The Cathedral Church of Peterborough: A Description Of Its Fabric And A Brief History Of The Episcopal See

In Short

This book serves as both a scholarly guide and a historical ledger for Peterborough Cathedral. It meticulously documents the structure—from its iconic West Front to the intricacies of its Norman nave—while placing the building within the broader context of monastic and episcopal history. By blending architectural analysis with anecdotes of the abbots and bishops who shaped the site, the author creates a definitive record of a landmark that has survived fires, civil unrest, and centuries of structural alteration. It endures as a vital reference for those seeking to understand the cathedral’s layered, stone-recorded life.

The Story

The history of the Cathedral Church of Peterborough is a narrative of resilience, defined by repeated cycles of destruction and deliberate, faithful reconstruction. The story begins in the late tenth century with Bishop Ethelwold, who, guided by dreams and royal patronage, established a Benedictine presence upon the ruins of the desolated Medeshamstede. This early church, however, was merely the precursor to the magnificent Norman edifice that followed. Construction of this great minster spanned roughly eighty years, a period remarkable for the architectural consistency maintained by successive abbots who sought to honor the original design through every arch and column.

The cathedral’s journey is far from linear. The eleventh century brought the turbulence of the Norman Conquest, testing the monastery’s identity under abbots like Turold, who arrived with an armed guard and struggled to maintain the loyalty of his convent. Despite the political shifts and the infamous fire of 1116—which consumed much of the earlier work—the building grew. The architecture reflects this transition, moving from the sturdy, rounded arches of the Norman period to the later, more delicate additions of the fourteenth century. The central tower, once a massive Norman structure, was lightened and transformed in the second quarter of the fourteenth century, reflecting both changing aesthetic tastes and a prudent awareness of structural stability following the collapse of a similar tower at Ely.

As the centuries progressed, the cathedral became a vessel for the changing tides of English religion and society. The narrative follows the stewardship of various deans, some of whom served as meticulous caretakers, while others, such as Dean Kipling, left behind controversial "improvements" like the ill-fated turrets derisively known as "chimneys." The nineteenth century brought an era of significant repair and, at times, necessary restoration, as the dean and chapter appealed to the public to salvage the decaying woodwork and neglected screens.

Intertwined with the fabric of the building are the people who inhabited its precincts. The book traces the line of abbots—from the royally descended Leofric to the mitred William Genge—and the succession of bishops, including the philosophical Richard Cumberland and the tireless, if politically contentious, White Kennett. The story concludes by honoring the many figures memorialized within the walls, from royal burials like Katharine of Aragon to the humble, enduring portrait of Old Scarlett, the sexton whose long life of service became a permanent fixture of the cathedral’s folklore. Through the lens of the stones themselves, the author reveals that while the building has served as a sanctuary, a fortress, and a library, it remains fundamentally a testament to the thousands of hands that have labored to keep it standing.

How It Unfolds

The foundation of the minster The narrative opens with the spiritual and royal mandate that spurred the restoration of the Saxon site at Medeshamstede. The author captures the fervor of King Edgar and Bishop Ethelwold, whose vision set the standard for the Benedictine influence that would define the location for centuries.

The Norman architectural vision The book then moves into an exhaustive analysis of the Norman construction phase, highlighting how distinct architects carried on the spirit of their predecessors. This section provides a close reading of the nave, transepts, and choir, explaining how even minor variations in detail reveal the building’s complex timeline.

The evolution of the tower The middle chapters shift focus to the central tower and the structural interventions of the fourteenth century. The author details the transition from massive Norman stonework to a lighter lantern, contextualizing these changes against the backdrop of contemporary medieval engineering disasters.

The stewardship of the Deans The focus shifts to the modern era, where the author critiques the various repairs and alterations undertaken by the cathedral’s leadership. The narrative here captures the tension between preservation and the changing tastes of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, culminating in the public appeals for funds to restore the choir and nave.

The memorials and the city The final chapters offer a survey of the interior monuments, library holdings, and the surrounding precincts. The book closes by reflecting on the figures whose lives and deaths are etched into the stone, summarizing the cathedral’s role as both a sacred space and a living archive for the city of Peterborough.

The People

The history of the cathedral is populated by a cast of characters whose individual ambitions shaped the building. Abbot William of Waterville stands out as a foundational figure who advanced the Norman design, erecting transepts and central tower stages that gave the church its enduring, massive character. In contrast, the later Abbot Turold represents the early friction of the Norman Conquest; his tenure was marked by conflict with his own monks and the legendary resistance of the Saxon hero Hereward, who viewed the abbey as a prize to be defended or despoiled.

Among the bishops, White Kennett emerges as a figure of significant industry and controversy. An antiquary by nature, he revolutionized the administration of the diocese by demanding transcripts of parish registers, yet his strong political opinions earned him enemies, including the painter who allegedly depicted him as Judas in an altar-piece. His predecessor, Richard Cumberland, presents a different profile—a philosopher who was surprised to find himself appointed to the episcopate, having sought no such advancement.

Finally, there is the figure of Old Scarlett. Though not a member of the clergy, he looms large in the cathedral’s memory. As a sexton who interred two queens and generations of townspeople, his portrait serves as a bridge between the high ecclesiastical history of the bishops and the everyday reality of the community that surrounded the cathedral, grounding the grand narrative in the simple, mortal work of a single man.

In Its Own Voice

"If I have ventured to differ from some of these writers on various points, I must appeal, in justification, to a careful and painstaking study of the Cathedral and its history, during a residence at Peterborough of more than twenty years."

The author establishes his authority by grounding his historical claims in decades of direct observation within the cathedral walls.

"The Norman work being in the main so complete, it will be best to begin the description where the building itself was begun, at the apse."

This directive guides the reader on a logical path through the interior, prioritizing the chronological origins of the architecture over the current entrance point.

"A swan never before seen at the place flew to the Bishop at his manor at Stowe directly after he had been enthroned at Lincoln."

This anecdote appears in a discussion of the symbolic figures adorning the Bishop’s throne, illustrating how folklore and history often blur within the cathedral’s decorative legacy.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this book is an argument for the continuity of human effort. The author presents the cathedral not merely as a static monument, but as a living record of "eighty years" of consistent vision followed by centuries of maintenance, neglect, and rescue. The central theme is the tension between the permanence of stone and the fragility of those who manage it. The author explores how architectural design reflects the religious and political values of its time, while simultaneously examining the role of the historian in "reading" the stones when written chronicles fail. Ultimately, it asks how a society preserves its past, finding that the answer lies in the careful, often laborious stewardship of the physical spaces that define a community.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the quiet, scholarly rhythm of late-nineteenth-century prose will find much to admire here. This book is an essential companion for anyone visiting the cathedral or for those who take pleasure in the deep, forensic study of English heritage. It provides an antidote to the shallow, image-heavy travel guides of the modern era, offering instead a dense, rewarding exploration of how a building’s physical fabric serves as a timeline of a nation’s history.

The book does not shy away from the technicalities of Norman architecture, which might prove challenging for a novice reader, and the author’s perspective is undeniably shaped by his Victorian upbringing. He treats the "vicissitudes" of the past with a mixture of reverence and critical judgment that feels distinctly of its time. However, for those willing to engage with his measured tone, the reward is a profound sense of place. What stays with the reader is the image of the cathedral as a resilient, evolving entity—a stone witness to the centuries of monks, bishops, soldiers, and sextons whose lives were defined by the arches under which they walked. It is a work of warmth and precision, perfect for those who want to understand not just what the building looks like, but why it remains a vital, if silent, participant in the history of the land.