“Tiel come tu es, je autiel fu, tu seras tiel come je su,De la mort ne pensay je mie, tant come j’avoy la vie.En terre avoy grand richesse, dont je y fys grand noblesse,Terre, mesons, et grand tresor, draps, chivalx, argent et or.Mesore su je povres et cheitifs, perfond en la terre gys,Ma grand beaute est tout alee, ma char est tout gasteeMoult est estroite ma meson, en moy ne si verite non,Et si ore me veissez, je ne quide pas que vous deeisezQue j’eusse onges hom este, si su je ore de tout changee.”
“Tiel come tu es, je autiel fu, tu seras tiel come je su,De la mort ne pensay je mie, tant come j’avoy la vie.En terre avoy grand richesse, dont je y fys grand noblesse,Terre, mesons, et grand tresor, draps, chivalx, argent et or.Mesore su je povres et cheitifs, perfond en la terre gys,Ma grand beaute est tout alee, ma char est tout gasteeMoult est estroite ma meson, en moy ne si verite non,Et si ore me veissez, je ne quide pas que vous deeisezQue j’eusse onges hom este, si su je ore de tout changee.”
Below this inscription are ranged coats-of-arms, bearing the ostrich feathers and the mottoIch Diene(“I serve”), which, according to time-honoured but unauthenticated tradition, the prince won from the blind King of Bohemia, who was led into the thick of the fighting at Cressy, and died on the field. Welsh archæologists, however, maintain that these words are Celtic, and mean “behold the man;” their theory suggests that this was the phrase used by Edward I. when he presentedhis firstborn son to the Welsh people as their prince, and that the words thus became the motto of the princes of Wales. This is a rather far-fetched piece of reasoning, and one would certainly prefer to accept the more picturesque tradition which connects the phrase with the glories of Cressy. The other word found on these escutcheons—Houmont—is still more puzzling. We know that the Black Prince was wont to sign himselfHoumont, Ich Diene. Stanley explains the combination gracefully, but not very convincingly. “If, as seems most likely, they are German words, they exactly express what we have seen so often in his life, the union of ‘Hoch muth,’ that ishigh spirit, with ‘Ich Dien,’I serve. They bring before us the very scene itself after the battle of Poitiers, where, after having vanquished the whole French nation, he stood behind the captive king, and served him like an attendant.”
Black Princes Tombthe black prince’s tomb (from a photograph by carl norman and co.).
The tomb is surmounted by a canopy on which is painted an interesting representation of the Trinity. The work is a good deal faded, but still worthy of notice; the absence of the figure of the dove is curious, but is not unparalleled in such designs. At the corners are symbols of the four evangelists. The Holy Trinity—on whose feast-day he died—was held in peculiar veneration by the Black Prince. The ordinance of the chantry founded by him in the crypt contains the phrase,Ad honorem Sancte Trinitatis quam peculiari devocione semper colimus. A curious metal badge, preserved in the British Museum, is stamped with the figure of the prince kneeling before the Almighty and our Saviour, whose representation is almost identical with the design on the canopy over the tomb; here also the figure of the dove is absent. Round the canopy and in the pillars we can still see the hooks which upheld the black tapestry, bordered with crimson and embroidered withcygnes avec têtes de dames, which was hung, as ordained by his will, round the prince’s tomb and Becket’s shrine.
Shield Coat etcshield, coat, etc., of the black prince.
Lastly, above the canopy, on a cross-beam between two pillars, are suspended the brazen gauntlets, the helmet, the wooden shield with its moulded leather covering, the velvet coat emblazoned with the arms of England and France, and the empty sheath. The gauntlets were once embellished with little figures of lions on the knuckles; these have been detached by “collectors,” vandals almost as ruthless as Blue Dick and his troopers, and without their excuse of mistaken religiouszeal. The helmet still has its original lining of leather, showing that it was actually worn. The sword which fitted the now empty sheath is said to have been taken away by Oliver Cromwell; it appeared in Manchester at the beginning of this century under circumstances so curious, that we may be excused for quoting the following letter from Canon Wray, given in Stanley’s Appendix on the Black Prince’s will. “The sword, or supposed sword, of the Black Prince, which Oliver Cromwell is said to have carried away, I have seen and many times have had in my hands. There lived in Manchester, when I first came here, a Mr. Thomas Barritt, a saddler by trade; he was a great antiquarian, and had collected together helmets, coats of mail, horns, etc., and many coins. But what he valued most of all was a sword: the blade about two feet long, and on the blade was let in, in letters of gold,‘Edwardus Wallie Princeps’.... He was in possession of this sworda.d.1794. He told me he purchased many of the ancient relics of a pedlar, who travelled through the country selling earthenware, and I think he said he got this sword from this pedlar. When Barritt died, in 1820, his curiosities were sold by his widow at a raffle, but I believe this sword was not amongst the articles so disposed of. It had probably been disposed of beforehand, but to whom I never knew; yet I think it not unlikely that it is still in the neighbourhood. The sword was a little curved, scimitar-like, rather thick, broad blade, and had every appearance of being the Black Prince’s sword.” Truly a most remarkable story. This historic blade, which may have hewn down the French ranks at Poitiers, is disposed of by an itinerant crockery vender to an antiquarian saddler; on his death is, or is not, “sold at a raffle” and—vanishes!
