“Let any one sit on the hill of the little church of St. Martin, and look on the view which is there spread before his eyes. Immediately below are the towers of the great Abbey of St. Augustine, where Christian learning and civilisation first struck root in the Anglo-Saxon race; and within which now, after a lapse of many centuries, a new institution has arisen, intended to carry far and wide to countries of which Gregory and Augustine never heard, the blessings which they gave to us. Carry your view on,—and there rises high above all the magnificent pile of our Cathedral equal in splendour and state to any, the noblest temple or church, that Augustine could have seen in ancient Rome, rising on the very ground which derives its consecration from him. And still more than the grandeur of the outward buildings that rose from the little church of St. Augustine, and the little palace of Ethelbert, have been the institutions of all kinds, of which these are the earliest cradle. From Canterbury, the first English Christian city—from Kent, the first English Christian kingdom—has, by degrees, arisen the whole constitution of Church and State in England, which now binds together the whole British Empire.”—(A. P. S.)

“Most men were persuaded that a new burst of miraculous powers, such as had been suspended for many generations, had broken out at the tomb; and the contemporary monk, Benedict, fills a volume with extraordinary cures, wrought within a very few years after the ‘Martyrdom.’ Far and wide the fame of ‘St. Thomas of Canterbury’ spread. The very name of Christ Church, or of the Holy Trinity, by which the Cathedral was properly designated, was in popular usage merged in that of The Church of St. Thomas. For the few years immediately succeeding his death there was no regular shrine. The popular enthusiasm still clung to the two spots immediately connected with the murder. The Transept in which he died, within five years from that time acquired the name by which it has ever since been known, ‘The Martyrdom.’ The flagstone on which his skull was fractured and the solid corner of the masonry in front of which he fell, are probably the only parts which remain unchanged. But against that corner may still be seen the marks of the space occupied by a wooden altar, which continued in its original simplicity through all the subsequent magnificence of the church till the time of the Reformation. It was probably the identical memorial erected in the first haste of enthusiasm after the reopening of the Cathedral for worship in 1172. It was called the Altar of the Martyrdom or more commonly the Altar of the Sword’s Point (Altare ad Punctum Ensis) from the circumstance that in a wooden shed placed upon it was preserved the fragment of Le Bret’s sword, which had been left on the pavement after accomplishing its bloody work. Under a piece of rock crystal surmounting the chest, was kept a portion of the brains. To this altar a regular keeper was appointed from among the monks, under the name of ‘Custos Martyrii.’ In the first frenzy of desire for relics of St. Thomas, even this guarantee was inadequate.

“Next to the actual scene of the murder, the object which this event invested with especial sanctity was the tomb in which his remains were deposited in the Crypt behind the Altar of the Virgin. It was to this spot that the first great rush of pilgrims was made when the church was reopened in 1172, and it was here that Henry performed his penance. Hither on the 21st of August, 1179, came the first King of France who ever set foot on the shores of England, Louis VII., warned by St. Thomas in dreams, and, afterwards, as he believed, receiving his son back from a dangerous illness through the Saint’s intercession. He knelt by the tomb and offered upon it the celebrated jewel,[2] as also his own rich cup of gold.”—(A. P. S.)

“The outer aspect of the Cathedral can be imagined without much difficulty. A wide cemetery, which, with its numerous gravestones, such as that on the south side of Petersborough Cathedral, occupied the vacant space still called the Churchyard, divided from the garden beyond by the old Norman arch since removed to a more convenient spot. In the cemetery were interred such pilgrims as died during their stay in Canterbury. The external aspect of the Cathedral itself, with the exception of the numerous statues which then filled its now vacant niches, must have been much what it is now. Not so its interior. Bright colours on the roof, on the windows, on the monuments; hangings suspended from the rods which may still be seen running from pillar to pillar; chapels and altars, and chantries intercepting the view, where now all is clear, must have rendered it so different, that at first we should hardly recognise it to be the same building.”—(A. P. S.)

