 Rwy'n meddwl, yma, byddai'n meddwl, Buckfast Avery yn ymgyrch i'r 6 miliwn. Rydyn ni'n meddwl i'r Lathau Saksyn Ffondiadau, yn ystafell ar gyfer y Menedig Teimlo yn 2018. Byddai 1136, byddai'n meddwl i'r Llyfrgell yn Llangwysiol, a hefyd byddai'n meddwl i'r Llyfrgell yn Sabynag Cymraegiad, byddai'r Rai Ddau King Steven. Byddai 1147, byddai'n meddwl i'r Sabynag Cymraegiad, Buckfast byddai'n meddwl i'ch meddwl i'r Llyfrgell yn yr Aelodau. Byddai'n meddwl i'r 539, byddai'n meddwl i'r llefion i'r Llyfrgell, byddai'n meddwl i'r llefion i'r Llyfrgell yn ystafell. Pa fawr o'r oedd unrhyw yma o gyllideb o'r aleis, mae'r fawr ymgyrch yn hynny o'r cyfnodol yn gyfraith, nad oedd y twyst, rahanen, mwynll nhw, oeddu ei roi iawn yn cynnwys y roi'r hynod ddifol. Rwy'n gydag i fynd i'r lefwygell yn yngyrchu y Gymru, mae Oeddiad mealsrwydd yn ynmygwch i'r gandysgr yn 1882. Felly, mae'r ffordd a'r µc ar gyfer y Gothol Llywodraeth, yw ym 1806, ar y Llywodraeth Samuel Beryl. Ond, oes i'r ffawr, mae'r rheswmau, yng Nghymru, yng nghymru nesaf i ni'n ei hyn o'r cyfnod o'r swyddiad. Mae'r ffwrdd a'r cyfnodau ar gyfer y Llywodraeth, mae'r cyfnod o'r cyfnod i'r brifysgau o'r llwyllt, ei ddweithio. Mae'r cyfnod o'r ffordd yn ddweud i'r rhaewyd adnod o'r hyn. Mae'r ddebyg ffordd y ddechrau, Ffynir Efe Walters, yw'r cymweinidol. Mae'r ddechrau wath yn cymdeithasol yn 1931, ac mae'n ddweud. Yn y ffordd y dyfodol, mae'r ystod o'r llyfr yma, dychydig i'r ffordd rwy'n eich ffordd o'r meddwl ar gyfer gyffredigus. Felly y dyfodol yn gyffredig i'r ffordd ar gyfer, yn nôl 1883, One of the brothers said to have been preparing a carriage patch to the north east of the Bury Mansion struck upon a massive foundation. This, we are told, was to serve as the guide for uncovering the medieval archaeology of the site. At any event, inspired by Walters and guided day to day by Don Adam Hamilton, the only English-speaking member of the community at the time, over the winter of 1883-84, the monks laid bare the footings of the entire Abbey Church, and most of the three ranges of domestic buildings surrounding the cloister were at least what survived of them. At the same time, however, this story has something of a sting in the tail. As it happened, the medieval foundations in all areas were found to be, quotes, in excellent condition for rebuilding on. Walters has therefore decided, doubtless with the agreement of the community, that the new church in Monastry should be constructed directly over the footprint of the Cistercian Abbey. These were now to be designed along Cistercian lines with the whole programme achieved between 1884 and 1938. As a result, of course, the medieval archaeology now lies totally sealed beneath the modern community's great achievement, with very little opportunity for us to interrogate the findings made by Walters and Hamilton. Or to build them with fresh understanding and scholarship. So, you may ask, how do we move from just the foundation uncovered in the 1880s to a position where we feel brave enough, foolish enough, if you like, to offer this bold recreation of the Monastry past? Well, this drawing is a collaboration between artist and historian, grounded in knowledge and understanding. Chris Jones Jenkins is one of the best people currently working in this field, and together I'd like to think we've produced something that reflects the current state of knowledge. The fact that we show no portal, I was hoping to use no portal, in the west door, for example, does not come about through chance. Equally, there are reasons for the number of bays shown in the naval arcades and for the liturgical arrangements reflected in the disposition for choir stories. The east end of the church too is deliberately shown in a particular form. There's a calculation behind the number of bays depicted in the open arcades around the central cloister, and the forms of the chapter house, among stormetry range, the north south refractory, and the west range are all grounded in solid evidence of one kind or another. Turning to the sources that allow for such detail, the obvious, the starting point, ought to be the records of the 1880s excavations left to us by Frederick Walters. Indeed, his interest in the various archaeological discoveries is not in doubt, and he's certainly produced a sequence of plans. In this promising burly interim, for instance, the positive positions of the private group peers shows that he was at least thinking about the nature of the Cistercian building. You can also be sure of at least one visit to the site by Williamson's and Hope, Secretary of the Society, and the man who merged with England's four-world slate Victorian monastic archaeologist. Walters was himself elected a fellow in 1886, and I believe it may have been around a decade later that he made the best-known find from the Buckfast excavations available for exhibition here in Burlington House. This fine piece of an erosion anvil is a small door, of course, incorporated in keyhole, and presumably formed part of a reliquary, or perhaps, as Marion Campbell suggests in our volume, a tabernacle. Given these obvious antiquarian interests, then, it's rather disappointing to find that Walters failed to produce any published report of the 1880s archaeological work at Buckfast. In fact, the only printed account, just five pages in length, was written by the Plympton scholar Joshua Brooking-Rowe and appeared in the Devon County Journal for 1884. Fortunately, this is supplemented by a few precious insights sprinkled through Hamilton's 1906 volume, essentially concerned with the history of the site. In terms of the archaeology, then, I would have to