The Retro-Choir is reached by steep flights of steps necessitated by the height of the Crypt below. Up these steps the pilgrims climbed on their knees, chanting the hymn to St. Thomas:
“Tu per Thomæ sanguinem
Quem pro te impendit,
Fac nos Christo scandere
Quo Thomas ascendit.”
All this part of the Cathedral is the work of English William, which is lighter, in general character, than that of William of Sens.
The Chapel of the Holy Trinity (or that of St. Thomas) occupies the central portion of the Retro-Choir between the piers formed by double columns. In the old Chapel of the Trinity (destroyed by fire at the same time as Conrad’s Choir) Becket celebrated his first Mass as Archbishop. His body lay in the Crypt immediately below this spot.
“In earlier times the easternmost chapel had contained an altar of the Holy Trinity, where Becket had been accustomed to say mass. Partly for the sake of preserving the two old Norman towers of St. Anselm and St. Andrew, which stood on the north and south side of this part of the church—but chiefly for the sake of fitly uniting to the church this eastern chapel on an enlarged scale, the pillars of the choir were contracted with that singular curve which attracts the eye of every spectator, as Gervase foretold that it would, when, in order to explain this peculiarity, he stated the two aforesaid reasons. The eastern end of the Cathedral, thus enlarged, formed, as at Ely, a more spacious receptacle for the honoured remains; the new Trinity Chapel, reaching considerably beyond the extreme limit of its predecessor, and opening beyond into a yet further chapel, popularly called Becket’s Crown. The windows were duly filled with the richest painted glass of the period, and amongst those on the northern side may still be traced elaborate representations of the miracles wrought at the subterranean tomb, or by visions and intercessions of the mighty Saint. High in the tower of St. Anselm, on the south side of the destined site of so great a treasure, was prepared—a usual accompaniment of costly shrines—the Watching Chamber. It is a rude apartment with a fireplace where the watcher could warm himself during the long winter nights, and a narrow gallery between the pillars, whence he could overlook the whole platform of the shrine, and at once detect any sacrilegious robber who was attracted by the immense treasures there collected. On the occasion of fires the Shrine was additionally guarded by a troop of fierce ban-dogs.
“When the Cathedral was thus duly prepared, the time came for what, in the language of those days, was termed the ‘Translation’ of the relics.”—(A. P. S.)
Becket’s body was removed here on July 7, 1220 ([See page 4]), and remained the only occupant of this chapel for more than a hundred years.
It only proves in what deep affection the English nation held the Black Prince to have placed his remains by the side of Becket. His body lay in state in Westminster from June 8, 1376, to September 29; and on the Feast of Michaelmas it was taken to Canterbury, which he had selected for his resting-place. The procession from London to Canterbury was magnificent; and the idol of the nation was laid not in the Crypt, as he had expected, but in Trinity Chapel.
“In this sacred spot—believed at that time to be the most sacred spot in England—the tomb stood in which ‘alone in his glory,’ the Prince was to be deposited, to be seen and admired by all the countless pilgrims who crawled up the stone steps beneath it on their way to the shrine of the saint.
“Let us turn to that tomb, and see how it sums up his whole life. Its bright colours have long since faded, but enough still remains to show us what it was as it stood after the sacred remains of him had been placed within it. There he lies; no other memorial of him exists in the world so authentic. There he lies, as he had directed, in full armour, his head resting on his helmet, his feet with the likeness of ‘the spurs he won’ at Cressy, his hands joined as in that last prayer which he had offered up on his deathbed. There you can see his fine face with the Plantagenet features, the flat cheeks and the well-chiselled nose, to be traced perhaps in the effigy of his father in Westminster Abbey, and his grandfather in Gloucester Cathedral. On his armour you can still see the marks of the bright gilding with which the figure was covered from head to foot, so as to make it look like an image of pure gold. High above are suspended the brazen gauntlets, the helmet, with what was once its gilded leopard-crest, and the wooden shield, the velvet coat also, embroidered with the arms of France and England, now tattered and colourless, but then blazing with blue and scarlet. There, too, still hangs the empty scabbard of the sword, wielded perhaps at his three great battles, and which Oliver Cromwell, it is said, carried away. On the canopy, over the tomb, there is the faded representation—painted after the strange fashion of those times—of the Persons of the Holy Trinity, according to the peculiar devotion which he had entertained. In the pillars you can see the hooks to which was fastened the black tapestry, with its crimson border and curious embroidery, which he directed in his will should be hung round his tomb and the shrine of Becket. Round about the tomb, too, you will see the ostrich feathers, which, according to the old, but doubtful tradition, we are told he won at Cressy from the blind King of Bohemia, who perished in the thick of the fight; and interwoven with them the famous motto, with which he used to sign his name, ‘Houmout,’ ‘Ich diene.’ If, as seems most likely, they are German words, they exactly express what we have seen so often in his life, the union of Hoch muth that is high spirit, with Ich dien, I serve. They bring before us the very scene itself after the battle of Poitiers, where, after having vanquished the whole French nation, he stood behind the captive king, and served him like an attendant.