“The Shrine occupied the central part of the upper platform, and the extent of the railed space round it may be readily perceived by examining the floor on which the depression made by the feet of the pilgrims is plainly visible. The pavement inside this limit is composed of the original steps and platform of the Shrine, and consists in part of rich African marbles, as do also two whole pillars to north and south, and two half pillars to the east. These are said to have been the gift of a Pope to the Shrine, and, indeed, to have once formed part of a Roman Temple. The Shrine itself was simply the coffin of the Saint, richly adorned and cased with gold and precious stones. It rested on a structure of stone arches some five or six feet high, and was, as a rule, concealed under a wooden cover, working on pulleys, like many covers of fonts in our churches now. When raised the cover would reveal to the venerating gaze of the pilgrims, plates of precious metal studded with jewels of fabulous value, the most remarkable of which would be pointed out by the attendant with a white wand. When the Shrine was destroyed, by order of Henry VIII., these treasures filled two great chests ‘such as six or seven strong men could no more than convey one of them out of the church.’ West of the Shrine stood an altar, and west of the altar a gate in the railings, in fact just between the altar and the beautiful fragment of Italian marble pavement.”—(F. and R.)

“At a given signal this canopy was drawn up by ropes, and the Shrine then appeared blazing with gold and jewels; the wooden sides were plated with gold and damasked with gold wire; cramped together on this gold ground were innumerable jewels, pearls, sapphires, blassas, diamonds, rubies and emeralds, and ‘in the midst of the gold’ rings or cameos of sculptured agates, cornelians and onyx stones.

“As soon as this magnificent sight was disclosed, every one dropped on his knees, and probably the tinkling of the silver bells attached to the canopy would indicate the moment to all the hundreds of pilgrims in whatever part of the Cathedral they might be. The body of the Saint in the inner iron chest was not to be seen except by mounting a ladder, which would be but rarely allowed. But whilst the votaries knelt around, the Prior, or some other great officer of the monastery, came forward, and with a white wand touched the several jewels, naming the giver of each, and for the benefit of foreigners, adding the French name of each, with a description of its value and marvellous qualities. A complete list of them has been preserved to us, curious, but devoid of general interest. There was one, however, which far outshone the rest, and indeed was supposed to be the finest in Europe. It was the great carbuncle, ruby, or diamond, said to be as large as a hen’s egg or a thumb-nail, and commonly called ‘The Regale of France.’ The attention of the spectators was riveted by the figure of an angel pointing to it. It had been given to the original tomb in the Crypt by Louis VII. of France, when here on his pilgrimage.[3]

“The lid once more descended on the golden ark; the pilgrims

and then withdrew, down the opposite flight of steps from which they had ascended.”—(A. P. S.)

“The existing cathedral, although of such various dates, covers, as nearly as can be ascertained, the same ground as the original building of Lanfranc, with the exception of the Nave, which is of greater length westward, and of the Retro-Choir, or extreme eastern portion, which is also longer.”—(R. J. K.)

“In the immediate Precincts, a delightful picture is presented from the Green Court, which was once the main outer court of the monastery. Here are noble trees and beautifully kept turf, at once in perfect harmony and agreeable contrast with the rugged walls of the weather-beaten Cathedral: the quiet, soft colouring of the ancient buildings and that look of cloistered seclusion only to be found in the peaceful nooks of cathedral cities are seen here at their very best.

“The chief glory of the exterior of Canterbury Cathedral is the central Angel, or Bell, Tower. This is one of the most perfect structures that Gothic architecture inspired by the loftiest purpose that ever stimulated the work of any art, has produced. It was completed by Prior Selling, who held office in 1472, and has been variously called the Bell Harry Tower from the mighty Dunstan bell, weighing three tons and three hundredweight, and the Angel Tower from the gilded figure of an angel poised on one of the pinnacles, which has long ago disappeared. The tower itself is of two stages, with two-light windows in each stage; the windows are transomed in each face, and the lower tier is canopied; each angle is rounded off with an octagonal turret; and the whole structure is a marvellous example of architectural harmony and in every way a work of transcendent beauty.”—(H. W.)

“The western towers are built each of six stages: each of the two upper tiers contains two two-light windows, while below there is a large four-light window uniform with the windows of the aisles. The base tier is ornamented with rich panelling. The parapet is battlemented and the angles are finished with fine double pinnacles. At the west end there is a large window of seven-light transoms. The gable contains a window of very curious shape, filled with intricate tracery. The space above the aisle windows is ornamented with quatrefoiled squares, and the clerestory is pierced by windows of three lights.”—(H. W.)