argue that the main contribution to Cistercian studies left to us by Walters is his collection of plans, now in the Buckfast Alley archive, of particular note. His overall plan of 1884, modified after further findings in 1886, you can see the slip of paper added at the top left-hand corner, is our principal source of information. Even here, however, the architect made no attempt to phase any of the structures, nor even to offer an overall date range. Fortunately, there are several other sources which you might turn to for information on the nature of the Cistercian buildings at Buckfast. Not least, we have a number of important early prints and drawings, with the Buckview of 1734, for example, being especially useful in this instance. Then again, we have a small but significant collection of both descriptions and sketches produced by antiquarians and travellers, such as Dean Jeremiah Mills-Miles, I'm not quite sure which, who was at Buckfast in about 1760, or the Reverend John Sweet, who came in 1793, when James Lasky arrived in 1796, he noted, on the northeast side appear the walls and foundations of the Abbey Church and the remains of its tower. A further note, you might remember, that a few precious fragments of the medieval monastic complex still survive above ground. The north gate, for example, was clearly a late 12th century structure, featuring groeid vaults in the gate passage. And, standing near the southwest corner of the Cistercian West Clausville range, there is the so-called Abbott's Tower. This mid to late 15th century structure probably formed part of the late medieval Abbott's lodgings. Finally, there is a collection of nearly 140 fragments of carved architectural stonework, recovered during the excavations of the 1880s. We were beginning to think that this material was all but lost, but I'm pleased to say that posing the right question at just the right time led to the rediscover of the fragments in cardboard boxes. They too have much to tell us. Now, this evening, I cannot cover every last stage by which we assembled this sorting material into something meaningful, even believable, working within the appropriate architectural and monastic context. The best I can do is perhaps to highlight some of the key points, focusing primarily on the Abbey Church. Savonny is unquestionably the place to begin, with its picturesque ruins surviving on the southern border of Monch in southwest Normandy. Savonny was established in 1105 by the Hermit Preachers in Vitalis of Mortain, and around a decade later it became a fully conventional abbey. The essential point to grasp pure is that Savonny was, for a while at least, the head of a totally independent monastic order. Indeed, until 1147, the Savonny acts proved extremely popular among the rich and powerful in both Normandy and England. Vitalis' monastic experiment blossomed into a thriving congregation, with around 30 abbeys situated on both sides of the English Channel. Half of these were in England Wales, which is the immediate context in which King Stephen, already a great supporter of the Savonny acts, was to determine a new future for Buckfast. Now, for the architectural story at least, the principal interest lies in determining the extent to which Savonny's architectural identity was transmitted, if at all, across its wide around the Norman family. This is all the more intriguing when we appreciate that nine of the English and Welsh houses were first-generation daughters of Savonny itself. In other words, they were staffed from the beginning by monks who must have been familiar with the emerging architectural philosophy of the mother house. Unfortunately, far too little is known of the primary buildings at Savonny itself, with prints and drawings of the site depicting the secondary church began in the late 12th century. And it's a similar tale across much of Normandy, where buildings survive, they're often later than one might wish. The principal exception to this pattern is Vaud de Sernay, one of Savonny's earliest daughter houses. Here, much of the church still survives, with the east end of particular interest. In fact, there's a remarkable similarity between the early press-optery of Vaud de Sernay and the known building known from excavations at Fhermes Abbey in Cymru. These two grand plans of the late 1120s or 1130s featured stepped and military east ends, which in itself indicates that the initial architectural identity of the Savonnyx might well have been at variance with what we know of the Cistercian approach at the time. Although the Savonnyx were obliged to merge with the Cistercians in 1147, no time to go into this this evening, Abbott Sirle was able to negotiate a senior position for his house within the Cistercian hierarchy. And to a greater or lesser degree, the Savonnyx had to retain their family links. Nevertheless, from 1147 onwards, their future was closely tied to that of the most successful and well-regarded religious order in medieval Europe. The Cistercians were, of course, distinctive in almost every facet of monastic life. And from the mid-1130s onwards, when they began to build on a larger scale, a degree of similarity emerged in the design of many of their churches, as let's not argue about this site tonight. Indeed, we cannot ignore the general architectural austerity found in their buildings, nor the widespread occurrence of the so-called Bernardine plan, both how I did here at Fontanay. At the very least, it is possible to identify a distinct architectural aesthetic in Whiteman building, barely surprising in an order so fiercely self-conscious of its reformist image in all other areas. To underline