, and is in memory of Edith Liddell, a daughter of the late Dean, "who, having been scarcely five days betrothed, seized by a sudden attack of illness, rendered her spirit to God, June 26th, 1876." St. Catherine, crowned, is the central figure: she is painted in the likeness of Edith Liddell. On the right is the Angel of Suffering and Submission, with mutilated hands, the wheel of torture and flames beneath; on the left is the Angel of Deliverance, crushing the wheel of torture and scattering the flames. The draperies are white, the wings of the angels are a pale blue, and the curtains hanging at the back of the figures of a rich greenish blue, while the detailed background is cut out of violet-coloured glass, a daring but thoroughly successful arrangement. In the tracery above are angels playing triumphant music. The whole is as beautifully executed as it is finely conceived. In the three lower panels are scenes from the life and death of the saint:—(1) She disputes with philosophers, pleading for her fellow Christians, and demonstrating avec force syllogismes the truth of Christianity, and the falsity of paganism. This little panel has as large an effect as if it were a fresco covering half a wall. (2) Her dream, in which she is led through a wilderness by the blessed Virgin into the presence of our Lord, who is seated amid a concourse of cherubim. The way in which the cherubim are cut out of tones of ruby, full of depth, and without a suspicion of crudeness, should be noticed, and compared with the treatment of ruby glass elsewhere. This is perhaps the most beautifully drawn picture of all; and the figure of St. Mary is something not to be forgotten. (3) St. Catherine is laid in the tomb by angels. The inscriptions are:—Agnus reget illos, et deducet eos ad vitae fontes aquarum, et absterget Deus omnem lachrymam ab oculis eorum. Timor Domini ipsa est sapientia. Beati mundo corde quoniam Deum videbunt. Cum dederit dilectis suis somnum.

The two first windows in the wall of the south choir aisle, in memory of Dr. Jelf, Canon from 1830-1871, are by Hardman. Next is a most interesting glass painting of Bishop King, last abbot of Oseney, and first Bishop of Oxford, which is perhaps from the hand of Van Ling. This window, with some others, was taken down during the Civil War, buried for safety by a member of the family, and put up again at the Restoration. The Bishop is represented standing vested in a jewelled cope of cloth of gold, and mitre, a pastoral staff in his gloved hand. In the background, among the trees, is a picture of Oseney Abbey in its already ruined condition (c. 1630), drawn without much feeling for its architecture, but of great value as almost the only picture of the place we possess. The western tower was the first home of what are now the Christ Church bells. Three coats of arms (being those of the Bishop, impaled with the abbey of Oseney and the see of Oxford) complete the richness of what is a very good example of seventeenth century painted glass, in the strict sense of the word.

It is to be regretted that some of the glass, which formerly was seen by everybody in the cathedral, has been removed to the chapter-house, where it is seen by few: among the glass thus removed the lovely I.H.C. should not be missed.

The Latin Chapel (St. Catherine's, or the Divinity Chapel, St. Catherine being the patroness of students in theology) was built on to the rest in two parts, the walls of the Lady Chapel being cut into arches, and duly fitted with shafts. The first bay from the west is, like that of the Lady Chapel, part of the transept aisle; the second bay was built in the thirteenth century, so as to form a chapel like that of St. Lucy on the south side of the church; the third and fourth were added in the fourteenth century, and make now one large chapel, very secluded and self-contained, a kind of hortus inclusus that has an attraction peculiarly its own, and dwells pleasantly in the memory of every one who sees it. It is that supremely excellent thing, a church within a church, without which no cathedral can be what its builders intended it to be; nor any religious building fulfil that instinctive desire of men for an inner place, where they can find their way to the inner places of their own hearts. In such a home of recollectedness, doubly guarded against the dogging world without, is "rest without languor and recreation without excitement"; in such a place one is "never less alone than when alone"; and the fine sympathy with the needs of workaday humanity, which led mediÆval architects to build such sanctuaries as this chapel here, or the Lady Chapel of so many churches, had led men in far earlier ages to find room even within the travelling tabernacle of a wandering tribe for a holy place and a holy of holies. Such being the case, it was like the crude instincts of the "dark ages of architecture" to choose this very chapel as most suitable for a lecture-hall—out of all the lofty rooms in the spacious college. Quite lately this practice has been dropped, and the Latin Chapel restored to something of its ancient sanctity, though a good deal remains to be done in a place where there is not as yet even a chair to proclaim a siste viator.

The Decorated vaulting was built when the chapel was enlarged in the fourteenth century. The foliage of its bosses is very beautiful; the water-lilies especially of the third boss, so suggestive of Oxford streams, and the roses a little further east, are a happy combination of naturalistic treatment with decorative restraint. It will be noticed that the vaulting does not run true in the third bay, the Decorated work there having been somewhat awkwardly joined to the Early English of the second bay. That part of the old wall which forms the pier at the juncture has been left in a strangely rough condition; the builder having seemingly given up the problem of fitting the vaults to the unequal spaces of the bays, and left the pier as a simple bit of old wall, without even a moulding to mark its juncture with the vault.

A prominent feature in the Latin Chapel is the old oak stalling, which a second inspection proves to be patchwork. The returned stalls at the west end probably belonged to the choir of the conventual church, and in that case would have been fitted in here when Dean Duppa "adorned" the choir by destroying the old wood-work. Near to these is some of the work prepared for Cardinal Wolsey's new chapel. The poppy-heads are good specimens of wood-carving, and contain a monogram I.H.S., a heart in a crown of thorns, a cardinal's hat, and other devices. The pulpit, with its delicate canopy, an excellent specimen of seventeenth century wood-work, was formerly the Vice-Chancellor's seat in another part of the church, occupied by him during university sermons. It was then used by the Regius Professor of Divinity for his lectures, but since the altar was restored six years ago, the chapel has been no longer used as a lecture room. At the time when it was refitted, a handsome ogival arch was found in the wall near the north end of the altar: the moulding is deeply recessed, and once the arch terminated in what must have been an ornate finial. The top of this finial has been cut down to a level with the window ledge, and the face of the moulding hacked off to make the wall flat for the panelling, which has now been removed. It was probably the "Easter Sepulchre," where the Host was deposited on Good Friday, but it may have been the tomb of the founder of the chapel. The curious break in the masonry at the back has not been yet explained.

