“‘He beareth a ball-staff,’ quoth the one, ‘and also a rake’s end;’‘Thou failest,’ quoth the miller, ‘thou hast not well thy mind;It is a spear, if thou canst see, with a prick set before,To push adown his enemy, and through the shoulder bore.’”
“‘He beareth a ball-staff,’ quoth the one, ‘and also a rake’s end;’‘Thou failest,’ quoth the miller, ‘thou hast not well thy mind;It is a spear, if thou canst see, with a prick set before,To push adown his enemy, and through the shoulder bore.’”
Capitals of Columnscapitals of columns in the eastern apse.
None of these windows now remain entire, though the west window has been put together out of fragments of the ancient glass. The latter-day pilgrims will do well to look as little as possible at the hideous glass which the Philistinism of modern piety has inserted, during the last half-century, in the windows of the clerestory and the nave. Its obtrusive unpleasantness make one wish that “Blue Dick” and his Puritan troopers might once more be let loose, under judicious direction, for half an hour on the cathedral. When Erasmus visited Canterbury, the nave contained nothing but some books chained to the pillars, among them the “Gospel of Nicodemus”—printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1509—and the “tomb of some person unknown.” The last words must refer either to the chapel in the south wall, which was built by Lady Joan Brenchley in 1447, and removed in 1787, or to the monument of Archbishop William Wittlesey, who died in 1374, and was interred in the south side of the nave in a marble tomb with a brass, now destroyed. At present the south aisle contains a monument, in alabaster, to Dr. Broughton, sometime Bishop of Sydney, who was educated in the King’s School, under the shadow of the cathedral. The figure is recumbent, and the base of the monument, which is by Lough, is decorated with the arms of the six Australian sees. In the north aisle we find monuments to Orlando Gibbons, Charles I.’s organist; Adrian Saravia, prebendary of Canterbury, and the friend of Hooker, the author of the “Ecclesiastical Polity;” Sir John Boys, who founded a hospital for the poor outside the north gate of the town, and died in 1614; Dean Lyall, who died in 1857; and Archbishop Sumner, who died in 1862. These last two monuments are by Phillips and H. Weekes, R.A., respectively.
The Central Tower.—In the nave the whole of Lanfranc’s work was destroyed, but in the central tower, which we will next examine, the original supporting piers were left standing, though they were covered over by Prior Chillenden with work more in keeping with the style in which he had renewed the nave. “Of the tower piers,” says Willis, “the western are probably mere casings of the original, and the eastern certainly appendages to the original.... Of course I have no evidence to show how much of Lanfranc’s piers was allowed to remainin the heart of the work. The interior faces of the tower walls appear to have been brought forward by a lining so as to increase their thickness and the strength of the piers, with a view to the erection of a lofty tower, which however was not carried above the roof until another century had nearly elapsed.” It was Prior Goldstone the second who, about 1500, carried upward the central tower, which Chillenden seems to have left level with the roof of the cathedral. “With the countenance and help of Cardinal John Morton and Prior William Sellyng he magnificently completed that lofty tower commonly called Angyll Stepyll in the middle of the church. The vaulting of the tower is his work—testudine pulcherrimâ concameratam consummavit—and he also added the buttressing arches—with great care and industry he annexed to the columns which support the same tower two arches or vaults of stonework, curiously carved, and four smaller ones, to assist in sustaining the said tower.” The addition of these buttressing arches, not altogether happy in its artistic effect, was probably rendered necessary by some signs of weakness shown by the piers of the tower, for the north-west pier, which was not so substantially reinforced as the others, now shows a considerable bend in an eastward direction. The “two arches or vaults of stonework” were inserted under the western and southern tower arches. “The eastern arch having stronger piers did not require this precaution, and the northern, which opened upon the ‘Martyrium,’ seems to have been left free, out of reverence to the altar of the martyrdom, and accordingly to have suffered the dislocation just mentioned.” The four smaller arches connected the two western tower-piers with the nearest nave-pier and the wall of the transept. The buttressing arches are strongly built, and are adorned with curious bands of reticulated work. The central western arch occupies the place of the rood-loft, and it is probable that until the Reformation the great rood was placed over it. The rebus of Prior Thomas Goldstone—a shield with three gold stones—is carved upon these arches.
