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2.10.3 Accurate Modeling of DC Response
2.10.4 Frequency Response and Step Response
2.10.5 Loop Gain, Differential Gain, and Noise
2.11 Discrete-Time Amplifiers
2.11.1 DC Analysis with Charge Conservation
2.11.2 Unified Closed-Loop Model
2.11.3 Accurate Modeling of DC Response
2.11.4 Transient Response
2.11.5 Loop-Gain Extraction
2.12 Fully-Differential Discrete-Time Amplifiers
2.12.1 DC Analysis with Charge Conservation
2.12.2 Unified Closed-Loop Model
2.12.3 Accurate Modeling of DC Response
2.12.4 Transient Analysis and Loop-Gain Extraction
2.13 References
2.14 Exercises
3 Device Layer
3.1 Introduction
3.2 MOSFET Basics
3.2.1 Structure and Electrical Ports
3.2.2 Performance Metrics and Design Variables
3.3 NMOS Design Relations and Tools
3.3.1 Long-Channel Models
3.3.2 Threshold Voltage
3.3.3 Drain-Source Saturation Voltage
3.3.4 Sheet Current
3.3.5 Transconductance Efficiency
3.3.6 Output Resistance and Early Voltage
3.4 PMOS Design Relations and Tools
3.4.1 Strong-Inversion Model
3.4.2 Subthreshold Model
3.4.3 Threshold Voltage
3.4.4 Drain-Source Saturation Voltage, Sheet Current, and
Transconductance Efficiency
3.4.5 Output Resistance and Early Voltage
3.5 Thermal Effects
3.6 Biasing and Sizing a MOSFET with Design Tools
3.7 Small-Signal Modeling and Circuit Analysis
3.7.1 MOSFET DC Small-Signal Model
8
3.7.2 DC Small-Signal Circuit Analysis
3.7.3 MOSFET Capacitances and High-Frequency Small-Signal
Model
3.8 MOSFET Noise Model
3.9 MOSFET as a Switch
3.9.1 Single-Device and Transmission-Gate Switch Properties
3.9.2 Charge Injection and Clock Feedthrough
3.10 Resistor Design
3.10.1 Resistor Structures and Resistance Modeling
3.10.2 Design Techniques for Accuracy and Precision
3.10.3 MOSFET as a Resistor
3.11 Capacitor Design
3.11.1 MIM Capacitor
3.11.2 MOSFET as a Capacitor
3.12 References
3.13 Exercises
4 Circuit Layer
4.1 Introduction
4.2 Current Sources, Sinks, and Mirrors
4.2.1 Fundamental Concepts and Performance Metrics
4.2.2 Accuracy and Precision in Current Mirroring
4.2.3 Basic Cascoding
4.2.4 Low-Voltage Cascoding
4.2.5 Regulated Cascoding
4.2.6 Self-Cascoding
4.3 Current and Voltage References
4.3.1 Voltage-Divider Current Reference
4.3.2 Beta-Multiplier Current Reference
4.3.3 Bandgap Voltage Reference
4.4 Basic Amplifier Stages
4.4.1 Common-Source Stage
4.4.2 Source Follower
4.4.3 Basic Differential Pair
4.4.4 Source-Degenerated Differential Pair
4.4.5 Super-GM Differential Pair
4.5 Basic OTA
4.5.1 DC Transfer Characteristic as a Voltage Amplifier
4.5.2 Range Limitations
4.5.3 DC Differential Gain and Offset
9
4.5.4 Frequency Response and Step Response
4.5.5 Noise-Related Properties
4.6 Symmetrical OTA
4.6.1 Topology and DC Transfer Characteristic
4.6.2 Range Limitations
4.6.3 DC Differential Gain and Offset
4.6.4 Frequency Response and Step Response
4.6.5 Noise-Related Properties
4.6.6 Cascoded-Symmetrical OTA
4.7 Folded-Cascode OTA
4.7.1 Topology and DC Transfer Characteristic
4.7.2 DC Differential Gain and Range Limitations
4.7.3 Frequency Response, Step Response, and Noise-Related
Properties
4.7.4 Rail-to-Rail Folded-Cascode OTA
4.8 Miller OTA
4.8.1 Topology and DC Response
4.8.2 Frequency Response and Noise-Related Properties
4.8.3 Step Response
4.9 Opamp with a Push-Pull Source-Follower Output Stage
4.9.1 Topologies and Operation
4.9.2 DC Response
4.9.3 Frequency Response, Step Response, and Noise
4.10 Opamp with a Push-Pull Common-Source Output Stage
4.11 Fully-Differential OTAs and Opamps
4.11.1 Core Topologies and Properties
4.11.2 Common-Mode Feedback Circuits
4.11.3 Design Examples
4.12 References
4.13 Exercises
Index
10
CHAPTER 1
Preliminaries
11
FIGURE 1.1 Two linear integrated-circuit application examples. (a) A
single-ended voltage amplifier for conditioning a thermal-sensor signal
prior to analog-to-digital conversion. (b) A fully-differential
transimpedance amplifier for driving an actuator.
