Category Archives: Canterbury Cathedral

April 25 2019 – “The Canterbury Bell”


“The Canterbury Bell” – Campanula Medium


Ever since the murder of Thomas Becket made Canterbury a place of pilgrimage, this city has been thronged with visitors…

All visitors know that the cathedral is a must – but also worth seeing is the ancient church of St Martin’s, outside the medieval city, which is probably the oldest surviving working church in England. Beautiful in its simplicity, it was considered an antiquity when Bede was writing in the eighth century…

On the edge of the city is Harbledown, the last village passed by pilgrims at the end of their journey, and mentioned by Chaucer.

Henry II, on his way to seek forgiveness for Becket’s death, made a gift of 20 marks a year to the village’s leper house; and the village almshouses still receive payments from the Crown. Amongst the relics here is the alms box provided for pilgrims.

A modern gift nearby is Golden Hill, two and a half acres given to the National Trust to be kept as a children’s playground for all time.


CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGES – Pilgrims came to Canterbury from all over Britain, travelling in bands for protection along the highways, where they could find lodging at inns and monasteries, and where the wealthier could hire horses.

Like every popular shrine – whether that of Frideswide at Oxford, Thomas Cantilupe at Hereford or William at Norwich – the shrine of St Thomas of Canterbury could also expect a large number of more local visitors, from its circle of ‘pilgrim villages’, which would send a few members to represent the community.

Motives for pilgrimage varied: some pilgrims hoped for cures, some for remission of sins, some for handouts from monasteries en route, many simply to escape the boredom of their villages. It was a holiday, and back home they would show their ‘souvenirs’: a phial of ‘Canterbury water’, or a leaden pilgrim badge stamped with the symbol of the shrine.

Best known of these badges is the cockleshell worn by pilgrims to the shrine at Santiago de Compostela.

Those who went to Canterbury might wear a ‘T’ for Thomas or a Bell – hence the name of the flower, the Canterbury Bell.

[Source: “Secret Britain” – ‘South East England – Canterbury’ – pages 64-65 – published by The Automobile Association 1986]

June 9 2017 – “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?” – ‘Trump’s Meddlesome Priest’ – New York Times

By now many people will have googled the words “meddlesome priest.” The phrase was uttered by James Comey, the former F.B.I. director, during his testimony on Thursday before the Senate Judiciary Committee. When he was asked if he took President Trump’s “hope” that he would drop the Flynn-Russia investigation “as a directive,” Mr. Comey responded, “Yes, yes. It rings in my ears as kind of ‘Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?’ ”

These are the words that King Henry II of England allegedly cried out in 1170, frustrated by the political opposition of Thomas Becket, archbishop of Canterbury. Four royal knights immediately rushed off to Canterbury and murdered the meddlesome priest.

Unlike many contemporary references to medieval history, this one is apt. Mr. Comey’s point was that a desire expressed by a powerful leader is tantamount to an order. When Senator James E. Risch, a Republican, noted that the president had merely “hoped for an outcome,” Mr. Comey replied, “I mean, this is the president of the United States, with me alone, saying ‘I hope this.’ I took it as, this is what he wants me to do.”

King Henry’s contemporaries likewise assumed that a ruler’s wish constituted a command: Although he denied any intention of inciting murder, Henry was widely held responsible for Becket’s death. The pope issued an order prohibiting Henry from attending church services or participating in the sacraments, and the king was eventually forced to do penance for the violence perpetrated in his name.

There are even more instructive parallels. Although the administration offered various reasons for the firing of Mr. Comey, it is clear that Mr. Trump considered his allegiance to F.B.I. protocol over presidential preference to be a form of disloyalty. Likewise, the main issues at stake in 1170 were divided loyalty and institutional independence.

Before Becket had been elected archbishop, he had been a close friend and faithful servant to the king. Henry had engineered Becket’s election in the expectation that, as archbishop, Becket would continue to serve royal interests. This was not an unreasonable assumption; for centuries bishops had performed dual roles, acting as temporal as well as spiritual lords. They commanded armies, enforced royal decrees, and took it for granted that the rulers who appointed them could claim their loyalty.

It was not until the 1070s that secular control over bishops began to be challenged by a series of reformist popes who sought to free clerics from secular influence and insisted that bishops’ first allegiance was to the church. This goal was rarely fully realized — kings were generally closer than the pope and more able to dispense both patronage and punishment. But to Henry’s fury, Becket unexpectedly embraced reform, becoming a vigorous defender of church privileges and critic of royal interference. Henry felt intensely betrayed. Becket died not because he was “meddlesome,” but because, in the king’s view, he was disloyal.

The Becket episode may likewise help explain why Mr. Trump’s advisers did not prevent him from firing Mr. Comey. King Henry expected all his officials to share his fury at Becket and saw any failure to do so as a betrayal as well. The phrase “meddlesome priest” was a later invention, made famous by Hollywood in the 1964 film “Becket.” Henry’s actual exclamation — or at least the cry attributed to him in the medieval sources — was “What miserable drones and traitors have I nurtured and promoted in my household, who let their lord be treated with such shameful contempt by a lowborn clerk!’”

No wonder the four knights were so eager to take the hint. Henry’s courtiers may well have feared that if they didn’t make a conspicuous display of loyalty, the king might turn on them next. Treachery was a capital offense.

The aftermath of the Becket episode may, moreover, resonate in one final way. Although Henry had longed to get rid of Becket for years, he presumably came to rue the day his words of rage were heeded. In addition to performing humiliating penance, he had to swear obedience to the pope, make a series of concessions to the church and eventually face rebellion. One suspects that Mr. Trump, too, might come to feel the wisdom of the words “be careful what you wish for.”