The Western Screen, which separates the nave from the choir, is now more commonly known as the organ-screen: it is a highly elaborate and beautiful piece of work, and the carvings which decorate it are well worthy of examination. In the lower niches there are six crowned figures: one holding achurch is believed to be Ethelbert, while it has been assumed that the figure on the extreme right represents Richard II.: probably Henry IV., who, as has been already mentioned, “helped to build a good part of the body of the Church” has a place of honour here, but no certainty on this matter is possible. The thirteen mitred niches which encircle the arch once contained figures of Christ and the twelve Apostles, but these were destroyed by the Puritans. The exact date of this outward screen is uncertain, but it was set up at some time during the fifteenth century. “A little examination,” says Willis, “of its central archway will detect the junction of this new work with the stone enclosure of the choir.” In fact, this archway is considerably higher than that of De Estria which still remains behind it. The apex of this arch reaches but a little above the capitals of the new arch, and the flat space, or tympanum, thus left between the two, is filled with Perpendicular tracery.
The Choir.—“In the year of grace one thousand one hundred and seventy-four, by the just but occult judgment of God, the Church of Christ at Canterbury was consumed by fire, in the forty-fourth year from its dedication, that glorious choir, to wit, which had been so magnificently completed by the care and industry of Prior Conrad” (“Gervase,” translated by Willis). The work of rebuilding was immediately begun by William, the architect of Sens. At the beginning of the fifth year of his work, he was, by a fall from the height of the capitals of the upper vault, “rendered helpless alike to himself and for the work, but no other person than himself was in the least injured. Against the master only was the vengeance of God or spite of the devil directed.” He was succeeded in his charge by one “William by name, English by nation, small in body, but in workmanship of many kinds acute and honest.” Now in the sixth year from the fire, we read that the monks were “seized with a violent longing to prepare the choir, so that they might enter it at the coming Easter. And the master, perceiving their desires, set himself manfully to work, to satisfy the wishes of the convent. He constructed, with all diligence, the wall which encloses the choir and presbytery. He carefully prepared a resting-place for St. Dunstan and St. Elfege. The choir thus hardly completed even with the greatest labour and diligence, the monks were resolved to enter on Easter Eve withthe ‘new fire,’” that is, the paschal candle which was lit on Easter Eve and burnt until Ascension Day. The kindling of this light was carried out in a very ceremonious manner as enjoined in Lanfranc’s statutes. A fire was made in the cloister and duly consecrated, and the monks, having lit a taper at this fire carried it on the end of a staff in solemn procession, singing psalms and hymns and burning incense, and lit the paschal candle in the choir with it.
Thus was the new choir completed, in the sixth year after the burning of Conrad’s. This part of the cathedral will be peculiarly interesting to the architectural student, owing to the curious mixture of styles, which enables him to compare the Norman and Early English characteristics side by side. A striking feature in the aspect of the building, as seen from the choir, is the remarkable inward bend with which the walls turn towards one another at the end of the cathedral. The choir itself is peculiar in the matter of length (180 feet—the longest in any English church), and the lowness of the vaulting. The pillars, with their pier-arches and the clerestory wall above are said by Willis to be without doubt the work of William of Sens: but the whole question as to where the French William left off and his English namesake began is extremely uncertain, as there can be no doubt that William of Sens had fully planned out the work which he was destined never to complete, and it is more than probable that his successor worked largely upon his plans. We are on safer ground when we assert that the new choir was altogether different from the building which it replaced. The style was much more ornate and considerably lighter: the characteristics of the work of the Williams are rich mouldings, varied and elaborately carved capitals on the pillars, and the introduction of gracefully slender shafts of Purbeck marble. Gervase, in pointing out the differences between the works before and after the fire, mentions that “the old capitals were plain, the new ones most artistically sculptured. The old arches and everything else either plain or sculptured with an axe and not with a chisel, but in the new work first rate sculpture abounded everywhere. In the old work no marble shafts, in the new innumerable ones. Plain vaults instead of ribbed behind the choir.” “Sculptured with an axe,” reads rather curiously, but Professor Willis points out that “the axe is not quite so rude a weapon in the hands of a mason as it mightappear at first sight. The French masons use it to the present day with great dexterity in carving.” The mouldings used by Ernulf were extremely simple, and were decorated with a “peculiar and shallow class of notched ornament,” of which many examples exist in other buildings of the period; while the mouldings of William of Sens “exhibit much variety, but are most remarkable for the profusion of billet-work, zigzag and dogtooth, that are lavished upon them.” The first two methods of ornamentation are Norman, the last an Early English characteristic. This mixture is not confined to the details of decoration but may be observed also in the indiscriminate employment of round and pointed arches. This feature, as Willis remarks, “may have arisen either from the indifference of the artist as to the mixture of forms or else from deliberate contrivance, for as he was compelled, from the nature of his work, to retain round-headed arcades, windows, and arches, in the side-aisles, and yet was accustomed to and desirous of employing pointed arches in his new building, he might discreetly mix some round-headed arches with them, in order to make the contrast less offensive by causing the mixture of forms to pervade the whole composition, as if an intentional principle.”
