I was hoping to impress with some
French phrases here, a bit of an "ooh la la!" or a "oui oui!" or
whatever...but I won't.
We had planned
a trip to Calais - the five of us plus our car, were
booked to travel by Seacat from Dover to Calais on the 19th of
March. The kids and (not to mention us adults!) were fairly
excited, to say the least! But it was all to no avail. We
arrived at the ferry terminal to the news that there would be a delay
due to the docking mechanism (or something!) being out of order, but we
were welcome to wait in the terminal.
So as to make a terrible
situation into a good one, we decided instead
of going back home, we'd pop into Canterbury, which was on the way, and
visit the Cathedral...oh, I'm so glad we did!
111 photos (not all of them
featured here!), and 2 hours later, we
decided it was time to go home.
Here's some information about
Canterbury Cathedral from the book by
Jonathan Keates and Angelo Hornak, accompanied by photos taken by both
myself and Alex...

The present
Canterbury Cathedral was built on the ruins of the old cathedral,
dating from the 6th century, which was destroyed by fire in 1067.
Lanfranc, the first of Norman archbishops, had previously supervised
the reconstruction of the abbey church of St Etienne at Caen (in
Normandy) when he was abbot there, and the influence of this building
is still traceable in Canterbury Cathedral, which was dedicated in
October 1077. The building is Romanesque in style, consisting of
an imposing nave with a fine west front and a sanctuary at the eastern
end.
It is something of a paradox,
however, that most of the Romanesque work now remaining
in the Cathedral

belongs to the
period, not of the vigorous and energetic Lanfranc, but of his
successor, a man quite as admirable but very different in
character. Four years during which the revenues of the see were
appropriated by the degenerate King William Rufus were followed in 1093
by the appointment of Anselm as archbishop. Wise and saintly,
Anselm was a scholar of international repute. It is to his
vision, and to the enthusiasm of the monastry's priors Ernulf and
Conrad, that we owe the tremendous crypt, the biggest of its period in
England and preserved almost intact.
The development of Canterbury
as one of the world's great religious centres is linked inextricably
with the martyrdom and subsequent canonisation of its most famous
archbishop - St Thomas Becket. Without the shrine of St Thomas,
the continuing flow of pligrims to the mediaeval city, and the involved
tissue of legend and hard fact into which early biographers wove the
martyr's life, the mother church of England, for all its other
associations, might well have been just another cathedral. Even
today, when many different interests draw visitors to the building, its
ancient fame as the resting place of a great English saint endures.
Poetry, novels, drama and
film have all celebrated the conflict between the archbishop and his
former friend and master, King Henry II. From the Icelandic "Saga
of Archbishop Thomas" to Tennyson's portentous late Victorian tragedy
"Becket" and TS Eliot's "Murder in the Cathedral", that most
intricately-wrought of modern verse dramas, writers have responded to
the romance and heroism implicit in the story of one man's firm
defiance of absolute authority.

Thomas has
been presented as a champion of oppressed Saxons against Normans, as a
stalwart defender of church liberties and as a man agonised by the need
to choose between worldly advancement and spiritual recompense.
The facts are altogether less simple and more interesting, and make the
head-on collision beetween king and archbishop seem as inevitable in a
personal sense as it was in a political context.
Thomas Becket was born in
London on 21 December 1118. His father, Gilbert Becket, was a
prosperous merchant who had held office as sheriff of the city, and his
mother Matilda came from Caen in Normandy. Evidently a very
bright boy, Thomas was sent to a school at Merton Priory in Surrey,
where he would have acquired the basic education of a mediaeval 'clerk'
- grammar, logic, rhetoric and a thorough knowledge of Latin.
This does not imply that he was already intended for the Church, since
literacy was in demand among professional men of his own class and
among the nobility. A fondness for study, however, sent him on to
the famous schools of the University of Paris, at the time the best in
Europe.

It seems here
that decided to follow an ecclesiastical career, and the vow of
chastity that he took in Paris suggests that he had begun to consider
his future seriously. Returning to England in 1140, after five
years in France, he eventually joined the staff of Theobald, Archbishop
of Canterbury, who soon despatched him for further study in canon and
civil law to the renowned faculties of Bolgona and Auxerre.
Thomas' evident
administrative skill was given every encouragement by the Archbishop,
who made him Archdeacon of Canterbury, and his progress during the
turbulent reign of King Stephen, a time when 'Christ and his saints
slept', was noted with interest and envy by others. In 1154
Stephen died, having already willed his crown to the son of his cousin
Matilda, with whom he had fought inconclusively for twenty years.
The new king, twenty-one-year old Henry of Anjou, crowned as Henry II,
was to prove one of the most colourful, decisive and memorable of
England's mediaeval rulers.
It was Theobald who
recommended Thomas Becket to Henry as Chancellor of the Realm.
This meant not only that he was entrusted with one of the highest
offices of state, in which he could gain first-hand experience of the
continuing problem of maintaining a balance between the various sectors
of the community, but also that he was brought into close personal
contact with the King. The two men took an instant liking to each
other, and their mutual respect was

