The Close was retaken by Prince Rupert in 1643, and Colonel Hawey Bagot was appointed Governor of the garrison; he had the honour of entertaining Charles the First, after the battle of Naseby, when his majesty left Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and slept at Governor Bagot’s, in Lichfield, on the 15th of June 1645; this unfortunate monarch twice afterwards revisited this city; but short was its period of tranquillity, for in 1646, the Close was again taken by the Parliamentary forces, under Sir William Brereton, and its walls dismantled. In 1651, by authority of the Rump Parliament, men were employed to strip off the lead from the roof of the Cathedral, and break in pieces the Bells[1]. It may not be uninteresting to remark on the heavy afflictions, or violent deaths, suffered by many of the spoliators of the Church of those days; among others, Colonel Danvers who stripped the roof, and Pickings who demolished the bells, met with untimely ends. We find that although the building was in this dilapidated state, its ministers did not neglect their duties, and Ashmole has the following memorandum. “This morning Mr. Rawlings of Lichfield told me, that the vicars of the Cathedral had entered the Chapter-house, and there said service; that this, with the Vestry, was the only place in the church that had a roof to shelter them.” On the Restoration, Dr. John Hacket was happily appointed prelate: he found the church little better than a heap of ruins, but, zealous in the cause of religion, he immediately set to work with an activity rarely equalled. The morning after his arrival, he employed his own coach horses to remove the rubbish, and took the most vigorous measures to obtain assistance; petitioning from house to house for pecuniary aid, and being himself a liberal benefactor. By his unwearied diligence and munificence, the Cathedral in the space of eight years had nearly regained its original splendour, and was re-consecrated in 1669. The intrepid character of this admirable man may be shown by the following anecdote.—Hacket was preaching in London, during the persecution of the established Church, and although the Liturgy was proscribed, under a severe penalty, he continued the use of it; at length, an armed sergeant and trooper were sent to the church to compel his obedience, but he, with a firm voice and unintimidated manner, read the service as he was wont to do; and when the soldiers, placing a pistol at his head, threatened him with instant death, he calmly replied, “Soldiers, I am doing my duty, do you do yours!” then with a voice equally composed, he resumed the prayers. The soldiers, awe-struck by his pious courage, left the church in astonishment!