Part 3

There is also later glass to be seen here. St. Thomas's Church, in the first embrasure from the east of the north aisle, has the remains of a Decorated Tree of Jesse, in which, as well as in other fragments along the traceries, there is a good deal of yellow stain observable. In the vestry, which is off the north aisle, are three small lancets upon which appear figures against quarry backgrounds not as usual ensconced in canopies. The wooden ceilings in the north and south aisles are especially fine.

For the Perpendicular glass at Salisbury _see_ p. 192.

CANTERBURY

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.

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.

LINCOLN

A golden-brown cathedral crowning the summit of a solitary hill rising from a wide plain--so Lincoln lingers in one's memory!

Few towns have their situation more clearly described by their names than this one, derived, as it is, from "llin" a mere, and "dun" a hill, a hill above a mere. The plain is now drained of the marshes which formerly overspread it, but the great isolated mount remains always the same, and upon the summit is stationed, like a splendid sentinel, the mighty bulk of the cathedral. Rarely, indeed, does a great church have so dominating and superb a site, nor is it often that so prominent a point is crowned by such a noble structure. Near it is the ancient castle, built first by the Romans and later strengthened by warriors of other races equally quick to appreciate the military strength of its commanding position. From the tower at one corner of its perfectly preserved ramparts is afforded a most inspiring view in every direction. Nor were the great walls of the cathedral less serviceable in affording a strong refuge in war. It needs but a glance at the sturdy west front to show why Stephen in 1141, during the war of the Barons, finding the Earls of Lincoln and Chester in possession of the castle, threw himself into the adjacent cathedral and thus secured as strong a fortress as they. Not only is the western facade very beautiful, but it is also a manifestation, rare in England, of the practice usual in France of making this portion of the exterior the most important of all. Here at Lincoln it is as if a wide mask of stone had been built on to the end of the nave, lending as great an impression of width as one gets of height by a similar trick at Peterborough. These two are almost the only attempts in England to use this facade for other than simply closing the end of the edifice. The result at Lincoln is most imposing, but it produces its best effect when seen from a little distance, because then one gets the great sweep of the lines, relieved by the galleries of statues and warmed by the yellowish brown of the stone. A nearer inspection discloses how the later work has been pieced on to the older, which tends to distract our attention from the front as a whole. Not satisfied with the great strength of the building itself, permission was early obtained from the Crown to surround the Close with walls and gates, of which the picturesque Exchequer gate survives. This enclosure goes by the name of the Minster Yard. When visiting the little hamlet of Dorchester we will remark upon how great was once its glory and how widely the sway of its Bishop then extended. This glory departed when Bishop Remigius (who built the central and oldest part of the Lincoln west front) decided about 1072 to remove his seat to the more lofty and far safer site upon Lincoln Hill. Before concluding the inspection of the cathedral's exterior, it is timely to remark that through all the centuries it has been famous in story and song for its chime of bells. During the period when that delightful industry, the making of ballads, prevailed throughout England, there were many whose scenes were laid at Lincoln, and in almost every one of these some reference is made to "The bells o' merrie Lincoln."