West Gatewest gate.
These arms that hang over the prince’s tomb are all that are left of two distinct suits, one for war, and one for use in the joust and the ceremonials of peace, which were, according to directions given in the will, carried in the funeral processionthrough the West Gate and along the High Street to the cathedral. The pieces which remain all belong to the suit worn in actual warfare.
The centre of the chapel looks curiously blank, being left so by the thoroughness with which all trace of Becket’s shrine was removed by the reforming zeal and insatiable rapacity of Henry VIII. and his minions. The effect of the bare stone pavement presents an impressive contrast to the vanished glories of the shrine blazing with gold and jewels, as we read of it. (For a description of the shrine and its history, see Chapter I.) The exact place on which it stood is plainly shown by the marks worn in the stones by the knees of generations of pilgrims as they knelt before it, while the prior, with his white wand, pointed out the choicest of its treasures. To the west, between the altar-screen—the unhappy effect of which is painfully conspicuous from this point—and the site of the shrine, there is some very interesting mosaic pavement, containing the signs of the zodiac, and emblems of virtue and vice, an example of theOpus Alexandrinum, which appears in the floors of most of the Roman basilicas. A similar piece of mosaic work may be seen round the shrine of Edward the Confessor at Westminster. Above the eastern end of the shrine a gilded crescent was fixed in the roof, which still remains; the origin and meaning of this emblem have been disputed with considerable heat, and many ingenious conjectures have been framed to account for its presence here. One theory regards it as an allusion to the tradition according to which Becket’s mother was a Saracen. But this legend is believed to be comparatively modern, and, as Mr. George Austin points out, “even if the legend of Becket’s mother had obtained credence at that early period, it may be observed that in the painted windows around no reference is made to the subject, though evidently capable of so much pictorial effect.” Another solution would connect the crescent with the worship of the Virgin Mary, who is often pictured as standing on the moon (comp. Rev. xii.I). Supporters of this theory lay stress on the fact that the Trinity Chapel at Canterbury occupies the extreme east end of the church, which is generally the site of the Lady Chapel, and that therefore the presence of this emblem—if it can be connected with the Virgin—would be peculiarly appropriate here. Mr. Austinpropounded the explanation which is now most generally accepted. “When the groined roof,” he says, “was relieved of the long-accumulated coats of whitewash and repaired, the crescent was taken down and regilt. It was found to be made of a foreign wood, somewhat like in grain to the eastern wood known by the name of iron-wood. It had been fastened to the groining by a large nail of very singular shape, with a large square head, apparently of foreign manufacture.” He comes to the conclusion that the crescent is one of a number of trophies which he supposes to have once decorated this part of the cathedral, and he is led to his conclusion by the fact that “more than one fresco painting of encounters with the Eastern infidels formerly ornamented the walls (the last traces of which were removed during the restoration of the cathedral under Dean Percy, afterwards Bishop of Carlisle), and in one of which the green crescent flag of the enemy seems borne away by the English archers. Might not these frescoes have depicted the fights in which these trophies were won?” Also, in the hollows of the groining which radiate from the crescent, there were a number of slight iron staples, which Mr. Austin, having shown that they cannot have supported either hanging lamps or the covering of the shrine, believes to have upheld flags, horsetails, etc., which formed the trophy of which the gilded crescent was the centre. We know that Becket received the title of St. Thomas Acrensis owing to his close connection with the knights of the Hospital of St. John at Acre. But none of these explanations seem very convincing, and the history and significance of the crescent in the roof seem likely to remain a mystery.