this point, we need to only look at events which occurred at Furness in the wake of the Savonnyx merger. The Furness community proved very reluctant to submit to Cistercian authority without a peter-deposed and a monk from Savonnyx sent to restore peace and to teach the rebellious monks the observance of the new order. In this context, it's very tentative to see the abandonment of Furness's early Savonnyx Church and its rebuilding along strict Bernardine lines as a concerted campaign to enforce Cistercian observance in architecture as much as spiritual life. So, the spect ambulatory east ends go and the square Bernardine style end is introduced. We even find examples of elaborate chevron moulding from the Savonnyx building abandoned and used merely as core work hidden from view within the roof space above the new South Transat chapels. Given what I've hinted at with regard to the mid-12th century Savonnyx and Cistercian building programs, it seems most unlikely that the plan of Buckfast, uncovered by Walters in 1884-86, represents a single coordinated campaign of construction. On the contrary, given the fact that the Savonnyx community settled here in 1136, it's perfectly possible that a degree of progress was made in the construction of the church even before the merger with the Cistercians in 1147. In terms of what may have happened next and the sweeping generalisation this evening, I offered you Bill Bruce as a model. Founded from Savonnyx in 1135, just a year before Buckfast, the ruins of the Shropshire alley suggest how rapidly fresh Cistercian influences were to play a part. If any pre-1147 masonrys fives in the existing fabric, it will surely be in the area of the Presbyty and transeps. What seems clear, however, is that Bill Bruce was begun without a tower or a defined crossing, even if the church was probably designed to feature an isle name from the outset. Then, no longer than about 1150-60, the whole scheme was revised to include a low tower or belfry after all. As completed, the church featured all the essential hallmarks of the Bernadine plan with a short, square-ended presbytery, transeps with two small eastern chapels and little things, and an isle nave of seven bays. The internal liturgical arrangements were set out to accommodate a large body of lay brothers, as well as the choir monks, in two sets of stalls. Similar churches are known from several other Savonnyac houses, quite a few actually, absorbed into the Cistercian border in 1147, including Fornness, which we've already seen, along with Covishwall in Essex, and Coorl, the Isle of Wight. In some, I would argue that something along these lines also existed at Bill Bruce, with my approximate, rather clumsily restored presbytery outline shown here in red. I suggest the main body of the transeps. Along with the nave were retained throughout the life of the medieval Abbey. Waltis records no extra little buttresses on the signs of the church, nor does the plan offer any indication as to the position of the arcade peers. But in comparison with contemporary Cistercian buildings, including those in the Savonnyac family, one has to be thinking that perhaps seven or eight bays at most, that's the mainstay arches running along the length of the walls. Bill Bruce, the nave elevations, as a bill was, the nave elevations were almost certainly of two stories. There would have been screen walls between the piers, and the roof of the central vessel was almost certainly of timber, not of stone. At first glance, these Romanesque fragments may not look like much, but they do provide clues as to the appearance of the early church. The two on the right in particular seem to represent piers, with the possibility that the different colours in the sandstone contributed to a polychrome design in the nave, a feature not uncommon in other great churches in the southwest. A significant pointer as to the initial arrangements that the west front of the church comes from this plan of 1923. Superimposed on his proposals for the present church, Walter shows the foundations of the Cistercian west front. In far more detail, when he's 1884, 1886 drawing, I hope you can see this, it's pale. The paler lines are actually his proposal for the new church, and the slightly darker red lines are the Cistercians. You can see that there is a central buttress here, in line with the nave arcades. The central one indicates that there could not possibly have been a west doorway. As we see from two other British Savaniac family churches, this would not have been that unusual, but build was an arrangement that, quite precisely, this nature was never altered. Whereas at bayzing work in north east Wales, a mollest opening was cut through to one side of the central buttress, where they could be ledges. So this is in sum in this drawing, so we constructed a seven-way nave arcade, no doorway, two sets of choir stalls, screens which have not had time to say anything about this. This is later. Two-storey elevations will be moved over the nave. Turning to the eastern arm of the average church as it appears in the Walter's plan, or this area, this cannot belong to a Cistercian building of the mid-12th century. Indeed, I suggest that it is an extension of the original plan and that it was probably constructed in the early years of the 13th century. At the root of this proposal, I am, of course, thinking of the step change in the design of Cistercian churches, led by the principal French mother houses of the order, all of which had abandoned their initial presbyteries by the end of the 12th century. Instead, they chose to construct much enlarged eastern arms, with fully