Choir Looking Eastthe choir, looking east (from a photograph by carl norman and co.).
Whatever the motive, this daring mixture renders the study of the architectural features of our cathedral peculiarly interesting. In the triforium we find a semicircular outer arch circumscribing two inner pointed ones. The clerestory arch is pointed, while some of the transverse ribs of the great vault are pointed and some round.
The inward bend of the walls at the end of the choir was necessitated by the fact that the towers of St. Anselm and St. Andrew had survived the great fire of 1174. Naturally the pious builders did not wish to pull down these relics of the former church, so that a certain amount of contraction had to be effected in order that these towers should form part of the new plan. This arrangement also fitted in with the determination to build a chapel of the martyred St. Thomas at the end of the church, on the site of the former Trinity Chapel. For the Trinity Chapel had been much narrower than the new choir, but this contraction enabled the rebuilders to preserve its dimensions.
The Altar, when the choir was at first completed by William, stood entirely alone, and without a reredos; behind it thearchbishop’s chair was originally placed, but this was afterwards transferred to the corona. The remarkable height at which the altar was set up is due to the fact that it is placed over the new crypt, which is a good deal higher than the older, or western crypt. Before the Reformation the high altar was richly embellished with all kinds of precious and sacred ornaments and vessels: while beneath it, in a vault, were stored a priceless collection of gold and silver vessels: such of these as escaped the rapacity of Henry VIII. were destroyed by the bigotry of the Puritan zealots: the latter made havoc of the reredos which had been erected behind the high altar, probably during the fourteenth century, and also a “most idolatrous costly glory cloth,” the gift of Archbishop Laud. The reredos was replaced by a Corinthian screen, which was of elaborate design, but must have been strangely out of keeping with its surroundings; it was removed about 1870, to make way for the present reredos which was designed in the style of the screen work in the Lady Chapel in the crypt, but which cannot be commended as an object of beauty. The altar coverings which are now in use were presented to the cathedral by Queen Mary, the wife of William III., when she visited Canterbury. A chalice, given by the Earl of Arundel in 1636, is among the communion-plate. In his account of the building of the new choir, Gervase tells us that “the Master carefully prepared a resting-place for St. Dunstan and St. Elfege—the co-exiles of the monks.” When the choir was ready, “Prior Alan, taking with him nine of the brethren of the Church in whom he could trust, went by night to the tombs of the saints, so that he might not be incommoded by a crowd, and having locked the doors of the church, he commanded the stone-work that inclosed them to be taken down. The monks and the servants of the Church, in obedience to the Prior’s commands, took the structure to pieces, opened the stone coffins of the saints, and bore their relics to thevestiarium. Then, having removed the cloths in which they had been wrapped, and which were half-consumed from age and rottenness, they covered them with other and more handsome palls, and bound them with linen bands. They bore the saints, thus prepared, to their altars, and deposited them in wooden chests, covered within and without with lead: which chests, thus lead-covered, and strongly bound with iron, were inclosed in stone-work that was consolidated with meltedlead.” This translation was thus carried out by Prior Alan on the night before the formal re-entry into the choir: the rest of the monks, who had not assisted at the ceremony, were highly incensed by the prior’s action, for they had intended that the translation of the fathers should have been performed with great and devout solemnity. They even went so far as to cite the prior and the trusty monks who had assisted him before the Archbishop, and it was only by the intervention of the latter, and other men of authority, and “after due apology and repentance,” that harmony was restored in the convent.
Choir before Restorationthe choir before restoration.
The bones of St. Dunstan were long a cause of contention between the churches of Canterbury and Glastonbury. The monks of Glastonbury considered that they had a prior claim on the relics of the sainted archbishop, and stoutly contended that his body had been conveyed to their own sanctuary after the sack of Canterbury by the Danes; and they used to exhibit a coffin as containing Dunstan’s remains. But early in the fourteenth century they went so far as to set up a gorgeous shrine in which they placed, with much pomp and circumstance, the supposed relics. Archbishop Warham, who then ruled at Canterbury, accordingly replied by causing the shrine in our cathedral to be opened, and was able to declare triumphantly that he had found therein the remains of a human body, in the costume of an archbishop, with a plate of lead on his breast, inscribed with the words “Sanctus Dunstanus.” In the course of the subsequent correspondence which passed between the two monasteries, the Abbot of Glastonbury, after trying to argue that perhaps part only of the saint’s relics had been conveyed to his church, at last frankly confesses “the people had believed in the genuineness of their saint for so long, that he is afraid to tell them the truth.” This shrine of St. Dunstan stood on the south of the high altar, and was erected after the manner of a tomb: though the shrine itself perished at the time of the Reformation, there still remains, on the south wall of the choir, between the monuments of Archbishops Stratford and Sudbury, some very fine open diaper-work, in what is known as the Decorated style, which once formed part of the ornamentation of St. Dunstan’s altar. The shrine of St. Elfege, or Alphege, who was archbishop at the time of the sacking of Canterbury by the Danes, and was murdered by them, has been altogether destroyed.
