and censers in prodigious quantities, to judge only from those that have survived. It would be true to say that laymen in the towns and large villages spent more on building and adorning churches, in the later part of the Middle Ages, than the clergy. But the money was spent essentially on aspects of religion directly related to their own lives, and within a stone's throw of their houses and workshops: on the parish church or, even more, on thousands of chantry chapels and religious guilds to which they belonged (Norwich alone had 164 guilds in 1389). It could be called a selfish form of religion; indeed, the whole trend of Christianity in these centuries - led by the clergy as a caste - was in the direction of the pursuit of eternal self-interest. Clergy used their privileges, and laity used their money (when they had it) to buy the mechanical means to salvation. The idea of the anonymous Christian community, so very powerful in earlier times, was pushed into the background. One outstanding example of this tendency was the construction, maintenance and functioning of the medieval cathedrals. There are a good many common illusions about these institutions. In the first place, they were not built by the clergy, or by the community, but by professional workmen, on a strict cash basis. This is made quite clear by surviving fabric-rolls and other documents. Where clergymen played a part, it was a matter of note: thus the Gloucester Chartulary records: 'In 1242 was completed the new vault over the nave of the church, not by the extraneous aid of professional workmen, as before, but by the vigorous hands of the monks who resided on the spot.’ During the construction of the new choir at Lincoln, 1191-1200, the work of the lay master-mason, Geoffrey de Noiers, the Bishop, Hugh the Burgundian, ‘oftentimes bore the hod-load of hewn stone or of building lime’. But these were exceptional cases. The bishop or chapter, or both, promoted the building scheme, and a member of the chapter was appointed custos operis or warden, but his duties were purely administrative. Elyas de Derham, who had been a master-mason, designer and Keeper of the Works for Henry III at Winchester, was later made canon of Salisbury and put in charge of the cathedral building there - the only case of a cathedral being built as a piece, in the space of one lifetime (twenty-five years); but even so, the cementarius, or master-mason, during most of the construction period was a professional layman, one Robertus. The master-mason was, in effect, the designer, builder and controller. Master Robert built St Albans, in the period following 1077; Master Andrew the nave of Old St Paul's, from 1127; William of Sens the choir of Canterbury, from 1174; William Ramsey worked on Canterbury and Lichfield in the second quarter of the fourteenth century; William of Colchester built the central tower of York, from 1410, and Thomas Mapilton worked on Westminster Abbey, 1423-34, and so on. Sometimes master-carpenters played key roles - the outstanding example being William Hurley, who built the famous Octagon at Ely in the 1320s. But the master-masons, who can be identified in about 300 cases, were almost always the men who mattered. They were grand figures. They travelled in style with a retinue, as we know from their expenses, and were sometimes granted manors, or exempted from jury-service or other irksome duties. It was not uncommon for them to own stone-quarries, and to serve as consultantarchitects to a number of cathedrals and important ecclesiastical (and secular) fabrics. Such great figures, summoned from afar, might arouse local resentment: when Henry IV lent his royal master-mason to York about 1410, the locals ‘conspired together to kill him and his assistant’ - the assistant was actually slain. Building was purely a secular operation. Especially at Exeter and York, the fabric-rolls furnish details over long periods (though there are important gaps). In England, except during the Norman period, when Saxon labour was conscripted (for instance at Durham), the workmen were all professionals, and had to join lodges. In many parts of central Europe and Spain conscript labour was used; and in England, too, craftsmen were conscripted, but only for work on royal foundations, and fortresses. There is no evidence that compulsion was applied to non-royal ecclesiastical buildings. And of course there was no question of voluntary unskilled labour - the guilds would not have allowed it. The cathedral chapters, or the monks, had to pay the going rates. It was not a labour of love. Indeed, constant and strenuous efforts were made to lay down rules and hours of work, and enforce them. This is attested by the survival - especially at Ely, 63