Between this tomb and that of the Black Prince is the monument of Archbishop Courtenay, who was primate from 1381 to 1396, and was celebrated for his severity towards Wycliffe and his followers. He was a large contributor to the fund for the re-building of the nave, which perhaps accounts for the distinguished position of his tomb; the fact also that he was executor to the Black Prince may be responsible for his being buried at his feet. It is not, however, certain that his body actually lies here, though the ledger book of the cathedral states that he was buried within the walls of the church. It is known, however, that he died at Maidstone, and that he ordered in his will that his remains should rest there, and a slab in the pavement of All Saints’, Maidstone, shows traces of a brass representing the figure of an archbishop, whence it has been concluded that Courtenay was in fact buried there, and that his monument in Canterbury is only a cenotaph.
Becket’s Crown.—The circular apse at the extreme east end of the church is known as Becket’s Crown. The name has caused a good deal of discussion. The theory once generally received was to the effect that the portion of Becket’s skull which was cut away by Richard le Breton was preserved here as a relic of special sanctity. We know that the Black Prince bequeathed, by his will, tapestry hangings for the High Altar and for three others, viz., “l’autier la ou Mons’r Saint Thomas gist—l’autier la ou la teste est—l’autier la ou la poynte de l’espie est.” The first and last are evidently the altars at the shrine and in the Chapel of the Martyrdom, and it has been contended that the altar “where the head is” was the altar of which traces may still be seen in the pavement of the corona, or Becket’s Crown. Against this notion we must place the authority of Erasmus, whose words plainly show that the martyr’s head was displayed in the crypt: "hinc digressi subimus cryptoporticum: illic primum exhibetur calvaria martyris perforata (the martyr’s pierced tonsure): reliqua tecta sunt argento, summa cranii pars nuda patet osculo.” While Willis considers that the term corona was a common one for an apse at the end of a church, citing “Ducange’s Glossary,” which defines “Corona Ecclesiæ” as Pars templi choro postica, quod ea pars fere desinat in circulum; “at all events,” he concludes, “it was a general term and not peculiar to Christ Church, Canterbury. The notion that this round chapel was called Becket’s Crown, because part of his skull was preserved here as a relic, appears wholly untenable. There is at least no doubt that a relic of some sort was preserved here, because we know from a record of the offerings—Oblaciones S. Thomæ—during ten years in the first half of the thirteenth century, that the richest gifts were made at the shrine and in the corona. And we know that the spot was one of peculiar sanctity from the fact that the shrines of St. Odo and St. Wilfrid were finally transferred thither. Corpus S. Odonis in feretro, ad coronam versus austrum. Corpus S. Wilfridi in feretro ad coronam versus aquilonem.”
On the north side of the corona is the tomb of Cardinal Pole, the last Archbishop of Canterbury who acknowledged the supremacy of the Pope. He held office from 1556 to 1558, and died the day after Queen Mary. Here stands also the patriarchal chair, made out of three pieces of Purbeck marble. It is called St. Augustine’s chair, and is said to be the throne on which the old kings of Kent were crowned; according to the tradition, Ethelbert, on being converted, gave the chair to Augustine, from whom it has descended to the Archbishops of Canterbury. It is needless to say that this eminently attractive legend has been attacked and overthrown by modern criticism. It is pointed out that the original archiepiscopal throne was of one piece only, and that Purbeck marble did not come into use until some time after Augustine’s death. From its shape it is conjectured that the chair dates from the end of the twelfth century or the beginning of the thirteenth, and that it may have been constructed for the ceremony of the translation of St. Thomas’ relics. It is in this chair, and not in the archiepiscopal throne in the choir, that the archbishops are still enthroned. From the corona we have a view of the full length of the cathedral, which measures 514 feet, and is one of the longest of English cathedrals. Of the windows in Becket’s Crown, the centre one is ancient, while the rest are modern and afford a most instructive contrast.
St. Andrew’s Tower, or Chapel.—Leaving the Trinity Chapel, and descending the steps, we find on our right the door of St. Andrew’s Chapel which is now used as a vestry. Formerly, it was the sacristy, a place from which the pilgrims of humble rank were excluded, but where those of wealth and high station were allowed to gaze at a great array of silken vestments and golden candlesticks, and also the Martyr’s pearwood pastoral staff with its black horn crook, and his cloak and bloodstained kerchief. Here also was a chest “cased with black leather, and opened with the utmost reverence on bended knees, containing scraps and rags of linen with which (the story must be told throughout) the saint wiped his forehead and blew his nose” (Stanley). Erasmus describes this exhibition with a touch of scorn. “Fragmenta linteorum lacera plerumque macci vestigium servantia. His, ut aiebant, vir pius extergebat sudorem e facie,” etc. The walls of this chapel show many traces of fresco decoration: the pattern seems to have consisted of a clustering vine tree spread over the roof. In the north wall is a Norman chamber which originally served as the Treasury; the door is still secured by three locks, the keys of which were held by different officials. St. Andrew’s Chapel is part of Ernulf’s work, and the peculiar ornamentation which marks his hand may be noticed over the arch of the apse which terminates it.
The North-East Transept.—Passing along the choir aisle, we see the old Bible desk, holding the Bible which was originally placed there, and was restored to this position by the late Bishop Parry. Next we enter the north-east transept, which in its architectural features is practically a repetition of the south-east transept, with which we have already dealt. The monument to Archbishop Tait, designed by Boehm, is well worthy of its surroundings. Above it, in the north wall, about ten feet from the ground, we may notice three slits in the wall. These are what are called hagioscopes. On the other side of the wall was a recess connected with the Prior’s Chapel. Through these hagioscopes—or “holy spy-holes”—the prior could see mass being celebrated at the high altar and at the altars below in the transept, without entering the cathedral. These transeptal altars are in the Chapels of St. Martin and St. Stephen which occupy two apses in the eastern wall. St. Martin is represented in a medallion of ancient glass preserved in the modern window, as dividing his coat with a beggar. Scratched on the walls are the names “Lanfrancus” and “Ediva Regina;” the bodies of Lanfranc and Queen Ediva were removed to this transept after the fire. Lanfranc originally lay in the old Trinity Chapel, and when this building was levelled to the ground, he was “carried to the vestiarium in his leaden covering, and there deposited until the community should decide what should be done with so great a Father.” Apparently the heavy sheet of lead was removed, for Gervase goes on to say that “Lanfranc having remained untouched for sixty-nine years, his very bones were consumed with rottenness, and nearly all reduced to powder. The length of time, the damp vestments, the natural frigidity of lead, and above all the frailty of the human structure, had conspired to produce this corruption. But the larger bones, with the remaining dust, were collected in a leaden coffer, and deposited at the altar of St. Martin.” Queen Ediva, as we learn from the same authority, “who before the fire reposed under a gilted feretrum in nearly the middle of the south cross, was now deposited at the altar of St. Martin, under the feretrum of Living,” an archbishop who died in 1020. Ediva, the wife of Edward the Elder, and a generous benefactress to the cathedral, died about 960.
From an early list of the subjects represented in the windows of the cathedral, it appears that the north windows of the north-east transept depicted the Parable of the Sower. The ancient glass, however, has been displaced, and a good deal of it has been moved to the windows of the north choir aisle, between the transept and the Chapel of the Martyrdom, which are of great beauty, and should be examined carefully. In the transept itself are windows in memory of Dean Stanley, Dr. Spry, and Canon Cheshyre.