rder of Parliament in 1642 amid the general
plunder of the foundation. The service of the altar was replaced by
Charles the Second.

The sovereign's stall is immediately on the right on the entrance to the
choir, and the prince's on the left. The queen's closet is on the
north side above the altar. Beneath it is the beautiful and
elaborately-wrought framework of iron, representing a pair of gates
between two Gothic towers, designed as a screen to the tomb of Edward
the Fourth, and which, though popularly attributed to Quentin Matsys,
has with more justice been assigned to Master John Tressilian.

One great blemish to the chapel exists in the window over the altar,
the mullions and tracery of which have been removed to make way for
dull colourless copies in painted glass of West's designs. Instead of
--"blushing with the blood of kings, And twilight saints, and dim
emblazonings"--steeping the altar in rich suffusion, chequering the
walls and pavement with variegated hues, and filling the whole sacred
spot with a warm and congenial glow, these panes produce a cold,
cheerless, and most disagreeable effect.

The removal of this objectionable feature, and the restoration of
framework and compartments in the style of the original, and enriched
with ancient mellow-toned and many-hued glass in keeping with the place,
are absolutely indispensable to the completeness and unity of character
of the chapel. Two clerestory windows at the east end of the choir,
adjoining the larger window, have been recently filled with stained
glass in much better taste.

The objections above made may be urged with equal force against the east
and west windows of the south aisle of the body of the fane, and the
west window of the north aisle. The glorious west window, composed of
eighty compartments, embellished with figures of kings, patriarchs, and
bishops, together with the insignia of the Garter and the arms of the
prelates--the wreck gathered from all the other windows--and streaming
with the radiance of the setting sun upon the broad nave and graceful
pillars of the aisles--this superb window, an admirable specimen of the
architecture of the age in which it was designed, had well-nigh shared
the fate of the others, and was only preserved from desecration by the
circumstance of the death of the glass-painter. The mullions of this
window being found much decayed, were carefully and consistently
restored during the last year by Mr. Blore, and