Upon this altar-tomb there is an inscription in Latin, in current use of the period, which runs thus:
"Hac sunt in fossa Bedae Venerabilis ossa."
("In this tomb are the bones of the Venerable Bede.")
In connection with this inscription there is a legend that the sixth word, "Venerabilis," was miraculously supplied by divine intervention to the tired and till then uninspired monk who was penning it. Hence Bede is known generally as "The Venerable Bede."
Close by there was an altar to the Venerable Bede.
The Reformation swept away the original tomb, leaving only a few traces behind, and the bones were buried under its site; and an altar-tomb, which still exists, was erected over them.
Every Sunday and holiday at noon a monk was accustomed to ascend the iron pulpit beneath the great west window, and from it to preach.
Though this pulpit is gone, there still exists in close proximity a small chamber of the time of Bishop Langley, which was obviously the robing-room of the preacher.
From 1775 to 1795 this magnificent pile was given over to the tender mercies of one James Wyatt, architect, who, but for timely intervention on the part of John Carter, would have left little of it to our present view; but, alas! by his chiselling and interference with the superficial details of the exterior, he has taught us a lesson in vandalism. The Cathedral still survives with surpassing beauty, and the name of the would-be destroyer is dead.
The Galilee Chapel was happily rescued in time from utter destruction at the hands of James Wyatt. This gentleman had already commenced to pull down a portion of it to make room for a coach-road, which he had planned to facilitate the connection between the castle and the college.
Unhappily the spirit of utility of a most material age allowed the Chapter House to be demolished, but, oddly enough, this demolition, together with the peeling of the exterior, the removal, so to speak, of details and minor embellishments of the grand edifice, have robbed us of nothing of its impressiveness, but indeed remind us, as the mutilated Parthenon marbles do, of the irony of man's vain predilection to mutilate the beautiful, which must last for ever. Thus again there is evidence in the interior of man's destructive power in the mutilation of the Neville tombs.