Before we turn from Becket and his shrine to the other monuments in the Trinity Chapel, we must call the attention of our readers to the stained windows which depict the miracles of the sainted martyr. The chapel was at one time entirely surrounded with glass of this sort, but only a portion has survived the ravages of the Puritans. “Of these windows,” says Austin, “unfortunately but three remain, but they are sufficient to attest their rare beauty; and for excellence of drawing, harmony of colouring, and purity of design, are justly considered unequalled. The skill with which the minute figures are represented cannot even at this day be surpassed; it is extraordinary to see how every feeling of joy or sorrow, pain and enjoyment,is expressed both in feature and position. But in nothing is the superiority of these windows shown more than the beautiful scrolls and borders which surmount the windows, and gracefully connect the groups of medallions.” Most of these windows probably contained representations of Becket, and so were doomed to destruction by the decree of Henry VIII., in which “his Grace straitly chargeth and commandeth, that henceforth the said Thomas Becket shall not be esteemed, named, reputed, nor called a saint, but Bishop Becket, and that his images and pictures throughout the whole realm shall be put down and avoided out of all churches and chapels, and other places; and that from henceforth the days used to be festivals in his name shall not be observed, nor the service, office, antiphonies, collects and prayers in his name read, but rased and put out of all books.” This proclamation was rigorously carried out though the stained windows which come within its terms have, in some cases, escaped destruction. For instance there remains a window in the south transept of Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, representing the martyrdom of Becket, but it is interesting to note that even here the archbishop’s head was removed from the glass. Three of the windows of the Trinity Chapel have survived, and fragments of others are scattered over the glass of the building. They are entirely devoted to depicting the miracles of the martyr, which began immediately after his death and reception—according to a vision of Benedict—in a place between the apostles and the martyrs, above even St. Stephen.
The window towards the east on the north side of the shrine is divided into geometrical figures, each figure composed of a group of fine medallions; every group tells the story of a miracle, or series of miracles, performed by the influence of the saint. The lower group portrays the story of a child who was drowned in the Medway, and afterwards restored to life by the efficacy of the saint’s blood mixed with water. The first medallion shows the boy falling into the stream, while his companions pelt the frogs in the reeds by the river side; the next shows the companions relating the story of the accident to the boy’s parents, and in the third we see the grief-stricken parents watching their son’s corpse being drawn out of the river. “The landscape in these medallions is exceedingly well rendered; the trees are depicted with great grace” (Austin).Unfortunately the medallions which complete this story have been destroyed. The next group depicts the quaint story of a succession of miracles which were wrought in the family of a knight called Jordan, son of Eisult. His ten year old boy died, and the knight, who had been an intimate friend of Becket in his lifetime, resolved to try to restore his son with water mixed with the saint’s blood. At the third draught, as Benedict tells the story, the dead boy “opened one eye, and said, ‘Why are you weeping, father? Why are you crying, lady? The blessed martyr, Thomas, has restored me to you!’ At evening he sat up, ate, talked, and was restored.” But the father forgot the vow which he made in the first moment of joy at his son’s recovery, namely, that he would offer four silver pieces at the martyr’s shrine before Mid Lent. And once more all the household was stricken with sickness, and the eldest son died. Then the parents, though sore smitten themselves, dragged themselves to Canterbury and performed their vow. The whole of this story with other details for which we have no space may be accurately traced on this unique window. The most striking is the central medallion of the group in which the vengeance of the saint is shown forth. In the middle of a large room we see a bier on which lies the dead son; the father and mother, overcome with despair, stand at the head and feet of the body. Behind the bier are several figures, which, from their “unusually violent attitudes expressive of grief,” Mr. Austin considered to be professional mourners. Above, unseen by the group below, the figure of St. Thomas, clad in full episcopal robes, holding a sword in his right hand, and pointing to the corpse with his left, is seen appearing through the ceiling. “The expression,” says Austin, “of the various figures in the above compartments, both in gesture and feature, is rendered with great skill. In the execution of this story, the points which, doubtless, the artists of the monastery were chiefly anxious to impress upon the minds of the devotees who thronged to the shrine are prominently brought out: the extreme danger of delaying the performance of a vow, under whatever circumstances made, the expiation sternly required by the saint, and the satisfaction with which the martyr viewed money offerings made at the shrine.”
One of the other groups is noteworthy as proving that severe penances were sometimes performed before the shrine. Onemedallion shows a woman prostrating herself before a priest at the altar, while two men stand near, holding formidable-looking rods. The next picture represents the two men vigorously flagellating the woman with the rods; while, in the third, one of the men is still beating the woman, who now lies fainting on the ground, while the other is addressing the priest, who sits hard by composedly reading his book. The other two windows contain representations of the healings effected by the saint, which seem to have been of a very varied character, to judge from the catalogue with which Benedict sums them up. “What position,” he asks, “in the Church, what sex or age, what rank or order is there, which could not find something beneficial to itself [aliquid sibi utile] in this treasure-house of ours? Here the light of truth is furnished to schismatics, confidence to timid pastors, health to the sick, and pardon to the deserving penitent [pænitentibus venia ejus meritis, the last two words probably implying an offering]. The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, the dumb speak, the poor have the gospel preached to them, the paralytic recover, the dropsical lose their swellings [detumescunt hydropici], the mad are restored to sense, the epileptic are cured, the fever-stricken escape, and, to sum up,omnimoda curatur infirmitas.”
