ssed well.
The pious Henry VI., who loved the Abbey and often walked here with the
Abbot and Prior, no doubt helped as long as he had the power, but the
civil wars soon put a stop to his aid. We know that he presented the
wrought-iron gates which divide his father's {27} mortuary chapel from
the shrine, and the stone screen to the west of the shrine probably
belongs to his time. His supplanter, Edward IV., when settled on the
throne, granted oaks and lead for the roof, while his wife, and the
little son who was born in the Abbot's house, gave thank-offerings of
money. Another gap followed during the troublous reign of Richard III.,
but by the end of the fifteenth century, when Henry VII. felt his title
absolutely secure, and his dynasty established, the west end was quite
finished, within and without, while then, and then only, the last remains
of the old nave were cleared away.

We have thus briefly sketched the building of the church in which we
stand, and now must turn our attention to the historic names which are
all around us on the walls and pavement. The very earliest monument, the
only tolerably artistic one in the nave, was put up in 1631 to a certain
Mistress Jane Hill, and till nearly the end of the seventeenth century
few others were added. But unfortunately from that time the custom grew
apace of covering the wall space, even the floor itself, with memorials
of soldiers, sailors, statesmen, physicians, men of science, and, in
fact, a truly miscellaneous collection of people, till not a vacant spot
is left, and {28} the ancient arcading is completely or partially covered
up, in some cases even cut away. The committee of taste appointed to
assist the Chapter were of some use here, for by their advice the Dean
moved one or two monuments from the centre to the wall, and the iron
railings in front of all of them were taken away. Dean Stanley, more
than a century later, curtailed some of the most aggressive memorials,
but none have been removed, for there would be no end to such a difficult
undertaking, and in any case the ancient arcading was already ruined.

Thus we start on our pilgrimage with some idea of the shape and the
history of the church which lies before us. First let us look into the
baptistery called Little Poets' Corner, where Wordsworth's seated statue
and some memorials of literary men are to be seen, such as the great
teacher, Dr. Arnold, who is close to his gifted son Matthew, in the
c