developed ambulatories providing space for additional chapels and altars. The new presbytery at St Bernard's Clairvaux is known chiefly from engravings, but it was undoubtedly a potent model. Built about 1148-74, it featured a rounded arcade or hemicycle, surrounded by an ambulatory, beyond which was a circuit of nine radiating chapels housed within a polygonal outer wall. Not surprisingly, as the burial place of the order's greatest saint, the Clairvaux presbytery was quickly imitated elsewhere. Of particular significance in the Buckfast context is the fact that from about 1173 its mother house of savannah embarked on the construction of a new, absidal eastern arm, featuring nine radiating chapels, part of a completely new church, eventually consecrated in 1220. And to demonstrate this same pattern spread to other houses in the French savannah family, I showed you this charming 18th century drawing of the now lost church of the Abbey of Beaubec. Meanwhile, the second model for these extended Cistercian presbyteries is best illustrated by developments Cito, the sovereign mother house of the order. Here the scheme is dated to about 1180-19 and was of the so-called rectangular ambulatory form. As completed, the lateral aisles of Cito's news presbytery were continued at right angles around the back of the high altar, with rows of square chapels within the bays on each of the three sides. Now, of these two basic models, one might argue that, in the long term, the white monks were always more comfortable building churches with straight up, with straight sided eastern arms, and these were to prevail across Europe during the late Middle Ages. In the event, it was savannah byland that appears to have been the first British house to abandon the ideals of the Berlindine plan. Begun in the 1170s, Beiland's impressive church stood at the forefront of early Gothic architecture in the north of England, with the eastern arm of a rectangular ambulatory design. Much as at Cito, the presbytery aisles were effectively continued around the eastern end of the building. The same basic model was soon interpreted on a smaller scale door in Herefordshire by 1186-1220. Here, however, both the ambulatory aisle and the eastern chapels were housed under a single roof, for this same roof, turns and so on. Both contained in two bays in that area. The take-up of the rounded ambulatory form among the British cisterci was very much in the minority. Surprisingly, indeed, the houses within the Savniad family showed not the slightest interest in the new absent ambulatory design built at their normal mother house. Croxton in Staffordshire is sometimes cited, but even here it's been argued that the patron may have been of more of an influence than anything going on at Savniad itself. Back at Buckfast, the specific reasons for the new construction that humans us, with no record of a fire or a natural disaster of any kind, the rebuilding is just as likely to have been motivated by the growing desire throughout the order for additional outer space, perhaps coupled with architectural ambition, either on the part of a specific abbot or of the entire Abbey community. As to the layout of the building, it comes as no surprise to find that Buckfast displays a close and obvious relationship to Britain's other rectangular ambulatory designs. So here we have this. These are, in some shape or form, I'm suggesting that the aisle continued around the back of these foundation walls. The inner chapel, the inner transit chapel, which would have been there, the second chapel, is sacrificed to create the new aisle in precisely the way that Walters' present church does the same thing. So this represents the outer chapel and the outer transit chapel, and this is the sort of thing that would have appeared running along there in the Cistercian building. It's impossible to be sure if the various foundations recorded to the east end of the Presbytry were all contemporary. On balance, however, it's tempting to argue for something along the lines of the pattern-founded door, in which case the Presbytry, including the high altar, might have occupied three bays. You can imagine the piers running along here, and three broken bays representing the Presbyty with the high altar at that end. In which case, the ambulatory aisle would then have sat in a lower extension to the east, occupying the space between the two parallel sets of foundations. A further arcade may have opened towards shallow eastern chapels, or perhaps a little more than a blow of altars. In our millennial volume, I stick my neck out still further, suggesting that Abbott Nicholas, who ruled from 1205, perhaps through to the early 1220s, was just the sort of character who may have been drawn to the prestigious touch to such a new building programmes. Aside from the rebuilt Presbytry, there is a second distinct structure at the east end of the Abbey Church, even from its footprint that looks to have been of a different architectural character, and it was surely a later addition to the plan. It was arranged in three bays, defined by buttresses along the lateral walls. The interior must have been vaulted in a single span, and there were doubtless windows in each of the lateral bays, presumably with more extensive glazing scheme in the east gable. Hitherto that this chapel is mentioned in the literature at all, it suggested it may have been a Lady Chapel, and there can be no doubt in the devotion of the Cistercians to the Virgin Mary, yet it was precisely because their churches as a whole were dedicated to the Virgin that the Cistercians did not usually feel the need to build architectural