The last of these windows to which we must call the special attention of our readers is one on the north side, representing a vision which Benedict tells us that he saw himself. The martyr is seen coming forth from his shrine in full pontifical robes, and making his way towards the altar as if to celebrate mass. This window is noticeable as containing the only representation that now exists of the shrine itself—for the picture in the Cottonian MSS. evidently shows us, not the shrine, but its outer shell, or covering. “The medallion,” says Austin, “is the more interesting, from being an undoubted work of the thirteenth century; and having been designed for a position immediately opposite to and within a few yards of the shrine itself, and occupying the place of honour in the largest and most important window, without doubt represents the main features of the shrine faithfully.”
On the north side of the Trinity Chapel, immediately opposite the tomb of the Black Prince, is that of King Henry IV., who died in 1413, and his second consort, Joan of Navarre,who followed him in 1437. This king had made liberal offerings towards the rebuilding of the nave of the cathedral, and it has been conjectured that one of the figures on the organ-screen represents him: his will ordered that he should be laid to rest in the church at Canterbury, and here accordingly he was buried on the Trinity Sunday after his death. The tomb, with its rich canopy, is a beautiful piece of work, and the figures of the king and queen are probably faithful representations. A curious story was circulated by the Yorkists, to the effect that Henry was never buried here, but that his body was thrown into the water between Gravesend and Barking, during the voyage of the funeralcortègeto Faversham, and that only an empty coffin was laid in the Trinity Chapel. That this point might be cleared up, the tomb was opened in 1832 in the presence of the Dean, and there the king was found in perfect preservation, and bearing a close resemblance to the effigy on the monument—“the nose elevated, the beard thick and matted, and of a deep russet colour, and the jaws perfect, with all the teeth in them, except one foretooth.”
In the wall of the north aisle, just opposite the king’s tomb, is a small chapel, built according to the directions contained in his will “that ther be a chauntre perpetuall with twey prestis for to sing and prey for my soul.” The roof shows the first piece of fan-vaulting admitted into the cathedral. On the eastern wall an account is scratched of the cost of a reredos which once stood here, but has been entirely destroyed: it tells us that the cost of “ye middil image was xixs11d.” This chapel was doubtless used at one time as a storehouse of sacred relics. Two recesses in the west wall have lately been chosen to receive certain archiepiscopal vestments which were discovered in a tomb on the south side of Trinity Chapel, which was long believed to be that of Archbishop Theobald.
To the east of Henry IV.’s monument is the tomb of Dean Wotton, adorned with his kneeling figure. He was the first Dean of Canterbury after the reorganization by Henry VIII. Opposite to him is an unsightly brick erection which was once intended as a temporary covering for the remains of Odo Coligny, Cardinal of Chatillon and brother of Admiral Coligny, who was one of the victims of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The Cardinal fled from France in 1568, on account of his leanings towards the tenets of the Huguenots,and was welcomed by Queen Elizabeth. It is believed that he died from the effects of a poisoned apple given to him by a servant. It seems curious that the French Huguenots who settled in Canterbury never provided him with a more fitting monument.
Between this tomb and that of the Black Prince is the monument of Archbishop Courtenay, who was primate from 1381 to 1396, and was celebrated for his severity towards Wycliffe and his followers. He was a large contributor to the fund for the re-building of the nave, which perhaps accounts for the distinguished position of his tomb; the fact also that he was executor to the Black Prince may be responsible for his being buried at his feet. It is not, however, certain that his body actually lies here, though the ledger book of the cathedral states that he was buried within the walls of the church. It is known, however, that he died at Maidstone, and that he ordered in his will that his remains should rest there, and a slab in the pavement of All Saints’, Maidstone, shows traces of a brass representing the figure of an archbishop, whence it has been concluded that Courtenay was in fact buried there, and that his monument in Canterbury is only a cenotaph.
Trinity Chapeltrinity chapel, looking into the corona, “becket’s crown,” with chair of st. augustine.
Becket’s Crown.—The circular apse at the extreme east end of the church is known as Becket’s Crown. The name has caused a good deal of discussion. The theory once generally received was to the effect that the portion of Becket’s skull which was cut away by Richard le Breton was preserved here as a relic of special sanctity. We know that the Black Prince bequeathed, by his will, tapestry hangings for the High Altar and for three others, viz., “l’autier la ou Mons’r Saint Thomas gist—l’autier la ou la teste est—l’autier la ou la poynte de l’espie est.” The first and last are evidently the altars at the shrine and in the Chapel of the Martyrdom, and it has been contended that the altar “where the head is” was the altar of which traces may still be seen in the pavement of the corona, or Becket’s Crown. Against this notion we must place the authority of Erasmus, whose words plainly show that the martyr’s head was displayed in the crypt: "hinc digressi subimus cryptoporticum: illic primum exhibetur calvaria martyris perforata(the martyr’s pierced tonsure):reliqua tecta sunt argento, summa cranii pars nuda patet osculo.” While Willis considers that the term corona was a common one for an apse at theend of a church, citing “Ducange’s Glossary,” which defines “Corona Ecclesiæ” asPars templi choro postica, quod ea pars fere desinat in circulum; “at all events,” he concludes, “it was a general term and not peculiar to Christ Church, Canterbury. The notion that this round chapel was called Becket’s Crown, because part of his skull was preserved here as a relic, appears wholly untenable. There is at least no doubt that a relic of some sort was preserved here, because we know from a record of the offerings—Oblaciones S. Thomæ—during ten years in the first half of the thirteenth century, that the richest gifts were made at the shrine and in the corona. And we know that the spot was one of peculiar sanctity from the fact that the shrines of St. Odo and St. Wilfrid were finally transferred thither.Corpus S. Odonis in feretro, ad coronam versus austrum. Corpus S. Wilfridi in feretro ad coronam versus aquilonem.”
