The Cathedral Church of Canterbury [2nd ed.] / A Description of Its Fabric and a Brief History of the Archiepiscopal See

by Hartley Withers

On the wall of the choir aisle, close to the transept, we can trace the remains of a fresco representing the conversion of St. Hubert. Further on, there hangs a picture, by Cross, which is intended to represent the murder of Becket. As a work of art it is not without merit, but its details are entirely inaccurate.

The North-West Transept, or Chapel of the Martyrdom.—The actual site of the tragedy which rendered Becket and his cathedral famous throughout Christendom was the North-West Transept, or as it was more commonly called the Chapel of the Martyrdom. Hardly any portion, however, of this structure as it stands actually witnessed the murder. In the time of Becket the transept was of two storeys, divided by a vault, which was upheld by a single pillar. The upper partition was dedicated to St. Blaise, and the lower to St. Benedict. In the west wall, as now, was a door which opened into the cloister.

The story of Becket and his quarrel with Henry II. will be dealt with in the next chapter. But before examining the spot on which he was assassinated it is perhaps fitting to recall the events which immediately preceded his death. Henry’s wrathful exclamation, which stirred the four knights to set out on their bloodthirsty mission, is well known. Whatever we may think of the methods employed by these warriors—Fitzurse, de Moreville, de Tracy, and le Bret were their names—we must at least concede that they were gifted with undaunted courage. To slay an anointed archbishop in his own cathedral was to do a deed from which the boldest might well shrink, in the days when excommunication was held to be a living reality, and the Church was believed to hold the power of eternal blessing or damnation in her hand. These men—who were all closely attached to the king’s person, and were sometimes described as his “cubicularii,” or Grooms of the Bedchamber—arrived at the gate of the archbishop’s palace in the afternoon of Tuesday, December 29th, 1170. With a curious want of directness they seem to have left their swords outside, and entered, and had a stormy interview with Becket; enraged by his unyielding firmness, they went back for their weapons, and in the meantime the archbishop was hurried by the terrified monks through the cloister and into the cathedral, where the vesper service was being held. The knights quickly forced their way after him, and the monks locked and barricaded the cloister door. But Becket, who bore himself heroically through the whole scene, insisted that the door should be thrown open, exclaiming that “the church must not be turned into a castle.” Then all the monks but three fled in terror. Those who stayed urged Becket to hide himself in the crypt or in the Chapel of St. Blaise above. But he would not hear of concealment, but preferred to make his way to the choir that he might die at his post by the high altar. As he went up the steps towards the choir the knights rushed into the transept, calling for “the archbishop, the traitor to the king,” and Becket turned and came down, and confronted them by the pillar of the chapel. Clad in his white rochet, with a cloak and hood over his shoulders, he faced his murderers, who were now girt in mail from head to foot. They tried to seize him and drag him out of the sacred precinct, but he put his back against the pillar and hurled Tracy full-length on the pavement. Then commending his cause and the cause of the Church “to God, to St. Denys, the martyr of France, to St. Alfege, and to the saints of the Church,” he fell under the blows of the knights’ swords. The last stroke was from the hand of le Bret, it severed the crown of the archbishop’s head, and the murderer’s sword was shivered into two pieces. Then the assassins left the church, ransacked the palace, and plundered its treasures, and, lastly, rode off on horses from the stables, in which Becket had to the last taken especial pride.

Such is the brief outline of the events of this remarkable tragedy, for a fuller account of which we must refer our readers to the excellent description in Stanley’s “Memorials of Canterbury.” As we have already said, the present transept has been entirely rebuilt; although not damaged by the fire, it was reconstructed by Prior Chillenden at the time when he erected the present nave. It is even doubtful whether the present pavement is the same as that which was trodden by Becket and his murderers. A small square stone is still shown in the floor of the transept, as marking the exact spot on which the archbishop fell; it is said to have been inserted in place of the original piece which was taken out and sent to Rome, but there is little or no authority for this statement. On the other hand, we read that Benedict, when he became Abbot of Peterborough, in order to supply his new cathedral with relics, in which it was sadly deficient, came back to Canterbury and carried off the stones which had been sprinkled with St. Thomas’s blood, and made therewith two altars for Peterborough.

In this transept an altar was erected, called the Altar of the Martyrdom, or the Altar of the Sword’s Point (altare ad punctum ensis), from the fact that upon it was laid the broken fragment of le Bret’s sword, which had been left on the pavement. Also, a portion of the martyr’s brains were kept under a piece of rock crystal, and a special official, called the Custos Martyrii, was appointed to guard these relics.

The chief window in this chapel was presented by Edward IV.; in it we can still see the figures of himself and his queen and his two daughters, and the two young princes who were murdered in the Tower. It originally contained representations of “seven glorious appearances” of the Virgin, and Becket himself in the centre, but all this portion was destroyed by Blue Dick, the Puritan zealot. The west window was the gift of the Rev. Robert Moore, sometime Canon of Canterbury; it is an elaborate piece of work depicting Becket’s martyrdom and scenes in his life.

Here also we see the very beautiful and interesting monument to Archbishop Peckham (1279-1292), the oldest Canterbury monument which survives in its entirety; even it has been encroached upon by the commonplace erection adjoining it, which commemorates Warham who was archbishop from 1503 to 1532, and was the friend of Erasmus.

The Dean’s Chapel.—Eastward of the north-west transept is the chapel which was formerly known as the Lady Chapel, but has latterly been named the Dean’s Chapel from the number of deans whose monuments have been placed here. It stands on the site of the Chapel of St. Benedict, and was built by Prior Goldstone, who dedicated it to the Blessed Virgin in 1460. The usual place for the Lady Chapel in cathedrals is, of course, at the extreme east end; but at Canterbury the situation was occupied by the shrine of St. Thomas. The principal altar to the Virgin in our cathedral was that in the crypt, in the “Chapel of Our Lady Undercroft.” The vault of the Dean’s Chapel is noticeable. It is a fan vault, of the style developed to so great perfection in the Tudor period, as shown in Henry VII.’s Chapel at Westminster, and in the roof of the staircase leading to the dining-hall of Christ Church, Oxford. The architecture of this chapel is Perpendicular in style, and its delicate decoration should be carefully noticed; the screen which separates it from the Martyrdom Transept is also worthy of close attention. The monuments here are interesting rather than beautiful. Dean Fotherby is commemorated by a hideous erection bristling with skulls. Dean Boys is represented as he died, sitting among his books in his library; it is curious that the books are all apparently turned with the backs of the covers towards the wall, and the edges of the leaves outwards. Here also is the monument of Dean Turner, the faithful follower of Charles I.