distinct Lady Chapels. In fact, chapels of any dedication located east of the Presbytry seem to have been extremely rare. The only other known British example was uncovered at Stathford Landform, which intriguingly was another Savagnac house of origin. In this case, the excavators are aware that the feature has few parallels, but they do tentatively identify it as a Lady Chapel. Given the rarity of such eastern chapels and the doubts over the dedication at Buckfast, it is of considerable interest to find documentary evidence of a Lady Chapel at the site in the late 14th century. The monks are consented to say a daily colect for Sir James and Thomas Ordley in the mass of St Mary. They further agreed to make and keep and repair two figures of their shields of arms in the glass of the gable of the Lady Chapel. If we take this reference at Fais Fari, the specific mention of a gable to the chapel suggests the feature had such a freestanding element. Further tantalising hints of the qualities of the chapel may well have emerged from John Allen and Stuart Blaylock's study of the loose architectural stone log. A small group of fragments suggest the construction of an impressive building at Buckfast in the second quarter of the 14th century, with clear links to the Exeter Cathedral workshop. In particular, a distinctive rib fragment, number 34 at the top left, looks very much like those found in a number of vaults built in the south-west around this time, including one at Otteryson Mary, and all associated with the Master Mason William Joy. In addition, several pieces of high quality window tracery, including a possible gable element, would also fit well with the building of the 1340s. We cannot expect inclusive proof, of course, but the eastern Lady Chapel is by far the most obvious candidate. To conclude on this, on the church, I'd just like to say a little more about the architectural fragments. As I've mentioned, these were found in the 1880s, and they were found largely on the floor of the chapter house. Brookie Rowe tells us they were strewn on the floor, and they are believed to have come from various parts of the abbey. The collection included, he says, pieces of small shafts, bits of carved stone and statuary, often coloured. Doubtless this material is represented by the fine rule of late medieval based on figure sculpture, which still survives, and which is now in the study by Alan and Blake Locke. Several of the pieces may represent devotional figures, with others possibly derived from tomb sculpture. One piece, number 42, the top one there, is clearly a headless torso of aclerid investments. Another, number 45 is what I think, shows three figures holding a book which must have belonged to a near life-size figure of probably the saint. Further based on fragments are likely to have come from small or medium-sized furnishings within the church. The features represented were undoubtedly of elaborate design, though it's difficult to be certain whether we're looking at tomb canobies, or perhaps a screen with some form of canobies niches. Alan and Blake Locke tentatively suggest that the majority of these collections belong to the 14th century. Now, I've said next to nothing about the Cloyster buildings, and I've no time to say any more really. I just want to highlight three little areas, the Cloyster, the chapter house and amongst the factory. What I'd say about the Cloyster really is only that the present Cloyster mirrors in shape and form the Cistercian building, though I don't think that there is any evidence that the Cistercian building ever had enclosed alleys or walks, such as we've seen there. Again, from the New Stonework fragments, we have these perlet marble shafts, including pieces of capitals, which would have been assembled in this sort of manner earlier, for example, at Bevo Alley, and these may have survived, these open arcades may have survived right through to the suppression. In the East Range, one of the most significant buildings was the chapter house, which we see here projecting eastwards from the East Close Barrens, and we can't be amongst dormitory, we've been on the upper floor here, their day room at the bottom end of the chapter house here. I suggest in the volume that we are looking at a building which is either a single span without any medium piers, which often appear in Cistercian chapter houses, and I'd link this to Cleve-Bildon and here at Ford, nearby Ford, and I suggest something like this, and in terms of the refractory, one area where we certainly have come to disagree with Walters, in the South Range he shows a refractory aligned on an east-west axis. Now, the Cistercian certainly began this way, but very quickly, and it's a long story again, they changed the axis. Instead of running east-west, that's Tinton, a wharf from Tinton's earlier refractory, they spun out at right angles to the range in much larger north-south buildings, this is the Tinton example, and Hey Prestle on the buck version of, engraving of Buckfast, here's the Cloyser Square there, and springing out from the south angle is a building with lines, so it's in a larger south window, in just the right position for refractory, and I'm going to have to stop there. This, if I can finally to return to the starting point, all of this and more is summarised, both in the newly construction drawing and in what is doubtless, a vastly overconfident phased ground plan based on Walters original, but before you tear these apart, please, I commend millennial volume to you for more robust and supporting arguments. Thank you. Mr Vice President, guests and fellows, I crave your attention again for the