evidently
based on certain traits of character common to both: a readiness
to act quickly and firmly, a determination to stand by decisions once
made, a hot temper and a refusal to mince words.
Diplomat, mediator, advisor,
administrator - it must have seemed, at the time of Archbishop
Theobald's death in 1161, as if Thomas were truly the King's man.
It was surely no haphazard choice which led Henry a year later to fix
on so close a friend to fill the vacant see. But Thomas,
surprisingly from a modern point of view, was still only a clerk in
minor orders; he was ordained priest on 2 June 1162, consecrated Bishop
on the following morning, and enthroned Archbishop in Canterbury
Cathedral on the same day. In assuming his new office he had
taken the most momentous step of his career and set himself ona fatal
course as far as his relationship with the king was concerned.
Thomas' main contention with
Henry, apart from those over the disposal of church property and the
application of taxes, concerned the issue of how churchmen should be
tried and punished under the law. It was during the regin of
Henry II that the jury system was introduced for the first time.
Royal courts could still apply a range of harsh penalties, and so it
was natural enough that the clergy should wish to be tried by their own
courts, with milder punishments. In 1164 Henry put forth the
Constitutions of Clarendon, a series of 16 clauses clarifying the
relationship between Church and State, and asserting the judicial
rights of the crown. Thomas at first agreed, then withdrew his
assent, accompanying this retraction with a symbolic act of penance
which, under the circumstances, was seen to be an overt criticism of
the King's reforms.
The rift between the King and
the Archbishop was now complete. Summoning Thomas to Northampton,
Henry called on him to accoutn for the money he had bene given to spend
as Chancellor of England and for the revenues of the bishoprics and
abbacies he had held. Angry scenes ensued, during which Gilbert
Foliot, Bishop of London, actually tried to wrench Thomas' primatial
cross from his hands. Despite his enemies in the church and among
Henry's followers, he was already a popular hero with the common people
and many of the clergy, and when he finally fled from Northampton in
October 1164, he found willing helpers to assist him to flee to France,
where he stayed in exile for six years. In 1170 he returned to
England, landing at Sandwich, to be greeted by cheering crowds lining
the route to Canterbury.

Hardened
in
resolve, refusing to compromise, he was clearly ready to die for what
he believed in. It was his bitterest foe, Archbishop Roger of
York, who touched off the explosion of rage which was ultimately to
lead to Becket's martyrdom. At an audience with Henry at Bures in
Normandy, Roger had said: 'While Thomas lives, you will have
neither quiet times nor a tranquil kingdom', whereapon the king, flying
into one of his customary rages, cried, 'Who will rid me of this
low-born (some say 'turbulent') priest?'
Four knights, Richard Brito,
Hugh de Moreville, Reginald FizUrse and William de Tracy, chose to take
Henry at his word and set off for England, arriving at Canterbury after
mustering followers, on 29 December 1170. Accusations and angry
rebuttals flew from both they and Thomas, and as the knights and their
men gathered around the palace with cries of 'Reaux, reaux' ('King's
men, king's men'), Thomas was persuaded by the monks to enter the
Cathedral, though he insisted the door should be left unbarred.
The knights burst into the building as Thomas was hustled through the
north-west transept, while the late afternoon service of vespers was in
progress. In the darkness they called out for the Archbishop, and
Thomas came down to face them. They tried to seize hold of him,
but Thomas shook them off, actually throwing FitzUrse to the ground.
It was FitzUrse who
threatened the Archbishop with his drawn sword. Tracy, calling
'Strike, strike!' to the others, cut deeply into Thomas' head, and it
was only at a third blow that he staggered to the ground, calling on an
earlier Canterbury martyr St Alphege and murmuring 'For the name of
Jesus and the defence of the Church I am willing to die' as Richard
Brito gave him the death stroke. The force of this blow was such
as to cut off the crown of the head and shatter the tip of the blade on
the stone pavement - hence the name given to the neaerby altar of the
Sword's Point, on which the tip of th sword was placed for the
veneration of posterity. This altar, destroyed in 1538, was
restored in 1986.

The
site of the martyrdom is
preserved today in the north-west transept. Within hours of the
Archbishop's death, and to the accompaniement of a violent storm, the
Cathedral was thronged with a mourning crowd, and two days later began
the series of miracles which, in 1173, was to warrant his canonisation
'among the company of martyrs' by Pope Alexander III.