Chair of St Augustinechair of st. augustine.
On the north side of the corona is the tomb of Cardinal Pole, the last Archbishop of Canterbury who acknowledged the supremacy of the Pope. He held office from 1556 to 1558, and died the day after Queen Mary. Here stands also the patriarchal chair, made out of three pieces of Purbeck marble. It is called St. Augustine’s chair, and is said to be the throne on which the old kings of Kent were crowned; according to the tradition, Ethelbert, on being converted, gave the chair to Augustine, from whom it has descended to the Archbishops of Canterbury.It is needless to say that this eminently attractive legend has been attacked and overthrown by modern criticism. It is pointed out that the original archiepiscopal throne was of one piece only, and that Purbeck marble did not come into use until some time after Augustine’s death. From its shape it is conjectured that the chair dates from the end of the twelfth century or the beginning of the thirteenth, and that it may have been constructed for the ceremony of the translation of St. Thomas’ relics. It is in this chair, and not in the archiepiscopal throne in the choir, that the archbishops are still enthroned. From the corona we have a view of the full length of the cathedral, which measures 514 feet, and is one of the longest of English cathedrals. Of the windows in Becket’s Crown, the centre one is ancient, while the rest are modern and afford a most instructive contrast.
St. Andrew’s Tower, or Chapel.—Leaving the Trinity Chapel, and descending the steps, we find on our right the door of St. Andrew’s Chapel which is now used as a vestry. Formerly, it was the sacristy, a place from which the pilgrims of humble rank were excluded, but where those of wealth and high station were allowed to gaze at a great array of silken vestments and golden candlesticks, and also the Martyr’s pearwood pastoral staff with its black horn crook, and his cloak and bloodstained kerchief. Here also was a chest “cased with black leather, and opened with the utmost reverence on bended knees, containing scraps and rags of linen with which (the story must be told throughout) the saint wiped his forehead and blew his nose” (Stanley). Erasmus describes this exhibition with a touch of scorn. “Fragmenta linteorum lacera plerumque macci vestigium servantia. His, ut aiebant, vir pius extergebat sudorem e facie,” etc. The walls of this chapel show many traces of fresco decoration: the pattern seems to have consisted of a clustering vine tree spread over the roof. In the north wall is a Norman chamber which originally served as the Treasury; the door is still secured by three locks, the keys of which were held by different officials. St. Andrew’s Chapel is part of Ernulf’s work, and the peculiar ornamentation which marks his hand may be noticed over the arch of the apse which terminates it.
The North-East Transept.—Passing along the choir aisle, we see the old Bible desk, holding the Bible which wasoriginally placed there, and was restored to this position by the late Bishop Parry. Next we enter the north-east transept, which in its architectural features is practically a repetition of the south-east transept, with which we have already dealt. The monument to Archbishop Tait, designed by Boehm, is well worthy of its surroundings. Above it, in the north wall, about ten feet from the ground, we may notice three slits in the wall. These are what are called hagioscopes. On the other side of the wall was a recess connected with the Prior’s Chapel. Through these hagioscopes—or “holy spy-holes”—the prior could see mass being celebrated at the high altar and at the altars below in the transept, without entering the cathedral. These transeptal altars are in the Chapels of St. Martin and St. Stephen which occupy two apses in the eastern wall. St. Martin is represented in a medallion of ancient glass preserved in the modern window, as dividing his coat with a beggar. Scratched on the walls are the names “Lanfrancus” and “Ediva Regina;” the bodies of Lanfranc and Queen Ediva were removed to this transept after the fire. Lanfranc originally lay in the old Trinity Chapel, and when this building was levelled to the ground, he was “carried to the vestiarium in his leaden covering, and there deposited until the community should decide what should be done with so great a Father.” Apparently the heavy sheet of lead was removed, for Gervase goes on to say that “Lanfranc having remained untouched for sixty-nine years, his very bones were consumed with rottenness, and nearly all reduced to powder. The length of time, the damp vestments, the natural frigidity of lead, and above all the frailty of the human structure, had conspired to produce this corruption. But the larger bones, with the remaining dust, were collected in a leaden coffer, and deposited at the altar of St. Martin.” Queen Ediva, as we learn from the same authority, “who before the fire reposed under a giltedferetrumin nearly the middle of the south cross, was now deposited at the altar of St. Martin, under theferetrumof Living,” an archbishop who died in 1020. Ediva, the wife of Edward the Elder, and a generous benefactress to the cathedral, died about 960.
