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of benefactions and honours began - a series of pilgrimages to the tomb of Becket set in-and the Archbishop was canonised as a Saint and a Martyr. The invocations of the poor, and those afflicted with various diseases, went forth to him; and Geoffrey Chaucer, the great father of English poetry, describes his Canterbury pilgrims as going

"The holy blissful Martyr for to seek,

Who them had holpen when that they were sick".

A costly shrine having been prepared in the centre of the Trinity Chapel, the translation of the remains took place on the 7th July, 1220. King Henry III. was present, with Pandulf, the Pope's Legate, Archbishop Cardinal Langton, Archbishop of Rheims, and other prelates.

The expenses were immense. The Archbishop provided refreshments, with provender for horses, for all who chose to attend. Conduits were dispersed about the city of Canterbury, which ran with wine, and nothing was wanting to give effect to the scene. The upper part of Becket's skull, which had been severed by his murderers, was preserved by itself on a high altar, at the eastern extremity of the Cathedral, in the tower now called Becket's Crown. The festival of the Translation of St. Thomas now became an anniversary, superbly celebrated, and marked by a great display of the riches and greatness of the Church. Describing St. Thomas's shrine, centuries afterwards, the famous Erasmus, who visited England in 1497, wrote: "A coffin of wood which covered a coffin of gold was drawn up by ropes, and then an invaluable treasure was discovered gold was the meanest thing to be seen there-all shone and glittered with the rarest and most precious jewels of an extraordinary size". We need not wonder that all these riches had not escaped the rapacious eyes of Henry VIII. In 1536, the Patron Saint was ordered to be no longer commemorated in any manner. In the following year the King issued an injunc tion that Archbishop Becket, having been a traitor to his Prince, was not to be esteemed or called a Saint. The destruction of the magnificent shrine immediately followed, and its treasures were appropriated to the King's use.

Having said so much of the shrine, it is now time to speak of the Cathedral. Between the years 1175 and 1180, the whole east end of the Cathedral was rebuilt, under the direction of William of Sens, and of another architect of the name of William. This architect was an Englishman, the first of whom anything is known, the first immortal William, previous to another William, the greatest in English literature. The first difference was the choir. The pillars were of the same thickness with those of the old choir, but they were twelve feet longer. The first capitals were plain, the latter were richly carved; marble columns replaced stone ones;

the first arches were cut with an axe, the latter with a chisel; the old choir was flat, the new one was arched. The Cathedral was originally surrounded by a wall, extending about three quarters of a mile. Part of this yet remains, together with the noble entrance Christ Church Gate.

Taking a view of the Cathedral from the north-west, we perceive its magnificence, due in a large measure to the unrivalled central tower, 234 feet high, and 35 feet in diameter. This tower, having two series of windows of most elegant design, is no higher than that of York; but is greatly superior, owing to its beautiful proportions. The Cathedral is built in the form of a cross, with a semi-circular apsis, or eastern end, the total exterior length is 545 feet by 156 feet. The entrance to the Cathedral is from the south porch, an unusual feature, richly adorned with figures. The western front of the Cathedral is the work of Prior Chillenden, in the reign of Richard II., the bold graduated buttresses of the Chicheley tower showing to splendid advantage. Entering the nave of the Church the mind is struck with veneration and awe at the grandeur and spaciousness of the perspective. A forest of clustered columns on each side support pointed arches, above which the clerestory windows afford abundance of light to illustrate tracery, heraldry, and symbol. A flight of several steps leads from the nave to the choir and to the aisles, where also are steps leading to the Trinity Chapel. The choir screen, one of the most beautiful in the kingdom, was erected by Prior Eastry. In niches on each side the arch of entrance are statues of the Kings of England, from John to Richard II., in succession. One of these holds the model

of a church in his hand.