“On the south side is seen the porch; the nave (a beautiful design); and the charming pinnacle of the south-west transept. East of the Warrior’s Chapel is the projecting end of Stephen Langton’s tomb. East of this, the two lower rows of windows are those of Conrad’s Choir; the upper row that of William of Sens. The middle windows in the south-east transept were the clerestory windows of Conrad; the windows above them are those of William of Sens. The three upper stages of the tower on the south of this transept are late Norman work; one of the prettiest bits in Canterbury. Farther east we have French design, pure and simple; here, for the first time in English architecture, the flying-buttresses are openly displayed; notice how flat and plain they are; it had not yet occurred to architects to make them decorative. The grand sweep of apse and ambulatory seems to send one straight back to France. Then comes the broken rocky outline of the corona—the great puzzle of Canterbury. North-east of the corona are two groups of ruined Norman pillars and arches discoloured by fire; once they were continuous, forming one very long building, the Monk’s Infirmary, of which the west end was originally an open dormitory, open to the roof, and the east end, separated off by a screen, the Chapel; which has a late Geometrical window. On the north side of Trinity Chapel is seen the Chantry of Henry IV.; then St. Andrew’s Tower and the barred Treasury; the lower part of the latter is late Norman work, largely rebuilt.”—(F. B.)

“The nave, of eight bays, has no triforium. Each bay consists of a huge arch resting on filleted pillars, and is subdivided into the pier-arch, with the clerestory and panelling reaching to the string-course above. It is paved with Portland stone. The vaulting and vaulting-shafts are the prominent features of the nave, and the pier-arches are quite subordinate; these shafts are banded, as at Bath, like Early English. The main transept has no aisles.”—(W. J. L.)

“The piers which support the central tower are probably the original piers of Lanfranc’s erection, cased with Perpendicular work by Prior Chillenden at the same time with the building of the nave. To this Prior Goldstone II. (1495-1517) added the vaulting of the tower, and all the portion above the roof, together with the remarkable buttressing-arches supporting the piers below, which had perhaps shown some signs of weakness. These arches have on them the Prior’s rebus, a shield with three golden bars, or stones. The central arch occupies the place of the ancient roodloft, and probably the great rood was placed on it until the Reformation.”—(R. J. K.)

“About four years after the murder on the 5th of September, 1174, a fire broke out in the Cathedral which reduced the Choir—hitherto its chief architectural glory—to ashes. The grief of the people is described in terms which show how closely the expression of MediÆval feeling resembled what can now only be seen in Italy or the East—‘They tore their hair; they beat the walls and pavements of the church with their shoulders and the palms of their hands; they uttered tremendous curses against God and his saints—even to the patron saint of the church; they wished they had rather have died than seen such a day.’ How far more like the description of a Neapolitan mob in disappointment at the slow liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius than of the citizens of a quiet cathedral town in the county of Kent! The monks, though appalled by the calamity for a time, soon recovered themselves; workmen and architects, French and English, were procured; and among the former, William, from the city of Sens, so familiar to all Canterbury at that period as the scene of Becket’s exile. No observant traveller can have seen the two Cathedrals without remarking how closely the details of William’s workmanship at Canterbury were suggested by his recollections of his own church at Sens, built a short time before. The forms of the pillars, the vaulting of the roof, even the very bars and patterns of the windows are almost identical.... The French architect unfortunately met with an accident which disabled him from continuing his operations. After a vain struggle to superintend the works by being carried round the church in a litter, he was compelled to surrender the task to a namesake, an Englishman, and it is to him that we owe the design of that part of the Cathedral which was destined to receive the sacred Shrine.”—(A. P. S.)

“On entering the choir, the visitor is immediately struck by the singular bend with which the walls approach each other at the eastern end. By this remarkable feature, together with the great length of the Choir (180 feet; it is the longest in England) and the lowness of the vaulting; the antique character of the architecture enforced by the strongly contrasted Purbeck and Caen stone, and the consequent fine effects of light and shadow. The style is throughout Transition, having Norman and Early English characteristics, curiously intermixed. The pillars with their pier-arches, the clerestory wall above and the great vault up to the Transepts, were entirely finished by William of Sens. The whole work differed greatly from that of the former choir. The richly foliated and varied capitals of the pillars, the great vault with its ribs of stone, and the numerous slender shafts of marble in the triforia, were all novelties exciting the great admiration of the monks.”—(R. J. K.)