second part of this evening's paper about the role of the late 90th century columnarisation of the site from 1882. Now, in between, in our volume covered by Arthurle Bridget Cherry, is the development of the poster solution site, fascinating complex, we can't go into it, but we can hint with the beautiful turn of water colour of 1826, showing the Abbey house, which David showed us in the glass negative, nestling in this wonderfully romantic evocation of the Dark River, the Dark Valley, with Dartmoor up above. Interestingly, the water colour is from a number of Turner tours in the south west, and in particular sketches of the year 1814. Tourism, romanticism and the idealisation of the Middle Ages behind Turner's water colour were to be crucial ingredients in our ongoing story. We will look at the phenomenon of the rebuilt church, the monastery and community, the evolution of the design and the furnishings of the church, and at the roles of architect, abbot and one monk artist. The site came onto the market in 1882, the eccentric owner announcing his preference to sell it to a Catholic religious order. Thus the Buckfast Abbey church, rededicated under the medieval title of St Mary, came to be reborn and now celebrates its millennium. The completed church once again dominates the site and is at the heart of an economic, social and religious unit, not unlike that, closed so rudely in 1539. Built of Devon blue limestone with these lovely warm hand-hand hill dressings from sunset and the roots now in copper, the west front is a set piece based on Tewkesbury and the tower on Kirkstall. The church is 240 feet long, 73 meters, and the tower rises to 51 feet, 15.5 meters, it has an important set of bones. And the church was to be fully furnished down to the vestments designed by Walters the architect, as shown here in the enthronement of the fourth abbot of Buckfast in 1959. The vestments I refer to are those of the seated abbot with his back to the altar and those of his attendance with their backs to us. And of course the heroes of the architectural side of the story are the architect Frederick A. Walters, whose dates are 1849 to 1831, properly dressed with a hat on the right, architecture from 1883 until his death in 1931, and then succeeded by his son Edward John 1880 to 1947 next to his father. And of course tourism, you see the wandering tourists of a view of the mid 1930s with the tower being brought to its completion in 1938. Walters are the Society of Antiquaries. By the 1880s the Gothic revival begun by Pugin was on a second victory lap in the hands of architects and practitioners such as G.F. Bodley, F.S.A. and for the Roman Catholics, John Francis Bentley, about to design the way since the cathedral. And one of the sponsors at least of the Catholic side of the Gothic revival at the time is Everard Green, whose coat of arms I show you, Rouge Dragon and Vice President of the Society of Antiquaries in 1891. Green was one of the sponsors of Walters' election as a fellow in 1885 by the which time, as David had mentioned, the Society had part-founded aspects of the archaeology at Buckfast. And Walters' first work of the site was the restoration of the Albert's Tower, which I show you and already mentioned by David. Buckfast has a vast, was a last uncatalog collection of architectural drawings with which we all had great fun working during the production of the book. And I show you some of the first works by Walters arriving in the autumn of 1883. And they are, of course, the record drawing of the then derelict Albert's Tower and the proposal for its restoration. His record drawing of October in 1883 and its restoration in November 1883 show how a Gothic revival architect approached the task in the 1880s, carefully distinguishing between old and new work by the colour codes on the right. But with the aim of restoration to an ideal period, the noted exeter builder and woodworker Harry Hens signs these drawings as contractor. Not only record and proposal drawings, but also presentation drawings were needed, such as this watercolour to convince a prospective donor or patron here at the Buckfast Abbey Restoration Committee, and the proposal is for the building of the south range of the monastery, the first permanent buildings for the monks. The road to the Buckfast Abbey Restoration Committee is crucial, and indeed it is they who in a sense foist Walters on the slightly incomprehending monks agreeing only to give money if Walters is retained as the architect. And that is in fact what happens. This drawing of May 1884 shows the south range of the monastery with once again the Albert's Tower on the right, and was built from 1884 largely paid for by the local Catholic bigwig Lord Clifford. And who were these monks? They were Benedictines expelled under French antiferical laws from their mother house in France, expelled in 1880, and they arrived here in 1882. These Benedictines were strict contemplatives and did not, unlike the English Benedictines of Ampleforth and Downside, run schools. We see them here in the Corpus Christchurch procession of about the year 1910, the senior fathers on the extreme right, suitably bearded and gallic looking. At in the Middle Ages, the monasteries divided into choir monks and lay brothers, recruited in France and southwest Germany. Many came as boys for an education or an apprenticeship. Brother Adam Kerl, 1898-1978, the propagator of the Buckfast bee, retired from this role aged 93, and with an OBE in his pocket. Brother Adam's apostolate to the bees is an example of the economic self-sufficiency aimed for here from the first. The monks had no endowments. When Walters