book. In one year there is an entry for fifteen
shillings—equal to eight or ten pounds of our
money for a fur robe for the chief mason; but
no such entry on another year, for the chief
mason was an independent gentleman, and
refused to receive his gratuity "on account of the
delay in its delivery." The outlay for the first
fifteen years would, if translated into our money
value, have considerably exceeded half a
million. So Edward the Third did his duty by the
stonemasons and wood-carvers, and set a good
example to his successors. Then the abbots
aided in the enrichment of their beloved
building. Simon Langham, one of the abbots of
Westminster, left the residue of his vast
property to the "fabric" of the monastery; and
his successor, Nicholas Litlington, set his hand
to the work with energy and vigour. He made
two new cloister walks, rebuilt the abbot's
residence, and the conventual buildings which
now form the eastern side of Dean's-yard; the
hall of the abbot's residence, which was the
College-hall of the Queen's scholars on the
Elizabethan foundation, was his work also; for
these old fellows well knew the art of caring
for themselves, even when they had sufficient
grace to care for their neighbours. Many parts
of his work still remain, but the chief thing is
the famous Jerusalem chamber, where Henry
the Fourth died, in accordance with an ancient
prophecy which said that he would not die save
in Jerusalem.

In this year, and 20th day of the month of
November, was a great council holden at the White
Friars of London, by the which it was among other
things concluded that, for the king's great journey,
that he intended for to take in visiting the Holy
Sepulchre of our Lord, certain galleys of war would
be made, and other purveyance concerning the same
journey. Whereupon all hasty and possible speed
was made; but after the feast of Christenmasse, while
he was making his prayers at S. Edward's shrine,
to take there his leave, and so speed him upon his
journey, he became so sick that such as were about
him feared that he would have died there. Whereupon
they for his comfort bare him into the abbot's
place, and lodged him in a chamber, and there upon
a pallet laid him before the fire, where he laid in
great agony a certain of time. At length, when he
was comen to himself, not knowing where he was,
he freyned (asked) of such as then were about him,
what place that was; the which showed to him that
it belonged unto the Abbot of Westminster, and for
he felt himself so sick he commanded to ask if that
chamber had any special name, whereunto it was
answered that it was named Jerusalem. Then, said
the king, "Loving be to the Father of Heaven; for
now I know that I shall die in this chamber,
according to the prophecy of me before said, that I
should die in Jerusalem." And so after he made
himself ready, and died shortly after.

In this same Jerusalem chamber, too, was
afterwards born and baptised Edward the Fifth;
so at least says tradition, which sometimes is
more pleasant than history.

More than all did munificent Nicholas
Litlington. Besides many very beautiful building
additions, he gave a mitre of the value
of a hundred marks, a pastoral staff worth
fifteen pounds, a huge missal for the high altar,
and two silver-gilt chalices for the service
of the church, besides an incense pyx, a bell,
a basin, and a pyx of silver-gilt, with rich
and costly priestly vestments; and silver dishes,
chargers, salt-cellars, and flagons, for the use of
the monks in the refectory, and to be used
nowhere else; and others of silver, too, for their
use in the misericordia house (where they had
indulgence fare, by the abbot's permission), and
to be used nowhere else; for the brave old
abbot had a generous idea of creature comforts.
For all whose benefactions it was ordered by the
convent that he should be remembered by them
in their graces after dinner and supper, and at
mass, together with the souls of the faithful
departed. So the good Abbot got his reward,
both in time and eternity.

Henry the Seventh's chapel, that orbis
miraculum, or world's miracle, as it was called,
is filled with beautiful fan tracery vaulting,
and rich ornamentation of detail and design.
It was wrought by royal masons under the
immediate direction of the king himself. He
and the men divided the Saints' days between
them; each alternate festa belonging to them,
and the other to their royal employer: theirs, it
is supposed, they kept as a holiday, but on the
king's they were made to work. This was not
peculiar to Henry the Seventh, but to all the
royal architects who added stones to their
buildings, and built monuments to their fame.
Henry had no half-heart or niggard hand
towards this beautiful Lady Chapel of his.
Nine days only before his death, he gave Abbot
Islip five thousand pounds "in ready money
before the honde," and directed that if that
sum should be insufficient to complete the
vaulting, his executors should advance the Lord
Abbot what sum or sums might be necessary
for the finishing of the building. He died on
the twenty-second of April, one thousand five
hundred and nine, and was buried in the chapel,
on May the eleventh, with such pomp and style
as England had never seen before. Torregiano
made the royal tomb, and by November the
first, one thousand five hundred and nineteen,
the canopy and altar were up, the "closure"
of the tomb complete, and the Lady Chapel,
perfected in all its details, thrown open to b
elievers, and challenging the admiration of the
world.

From that time the star of the old Abbey,
stationary for some years, gradually sank behind
dark clouds. One such cloud was Sir Christopher
Wren and his "restorations;" another, the great
fire of one thousand eight hundred and three;
another, the ignorance and bad taste of the
rulers, who understood nothing of Gothic beauty
and put their faith in a spurious Italian style,
than which nothing could be more incongruous
or less harmonious; and a fourth and the
densest cloud of all was the fatal whitewash
which choked the star out of all human vision.
Consequently we have a chapter-house, almost
unique in its original loveliness, degraded into a
receptacle for shelves and papers, and a collection