“They should not be overlooked by the visitor, as they are full of curious symbolism. The birth of Christ and His early life are depicted in the central panels and the types from the Old Testament with them. Observe the Magi all asleep in one bed; Shem, Ham and Japhet, dividing the earth, which one of them holds in his hands, like a gorgeously painted map; and in the sixth panel of the first window a very curious scene, in which we see depicted a bronze idol or statue, similar, no doubt, to some the artist had seen as of Roman work. Whoever he was who designed the work, he knew what was classical art. The exaggerated muscular development which came in again under Michael Angelo and his contemporaries in Italy, is seen here quite plainly.”—(W. J. L.)

“In earlier times the easternmost chapel had contained an altar of the Holy Trinity, where Becket had been accustomed to say mass. Partly for the sake of preserving the two old Norman towers of St. Anselm and St. Andrew, which stood on the north and south side of this part of the church—but chiefly for the sake of fitly uniting to the church this eastern chapel on an enlarged scale, the pillars of the choir were contracted with that singular curve which attracts the eye of every spectator, as Gervase foretold that it would, when, in order to explain this peculiarity, he stated the two aforesaid reasons. The eastern end of the Cathedral, thus enlarged, formed, as at Ely, a more spacious receptacle for the honoured remains; the new Trinity Chapel, reaching considerably beyond the extreme limit of its predecessor, and opening beyond into a yet further chapel, popularly called Becket’s Crown. The windows were duly filled with the richest painted glass of the period, and amongst those on the northern side may still be traced elaborate representations of the miracles wrought at the subterranean tomb, or by visions and intercessions of the mighty Saint. High in the tower of St. Anselm, on the south side of the destined site of so great a treasure, was prepared—a usual accompaniment of costly shrines—the Watching Chamber. It is a rude apartment with a fireplace where the watcher could warm himself during the long winter nights, and a narrow gallery between the pillars, whence he could overlook the whole platform of the shrine, and at once detect any sacrilegious robber who was attracted by the immense treasures there collected. On the occasion of fires the Shrine was additionally guarded by a troop of fierce ban-dogs.

“When the Cathedral was thus duly prepared, the time came for what, in the language of those days, was termed the ‘Translation’ of the relics.”—(A. P. S.)

“In this sacred spot—believed at that time to be the most sacred spot in England—the tomb stood in which ‘alone in his glory,’ the Prince was to be deposited, to be seen and admired by all the countless pilgrims who crawled up the stone steps beneath it on their way to the shrine of the saint.

“Let us turn to that tomb, and see how it sums up his whole life. Its bright colours have long since faded, but enough still remains to show us what it was as it stood after the sacred remains of him had been placed within it. There he lies; no other memorial of him exists in the world so authentic. There he lies, as he had directed, in full armour, his head resting on his helmet, his feet with the likeness of ‘the spurs he won’ at Cressy, his hands joined as in that last prayer which he had offered up on his deathbed. 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. On his armour you can still see the marks of the bright gilding with which the figure was covered from head to foot, so as to make it look like an image of pure gold. High above are suspended the brazen gauntlets, the helmet, with what was once its gilded leopard-crest, and the wooden shield, the velvet coat also, embroidered with the arms of France and England, now tattered and colourless, but then blazing with blue and scarlet. There, too, still hangs the empty scabbard of the sword, wielded perhaps at his three great battles, and which Oliver Cromwell, it is said, carried away. On the canopy, over the tomb, there is the faded representation—painted after the strange fashion of those times—of the Persons of the Holy Trinity, according to the peculiar devotion which he had entertained. In the pillars you can see the hooks to which was fastened the black tapestry, with its crimson border and curious embroidery, which he directed in his will should be hung round his tomb and the shrine of Becket. Round about the tomb, too, you will see the ostrich feathers, which, according to the old, but doubtful tradition, we are told he won at Cressy from the blind King of Bohemia, who perished in the thick of the fight; and interwoven with them the famous motto, with which he used to sign his name, ‘Houmout,’ ‘Ich diene.’ 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 is high 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.

“And, lastly, carved about the tomb, is the long inscription, selected by himself before his death, in Norman French, and still the language of the court, written, as he begged, clearly and plainly, that all might read it. Its purport is to contrast his former splendour and vigour and beauty with the wasted body which is now all that is left.”—(A. P. S.)

“In spite of some damage they remain the most interesting representations, not only of the costume of the time, but also, we cannot doubt, of the actual features of the persons. When the tomb was opened some time ago the features of the king were seen for a moment and corresponded closely with the representation on the tomb. The figures at the foot of the Queen, known in heraldry as genets, and to the ordinary person perhaps as weasels, appear also in the canopy combined with eagles and the motto ‘Soverayne and Atemperance.’ The defaced painting on wood at the foot of the tomb represented the Martyrdom of St. Thomas.”—(F. and R.)