The choir, with its aisles, is remarkable for the peculiar character of the architecture. The Anglo-Norman imitations of Corinthian columns in the choir, and the pointed arches, are the earliest and most curious instances of the kind in England. While we are so near to the Trinity Chapel we may see the most remarkable and interesting tomb of Edward, Prince of Wales, called the Black Prince, who died in 1367. It is an altar-tomb of marble, the sides and ends enriched with quatrefoil panels, and copper shields, enamelled, bearing the arms of the Prince and the motto "Houmont" alternately with three golden ostrich feathers on a black ground, each quill passing through a scroll inscribed "Ich Diene", I serve. The effigy of the great warrior is in brass, gilt and burnished. The head of the Prince rests on his helmet; at his feet lies a lion, the margin of the canopy over the tomb is charged with fleurs-de-lis and lions' faces. There still remains in this Chapel a beautifully wrought shield, and a surcoat, said to have been worn by the Prince. Every Englishman must feel a throb of patriotic pride, mingled with tender sympathy, in standing before

the tomb of this brave man, this dauntless leader --such a mirror of courtesy, and withal so short-lived the hero of Crecy and Poictiers, and of a gentleness, rare in those days, in dealing with his Royal prisoners.

With a glance down the nave to the west, admiring the lofty arches and noble proportions, we may go to look at the cloisters. They are situated at the northern side, quite different from the usual arrangement, having a doorway leading from the "Martyr dom", as it is called. The ambulatory, 134 feet in dimension, is vaulted with converging groins, having bosses or shields of arms in centres, to the number of eight hundred and eleven. These were in honour of the benefactors of the Cathedral, and were emblazoned in proper colours, so that the whole, when perfect, must have produced a splendid effect. Passing the Chapter House, a very fine example, we find a descent to the crypt under the Cathedral; it is one of the most interesting parts of the Church; it is of greater extent, and more lofty than any other in this country. The internal length of this most curious and beautiful structure is 230 feet from the eastern to the western end, and its breadth at the transept is 130 feet. It is cruciform in plan, and is believed to have been built by Archbishop Lanfranc. The chief object of attraction in ancient times was the Chapel of the Virgin Mary, called of our Lady of the Undercroft. It is now a contrast to its ancient splendour, but has evidently been richly emblazoned.

Coming up from the crypt we may next visit the Baptistery, a building octangular in form, with four windows filled with stained glass. The old font is here preserved a very richly sculptured example of early work. The fragments into which it was broken, in 1643, by Blue Dick and his followers, were collected by Somner, the antiquary, in the reign of Charles II., carefully placed together, and the whole restored. The Norman staircase is of great interest, and presents some unusual features, and amid all the beautiful ancient tombs and monuments, the modern one to Archbishop Tait should not be passed over.

A far more remarkable and interesting portion of this great Church, is the part set aside for the work and worship of the Huguenot refugees from France. In 1568, four years before the massacre of St. Bartholomew, the Bishop elect of Beauvais, Odo Coligny, landed in St. Margaret's Bay, near Dover, with a number of other French Protestants, and sought the protection of Queen Elizabeth. She gave them this, and allotted to a number of them, who were weavers, a part of the crypt of the Cathedral, in which to set up their looms-while another space was given them in order that they might there celebrate their own form of Protestant worship. It is a curious fact that, for over a century, the crypt of Canterbury was the workshop of the Huguenot weavers: while

even to this day, the French Church has its own service, in its own language, undisturbed by the authorities of the English Church, in the very centre of Archiepiscopal dignity. The Church is quiet, and little adorned. It has a simple service; with pious texts around, and inscriptions breathing a spirit of gratitude for hospitable treatment of the refugees in the land of their adoption. Manchester and Nottingham owe much to these foreign weavers, whom the wickedness and misrule of their native country had driven into exile.

