Bell's Cathedrals: St. David's

In Short

Philip A. Robson’s architectural monograph provides an exacting structural and historical survey of St. David’s Cathedral in Wales. Beginning with practical advice for reaching its isolated valley, the volume traces the fabric of the building from its Norman foundations through medieval additions, post-Reformation decay, and modern Victorian restoration. Through precise descriptions, measured drawings, and excerpts from past historical surveys, Robson captures the physical reality of the cathedral's masonry, tombs, and surrounding monastic ruins. It endures as a meticulously documented portrait of an architectural marvel hidden at the far edge of the Welsh countryside.

The Story

Robson’s narrative begins with the physical journey to St. David’s, emphasizing the cathedral’s remote geographic positioning. Situated sixteen miles and seventeen hills away from the nearest major rail terminus at Haverfordwest, the structure occupies a secluded site that protected it historically while making modern visits a deliberate pilgrimage. From this spatial orientation, the author transitions into an extensive chronological examination of how the cathedral’s physical structure evolved across centuries of construction, neglect, and renewal.

The core of the book systematically maps the building’s architectural development. De Leiâ’s original twelfth-century Transitional Norman framework establishes the primary ground plan, but subsequent eras added layers of complexity. Perpendicular-period builders renewed main roofs, constructed massive northern buttresses to stabilize leaning walls, and added height to the central tower. However, ambition often outpaced execution or structural stability; repeated efforts to vault the nave and aisles were designed but abandoned, leaving structural shafts without stone groining.

Disaster and decay form a critical arc in the building's history. The collapse of the central tower in 1220 forced major rebuilds, while an earthquake in 1248 further strained the masonry. Following the Reformation and the English Civil War, catastrophic neglect set in. Troops stripped lead from the roofs of the transepts and Lady Chapel, leaving the eastern chapels exposed to the elements until their vaults caved in. Early, crude attempts to arrest decay included Bishop Field whitewashing the entire interior in 1630 and filling in structural arches to prevent total collapse. By 1800, architect John Nash attempted a controversial rebuilding of the West Front, which sacrificed ancient ashlar work from adjacent ruinous chapels to complete its façade.

The narrative reaches its climax with the monumental Victorian restoration campaign initiated by Bishop Thirlwall and led by architect Sir G. G. Scott beginning in 1862. Scott faced an extraordinary engineering crisis: the central tower, weighing thousands of tons, was heavily fractured and resting on crumbling piers. Robson details the heroic measures required to save the building, including driving massive oak needles and timber shoring through the masonry while entirely rebuilding the tower's supporting piers from their foundations.

The work concludes by assessing the cathedral in its restored state. Robson surveys the outer precinct, including the picturesque, roofless remains of St. Mary’s College and Bishop Gower’s magnificent fourteenth-century Episcopal Palace. The final sections record precise physical dimensions, financial accounts of the restoration fund, and lists of past church dignitaries, leaving the reader with a complete inventory of a ancient sanctuary brought back from the brink of total ruin.

How It Unfolds

The journey west The reader is oriented to the remote geography of Pembrokeshire, navigating the seventeen steep hills from Haverfordwest to reach the secluded valley of the Alan where the cathedral rests.

Layering the masonry The architectural history opens with De Leiâ’s Norman core, tracing how subsequent medieval bishops added Perpendicular roofs, flying buttresses, and lofty tower stages over existing Romanesque work.

Ruinate centuries Civil conflict and neglect leave the eastern chapels roofless, stripping lead from the ceilings and forcing centuries of makeshift repairs, whitewashing, and structural infilling to keep the church standing.

The grand restoration Sir G. G. Scott takes control of the fabric in 1862, undertaking a precarious engineering feat to shore up thousands of tons of crumbling tower masonry with massive timber frames while rebuilding its foundations.

Exploring the precinct The tour finishes beyond the main church walls, detailing the delicate stone tracery of the ruined Lady Chapel, the noble roofless expanse of the Episcopal Palace, and the surrounding collegiate remains.

The People

Because the text is a non-fiction architectural history, its central figures are the historical builders, bishops, and architects whose competing visions and interventions shaped the cathedral’s physical body over eight centuries.

• Bishop Peter de Leiâ: The twelfth-century prelate who initiated the rebuilding of the cathedral after earlier structures were destroyed. He established the core Transitional Norman arcade and nave, setting the structural footprint that all future builders had to contend with.
• Bishop Henry Gower: The creative fourteenth-century prelate described as the "Menevian Wykeham." He sought to elevate St. David's into a grand pilgrimage center by expanding the eastern chapels, installing elaborate rood screens and tombs, and building the sprawling, luxurious Episcopal Palace.
• Sir George Gilbert Scott: The eminent Victorian restoration architect tasked in 1862 with saving a collapsing building. Armed with timber shoring and iron ties, he sought to stabilize the central tower and restore lost medieval features, successfully rebuilding the West Front and securing the fabric for the modern era.
• Edmond Tudor, Earl of Richmond: Father of King Henry VII, whose Purbeck marble altar-tomb stands prominently in the presbytery. Removed from a dissolved Carmarthen priory, his monument represents the royal status and political memory anchored within the cathedral's sacred choir space.

In Its Own Voice

"Those who may wish to visit St. David’s will find it remarkably inaccessible, and they will be well advised to travel to Haverfordwest by train, sleep there, and drive on, over the sixteen miles and seventeen hills, to St. David’s on the next day."

The author prepares prospective visitors for the arduous travel required to view the isolated church.

"Previous to this we can find no early references to this space which was walled in north, and described as 'vilissimus sive sordidissimus locus in totâ ecclesiâ,' and converted it into the beautiful chapel which bears his name."

Robson notes how Bishop Vaughan transformed a neglected, foul corner of the exterior into an exquisite Perpendicular chapel.

"It will be seen from the above, that the object to be aimed at was little (if anything) less than the rebuilding from their foundation of two of the four piers which sustained the tower, each of them bearing a load of 1,150 tons..."

Architect Sir G. G. Scott outlines the extreme engineering risk involved in stabilizing the central tower.

What It's Really About

Beneath its architectural technicalities, the book investigates how human devotion and institutional memory struggle against structural decay and geographical isolation. St. David’s stands as an anomaly: a grand cathedral built not in a populous, wealthy city, but in a quiet, remote valley at the edge of Wales.

Robson explores the tension between original architectural ambition and practical execution. Repeatedly, medieval masons planned elaborate stone vaulting and soaring towers that the soft local stone and poor footings could not support. The text documents a perpetual cycle of structural overreach, catastrophic failure, opportunistic patching, and eventual scientific rescue. It highlights how generations of builders—from medieval bishops to Victorian engineers—left their distinct cultural signatures on a single shared sanctuary of stone.

Why Read It Today

This work appeals directly to enthusiasts of ecclesiastical architecture, medieval history, and historic preservation. Robson writes with the quiet authority of an insider who understands both the aesthetic soul of Gothic architecture and the practical grit of masonry, timbering, and drainage. Reading the text feels like walking through a drafty, ancient interior alongside an exceptionally observant guide who points out hidden fresco fragments under centuries of whitewash or explains the precise joinery supporting a tower.

Modern readers should be prepared for an uncompromisingly technical survey filled with architectural jargon—such as tympanum, crocketed pinnacles, vesica, and sexpartite vaulting—alongside lengthy quotes from eighteenth-century antiquarian records. The prose assumes a reader comfortable with structural details and historical citations. Yet, for those willing to engage its precise terminology, the book offers a rewarding, unvarnished look at how one of Britain's most isolated treasures was built, lost to decay, and painstakingly rescued from total collapse.