12
target performance of opamp internal devices in terms of device metrics.
In the final device layer of design, the device metrics specified in
application and circuit layers are translated into bias conditions and
physical parameters for all opamp devices and external-network
components. Although the block diagram shown in Fig. 1.2 indicates a
one-way flow, it frequently becomes necessary to loop back and redesign
as overconstrained or underconstrained design spaces are encountered
along the way. However, this does not alter the definitions indicated in
Fig. 1.2 for the input metrics or outcomes of any of the three layers.
13
14
FIGURE 1.2 Layers of abstraction in electrical design.
The main body of this book is divided into three chapters, each dealing
with one of the three layers of design. The application layer is covered in
Chapter 2. The device layer comes next in Chapter 3. Finally, in Chapter 4,
we study the circuit layer and also work on complete linear integrated-
circuit design examples involving the contents of the preceding chapters.
The methodology practiced in this book for design and verification is
based on Spice simulations, which are run on version-27 of the open-
source platform Ngspice. The reader is referred to the companion website
of this book, www.mhprofessional.com/AICDS, for instructions regarding
its download and installation.
Circuit description in Ngspice is based on direct netlist entry whereas
commercial simulation platforms generate netlists from schematic entries.
Schematic entry is generally faster, easier, and foolproof, which are
valuable assets in professional use because they minimize the time and
attention needed for circuit description. However, the intricacies of circuit
description are better learned by paying attention to details, which is why
netlist entry is preferred in this book. Input files describing the netlists of
all simulation examples can be downloaded from this book’s website.
Each of the folders named chap2, chap3, and chap4 contains the files used
in one particular chapter. The first step of running a simulation with any of
these files is to open the Ngspice executable. Next, the folder containing
the input file is defined as the current directory if it is not already so. For a
file residing in, for example, c:\spice\chap3 of an MS Windows
installation, this is done by entering
at the prompt as shown at the top of Fig. 1.3. Next, the filename itself is
entered as exemplified in the middle part of Fig. 1.3 for an input file ex3-
16.sp. Finally, entering the command run as shown at the bottom of Fig.
1.3 initiates the simulation. As the reader will experience initially in
Example 2.9 of Subsection 2.4.2, it is possible to start a simulation without
entering a run command provided that the input file is properly scripted.
As to reading out or plotting the outcomes of a simulation, the reader will
find the necessary descriptions inside the examples presented throughout
the following three chapters.
15
FIGURE 1.3 Screenshots showing the steps of running an input file in an
MS Windows installation. Top: Changing the directory. Middle: Declaring
16
the filename. Bottom: Initiating the simulation.
Input files are prepared with a text editor, and saved with extension .sp.
Each begins with a title line and ends with a .end line. The lines in
between are expected to describe at least the network of components, their
parameters, and the type of analysis to be performed. For an example, the
reader is referred to file ex2-1.sp, which netlists the circuit schematic
shown in Fig. 2.5. Its line-by-line description is as follows:
Line 1 Filename is typed in the title line. Since Spice does not consider this
line as a declaration, any text can be included without affecting the outcome of
the simulation.
17
Although the examples included in the following chapters will help the
reader master the basics of simulation with Ngspice, it will be much more
beneficial at this stage to read the specific sections of the user manual,
which is included in the downloaded Ngspice package.