But there were other pilgrims to Canterbury besides the French refugees. I have already spoken of the pilgrimages to the shrine of Thomas à Becket. It was a happy thing for English literature that its great father poet, Geoffrey Chaucer, made it the occasion for his greatest poem, The Canterbury Tales. These are a series of stories told by persons travelling together, and resemble, in some respects, the Decameron, by Boccaccio. But Chaucer has improved upon his Italian master in several important respects. In the Decameron, the tale-tellers meet to avoid the great plague which then raged in Italy, and this fact gives a leading note of melancholy. But in The Canterbury Tales the pilgrims are met on a cheerful errand-to offer up thanksgivings at the shrine of St. Thomas for recovery from illness, through his intercession on their behalf. They assemble at a hospitable inn, "The Tabard", at Southwark, and are welcomed by a right worthy host in the days of early spring,

"When Zephyrus eke with his sotè breath
Inspired hath in every holt and heath
The tender croppès, and the youngè sun
Hath in the Ram his halfè course yrun,
And smalle fowlès maken melody,
That sleepè allè night with open eye,
So pricketh them nature in their courages;
Then longen folk to go on pilgrimages.

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And specially from every shire's end

Of Engle-land to Canterbury they wend".

The company is composed of the highest and the lowest of the middle classes. A knight, a squire, a yeoman, a prioress, a nun, a monk, a begging friar, a clerk of Oxford, a sergeant-atlaw, a merchant, a franklin or gentleman farmer, an honest ploughman, loving God and man. Then come a carpenter, a haberdasher, a weaver, a maker of tapestry, a dyer, a ship man or sailor, who rode a horse as if he were rowing a boat-a stupid cook, and a doctor of physic. We have a wife of Bath, who had buried five husbands; a holy and venerable parish priest, a reeve or land-bailiff, a drunken miller, a summoner before the Ecclesiastical Courts, who talks nothing but Latin when drunk; a pardoner with a bag full of indulgences from Rome, all hot; a manciple, or

provider of food for the Inns of Court benchers, and, lastly, Chaucer himself.

Here is, in fact, the England of that day, brought before us with such lifelike reality, such glorious colouring, such brilliant humour, and such minute fidelity, that no country in the world possesses so exquisite a portrait gallery of five centuries ago. Chaucer is sometimes coarse: he says in commencing that if he tells a tale after a man he must tell it as the man told it; he begs his readers not to set it down to his villainy if he paints a man as he is. But his coarseness and sometimes his vulgarity were the vices of his time; two faults, unfortunately, not yet banished from society. Yet he has this merit-he is never insidious, as after poets have been. Pope and Dryden have smudged him in translations, and have given him double meanings which he never had. He is frank, hearty, jocund, thoroughly English.

Chaucer's pilgrims represent English society at the time when Canterbury Cathedral was in its glory. The abounding life of the time, its saints and its sinners, are shown there with a vivid portraiture, a brilliancy and detail quite unique among ancient records. We see the procession pass before us, and we recognise what manner of men and women these ancestors of ours were. We see already the beginnings of the Reformation, the recognition of evils in the old ecclesiastical system, but the end was not yet.

Centuries of political and dynastic change were to elapse before the abuses indicated by Chaucer were to be remedied, and a new departure made. And as we wander around the great Cathedral, glorious in the summer sunlight, or walk amid its clustered columns cheered by the flood of glory that descends from its wonderful central tower, we are conscious of the mighty changes which, since its inception, have been wrought in our national life. From Augustine to Dunstan; from Lanfranc to Anselm ; from the Black Prince to Henry VIII.; from Elizabeth to Victoria; what a series of contrasting pictures are called forth to the mind, in contemplating this historic pile. We linger around it, we tear ourselves away with fond regret. As we pass the King's School, dating from 1690, we are reminded how much has been done in modern days to employ ancient endowments for education. The monument to Christopher Marlowe, the dramatist, one of the ancient scholars of this school, is the work of Mr. Alfred Gilbert, R.A. We pass the West Gate, a noble fortress, built in the reign of Henry II., and soon Canterbury, its Cathedral, and its pilgrims, become a cherished memory which will have a charm for us so long as noble deeds and mighty men in our national record have a hold upon our minds and hearts.

J. WILLIAM Tonks.

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