The Choir Screen, a solid structure of stone we know to be the work of Prior de Estria,i.e., of Eastry in Kent, who was elected in 1285, and died in 1331. According to the Obituary record, he “fairly decorated the choir of the church with most beautiful stone-work cunningly carved.” In his Register there is an entry which evidently refers to the same work: “Anno 1304-5. Reparation of the whole choir with three new doors and a new screen (pulpito).” The three doors referred to are the north and south entrances and the western one. It has already been pointed out that the present western screen is a later addition. Professor Willis, whose great work on the Architectural History of Canterbury Cathedral should be studied by all who wish to examine the details of the building more closely than is allowed by the scope of this work, describes De Estria’s screen as follows: “The lateral portions of this wall of enclosure are in excellent order. In the western part of the choir, namely, between the eastern transepts and the organ-screen, this wall is built so that its inner face nearly ranges with the inner faces of the pillars; but eastward of the transepts it is built between the pillars. The north doorway remains perfect. The present south doorway, which is in a much later style, is manifestly a subsequent insertion. This enclosure consists of a solid wall, seven feet nine inches in height from the pavement of the side-aisles. It has a stone-bench towards the side-aisles, and above that a base, of the age of William of Sens; so that it is clear that the work of De Estria belongs to the upper part only of the enclosure, which consists of delicate and elaborately worked tracery, surmounted by an embattled crest.... The entire work is particularly valuable on account of its well-established date, combined with its great beauty and singularity.”
A portion of the choir-pavement, lying between the two transepts, is interesting as being undoubtedly part of the original flooring of Conrad’s choir, and probably the only fragment of it that was left undisturbed after the great fire which destroyed “that glorious choir which had been so magnificently completed by the care and industry of Prior Conrad.” This part of the pavement consists of large slabs of a peculiar “stone, or veined marble of a delicate brown colour. When parts of this are taken up for repair or alteration, it is usual to find lead which has run between the joints of the slabs and spread on each side below, and which is with great reasonsupposed to be the effect of the fire of 1174, which melted the lead of the roof, and caused it to run down between the paving stones in this manner.” It is said that when the choir was filled with pews in 1706, and it was necessary to remove part of the pavement, the men engaged on the work picked up enough of this lead to make two large gluepots.
Miserere in the Choira miserere in the choir.
The original woodenstalls of the choirwere described by the writer of a book published in 1640. He relates that there were two rows on each side, an upper and a lower, and that above the stalls on the south side stood the archbishop’s wooden chair, “sometime richly guilt, and otherwise richly set forth, but now nothing specious through age and late neglect.” Perhaps the battered and shabby condition of this part of the cathedral furniture accounts for its having survived the Puritan period; it is at least certain that it remained untouched until 1704, when the refurnishing of the choir was begun by Archbishop Tenison; he himself presented a wainscoted throne with lofty Corinthian canopy adorned with carving by Gibbons, while the altar, the pulpit, and the stalls for the dean and vice-dean were provided with rich fittings by Queen Mary II. The tracery of the screen was hidden by a lining of wainscoting, which was put before it. This arrangement lasted little more than a century. In the time of Archbishop Howley, who held office from 1828 to 1848, the wainscoting which concealed the screen was taken away, and Archbishop Tenison’s throne has made way for a lofty canopy of tabernacle work. Some carved work, which has been ascribed to Gibbons, still remains before the eastern front of the screen, between the choir and the nave.
The position of the organ has been frequently shifted. In Conrad’s choir it was placed upon the vault of the south transept; afterwards it was set up upon a large corbel of stone, over the arch of St. Michael in the same transept. This corbel has now been removed; subsequently it was placed between two pillars on the north side of the choir, and, later on, it was again transferred to a position over the west door of the choir, the usual place for the organ in cathedral churches; finally it has been “ingeniously deposited out of sight in the triforium of the south aisle of the choir; a low pedestal with its keys stands in the choir itself, so as to place the organist close to the singers, as he ought to be, and the communication between the keys and the organ is effected by trackers passing under the pavement of the side aisles, and conducted up to the triforium, through a trunk let into the south wall.” This arrangement not only secures the retirement from view of the organ, which, with its tedious rows of straight and unsightly pipes, is generally more or less an eyesore in cathedrals, but is said to have caused a great improvement in the effect of its music. The present organ, which was built by Samuel Green, is believed to have been used at the Handel Festival in Westminster Abbey in 1784. It was enlarged by Hill in 1842, and entirely reconstructed in 1886. In this connection we may mention that Archbishop Theodore first introduced the ecclesiastical chant in Canterbury Cathedral.