18
CHAPTER 2
Application Layer
2.1 Introduction
As stated in Chapter 1, the application layer of electrical design involves
(a) selection of an appropriate closed-loop configuration for the
application, and (b) translation of the specified closed-loop metrics into
open-loop metrics for the opamp and device metrics for the external
network. Available closed-loop amplifier configurations are well
documented in related literature. No attempt is made in this book to
present their inventory but most popular configurations are presented in
examples throughout this chapter. The main emphasis of the chapter is on
the analytical techniques and tools used in translating closed-loop metrics
into open-loop metrics and external-network device metrics. These
techniques and tools are generalized into four major architectural classes
depending on (a) whether amplification is performed in continuous time or
in discrete time, and (b) whether signal representation is single ended or
fully differential. The case of continuous-time/single-ended amplifier
configurations, being the most fundamental of the four, is covered in the
first nine sections of this chapter. Based on the foundation thus
established, coverage is then extended to continuous-time/fully-differential
configurations in Section 2.10, to discrete-time/single-ended
configurations in Section 2.11, and finally to discrete-time/fully-
differential configurations in Section 2.12.
Most of the concepts presented in this chapter are supported with Spice
simulations conducted with a parameterized single-ended or fully-
differential opamp macromodel defined as a subcircuit. The single-ended
19
version is netlisted in the input file opmacrol.sp. As shown in Fig. 2.1(a),
this macro interfaces with the closed-loop configuration through the
following three pins:
20
• fnd: Nondominant pole frequency fnd. Introduced in Section 2.7.
• vos at vout: Offset voltage Vos defined at an output bias voltage
VO. Introduced in Subsection 2.4.1. Unlike the preceding
parameters, these two are set by default to vos= 0 and vout=
(voh+vol)/2 but can be reset by adding the following lines to the
main input file that contains the opamp subcircuit opmacrol.sp:
21
where <subcircuit identifier> is the name of the opamp instance, such
as x1, and <value> is the reset value. The offset voltage of a fully-
differential opamp is described in Subsection 2.10.3.
22
is called common-mode voltage.
In this book, the relationship imposed by the opamp between vO and
vID is generally called open-loop transfer function if expressed
analytically, or open-loop transfer characteristic if displayed graphically.
The dc form of the open-loop transfer characteristic is shown in Fig. 2.2(b)
for an ideal single-supply opamp powered by a positive supply-voltage
VDD with respect to system ground. The ideal features of the characteristic
are associated with its segment located between the two output-voltage
levels vO = VOL and vO = VOH. In a real opamp, this segment is nonlinear
with a large but finite and varying slope as will be discussed in detail in
Section 2.4. In first-order dc modeling, we assume it to be perfectly
vertical and located at
FIGURE 2.2 (a) Symbol convention for opamp input and output
variables. (b) Open-loop dc transfer characteristic and output range in an
ideal single-supply opamp. (c) A rail-to-rail common-mode range. (d) A
23
common-mode range excluding ground. (e) A common-mode range
excluding the supply voltage VDD.
and
where VO(min) and VO(max) are the limits of the output swing.
According to (2.1) and (2.2), the common-mode voltage of an ideal
opamp complying with (2.3) is given by
24
and
25
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Title: Canterbury
Language: English
CANTERBURY
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 Fifth Avenue, NEW YORK
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
27 Richmond Street West, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
Macmillan Building, BOMBAY
AND 309 Bow Bazaar Street, CALCUTTA
THE NORTH SIDE OF CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL
Before the present Archbishop’s Palace was built
CANTERBURY
BY W. TEIGNMOUTH SHORE
PAINTED BY W. BISCOMBE
GARDNER · PUBLISHED BY
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
SOHO SQUARE · LONDON · W.