From an early list of the subjects represented in the windows of the cathedral, it appears that the north windows of the north-east transept depicted the Parable of the Sower. The ancient glass, however, has been displaced, and a gooddeal of it has been moved to the windows of the north choir aisle, between the transept and the Chapel of the Martyrdom, which are of great beauty, and should be examined carefully. In the transept itself are windows in memory of Dean Stanley, Dr. Spry, and Canon Cheshyre.
On the wall of the choir aisle, close to the transept, we can trace the remains of a fresco representing the conversion of St. Hubert. Further on, there hangs a picture, by Cross, which is intended to represent the murder of Becket. As a work of art it is not without merit, but its details are entirely inaccurate.
The North-West Transept, or Chapel of the Martyrdom.—The actual site of the tragedy which rendered Becket and his cathedral famous throughout Christendom was the North-West Transept, or as it was more commonly called the Chapel of the Martyrdom. Hardly any portion, however, of this structure as it stands actually witnessed the murder. In the time of Becket the transept was of two storeys, divided by a vault, which was upheld by a single pillar. The upper partition was dedicated to St. Blaise, and the lower to St. Benedict. In the west wall, as now, was a door which opened into the cloister.
The Martyrdomthe martyrdom, north-west transept.
The story of Becket and his quarrel with Henry II. will be dealt with in the next chapter. But before examining the spot on which he was assassinated it is perhaps fitting to recall the events which immediately preceded his death. Henry’s wrathful exclamation, which stirred the four knights to set out on their bloodthirsty mission, is well known. Whatever we may think of the methods employed by these warriors—Fitzurse, de Moreville, de Tracy, and le Bret were their names—we must at least concede that they were gifted with undaunted courage. To slay an anointed archbishop in his own cathedral was to do a deed from which the boldest might well shrink, in the days when excommunication was held to be a living reality, and the Church was believed to hold the power of eternal blessing or damnation in her hand. These men—who were all closely attached to the king’s person, and were sometimes described as his “cubicularii,” or Grooms of the Bedchamber—arrived at the gate of the archbishop’s palace in the afternoon of Tuesday, December 29th, 1170. With a curious want of directness they seem to have left their swords outside, and entered, and had a stormy interview with Becket; enraged by his unyieldingfirmness, they went back for their weapons, and in the meantime the archbishop was hurried by the terrified monks through the cloister and into the cathedral, where the vesper service was being held. The knights quickly forced their way after him, and the monks locked and barricaded the cloister door. But Becket, who bore himself heroically through the whole scene, insisted that the door should be thrown open, exclaiming that “the church must not be turned into a castle.” Then all the monks but three fled in terror. Those who stayed urged Becket to hide himself in the crypt or in the Chapel of St. Blaise above. But he would not hear of concealment, but preferred to make his way to the choir that he might die at his post by the high altar. As he went up the steps towards the choir the knights rushed into the transept, calling for “the archbishop, the traitor to the king,” and Becket turned and came down, and confronted them by the pillar of the chapel. Clad in his white rochet, with a cloak and hood over his shoulders, he faced his murderers, who were now girt in mail from head to foot. They tried to seize him and drag him out of the sacred precinct, but he put his back against the pillar and hurled Tracy full-length on the pavement. Then commending his cause and the cause of the Church “to God, to St. Denys, the martyr of France, to St. Alfege, and to the saints of the Church,” he fell under the blows of the knights’ swords. The last stroke was from the hand of le Bret, it severed the crown of the archbishop’s head, and the murderer’s sword was shivered into two pieces. Then the assassins left the church, ransacked the palace, and plundered its treasures, and, lastly, rode off on horses from the stables, in which Becket had to the last taken especial pride.
Such is the brief outline of the events of this remarkable tragedy, for a fuller account of which we must refer our readers to the excellent description in Stanley’s “Memorials of Canterbury.” As we have already said, the present transept has been entirely rebuilt; although not damaged by the fire, it was reconstructed by Prior Chillenden at the time when he erected the present nave. It is even doubtful whether the present pavement is the same as that which was trodden by Becket and his murderers. A small square stone is still shown in the floor of the transept, as marking the exact spot on which the archbishop fell; it is said to have been inserted in place of theoriginal piece which was taken out and sent to Rome, but there is little or no authority for this statement. On the other hand, we read that Benedict, when he became Abbot of Peterborough, in order to supply his new cathedral with relics, in which it was sadly deficient, came back to Canterbury and carried off the stones which had been sprinkled with St. Thomas’s blood, and made therewith two altars for Peterborough.
