“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.)
At the church door the company of pilgrims arranged themselves “every one after his degree,” and a monk sprinkled their heads with holy water with the “Sprengel.” The great tide of pilgrims then passed through the Cathedral. Sometimes they paid their devotions to the Shrine first, and sometimes they visited the lesser objects first and the Shrine last. In this case, they entered the Transept of the Martyrdom, through the dark passage under the steps leading to the Choir. Before the wooden altar and in the soft radiance of the glorious representation of the Martyr in the transept window (of which there remains only the central band with the donors, Edward IV., his Queen, with their daughters and the two sons who perished in the Tower), while the priest showed them the relics of which he had charge, including the rusty fragment of Le Bret’s sword, which all kissed in turn. Proceeding down the steps on the way to the Crypt, new guardians exhibited in the dim light of a row of lamps suspended from rings in the roof, the actual relics of St. Thomas,—part of his skull cased in silver, which all kissed devoutly, and his shirt and drawers of haircloth.
Mounting the steps of the Choir, the pilgrims were then shown the great array of about four hundred relics preserved in ivory, gilt or silver coffers, including the arm of St. George. And now, passing behind the altar and up the steps, which many ascended on their knees, chanting the hymn to St. Thomas, they entered Trinity Chapel. They were first led beyond the Shrine to the easternmost apse to see a golden head of the Saint studded with gems, in which the scalp or crown of the Saint was preserved.
“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.)
We can imagine the long line of kneeling pilgrims and those who were allowed behind the iron gates rubbing themselves against the marble, so that the wonder-working body within could effect a cure in anticipation of the moment when the wooden canopy would be lifted.
“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
‘telling heartily their beads
Prayed to St. Thomas in such wise as they could,’
and then withdrew, down the opposite flight of steps from which they had ascended.”—(A. P. S.)