Even a careless observer of the life and customs of the Middle Ages will
have noticed that one of its most extraordinary features is the extent
to which people of every European country went upon pilgrimages. The
nature and object of these religious journeys varied widely, running the
gamut from the Crusades to the visiting of neighbouring shrines. The
history of the Crusades is well known, but perhaps few of us realise the
tremendous interest taken in the more domestic and near-by pilgrimages.
The English were like all the rest of Christendom in this curious craze,
and for several centuries the most revered, as well as the most popular
of their many shrines was that of the martyred Thomas a Becket at
Canterbury. More highly prized than any other similar trophy was the
small leaden flask hung about the neck of one who had taken that
journey, and was thus qualified to bear away this pilgrim's token
filled with water from the holy well beneath the cathedral. A modern
counterpart is afforded by the value Mohammedans set upon the wearing
of a green turban, the privilege accorded to one who has visited Mecca.
Although Canterbury had always since the earliest days possessed many
saintly relics, a marked increase in the number of pilgrims was noted
after the martyrdom of a Becket. These pilgrimages steadily grew in
vogue until when, in the fifteenth century, they had reached their
height, not only did the stream of travellers continue steadily
throughout the year, but during the months of December and July
(anniversaries of the martyrdom and the transference of the relics)
we read that the numbers swelled to such an extent that the housing
facilities of the little city were greatly overtaxed. A jubilee was held
every fifty years, and on these occasions the crowds grew to enormous
size. During the jubilee of 1420 we are told that over 100,000 pilgrims
were gathered in the city at the same time. Hay and wood were provided
gratuitously for them, a bounty which the cathedral could well afford,
because of the great value of the gifts constantly received from these
visitors. It is easy to see how important a nationalising influence must
have resulted from this meeting together of all classes of society from
different parts of the country. How widely these pilgrims varied in
station and occupation can be gathered from Chaucer's inimitable
"Canterbury Tales." Those amusing chronicles also show that while
religion was doubtless a powerful motive in causing these pilgrimages,
there was besides a great deal of what is called to-day "the desire for
foreign travel." In fact, it is difficult to find much religious flavour
in the tales of merriment and adventure which follow each other in this
delightful series. Chaucer probably selected a Canterbury pilgrimage
as the setting for his poem in order to appeal to a great number of
readers, for he well knew the kingdom to be full of people who had taken
this journey, and to whom, therefore, his tales would be of peculiar
interest. Although Chaucer was the son and grandson of vintners, he won
his way into high favour at Court, a hint of which is obtained from the
fact that Edward III. paid L16 (then a considerable sum) to ransom him
after his capture by the French.
[Illustration: _J. G. Charlton, photo._
"BECKET'S CROWN," CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL
Thirteenth Century medallions; notice circular and other forms
enclosing the figures. The heavy iron bars needed to support the
great weight of lead are skilfully adjusted to the design. The
world-famous shrine stood in the centre of this space. Tomb of
Black Prince in foreground, and above it armour he wore at
Crecy]
Another group of equally diverting but more whimsical poems are
inseparably connected with this neighbourhood. Rev. Richard Barham lived
near Canterbury, and many of his engaging Ingoldsby Legends have their
scenes laid there, some within the cathedral precincts. The county of
Kent, of which Canterbury is the chief city, is peopled by a sturdy folk
who have always been jealous of their rights and insistent upon their
own interpretation of the law, as, for example, although primogeniture
existed almost everywhere else in England, Kent always preferred
gavelkind (an equal division of property among the children of the
deceased). As illustrating the strength of Kentish traditions, it is
amusing to note that one must remember carefully to apply the expression
"Kentish man" to a dweller in the western half of the county, and "Man
of Kent" to him of the eastern. Confuse these two designations at your
peril! There is a bit of local history which has a fine heroic flavour,
and which points our moral excellently. After William the Conqueror had
won the battle of Hastings, all Kent, headed by the Archbishop of
Canterbury, gathered to protect its ancient rights against the invader.
They marched forth to meet William at Swanscourt, each man fully armed,
and carrying above him a green bough to mask the numbers of their host.