first came to Buckfast in the autumn of 1883, the monks had already built and furnished a temporary church. Some of the decoration that would work was done by monks whom he could name and exalted the self-sufficiency I mentioned. But this sort of bondierserie was worthily inadequate by English standards of the Gothic revival by the 1880s, as Walters must have been painfully aware. But, however, note the statue of the Virgin and Child on the left, because the clay was made, and David has mentioned it, that the lower part of the statue was excavated on the site from this fragment and from the figure of the Virgin and Child on the seal of the surrender document of February 1539, which our fellow John Cherry analyses in the book. From these two pieces of evidence, Walters projected the rest of the statue as we see it. It was placed on the left in the new church in 1922 in this perpendicular style chapel, where Walters therefore suggests the lapse of historic time in the development of this early Gothic church. This combination of happy accident, piety, and the rewriting of history was to characterise the whole Buckfast enterprise. What is this first scheme, as you will now understand, was designed without any understanding of the archaeology of the site, the scheme of October 1883, and then of course with the vignette on which David has been speaking to us. The drawing of 1886 described as based on the foundations of the ancient buildings as made in March 1884, that's the vignette information. The proposal is now completely different. As you can see, the church is to the north of the site and the closest to the south, and the style is of course no longer decorated or perpendicular, but a sort of normal transitional. For the sake of our orientation, the abbot's tower is hiding in the bottom left of the drawing. This 1895 drawing shows the development of the transition Norman scheme, such as it was described by Walters in the Builder. For a cruciform church, bowel vaulted in the nave and rib vaulted at the east end. The crossing arch with abandoned interlace is distinctly Norman, as is the profile of the crossing arch. At note under the arch, that a night stair is provided for the monks to sing matins and lords at 2am in the morning, as indeed these extremely austere monks did at this stage. And we move on to the development by 1909, when Walters once again publishes in the Builder. A triforium stage has appeared, rib vaults have also appeared in the nave, and we've moved on to a distinct early Gothic style. The east end has been further elaborated, not quite along the archaeological lines that David hinted at, and the tower heightened. This characteristically is a postcard for pleasures on the site, as you can see the abbey church when completed. The very important collection of glass negatives at Buckfast is fortunately hand listed and some of the plates are dated. David gave us the date I think for 1906 from the top right of the laying out of the cloister, and I speculate at date of that 1910 for the laying out of the east end, you can see the throwing of the first arches of the aisle vault, you can see the crossing, the sanctuary and the square-ended ambulatory chapels. And of course the glass negative views are all carefully posed to show the monks at work in the physical reconstruction of the building. With the break of the first world, work restarts promptly between 1918 and 1922 when the west front is paid for by two donors, to whom we will refer, a shillers, and then the rest of the nave completed behind the west front. So I show you monks on the scaffolding, properly aproned monks as masons wearing their habits, and the gaffer or formal perhaps clerk of works, well no not for them, a clerk of works with his cap and his tweeds, and we see monks grappling with centering, looking down the nave from the position of the crossing, photographs of about 1922. The monk builders and the monk carvers and the provision of all the prime labour for the site are of course another crucial example of the self-sufficiency aimed for. And this road of the monk builders, I've rather notally called it the niff of the monk builders in the book, is encapsulated in this window of 1930 of the monks in fact building that west front, and underneath them is the inscription loosely translated, the church to the holy virgin destroyed by perfidy was restored by the faith and labour of the monks. And I've argued in the book that the counterweight as where of the supervisory role of Walters as the architect, because of course it's from his highly complex and technical drawings, presentation drawings, working drawings, scale drawings, full scale drawings that this work goes ahead and we have for example in the archive full scale details of architectural detail which has been pricked through by the monks for the carving. So the church is built without a contract and at no estimated cost by the monk builders under the supervision of the architect and occasionally with a clerk of works. The glass story at Parkfast is not one of the most important as you can see and the church as we would expect from Dana's explanation this very severe early gothic with these vaults in the aisle supporting the nave and the view into the sanctuary with its very lavish fitting. The church line inches 270 feet long and I'll show you the nave with its side altars, the monks choir, the crossing, the presbytery and the sanctuary. So the the completion of the church by 1932 the year after Walters died and we now move on from the architect to the great building Abbott and Scarvonee, the other hero upon this end of the story. And Scarvonee