In this transept an altar was erected, called the Altar of the Martyrdom, or the Altar of the Sword’s Point (altare ad punctum ensis), from the fact that upon it was laid the broken fragment of le Bret’s sword, which had been left on the pavement. Also, a portion of the martyr’s brains were kept under a piece of rock crystal, and a special official, called the Custos Martyrii, was appointed to guard these relics.
The chief window in this chapel was presented by Edward IV.; in it we can still see the figures of himself and his queen and his two daughters, and the two young princes who were murdered in the Tower. It originally contained representations of “seven glorious appearances” of the Virgin, and Becket himself in the centre, but all this portion was destroyed by Blue Dick, the Puritan zealot. The west window was the gift of the Rev. Robert Moore, sometime Canon of Canterbury; it is an elaborate piece of work depicting Becket’s martyrdom and scenes in his life.
Here also we see the very beautiful and interesting monument to Archbishop Peckham (1279-1292), the oldest Canterbury monument which survives in its entirety; even it has been encroached upon by the commonplace erection adjoining it, which commemorates Warham who was archbishop from 1503 to 1532, and was the friend of Erasmus.
The Dean’s Chapel.—Eastward of the north-west transept is the chapel which was formerly known as the Lady Chapel, but has latterly been named the Dean’s Chapel from the number of deans whose monuments have been placed here. It stands on the site of the Chapel of St. Benedict, and was built by Prior Goldstone, who dedicated it to the Blessed Virgin in 1460. The usual place for the Lady Chapel in cathedrals is, of course, at the extreme east end; but at Canterbury the situation was occupied by the shrine of St. Thomas. The principal altar to the Virgin in our cathedral was that in the crypt, in the “Chapel of Our Lady Undercroft.” Thevault of the Dean’s Chapel is noticeable. It is a fan vault, of the style developed to so great perfection in the Tudor period, as shown in Henry VII.’s Chapel at Westminster, and in the roof of the staircase leading to the dining-hall of Christ Church, Oxford. The architecture of this chapel is Perpendicular in style, and its delicate decoration should be carefully noticed; the screen which separates it from the Martyrdom Transept is also worthy of close attention. The monuments here are interesting rather than beautiful. Dean Fotherby is commemorated by a hideous erection bristling with skulls. Dean Boys is represented as he died, sitting among his books in his library; it is curious that the books are all apparently turned with the backs of the covers towards the wall, and the edges of the leaves outwards. Here also is the monument of Dean Turner, the faithful follower of Charles I.
South West Transeptpart of south-western transept.
The South-West Transept.—Crossing the cathedral through the passage under the choir steps, we find ourselves in the south-west transept, which, together with the nave and the north-west transept, was rebuilt by Prior Chillenden. In the pavement we see memorial stones to canons and other departed worthies. Among them is the tombstone of Meric Casaubon, Archbishop Laud’s prebendary, and son of Isaac Casaubon, the famous scholar.
St. Michael’s, or the Warrior’s Chapel.—Eastward of the south-west transept is a small chapel, generally known as that of St. Michael. In position and size it closely corresponds with the Dean’s Chapel on the north side of the church. In general style there is also some resemblance, but the vaulting of the roof is quite different; it is described by Professor Willis as “as a complex lierne vault of an unusual pattern, but resembling that of the north transept of Gloucester Cathedral, which dates from 1367 to 1372.” The exact date and the name of the builder of this chapel are alike uncertain, but it probably replaced the old Chapel of St. Michael at some time towards the end of the fourteenth century, and Willis comes to the conclusion that it is most probable that its erection may be ascribed to Prior Chillenden, and that “it formed part of the general scheme for the transformation of the western part of the church.”
A curious effect is presented by the tomb of Stephen Langton, who was archbishop from 1207 to 1228, and is famous ashaving compelled King John to sign the Great Charter, and also as having divided the Bible into chapters. His tomb, shaped like a stone coffin, is half in the chapel and half under the eastern wall, and Professor Willis considers that it was originally outside the wall, in the churchyard; “and thus the new wall, when the chapel was rebuilt and enlarged in the fourteenth century, was made to stride over the coffin by means of an arch.” The reverence in which Langton’s memory was held is attested by the fact that his remains must have lain under the altar of the chapel, a most unusual position except in the case of celebrated saints. In the middle of the chapel is a very beautiful and interesting monument erected by Margaret Holland, who died in 1437, to the memory of her two husbands and herself. The monument is of alabaster and marble, and represents the lady reposing with her first spouse, John Beaufort, Earl of Somerset, and son of John of Gaunt, on her left, and Thomas, Duke of Clarence, her second husband, on her right. The latter was the second son of Henry IV., and, so, nephew of John of Somerset the first husband; he was killed at the battle of Baugé in 1421. Leland thinks that this chapel was built expressly for the reception of this tomb: “This chapel be likelihood was made new for the Honor of Erle John of Somerset,” but it is probably of rather earlier date than would be allowed by this theory. The figures of Margaret and her two lords are very fine and are interesting examples of fifteenth century costume. As such they may be contrasted with the effigy of Lady Thornhurst, who exhibits all the beauty of an Elizabethan ruff. Sir Thomas Thornhurst, whose monument is hard by, was killed in the ill-fated expedition to the Isle of Rhé. In the corner of the chapel is the bust of Sir George Rooke, Vice-Admiral, who led the assault on Gibraltar by which it was first captured. And the title of “Warrior’s” Chapel is further justified by the presence here of tattered standards, memorials of dead comrades, left by the famous Kentish regiment, “the Buffs.”