William's surprise and perplexity at seeing this perambulating forest
approaching him can well be imagined. When he inquired the reason for
it, there came the fine reply that Kent demanded its ancient rights, and
if granted them would live peaceably under his rule, but if they were to
be denied, then there must be instant war! The politic Norman complied
with their request, and the Kentish forest marched off.
So beautiful are the distant prospects of Canterbury Cathedral that
excellent aesthetic reasons may be advanced for the religious custom that
required all mounted pilgrims to dismount as soon as they could spy the
Angel Steeple, and complete the last stage of the pilgrimage on foot.
Proceeding in this more leisurely fashion, the beauties of the
picturesque grouping of the buildings about the cathedral developed
slowly before their eyes.
On descending into the town, many interesting sights meet one's view in
the quaint winding streets and narrow lanes. The name of one of these,
Watling Street, recalls the fact that through this city ran that great
Roman road. Another element of the picturesque is added by the
meandering through the town of the river Stour, over whose narrow stream
project many of the houses. Finally we arrive at a large gatehouse,
whose modest portal affords access to the sacred precincts, and
introduces us to a series of most delightful pictures, for there are few
cathedrals in the world placed in so charming a setting. An old legend
gravely narrates that when the walls of the sanctuary were heightened
about the middle of the tenth century, the building was, perforce,
roofless for three years, and that during that period no rain fell
within this favoured enclosure! We need not stop to consider the
different features of the architecture which have delighted so many eyes
and are so well known from photographs and other reproductions. We must,
however, note in passing that during a Becket's exile he chanced to be
in Sens at the very time that the great French architect, William of
Sens, was finishing the first attempt in pointed Gothic. This probably
explains why, when the choir of Canterbury Cathedral was destroyed by
fire, the monks in 1174 summoned William to rebuild it. During the work
he fell from the scaffold and received injuries from which he died. The
selection of that foreign architect assists in explaining why the mosaic
glass at Canterbury so closely resembles the late twelfth century
windows at Sens, and permits us to conjecture that with the French
architect there came over French glaziers. The French Gothic which was
here introduced by William of Sens was, to a certain extent, copied
elsewhere. Traces of it at York Cathedral are doubtless due to the fact
that the Archbishop of York who caused its introduction had been
Archdeacon at Canterbury during the time that William of Sens was
working there. We will enter the church and press on to the northern
transept, where took place that tragic episode resulting from the
constant strife between Henry II. and the proud churchman a Becket. In
the dimness of this old-world corner one can almost live over again the
scene at twilight, December 29, 1170, when the four knights, taunted
into exasperation by a Becket's hot words, cut down the defenceless
priest, thinking thus to serve their royal master. Not only did this
base act bring upon Henry the open shame of being forced to do most
abject penance before the shrine of his sainted victim, but it also
produced many extraordinary results of widely differing nature during
the centuries to follow. Just after the assassination the monks, upon
removing the garments of their murdered chief, found, to their great
surprise, that beneath the rich raiment of him whom they had always
mistrusted as a brilliant courtier, was worn the haircloth shirt of
their monastic order. Their sudden revulsion of feeling, and the
religious enthusiasm which overcame them at that sight, seems prophetic
of other revulsions that were to take place during the Middle Ages in
the attitude of the public mind towards this bloody page of Church
history. Just as then their feelings abruptly changed, so after wealth
and costly gifts had flowed to this shrine for centuries, and almost
every city in Christendom had an altar or a church dedicated to
St. Thomas, suddenly men of thought became disgusted by the many
reprehensible features connected with this cult, which, perhaps, were
only the natural results of the throngs attending the pilgrimages. The
pendulum, which had swung too high on one side, swept back to the other
extreme; and this brings us to one of the strangest parts of this story,
if not, indeed, the weirdest in all the annals of the law. Henry VIII.
cast covetous eyes upon the hoard of jewels gathered together in
Canterbury Cathedral, so he instituted a legal proceeding to enable him
to lay hold upon them. As royal successor to Henry II. he caused the
Attorney-General in 1538 to bring suit against a Becket for treason, and
had the papers duly served upon the famous shrine! Counsel was appointed
to represent the long dead subject, and the case was argued with all the
pomp and circumstance of legal warfare. The martyr was found guilty, and
all the wealth of his shrine was declared escheated to the Crown. We
read that it was necessary to employ twenty-six carts to carry off the
booty. Could anything be more strange and fantastic than so material an
outcome to the wild deed of the four knights!