The tombs in the choir are all occupied by famous archbishops and cardinals. On the south side, hard by the site of the shrine of St. Dunstan, is the tomb of Simon of Sudbury, who was archbishop from 1375 to 1381. He built the west gate of the city, and a great part of the town walls; in consideration of these benefits the mayor and aldermen used at one time to make an annual procession to his resting-place and offer prayers for his soul. Outside Canterbury his acts were not regarded with so much gratitude, for he was the inventor, or reviver, of the poll tax, and was in consequence beheaded on Tower Hill by Wat Tyler and his followers. Stanley relates that “not many years ago, when this tomb was accidentally opened, the body was seen within, wrapped in cere-cloth, a leaden ball occupying the vacant place of the head.” Sudbury is also famous as having spoken against the “superstitious” pilgrimages to St. Thomas’ shrine, and his violent death wasaccordingly attributed to the avenging power of the incensed saint. Westward of his monument stands that of Archbishop Stratford (1333-1348), who was Grand Justiciary to Edward III. during his absence in Flanders, and won fame by his struggle with the king. Between this tomb and the archbishop’s throne lies Cardinal Kemp (1452-1454), who was present at Agincourt in the camp of Henry V.; his tomb is surmounted by a remarkable wooden canopy. Opposite, on the north side, is the very interesting monument of Archbishop Henry Chichele (1414-1443). Shakespeare tells us that he was the instigator of Henry V.’s war with France, and it is supposed that out of remorse for this act he built, during his lifetime, the curious tomb which now conceals his bones; it is kept in repair by All Souls’ College, which was founded by the penitent archbishop that its fellows might pray for the souls of all who had perished during the war; the effigy, in full canonicals, with its head supported by angels, and with two monks holding open books, kneeling at its feet, lies on the upper slab; and underneath is a ghastly figure in a winding-sheet, supposed to represent the archbishop after death; the diminutive figures which originally filled the niches were destroyed by the Puritans, but have been to some extent replaced. The gaudy colours of the tomb enable one to form some idea of the appearance of the churches in the Middle Ages, when they were bedizened with painted images, hangings, and frescoes: to judge from this specimen the effect must have been distinctly tawdry. Further east we find the monument of Archbishop Howley; he was chiefly remarkable as having crowned Queen Victoria and married her to the Prince Consort, and his monument is noticeable as being the first erected to an archbishop, in the cathedral, since the Reformation; he himself lies at Addington. Beyond is a fine tomb well worthy of examination, crowned by an elaborate canopy which shows traces of rough usage at the hands of the restoring enthusiasts, who surrounded the choir with classical wainscoting after the Restoration. It is the monument of Archbishop Bourchier, a staunch supporter of the House of York; he was primate for thirty-two years, from 1454 to 1486, and crowned Edward IV., Richard III., and Henry VII. The “Bourchier knot” is among the decorations which enrich the canopy of his tomb.
The South-East Transept.—According to the presentcustom of the Canterbury vergers, the visitor is led from the choir to the south-east transept. “In the choir of Ernulf,” says Willis, “the transepts were cut off from the body by the continuity of the pier-arches and the wall above, and each transept was therefore a separate room with a flat ceiling.... But in the new design of William the transepts were opened to the central portion, and the triforium and clerestory of the choir were turned at right angles to their courses, and thus formed the side walls of the transepts.... The entire interior of the eastern transept has been most skilfully converted from Ernulfian architecture to Willelmian (if I may be allowed the phrase for the nonce). It was necessary that the triforium and clerestory of the new design should be carried along the walls of these transepts, which were before the fire probably ornamented by a continuation of those of Ernulf. But the respective level of these essential members were so different in the old and new works that the only parts of them that could be retained were the windows of the old clerestory, which falls just above the new triforium tablet, and accordingly these old windows may still be seen in the triforia of the transepts, surmounted by the new pointed clerestory windows. But the whole of the arcade work and mouldings in the interior of these transepts belongs to William of Sens, with the sole exception of the lower windows. Even the arches which open from the east wall of these transepts to the apses have been changed for pointed arches, the piers of which have a singularly elegant base.”