The Cryptthe crypt.
The Main Crypt.—Returning through the passage under the steps that lead up to the choir, we turn to the right into the crypt which originally supported Conrad’s “glorious choir.” On the wall as we enter we may notice some diaper-work ornamentation, interesting from the fact that a similar decoration may be traced on the wall of the chapter house at Rochesterfor Ernulf who built the westward crypt, was afterwards made Bishop of Rochester. Willis tells us that there are five crypts in England under the eastern parts of cathedrals, namely, at Canterbury, Winchester, Gloucester, Rochester, and Worcester, and that they were all founded before 1085. “After this they were discontinued except as a continuation of former ones, as in Canterbury and Rochester.” This crypt of Ernulf’s replaced the earlier one set up by Lanfranc; Willis thinks it not impossible that the whole of the pier-shafts may have been takenfrom the earlier crypt. “The capitals of the columns are either plain blocks or sculptured with Norman enrichments. Some of them, however, are in an unfinished state.” He describes minutely one of the capitals on the south-west side. “Of the four sides of the block two are quite plain. One has the ornament roughed out, or “bosted” as the workmen call it, that is, the pattern has been traced upon the block, and the spaces between the figures roughly sunk down with square edges preparatory to the completion. On the fourth side, the pattern is quite finished. This proves that the carving was executed after the stones were set in their places, and probably the whole of these capitals would eventually have been so ornamented had not the fire and its results brought in a new school of carving in the rich foliated capitals, which caused this merely superficial method of decoration to be neglected and abandoned. In the same way some of the shafts are roughly fluted in various fashions. The plain ones would probably have all gradually had the same ornament given to them, had not the same reasons interfered.” The crypt then stands as it was left by Ernulf except that some of the piers were afterwards strengthened and one new pillar was inserted in the aisle by William of Sens, in order to fit in with the new arrangement of the pillars in the choir which he was then rebuilding. It is therefore, of course, the oldest part of the church, and remains a most beautiful and interesting relic of Norman work in spite of the hot water pipe apparatus which now disfigures it, and its general air of unkempt untidiness. There are signs, however, that in this respect there is likely to be some improvement. The floor is being lowered to its original level by the removal of about a foot of accumulated dirt which had been heaping itself up for the last eight hundred years and had at last entirely smothered the bases of the columns, and it is even whispered that the part now cut off and used as the French church, may be opened out and restored to its original position as part of the main crypt.
According to Gervase, the whole of the crypt was dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Here stood the Chapel of Our Lady Undercroft, surrounded by Perpendicular stone-work screens, from which the altar-screen in the choir above was imitated. The shrine of the Virgin was exceedingly rich and was only shown to privileged worshippers: traces of decoration may stillbe seen in the vault above. It was at the back of this shrine that Becket was laid between the time of his murder and his translation to the resting-place in the Trinity Chapel.
In the main crypt we may notice the monument of Isabel, Countess of Athol, who died in 1292; she was heiress of Chilham Castle, near Canterbury, and grand-daughter of King John. She was twice married, her second husband being Alexander, brother of John Baliol, King of Scotland. The monument of Lady Mohun of Dunster is in the south screen of the Chapel of Our Lady. She was ancestress of the present Earl of Derby, and founded a perpetual chantry. Lastly, here is the tomb of Cardinal Archbishop Morton, the friend of Sir Thomas More, and the faithful servant of the House of Lancaster; it was he who brought about the union of the Red and White Roses by arranging the marriage of Henry of Richmond with Elizabeth of York. As Henry VII.’s Chancellor he made great exactions under the euphonious title of “Benevolences,” and propounded the famous dilemma known as “Morton’s Fork,” by which he argued that those who lived lavishly must obviously have something to spare for the king’s service, while those who fared soberly must be grown rich on their savings, and so were equally fair game to the royal plunderer. He lies in the south-west corner of the crypt, and his monument, which has suffered considerably at the hands of the Puritans, bears the Tudor portcullis and the archbishop’s rebus, a hawk ormortstanding on a tun.