No walking today, which felt quite unsettling. But Canterbury does certainly mark the end of the pilgrimage from London. I’m staying in the Cathedral precinct, so I went to morning prayer in the crypt at 7.30 am and then again to choral evensong this evening. And got a pilgrim’s blessing from the Dean, along with seven other women, all Americans, who had completed the Winchester to Canterbury route. The rest of the time I spent looking at the Cathedral and doing nothing much of anything else.
Pilgrims came in very large numbers to the shrine of Thomas Becket, the archbishop (and former Lord High Chancellor of England) assassinated in the Cathedral in 1170. Almost immediately following his death, miracles of healing started occurring. A monk, Benedict, recorded the miracles that happened between 1171 and 1173, but also said that perhaps the biggest miracle was simply the astounding number of pilgrims making the trip. Even the King of France came. Here are some scenes of healing, again from the thirteenth century windows.
Only three ‘royals’ have their tombs in Canterbury. The Black Prince is one of them. Here is his tomb, with his battle dress hung high above it. Well, nowadays it is a replica, but the fragile originals are on display in the crypt. Obviously my few years of early schooling in British schools have left a mark on me - his battles in France during the 100 Years War captivated youthful imagination and seeing his tomb was a rather exciting moment. I should probably look at the history again - he was known for ruthlessness, and in the long run the whole 100 years of fighting were quite pointless.
Apparently the Black Prince designed his own tomb and specified that a leopard be crouched at his feet (usually this was the place for a dog, representing fidelity). It looks like the poor artist though had never seen a leopard!
Here is the epitaph around the bottom of the tomb, perhaps written by the Prince?
This thirteenth century stained glass window in the cathedral shows pilgrims coming to Canterbury. Well-off pilgrims are riding, others are walking, and one man on the far right is on crutches. Experts were surprised when, during restoration work, the age of this glass was confirmed. The medieval glass at Canterbury is much lower down and easier to see than at other places - in Chartres cathedral, as I remember, you need binoculars to see the stories!
Pilgrims came in very large numbers to the shrine of Thomas Becket, the archbishop (and former Lord High Chancellor of England) assassinated in the Cathedral in 1170. Almost immediately following his death, miracles of healing started occurring. A monk, Benedict, recorded the miracles that happened between 1171 and 1173, but also said that perhaps the biggest miracle was simply the astounding number of pilgrims making the trip. Even the King of France came. Here are some scenes of healing, again from the thirteenth century windows.
Only three ‘royals’ have their tombs in Canterbury. The Black Prince is one of them. Here is his tomb, with his battle dress hung high above it. Well, nowadays it is a replica, but the fragile originals are on display in the crypt. Obviously my few years of early schooling in British schools have left a mark on me - his battles in France during the 100 Years War captivated youthful imagination and seeing his tomb was a rather exciting moment. I should probably look at the history again - he was known for ruthlessness, and in the long run the whole 100 years of fighting were quite pointless.
Apparently the Black Prince designed his own tomb and specified that a leopard be crouched at his feet (usually this was the place for a dog, representing fidelity). It looks like the poor artist though had never seen a leopard!
Here is the epitaph around the bottom of the tomb, perhaps written by the Prince?
Such as thou art, sometime was I.
Such as I am, such shalt thou be.
I thought little on th'our of Death
So long as I enjoyed breath.
On earth I had great riches
Land, houses, great treasure, horses, money and gold.
But now a wretched captive am I,
Deep in the ground, lo here I lie.
My beauty great, is all quite gone,
My flesh is wasted to the bone.
Such as I am, such shalt thou be.
I thought little on th'our of Death
So long as I enjoyed breath.
On earth I had great riches
Land, houses, great treasure, horses, money and gold.
But now a wretched captive am I,
Deep in the ground, lo here I lie.
My beauty great, is all quite gone,
My flesh is wasted to the bone.
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