TO
E. A. B.
FROM
E. G. O.
CONTENTS
PAGE
First View 1
The Story of the Cathedral 7
The Cathedral—Interior 18
The Cathedral—Exterior 41
Canterbury Pilgrims 54
The Religious 66
Other Shrines 87
A Canterbury Roundabout 104
Envoi 117
Index: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, W 119
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. The North Side of the Cathedral Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
2. Christ Church Gate 4
3. The South Side of the Cathedral 10
4. The Chapel of “Our Lady” in the Undercroft 18
5. In the Nave of the Cathedral after Evensong 22
6. Edward the Black Prince’s Tomb in Trinity Chapel 32
7. The Warrior’s Chapel, looking Westwards 38
8. The West Towers and South-West Entrance to the
Cathedral 42
9. Ruins of the Infirmary 44
10. The Baptistry, Canterbury Cathedral 46
11. Norman Staircase, King’s School 48
12. The Martyrdom, Canterbury Cathedral 50
13. South-West Transept and St George’s Tower 56
14. The Greyfriars’ House 64
15. Doorway from the Cloisters into the Martyrdom 70
16. Westgate 88
17. The Canterbury Weavers 92
18. The Quadrangle, St Augustine’s College 96
19. St Martin’s Church 102
20. The Cathedral, St Martin’s Church Tower, and Harbledown 110
CANTERBURY
FIRST VIEW
As we stand upon the summit of Bell Harry Tower—more happily called
the Angel Steeple—of Canterbury Cathedral, looking down upon city and
countryside, much of the history of England lies spread beneath our feet:
the Britons were at work here before the Romans came marching with their
stolid legions; here to Ethelbert, Saxon King of Kent, St Augustine
preached the gospel of Christ; in the church below, Becket was murdered
and the Black Prince buried; to this city, to the shrine of St Thomas, came
innumerable pilgrims, one of them our first great English poet; then the
crash of the Reformation swept away shrines and pilgrims, the mirk and
romance of mediævalism vanished into the mists of history, and the city to-
day lives chiefly in the past. Away to the east and south are the narrow seas,
crossed by conquering Romans and Normans, crossed for centuries by a
constant stream of travellers from all ends of the earth, citizens of every
clime, to some of whom the sight of the English coast was the first glimpse
of home, to others the first view of a strange land; away to the north and
west are the Medway and the Thames, Rochester and London. From no
other tower, perhaps, can so wide a bird’s-eye view of our history be
obtained; Canterbury is so situated that ever since England has been and as
long as England shall be, this city has been and will be a centre of the
nation’s life.
At first entrance to it, Canterbury does not impress with its antiquity;
there are, indeed, the ancient Cathedral, ancient gates and ancient houses.
But as the sights of the city grow familiar, as its atmosphere enters into our
souls, as its story becomes known, gradually and surely we realise that most
of what we see now is but youthful compared with the great age of the
place; and we feel that when all this of the present day has mouldered to
dust, as must all man’s works, here will be another city, perhaps even fairer
than the one we are looking on, and that the men of those days to come will
wonder and speculate as to the likeness of us of to-day. Canterbury is
ancient and beautiful; no place for the mere tourist who fancies that in an
hour or two of sight-seeing he can learn to know and love her: she is like a
beautiful woman, whose charms never stale; like a good woman, ever
showing to those who love her some fresh enchantment.
But it is not history—not the story of dead events—that chiefly
fascinates us in Canterbury, or, indeed, in any such city; it is the lives of the
men who made that history, who took part in those events. Here, as we walk
the streets, we think of Augustine, of Thomas, of the Black Prince, of many
another; and of many great men of letters—Chaucer, Erasmus, Marlowe,
Thackeray, Dickens, Stanley: the first painting for us the Canterbury of his
own days, the last that of past times. To understand fully the beauty of such
a place, we must allow not only its spirit to enter into us, but we must in our
mind’s eyes people its ways with those who have walked there aforetime,
with the shadows not of the great only but of the humble, who all in their
degree helped to the making of history and of this historic city.
It is to the Cathedral that most men, when set down here, first turn their
steps; and rightly so. We must not refuse to listen to the voices of its stones,
must not look upon them as dull, dead, dumb things; to those who are ready
to hear they will always a tale unfold—of beliefs gone beyond recall, of the
men whose untiring patience and skill raised for us this splendid monument
of the past, of saints and of sinners, of victors and of vanquished. The least
advantageous way to attempt the attainment of any true sense of the
fascination of Canterbury Cathedral is to enter it straightway, intent on
seeing rapidly all that it contains of interest; though every stone in its fabric
is of interest, almost every charm that it possesses will be lost to those who
thus wrongly approach. Rather walk slowly round, entering the close by
Christ Church gateway, completed in 1517, sadly battered by time but
unspoiled by the hand of the destroying restorer; without stands the
monument to Christopher Marlowe, son of the city. But we pass in to the
quiet trees and the trim grass; we look up at Bell Harry Tower, the centre of
the Cathedral as the Cathedral is of the city. Walk round, not troubling to
seek out the name or the record of this portion of the building or of that;
CHRIST CHURCH GATE
Entrance to the precincts of Canterbury Cathedral
round by Becket’s Crown and the ruins of the Infirmary, by the Dark Entry
and so out into Green Court.
The face of Nature never grows so familiar to us that we know her every
tone and expression; so is it with some of the handiworks of man—with this
Cathedral, for instance. Great changes are wrought in its aspect by the
seasons of the year, by daylight, by the lights of night, by sunrise and by
sunset; changes which every man may see; and slight yet never insignificant
changes are touched in upon the picture by every passing cloud that casts a
shadow upon the grey towers and walls, by every snowflake that finds a
lodgment on its countless graven stones; changes which only the few who
love will discern.