Of the other tombs here, the most interesting are those of Henry IV. and
the Black Prince. Above the latter is suspended the armour worn by him
at the battle of Crecy.
Before commencing to examine the stained glass, we must warn the reader
that it suffered severely at the hands of that arch-ruffian of all glass
destroyers, Dick Culmer (or "Blue Dick," as he was called), the minister
in charge of the Abbey during the Commonwealth. So violently opposed
to his appointment were the townspeople that they locked all the
cathedral's doors against him, thus forcing him to effect his first
entrance by breaking in one of the windows--an evil omen! No sooner was
he installed than he set diligently to work to destroy the stained
glass, and, furthermore, openly boasted of his energy in that respect.
In his "Cathedral News from Canterbury," he says, "A minister on top of
the city ladder, nearly sixty steps high, with a whole pike in his hand,
rattling down proud Becket's glassie bones when others present would not
venture so high." This glass, so destroyed, was in the north transept.
There is but little mosaic medallion thirteenth century glass in
England, and therefore what there is of it at Canterbury would for that
reason alone have great value, but because the examples there found are
among the best of that period now extant, its importance is thereby
greatly enhanced. An ancient supplement to the "Canterbury Tales"
relates, with amusing conversational detail, how the pilgrims, upon
entering the church by the south-western door of the nave, at once fell
to admiring the windows and studying out their legends. The ruthless
hand of time, assisted by those of Dick Culmer and Co., have made it
impossible for us to enjoy that same pleasure, but certain fragments of
that glass gathered together into the western window give a hint of what
the beauty of the complete series must have been. With this exception
there is nothing to detain one long in the nave, so we will pass on to
the eastern end of the church to inspect the remaining contemporary
windows--they are the finest of their type in England, and will be
found in the north choir aisle, the circular apse at the extreme
easterly end (known as Becket's Crown) and Trinity Chapel. There has
been preserved for us an old Latin list describing and locating all the
windows in their original order, and from this we learn that the ancient
panels now in the north choir aisle between the easterly transept and
the chapel of the Martyrdom (north end of the westerly transepts) were
formerly in the embrasures of the latter. Their workmanship is very
fine, and they tell their parables with great distinctness. Proceeding
eastward to Becket's Crown, we shall be afforded an edifying opportunity
to observe how much more brilliant and generally delightful are the old
mosaic medallions than even the best modern copies. The oldest window
dates from the middle of the thirteenth century, and it takes but a
glance to betray those of its companions which are modern. The
improvements of centuries in glass manufacture fail utterly to yield
us an equivalent for the brilliancy of the crudely constructed panels
of that time. The most interesting and, for various reasons, the most
valuable medallions are those filling the six windows of Trinity Chapel
which retain their original glazing. In those on the north side of where
the shrine used to stand, are medallions whose groups display miracles
performed by the saint, or episodes illustrative of his healing power.
