The best way to obtain a fair view of the beautiful proportions of the nave and of the most striking picture of the interior of the church, is to enter by the south-west door or porch. Here in Saxon days courts of law were held, cases being tried which could not be referred to other courts. Prior Chillenden about 1400 built the
[Illustration: THE CHAPEL OF “OUR LADY” IN THE UNDERCROFT, CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL]
present fine porch; he was a man of energy, and to him and to those whom he inspired to do his biddings Canterbury owes a great debt. Erasmus has described for us the figures that used to occupy the panel above the entrance, the effigies of Becket’s murderers, who, he says, go down to the ages with much the same ill-name as that which pertains to Pilate, Judas and Caiaphas. Some vague fragments of the carving still survive, including an altar, probably that of the Martyrdom. In the vaulting of the porch are various coats-of-arms, among them those of the Sees of Canterbury and Chichester, and of the kingdoms of England and of France. In accordance with an idea suggested by Dean Alford, some of the niches here and on the west front have been filled in recent days with statues of men of note who in one way or another have been connected with the history of the Cathedral.
They are solemn stones, or rather it is solemn ground this, over which we pass, “where the saints have trod"--saints, soldiers, ecclesiastics, Christians all in their several degrees, from dim Saxon days down to this present moment.
Somewhat cold, somewhat unearthly almost, is the impression made by the forest of pillars rising through the clerestory to the vaulted roof; stretching away to the central tower--Bell Harry--where light shines down into the gloom. A beautiful place wherein to rest and dream dreams of the past. All now is grey, but in bygone ages the great church blazed with colours; paintings and rich hangings adorned the walls; there were numberless altars with their tiny points of light, and all was enriched and at the same time mellowed by the splendour shed upon pavement and pillar from the “storied windows richly dight.” Who shall say whether the change from pomp to simplicity be for better or for worse? As with so many other matters in this opinionative world, it all depends upon the point of view; doubtless to the stern ascetic the rule that now obtains is for the best; upon the superstitious pilgrim of old the glories of the past assuredly had their influence. Yet, why think of what has gone, when that which remains is so worthy?