In the two apses of this transept altars to St. Gregory and St. John once stood, and here were shrines of four Saxon primates. There is a window in the south wall erected to the memory of Dean Alford; below it is the spot on which the tomb of Archbishop Winchelsea (1294-1313) was placed. He was famous for his contest with Edward I. concerning clerical subsidies, and for having secured from the king the confirmation of the charter. He was more practically endeared to the people by the generosity of his almsgiving—it is said that he distributed two thousand loaves among the poor every Sunday and Thursday when corn was dear, and three thousand when it was cheap. His tomb was heaped with offerings like the shrine of a saint, but the Pope refused to confirm the popular enthusiasm by canonizing the archbishop; the fact, however, that it had been so reverenced was enough to qualify it for destructionin the days of Henry VIII. This transept is used at present as a chapel for the King’s School, a direct continuation of the monastery school, at which Archbishops Winchelsea and Kemp were both educated. It contains the Corinthian throne which was set up in the choir early in the last century.
The South-West Choir Aisle.—At the corner of this aisle we may notice the arcade which shows the combination of the Norman rounded arch and double zigzag ornamentation with the pointed arch and dogtooth tracery of William. Here also are two tombs, which have given rise to a good deal of speculation. The more easterly one used to be regarded as the monument of Hubert Walter, who was chancellor to Richard Cœur de Lion and followed him and Archbishop Baldwin to Palestine, and, on the death of the latter, was made primate in the camp at Acre: it is thought more probable, however, in the light of recent research, that he is buried in the Trinity Chapel. The other tomb used to be the resting place of Archbishop Reynolds, the favourite of Edward II., but it also affords food for discussion, as there is no trace of the “pall”—a Y-shaped strip of lamb’s wool marked with crosses, a special mark of metropolitan dignity which was sent to each primate by the Pope—on the vestments of the effigy. Hence conjecture doubts whether these tombs are tenanted by archbishops at all, and inclines to the theory that they contain the bones of two of the Priors, perhaps of d’Estria. From this point we can notice the ingenious apparatus connected with the organ.
St. Anselm’s Tower and Chapel.—Proceeding eastward, towards the Trinity Chapel, we pause to examine the chapel or tower of St. Anselm, which corresponds to that of St. Andrew on the north side of the cathedral. Both these chapels probably at one time were much more lofty, as they are described as “lofty towers” by Gervase; it was in order to bring them into the church, when it was reconstructed after the fire, that the eastward contraction, which presents such a curious effect as seen from the choir, was found necessary. They are now, as Willis points out, “only of the same height as the clerestory of the Norman Church, to which they formed appendages, and consequently they rose above the side-aisles of that church as much as the clerestory did. The external faces of the inward walls of these towers are now inclosed under theroof of William’s triforium, and it may be seen that they were once exposed to the weather.” The arches in St. Anselm’s tower were originally set up by Ernulf, but there is reason to believe that they were rebuilt after the great conflagration. “The arch of communication,” says Willis, “is a round arch, at first sight plainly of the Ernulfian period, having plaited-work capitals and mouldings with shallow hollows. A similar arch opens on the eastern side of the tower into its apse. But a close examination will shew that both these arches have undergone alteration.... I am inclined to believe that both these arches were reset and reduced in space after the fire, probably to increase their strength and that of their piers, on account of the loss of abutment, when the circular wall of the choir-apse was removed.” The alterations that were made in these arches were probably not important, and did not extend beyond the re-modelling of the mouldings on the side of the arch towards the choir-aisle; for we may notice that above both the arches we can still trace the notched decoration which is peculiar to Ernulf’s work. This chapel was originally dedicated to St. Peter and St. Paul, and a very interesting relic of this saintly patronage has lately been discovered. Apparently, in order to strengthen the building, two of the three windows in the chapel were blocked up, and a buttress was built across a chord of the apse, in the early part of the thirteenth century. In the course of the restoration of the tower which was recently carried out, this buttress was taken away, and its removal laid bare a fresco painting, representing St. Paul and the viper at Melita. This piece of decoration, as need hardly be said, must have been put in before the construction of the buttress which has concealed and preserved it for nearly seven centuries; it is conjectured, with a good deal of reason, that a similar presentment ofSt. Paulwas painted at the same time on the opposite wall, but as it had no buttress to protect it, it has been altogether effaced. A copy of the fresco of St. Paul has been placed in the cathedral library. The altar of SS. Peter and Paul stood at the east end, and behind it was the tomb of the celebrated Archbishop Anselm, by whose name the chapel is now commonly called. A very interesting feature of this tower is a large and elaborate five-light window of the Decorated period. It replaced the original south window of the chapel, and was inserted by Prior d’Estria in 1336; it is remarkable as beingone of the few instances of Decorated architecture in the cathedral, and also because of the detailed account that has been preserved of its erection and cost. The passage in the archives runs as follows:—“Memorandum, that in the year 1336, there was made a new window in Christ Church, Canterbury, that is to say, in the chapel of the Apostles St. Peter and St. Paul, upon which there were expended the following sums:
£s.d.“Imprimis, for the workmanship, or labour of themasons21179Item, for the breaking down of the wall, where thewindow now is0169—— for lime and gravel100—— for 20 cwt. of iron bought for said window440—— for the labour of the smiths354—— for Caen stone bought for same500—— for glass and the labour of the glaziers6134———Total42172.”