is the second Abbott of Parkfast from 1906 until 1938. An Ostro German he arrived at Parkfast aged 13 with a church vocational ready in mind. His reign spans the foundation of the church 1907 and its consecration 1938. Describing himself as a monk as a building Abbott it was his fundraising which saw the church not only built but lavishly furnished and while the archive is silent on his methods and his successes indeed we know nothing of the costs of this building. The names of the donors however are recorded in this lavish Libavite of the left, the book which records the names of the pious donors and which would allow them to receive the merits of the masses said at the altar where this book was housed. This was presented by Vonee to mark his silver jubilee in 1931 by the German Gullsmith Bernard Witter, Gullsmith's Arkham Cathedral. The contributors of this book were in my view very movingly privileged to add our own names in the book as it were further pious donors to the work. And now the fittings of the church by Bernard Witter, this workshop in Arkham were also Gullsmith's to Arkham Cathedral and that is a very high up in German religious and conservation culture and as such they were able to make on the left an authorised casting of the famous font of Hildersheim circa 1220. This model was chosen by the donor Henry Shiller who with his wife appears as a kneeling donor on the side of the seated virgin, slightly altering that to say the donors on the original. And this is made in the Bernard Witter workshop in Arkham from 1928 to 1932. The fascinating metalwork story in our book is written by our fellow Maryam Campbell and I think you will agree that the accuracy of the reproduction and the Germanic rigor of this culture is really something quite foreign to the whimsy of English church art of the period. And the greatest work of this culture in the church is of course the golden altar of which Walters makes this drawing proposal drawing in 1928 proposing that is that this be built up larded over his existing altar of 1922 and gold means gold. I show you the altar as it was presented between 1933 and 1965. As Maryam mentions, this is one of the great works of interwar interwar church art. She goes further, by far the most ambitious and lavish to be seen in any English cathedral church. The other clay for it of course is that it claims to be on the site of the high altar of the medieval building. The sources of the golden altar are clearly chosen by Abbott Vaunier. He saw the the mass of St Gregory here at Burlington House in 1927, he's only been to the National Gallery in 1933. And then in 1928 he saw the coblets altar, the golden altar of coblets at the Musée de Clunie in Paris. And we see the the retable on the workbench of the Vita workshop where 12 craftsmen spent two years making it between 1930 and 1932. The altar as completed is slightly improved by the Vita workshop who had the bachelor lease of the donors and other detail to that actually rather dull drawing by Walters in 1928. And the cosmarty floor around the repositioned altar was only completed last year. And to conclude with the final aspect of but far self-sufficiency, the work of the famous Don Charles Norris. I show you the crossing ceiling that he painted, a tempera on board. I show you four of its nine panels, 1938 to 39. Norris was a pupil of Professor Tristrom who, a Catholic convert, spent a lot of time at Buckfast and was clearly very close to its then architectural and liturgical culture. The painting of the crossing ceiling and then after the war Norris comes back from his war service and continues more of the cosmarty floors but hint hint by 1954 on the right, the floor of the lady altar, you can see that he's moving in another direction. Archon Keeper to Robert Proctor has characterised Norris's work as modern medievalism. He began traditional stained glass making at Buckfast in the 1930s with his two assistants. But by 1965, as you can see, he's moved on to the daldave technique of randomly cut bottle glass set in concrete frames, as we can see in this window of 1965 to the Besson-Sackland chapel. This building was given to the Plymouth architect Paul Perne and built from 1962 to 66. This is the first time the Walters practice has passed over in 80 years of service to the community and 1962 is also the year which saw the opening of the second Vatican Council. And to conclude, Mr Vice President, Fellows and Guests, with Von Nie and his memorial plaque of 1951. Von Nie, our building abbot, was a great belief in divine providence. It was a kind providence which led the young architect Walters here in the summer of 1883 until this. It was a kind providence which saved Albert Von Nie from drowning in the Mediterranean in 1906. We see him looking out to the Blessed Mother who appears in the top left of the plaque. She is blessing him amidst the scene of the sinking of the ship in which his confrere, the first abbot of Buckfast drowns. We see in this sort of tree of Jesse between himself and the Virgin, we see the monks going about their great task of building the church and we also see, just above his head, a visiting bishop demanding admission to the church. This visiting bishop is surely a cardinal born of Westminster seen on his knees being admitted to consecrate the church in 1932 by Von Nie in one of the Walters' design investments. 1932 is the year after Walters' death. It's six years before Von Nie's death and is the point at which we conclude our story. Architect and abbot had truly made a recreation of the monastic past but for the sake of a monastic present and indeed a monastic future. Thank you.