The
ancient stained glass of
Canterbury Cathedral is one of the glories of mediaeval English
art. Canterbury was luckier than many cathedrals and churches in
the early 16th century in escaping the attacks of pious iconoclasts,
and it was only the Puritan reaction immediately before and during the
Civil War which brought widespread destruction to several of the
ancient windows.
Much work has been done in
cleaning and restoring the glass itself, to recreate as vividly as
possible the brilliance, variety and liveliness of design in the
original, and since the Middle Ages, various panels have been shifted
and reset in different parts of the church.
At the west end of the nave,
for example, can be seen figures from the genealogical series of
windows formerly in the quire. This type of picture series was
very popular in mediaeval churches, where it was meant as a kind of
visual stimulus for a largely illiterate congregation.
In the north-west trancept is
a poignant survival of a splendid fifteenth century window featuring
Edward IV and his queen Elizabeth Woodville, with their children, in
the traditional kneeling posture of donors. The original ensemble
featured God the Father, Christ and the Holy Spirit, the Virigin Mary
'in seven glorious appearances', St Thomas Becket and a group of
saints, some of whom, with prophets and apostles, can be seen in the
tracery.

The
rest was destroyed in 1642 by
the puritan Richard Culmer, but the whole was clearly characterised by
rich colour and expansive layout. The window is dated to the
early 1480s.
The large window in the
south-west transept contains twenty-four more figures from the ancestry
of Jesus which originally lined the clerestory of the quire.
These include the intensely compelling full-length seated Methuselah,
in the lowest row, one foot raised, his left hand clutching the arm of
his throne, the other stroking his beard.

The best of the
Cathedral's treasure of stained glass is to be seen in the ambulatories
and chapels of the quire and Trinity Chapel. Most of these
windows belong distinctly to the 12th and 13th century French tradition
exemplefied so gloriously at Chartres, with whihc Canterbury certainly
bears comparison. They were formerly arranged in definite
schemes, so that it was possible to 'read' the story represented in any
given series along the line of panels or up and down the individual
windows. In the clerestory were the genealogy windows, a total of
eighty-four panels designed to culminate in Christ and the Virgin
Mary. Scenes from the life of Christ filled the apse. In
the quire aisles and the eastern transept were windows whose
theological subjects reflected the well-loved mediaeval habit of
pairing events in the Old and New Testaments. In the aisles of
the Trinity Chapel were the beautiful series of windows, already
described, portraying works and miracles of St Thomas Becket.
Some of the windows retain their original metal framework, and provide
an intriguing source of study for those interested in the technique of
applied art in the Middle Ages.

The Corona central window
still holds several of its fine panels showing the principal events
from Good Friday to Pentecost, foreshadowed by scenes from the Old
Testament, carefully arranged in alternating shapes from the central
illustrated squares as a species of commentary. Here for example,
the symbolism of the Entombment is underlined by representations of
Joseph in the pit, Samson and Delilah in bed together, Jonah cast
overboard from the ship, and Daniel in the lion's den. In the
same window the ultimate significance of Pentecost is deepened with
illustrations of Aaron and his sons being ordained priests, Christ in
Glory, Moses judging the people, and Moses receiving the tablets of the
law.

Of
later mediaeval glass the most
interesting survivals, apart from the royal portrait figures in the
north-west transept windows, are those int eh little chantry chapel of
King Henry IV in the north quire aisle, dedicated to St Edward th
Confessor. Here, peering through the screen into the tiny
chamber, we can appreciate the contrast in style and colour between the
three surviving figures and the deep toned glazing of the Miracle
windows in the aisle nearby.
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The Eastern Crypt, built by William the Englishman to support the new
Trinity Chapel above.
Views of various columns and vaulted ceilings. >
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The Baptismal font and cover, presented in 1639 by
Bishop Warner of Rochester as restored in 1663 (nave, west
end)
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The stairs leading down to the site of St Thomas Becket's martyrdom
<< Lovely photo of the Nave as taken from steps behind the
altar.
Bible stand >> >> >>

<< << Candles in Quire
Quire clerestory
v
Closeup of Candelabra
v

Canterbury is rich in fine monuments of all periods,
including those of Edward the Black Prince. The Black Prince,
eldest son of King Edward III, died on 8 June 1376. His
association with Canterbury had been a close one, and it is possible
that Prior Hathbrand had been his tutor. Born at Woodstock in
1330 and educated in the chivalric traditions of the late Middle Ages,
Edward naturally became the symbol of England's hopes and aspirations
in the prolonged wars with France.
An able military leader, he was given his soubriquet possibly,
according to the chronicler Froissart, because of the terror he
inspired with his bravery and ferocity, but not because of any suit of
black armour he may have worn.
He had asked to be buried in the
crypt, but national pressures and the monks' sense of decorum decreed
that he be accorded suitable honour in the form of an iron railed tomb
close to the shrine of St Thomas, on the south side of the Trinity
Chapel. Above the effigy on its tomb chest hangs a painted
tester, and over this are replicas of the surcoat, helmet, gauntlets
and other accoutrements of the Prince himself (the originals are
displayed in a case down the steps in the south quire aisle). In
the nineteenth century, Victorian romanticism took a literal attitude
to the Black Prince's memory, as a result of which the original latten
effigy was carefully blackened and remained under layers of paint until
it is was accidentally uncovered and restored to its original glory
during the early 1930s.
Eilis and Liam check out the plan of
Canterbury Cathedral
Two views of Eilis taking her audio
tour of Canterbury Cathedral!
Maitias having a great time getting about on his Cathedral tour...