“They are of the Thirteenth Century, and among the finest of this date in Europe, excelling in many respects those of Bourges, Troyes and Chartres; ‘for excellence of drawing, harmony of colouring and purity of design they are justly considered unequalled. The skill with which the minute figures are represented, cannot even at this day be surpassed’ (Stanley). Remark especially the great value given to the brilliant colours by the profusion of white and neutral tints. The scrolls and borders surrounding the medallions are also of beauty.

“The three windows remaining in the aisles surrounding the Trinity Chapel are entirely devoted, as were all the rest, to the miracles of Becket, which commenced immediately on the death of the great martyr. The miracles represented in the medallions are of various characters. The Lucerna AngliÆ, a true St. Thomas of Kandelberg, as the Germans called him, restores sight to the blind. Loss of smell is recovered at the shrine of this Arbor Aromatica. Frequently he assists sailors, the rude crews of the Cinque Ports in his own immediate neighbourhood. At the Norway fishing his figure came gliding over the seas in the dusk, and descended, burning like fire, to the imperilled ships of the Crusaders. In the window toward the east, on the north of the Shrine, is represented a remarkable series of miracles, occurring in the household of a knight named Jordan, son of Eisulf, whose son is restored to life by the water from St. Thomas’s well, which, mixed with his blood, was always carried off by the pilgrims. The father vows an offering to the martyr before Mid-Lent. This is neglected; the whole household again suffer, and the son dies once more. The knight and his wife, both sick, drag themselves to Canterbury, perform their vow and the son is finally restored. On a medallion in one of the windows on the north side is a representation of Becket’s Shrine, with the martyr issuing from it in full pontificals to say Mass at the altar.”—(R. J. K.)

“The great lightness and beauty of the Corona, the extreme east end of the Cathedral, are remarkable. It is English William’s work. When Archbishop Anselm was at Rome in the early part of his episcopate and attending a council in the Lateran, a question arose as to his proper place, since no Archbishop of Canterbury had as yet been present at a Roman council. Pope Pascal II. decided it by assigning to the ‘alterius orbis papa,’ a seat in the ‘corona,’ the most honourable position. It is possible that this fact may have led the architects, on the rebuilding of the choir, to make the addition of an eastern apse, or corona, which did not exist in the earlier church. In it were the shrines of Archbishop Odo and Wilfrid of York, and a golden reliquary in the form of a head, containing some relic of Becket, perhaps the severed scalp. By a confusion of its proper name with this relic the eastern apse came to be generally known as Becket’s Crown. On the north side is the tomb of Cardinal Pole, Queen Mary’s Archbishop (1556-1558) and the last Archbishop buried at Canterbury. His royal blood gave him a title to so distinguished a place of sepulture.”—(R. J. K.)

“It is very complete and an admirable example of the intricate symbolism of the time. The subjects are arranged in three quatrefoils and two lozenges: the Crucifixion occupying a square panel at the foot, surrounded by representations of the spies carrying the great bunch of grapes; of Moses striking the rock; of the sacrifice of a lamb in the Temple, and of Abraham offering up Isaac on Mount Moriah. Next above is a lozenge-shaped panel, painted with the Entombment, adjoining which we have Joseph’s brethren putting him in the pit; Samson shorn in his sleep by Delilah; Daniel in a walled city, labelled Babilonia, and Jonah let down into the jaws of the whale by two men in a ship. Above these scenes is a quatrefoil, in the centre of which we see the Resurrection, surrounded by representations of Moses and the burning bush; Noah in the Ark; Rahab letting the spies down by the wall, and Jonah landing near Nineveh from the mouth of a great whale. Then another lozenge represents the Ascension and the scenes surrounding it are the Ark of the Mercy-Seat; Elijah ascending in a chariot of fire; the burial of Moses, and Hezekiah sick, while an angel gives him the sign of the shadow on the dial of Ahaz. The last of the series is at the top. In a square panel we see the great event of the Day of Pentecost. Above it Christ sits enthroned in glory. Moses receiving the Two Tables of the Law is below. On one side is the first ordination of deacons, and on the other the descent of the Holy Spirit on the disciples. The whole style of this window is later than that of the Becket series.”—(W. J. L.)