On the heads of the lights of this window were pendent bosses, like those of the door in the choir-screen, which, as has been said, was also the work of Prior de Estria. These bosses and the stones from which they were suspended, have altogether disappeared, otherwise the internal tracery of the window is in good preservation. “The outside, however, is in a very bad condition for the purpose of the antiquarian; for, apparently on account of the decayed state of its surface, the tracery has undergone the process of splitting, namely, the whole of the outer part has been faced down to the glass, and fresh worked in Portland stone; Portland stone mullions, ormonialsas they are more properly called, have also been supplied. And as this repair was executed at a period when this class of architecture was ill understood, the mouldings were very badly wrought, which, with the unfortunate colour and surface of the Portland stone, has given the window a most ungenuine air. However, the interior is as good as ever it was, and it is on account of its date, as well as for its beauty, a most valuable example” (Willis).
The insertion of the window in question probably had the effect of weakening the walls of the chapel; at any rate theyshow signs of a tendency to settle. Beneath it is the tomb of Archbishop Bradwardine, a great scholar and divine, whose primacy only lasted three months. Opposite to him lies Simon de Mepeham—archbishop from 1328 to 1333—whose tomb forms the screen of the chapel. It is a black marble monument well worthy of examination, with a double arcade and a richly decorated canopy; the ornamentation has been greatly damaged, but the shattered remains show traces of beautiful work. Mepeham’s short primacy was brought to an untimely end by the contumacy of Grandisson, Bishop of Exeter, who refused to allow him to enter Exeter Cathedral, actually guarding the west door with an armed force. The pope sided with the recalcitrant bishop, and Mepeham died, according to Fuller, of a broken heart in consequence of this humiliation.
The Watching Chamber.—Above the Chapel of St. Anselm is a small room, which is reached by a staircase from the north-west corner. A window in it commands a view into the cathedral, and from this circumstance it has been inferred that a watcher was stationed here at night to protect the priceless treasures of St. Thomas’s shrine from pillage by marauders. Some doubt has been thrown on this assumption, since the site of the shrine is not fully seen from the window, but the room is still generally known as the Watching Chamber. Probably the shrine was much more efficiently guarded than by the presence of a solitary monk in a chamber, from which even if he could see thieves he certainly could not arrest them; for we know that “on the occasion of fires the shrine was additionally guarded by a troop of fierce ban-dogs” (Stanley). It is also said that King John of France was imprisoned in this chamber during his stay at Canterbury, but this is most unlikely, seeing that he was treated by the Black Prince more as a sovereign than as a captive.
Mosaicssome mosaics from the floor of trinity chapel.
Trinity Chapel.—Passing further east, we ascend the flight of steps, deeply worn by innumerable pilgrims, and enter the precincts of the Trinity Chapel. All this part of the cathedral, from the choir-screen to the corona, was rebuilt from the ground, specially with a view to its receiving the shrine of St. Thomas. It is still, however, called by the name of the Trinity Chapel, which previously occupied this site, and was burnt down by the fire which destroyed Conrad’s choir. In this chapel Thomas à Becket celebrated his first mass afterhis installation as archbishop, and his remains were laid for some time in the crypt below it. This portion of the building was all carried out under the direction of English William. Gervase relates that when William of Sens, after his accident, “perceiving that he derived no benefit from the physicians, returned to his home in France,” his successor, English William “laid the foundation for the enlargement of the church at the eastern part, because a chapel of St. Thomas was to be built there; for this was the place assigned to him; namely the Chapel of the Holy Trinity, where he celebrated his first mass—where he was wont to prostrate himself with tears and prayers, under whose crypt for so many years he was buried, where God for his merits had performed so many miracles, where poor and rich, kings and princes, had worshipped him, and whence the sound of his praises had gone out into all lands.” As to the extent to which the second William was guided by the plans of his predecessor we have no means of judging accurately. Certainly the general outline of this part of the building must have been arranged by William of Sens, for the contraction of the choir, in order to preserve the width of the ancient Trinity Chapel had been carried out up to the clerestory before his retirement. Willis deals with the subject at some length:“Whether,” he says, “we are to attribute to the French artist the lofty elevation of the pavement of the new chapel, by which also so handsome a crypt is obtained below, must remain doubtful. The bases of his columns, as well as those of the shafts against the wall are hidden and smothered by the platform at the top of these steps and by the side steps that lead to Becket’s chapel. This looks like an evidence of a change of plan, and induces me to believe that the lofty crypt below may be considered as the unfettered composition of the English architect.... The Trinity Chapel of the Englishman is under the influence of the French work of which it is a continuation, and accordingly the same mouldings are employed throughout, and the triforium and clerestory are continued at the same level; but the greater level of the pavement wholly alters the proportion of the piers to their arches, and gives a new and original, and at the same time a very elegant character to this part of the church compared with the work of the Frenchman, of which, at first sight, it seems to be a mere continuation. The triforium also of this Trinity Chapel differs from that of the choir, in that its four pointed arches instead of being, like them, included under two circular ones, are set in the form of an arcade of four arches, of two orders of mouldings each. The mouldings are the same as in the choir, but the effect of their arrangement is richer. Also in the clerestory two windows are placed over each pier-arch, instead of the single window of the choir. The mixture of the two forms of arches is still carried on, for although the semicircular arch is banished from the triforium, it is adopted for the pier-arches.