At the top of the second from the east on this side is a medallion of
very peculiar interest because it depicts Benedict's vision of the saint
emerging from his shrine in full canonicals and moving toward the high
altar to say mass. Examine it carefully, for here we have the only
representation now existing of that world-renowned shrine, whose lavish
decoration of gold and jewels so roused the cupidity of Henry VIII. as
to cause its destruction. There is every reason to believe this to be a
veracious reproduction, for being installed directly opposite and a few
yards from the shrine of which it was the counterfeit presentment, any
but a careful copy thereof would have been useless in telling the
window's story. More of this splendid glass is found filling the lower
embrasures along the north side between the two sets of transepts, and
also above in the three upper half-circle windows, both on this and the
opposite side of the church ambulatory; note the mellow richness of
their reds and blues. The central embrasure of the most easterly or
Trinity Chapel retains its early mosaic medallions, easily distinguished
from the modern imitations on either side. High up in the north wall of
the easterly transepts is a rose window which retains its thirteenth
century glazing in the large central circle, but alas! white glass
replaces all but the borders of the outer circles, thus drowning the old
glass in a glare of light and utterly extinguishing the splendid glow
which would otherwise delight our eyes. Although the handsome five-light
Decorated window on the south side of St. Anselm's Chapel (lying off the
south choir aisle) has lost its original glass, the records of the cost
contain features of interest. The contract for its construction is dated
1336, and the items of expense (which total L42 17_s._ 2_d._) indicate
that the heavy iron saddle-bars, &c., required to support the great
quantity of lead used in joining the glass, cost almost as much as the
glazing; L4 4_s._ 0_d._ was paid for twenty hundredweight of iron, L6
13_s._ 4_d._ "for glass and the labour of the glaziers."
The chief window of the north-west transept, generally called the chapel
of the Martyrdom, was presented by Edward IV., and when complete must
have been a fine example of the Perpendicular school. Its seven tall
lancets are broken into four tiers, and surmounted by handsome tracery
lights. Here formerly appeared "The Seven Glorious Appearances of the
Virgin," with a Becket in the centre, but "Blue Dick" Culmer destroyed
them all while engaged in his pleasing task of "rattling down proud
Becket's glassie bones." Notwithstanding the treatment to which this
window was subjected, it still presents a very attractive appearance.
The original fragments have been collected within coloured borders and
throw into bold relief the richly toned kneeling figures of Edward IV.
and his wife, which are placed facing each other. Behind the queen are
stationed her five daughters, divided into one group of three and
another of two, while behind the king are the two little princes, who
were later murdered in the Tower of London. The backgrounds behind the
figures are noteworthy because they are composed of repetitions of the
badge of each individual; behind the king are the white roses and suns
of York; behind the queen, green thistles; feathers behind the Prince of
Wales, &c. Above them is a tier of white-robed angels with red wings,
against backgrounds of blue or green, supporting heraldic shields. Just
below this window and leading off to the east is the Dean's Chapel,
lighted on the east by a very pleasant quarry window, upon each of whose
panes appears in yellow stain the double knot which indicates the donor
to have been Archbishop Bourchier, whom we shall encounter later on at
Knole. A relieving note of colour is lent by the shield of arms at the
bottom of each lancet. Three of the small windows that light the
picturesque little baptistery contain effigies of ecclesiastical
dignitaries and saints within richly toned borders, while in the small
traceries above them are heraldic blazons.
Splendid as this noble cathedral now is, how much more impressive must
it have been when all its windows were filled with mosaic medallions
through which a warmly tinted illumination tempered the minster gloom.
It is difficult to repress the anachronistic wish that the knights who
came here seeking to slay a Becket might instead have wreaked their lust
for blood upon "Blue Dick" Culmer!
* * * * *
Near Canterbury there are some Early English fragments at Chartham, four
miles west on the road to Maidstone. They are in the tracery lights on
the north side of the chancel. In one of these small openings there has
been inserted a baptismal scene, but because it is upside down the water
seems like a cross between a shower-bath and the sword of Damocles! The
chief reason for stopping at this church is the very agreeable lighting
of its chancel in the Decorated manner. In the two embrasures on the
north side have been collected all that remains of the original pattern
glass, but the other lights have been glazed as much like these two as
possible. A mellow richness, not often seen, is the chief characteristic
of this low-toned grisaille, overrun with graceful coloured designs. In
its perfection that style was most attractive. In a south-easterly
suburb of Ashford called Willesborough there are in the chancel a couple
of very complete and pleasing Decorated windows. They both have quarry
backgrounds with coloured borders, but the one to the north is much
more attractive. Upon its surface are not only the coloured bosses seen
in the one across the chancel, but also some handsome canopy-framed
figures. The leaf design on the borders should be noted, and also the
labels below the figures.