ells melted. For four hours the whole
cathedral was in danger, but happily, with the exception of the
roof of the nave, the church was saved. As soon as the flames were
extinguished, Pilkington, whose works are published by the Parker
Society, furiously declared that it was all owing to the retention of
Popery, and the other side, with equal vigour, attributed the disaster
to the desecration by the Puritans.[3]

The steeple was never rebuilt, but the nave roof was begun without
loss of time. Queen Elizabeth sent letters to the Lord Mayor,
commanding him to take immediate steps, gave him 1000 marks from her
own purse, and warrants for 1000 loads of timber from her woods. L7000
were raised at once by the clergy and laymen of London, "very frankly,
lovingly, and willingly," says the Guildhall record. Before a month
had elapsed a temporary roof was made, and in five years the lead roof
was complete.

The victory over the Armada, in 1588, sent all England wild with
delight. The Queen came in State to offer thanks at St. Paul's,
attended by all the nobility, and after the sermon dined with the
Bishop in his palace.

But the signs of irreverence and neglect are continually before us.
We have already given extracts from sermons denouncing it. It was
now that the raising of money by Government lotteries began, for the
purpose of repairing the harbours, and a great shed was set up at the
west door of St. Paul's for the drawing (1569). In 1605, four of the
Gunpowder conspirators were hanged in front of the west door, and in
the following May, Garnet, the Jesuit priest, shared the same fate on
the same spot.

Let us before closing this chapter take note of the monuments of four
Deans not mentioned in our last survey. They are Thomas Wynterbourne
(Dean 1471-1478), William Worsley (1479-1499), a fine brass. William
May we have already spoken of, Dean under Edward VI., deprived by
Mary, restored by Elizabeth, elected Archbishop of York, but died
the same day, August 8th, 1560. There were twelve Latin lines on his
grave. His successor, Alexander Nowell, who died in 1601 at the age of
ninety, was a zealous promoter of the Reformation. There was a fine
monument to him, a bust in fur robe, and very long Latin inscriptions
in prose and verse.

Before coming to the last chapter in the history of the great
cathedral, a chapter of decay, of zealous attempts at restoration, of
profanation, of one more attempt to restore, and of total de