“However, in the side-aisles of the Trinity chapel, and in the corona, our English William appears to have freed himself almost as completely from the shackles of imitation, as was possible. In the side-aisles the mouldings of the ribs still remain the same, but their management in connection with the side walls, and the combination of their slender shafts with those of the twin lancet windows, here for the first time introduced into the building, is very happy. Slender shafts of marble are employed in profusion by William of Sens, and Gervase expressly includes them in his list of characteristic novelties. But here we find them either detached from the piers, or combined with them in such a manner as to givea much greater lightness and elegance of effect than in the work of the previous architect. This lightness of style is carried still farther in the corona, where the slender shafts are carried round the walls, and made principal supports to the pier-arches, over which is placed a light triforium and a clerestory; and it must be remarked that all the arches in this part of the building are of a single order of mouldings, instead of two orders as in the pier-arches and triforium of the choir.”
So much for the architectural details of the Trinity Chapel. To the ordinary visitor its interest lies rather in the fact that it contained Becket’s shrine, and that we here see the curious old windows portraying the sainted Archbishop’s miracles, and what is, perhaps, most important of all to many,the tomb of Edward the Black Prince. This monument is the first feature that we notice as we enter by the south-west gate of the chapel; it stands between the two first pillars, and by the side of the site of the shrine. By the Prince’s will he had left directions that he should be buried in the crypt, where he had already founded a chantry, at the time of his marriage with the “Fair Maid of Kent” in 1363. But for some unknown reason, probably in order that the dead hero’s bones might be placed in the most sacred spot possible—he was laid to rest by the side of the martyr, then in the zenith of his sanctity. One of the most romantic figures in English history is that of Edward the Black Prince, who “fought the French” as no Briton, except perhaps Nelson, has fought them since; he was sixteen years old when he commanded the English army in person at the battle of Cressy, and was wounded in the thickest of that most sanguinary fray: ten years later, facing an army of 60,000 men with a mere 8,000 behind him, he inflicted a still more severe defeat on the French at Poitiers, and captured their king, whom he took with him to Canterbury on his triumphant return to London. In all our list of national heroes there is not one who upheld the prowess of the English arms more gallantly than this mighty warrior who was cut off while still in the flower of his years, leaving England to the miseries of sedition and civil war. His tomb is one of the most impressive of such monuments. The gilding and bright colours have almost entirely disappeared, but the striking effect of the effigy is probably only enhanced by the solemn sombreness of itspresent appearance. It is a figure clad in full armour, spurred and helmeted, as the Prince had ordained by his will. The head rests on the helmet and the hands are joined in the attitude of prayer. The face, which is undoubtedly a portrait, is stern and masterful. “There you can see his fine face with the Plantagenet features, the flat cheeks, and the well-chiselled nose, to be traced, perhaps, in the effigy of his father in Westminster Abbey, and his grandfather in Gloucester Cathedral.” The tomb itself is worthy to support the figure and guard the ashes of the Black Prince. Carved on its side clearly, that all might read it, is the inscription which he had himself chosen; it is in Norman French, which was still the language spoken by the English Court, and in the same spirit which moved the designer of Archbishop Chichele’s tomb to portray the living man and the mouldering skeleton, this epitaph contrasts the glories of the Prince’s life—his wealth, beauty, and power—with the decay and corruption of the grave. It is distinctly pagan in thought, and reminds one strongly of the laments of the dead Homeric heroes as they wail for the joys of life and strength and lordship. Stanley states that it is “borrowed, with a few variations, from the anonymous French translation of the ‘Clericalis Disciplina’ of Petrus Alphonsus composed between the years 1106 and 1110.” But it is strangely un-Christian in sentiment as a few lines will show—