The wall behind the altar is pleasantly hung with Morris velvet. The altar itself was the high altar before the restoration of 1870. In 1890 new legs were made for it out of the old organ screen, and it was placed in its present position.

The eastern window (inserted as a memorial to Dr. Bull) is a pathetic instance of the corrupt following of Mr. Ruskin, which also inflicted upon Christ Church the gaunt Meadow Buildings. It is, of course, really as unlike Mr. Ruskin's well-loved Venetian work as anything can possibly be: as heavy as that is light, as clumsy as that is graceful, it is ugly and cold and dead; but it represents a genuine enthusiasm of the fifties, and commands our respect as an honest though mistaken effort, a landmark in the history of the architectural revival. It also illustrates a truth which one is apt sometimes to forget,—that it is easy to appreciate beauty, and very hard to create it.

Fortunately it is nearly lost sight of in the splendid Burne-Jones glass which fills it, and represents another side of the artistic revival not less important than the architectural.

Glass in Latin Chapel.—The beautiful windows at the side are filled with fine fourteenth century glass, which was replaced after a long period of exile by Dean Liddell. In the middle of each light is a figure in canopy work, the rest of the light being covered with "quarries,"—that is, diamond-shaped pieces of glass with leaves and flowers lightly burnt upon them. The spaces in the tracery are ornamented with curious medallions, and the borders with various beasts, as in St. Lucy's Chapel, monkeys among them. The Courtenay Arms—Three Torteaux—suggest that the family may have contributed towards building the chapel. Beginning at the west, the first window contains a St. Catherine in the first light, next a Madonna and holy Child (the blue pattern at the back of these figures should be noticed); next a figure of St. Frideswide, or her mother Saffrida.

The second window contains the figure of an archbishop, holding a cross curiously blended into a crooked pastoral staff; angels are on either side.

The next has St. Frideswide in the centre, with St. Margaret and St. Catherine at her side. The patroness holds the curiously foliated sceptre which has led to the identification of her figure in the choir boss, and Catherine handles her wheel and sword in the same way as her statue over the dean's stall in the choir. The last window on this side is by Clayton and Bell, and a particularly feeble one.

The St. Frideswide window at the east end of the Latin Chapel was designed by Sir E. Burne-Jones and executed by Messrs. Powell of the Whitefriars Glass Works, the firm which is now making the glass for the mosaics at St. Paul's. "Burne-Jones, an Oxford undergraduate, destined for the Church, but gifted with high powers of romantic design, sought out Rossetti towards June 1856, and showed him some drawings. Rossetti told him at once that he ought to be, and must be, an artist, and he became one." In the next year Rossetti drew the attention of the Powells to the young artist, and they had the penetration to recognise his worth and to employ him. But though this is one of the first windows that Burne-Jones ever designed, it is one of his best. Better suited (as many think) to the purpose of a window, at all events in this enclosed chapel, than the freer method of the other glass, it carries on the best traditions of the craft, in its infinite variety of gem-like colour and complexity of detail; while it attains a degree of perfection in pictorial effect and figure-drawing which was impossible during the great era of mediÆval glass-painting. The death of the saint, with its lovely effect of light through the latticed window, for instance, and the picture of her in the pig-sty, would be perfect as finished pictures, and yet do not for an instant outstep the convention which is necessary for their function as part of a window. The fact that the subjects are a little crowded is not the artist's fault. Mr. Woodward, the architect to whom the commission was due, made an unlucky mistake about the measurements, being in very ill-health at the time, and indeed on the point of death. Mr. Burne-Jones' cartoon had therefore to undergo a mechanical reduction which has slightly affected the clearness of the designs. The colour is, in spite (or rather because) of its radiant variety, not so immediately attractive to everyone as that of the other Burne-Jones windows; but when one has sat down for five or ten minutes and deciphered the various scenes, its unapproachable beauty becomes apparent, and each succeeding visit deepens the impression of the splendour and poetry of this incomparable work.

The scenes depicted are, by the artist's own account, as follows:—

First Light.

• St. Frideswide and her companions brought up by St. Cecilia and St. Catherine.
• St. Frideswide founds her first convent.
• A messenger from the King of Mercia demands her in marriage.
• The King comes to take her by force, and the first convent is broken up.

Second Light.

• Flight of St. Frideswide to Abingdon.
• The King of Mercia and his soldiers in pursuit,
• The Flight continued.
• The Pursuit continued.
• St. Frideswide takes refuge in a pig-sty.

Third Light.

• Flight of St. Frideswide to Binsey.
• The King of Mercia in pursuit.
• St. Frideswide founds a new convent at Binsey.
• Her merciful deeds.

Fourth Light.

• Return of St. Frideswide to Oxford.
• The Siege of Oxford by the King of Mercia.
• The Siege continued.
• The King struck blind.
• The Death of St. Frideswide.

In the tracery above are the trees of life and of knowledge, and a ship of souls convoyed by angels.

This east window was purchased with money left by Dr. Bull (1853), to whom there is a monument against the western wall. There are also brasses to the eminent Dr. Mozley (Regius Professor of Divinity till 1878), Dr. Ogilvie (1873), Dr. Shirley (1866), Dr Barnes (1859), Archdeacon Clerke (1877).