In visiting the interior the usual course pursued by visitors is curious and
unsatisfactory, leaving but a confused impression upon those who have not
read the story of the building, and killing what may be called its humanity.
Of course, the traveller who desires to see as much as possible in the
shortest possible time must not complain if he sees much and understands
little; but those who have sufficient time at their disposal will do well to
make several short visits rather than one of prolonged duration, each visit
being devoted to a specific end. The two principal points of interest are the
history of the fabric, and the martyrdom or murder of St Thomas à Becket,
with its consequences.
THE STORY OF THE CATHEDRAL
To the eye of the expert the buildings of any ancient church or cathedral tell
their story with simplicity and directness. Even to the eye of the inexpert in
such matters, it is at once apparent that Canterbury is a growth of long ages,
the handiwork of many generations of builders. The grey weather-beaten
exterior, with its varied architecture, is evidently not the design of any
single brain, and the dim, religious aisles and chapels echo with hints of
memories of architects and masons into whose various hands came the
glory of carrying on the work which their forefathers had begun and left for
them to continue or to complete.
It is believed that on this same site there stood once a Roman or British
church, which was granted to Augustine by Ethelbert, and by him
consecrated and reconsecrated “in the name of the Saviour, our God and
Lord Jesus Christ, and there he established an habitation for himself, and
for all his successors”; in short, he founded the monastery of Christ Church.
To this church additions were made by Archbishop Odo toward the end of
the tenth century, concerning whom is narrated a pretty monkish legend:
“The roof of Christ Church had become rotten from excessive age, and
rested throughout upon half-shattered pieces: wherefore he set about to
reconstruct it, and being also desirous of giving to the walls a more aspiring
altitude, he directed his assembled workmen to remove altogether the
disjointed structure above, and commanded them to supply the deficient
height of the walls by raising them. But because it was absolutely necessary
that the Divine Service should not be interrupted, and no temple could be
found sufficiently capacious to receive the multitude of the people, the
archbishop prayed to Heaven that until the work should be completed,
neither rain nor wind might be suffered to intrude within the walls of the
church, so as to prevent the performance of the service. And so it came to
pass: for during three years in which the walls of the church were being
carried upwards, the whole building remained open to the sky; yet did no
rain fall either within the church, or even within the walls of the city, that
could impede the clergy standing in the church in the performance of their
duty, or restrain the people from coming even to the beginning of it. And
truly it was a sight worth seeing, to behold the space beyond the walls of
the city drenched with water, while the walls themselves remained perfectly
dry.”[1]
Of this Saxon building it is not likely that there are any remnants in the
present church, though it is barely possible that there are some relics of it in
the west wall of the crypt.
When Alphege was archbishop, in the year 1011, the Danes attacked the
city, sacked it, slaughtered the citizens, the while the monks sought refuge
in the church. The archbishop went forth to utter an appeal to the
marauders, who however, turning a deaf ear to his entreaties for mercy,
seized and bound him: “Then these children of Satan piled barrels one upon
another, and set them on fire, designing thus to burn the roof. Already the
heat of the flames began to melt the lead, which ran down inside.” Driven
from their sanctuary, the wretched monks went out to their death, only four
of them escaping. Alphege was carried away to prison and to torture, and,
after seven months, was put to death at Greenwich. Years after, the saint’s
body was restored to his own church.
Fire without the sword wrought havoc in 1067, when “the devouring
flames consumed nearly all that was there preserved most precious, whether
in ornaments of gold, of silver, or of other materials, or in sacred and
profane books.” Three years later when Lanfranc, Abbot of Caen, became
archbishop, he found himself without a cathedral, and set to with vigour to
restore the monastery and the church. In seven years he had raised a fair,
new edifice upon the site of the wrecked building. “But before this work
began, he commanded that the bodies of the saints, which were buried in
the eastern part of the church, should be removed to the western part, where
the oratory of the blessed Virgin Mary stood. Wherefore, after a three days’
fast, the bodies of those most precious priests of the Lord, Dunstan and
Alphege were raised, and in the presence of an innumerable multitude,
conveyed to their destined place of interment, and there decently buried. To
which I, Edmer,
THE SOUTH SIDE OF CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL
Showing South-West Transept, St Anselm’s Tower, and South-East Transept
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.
Now, we enter the nave.
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?
The nave dates from about 1378 to 1411, in which last year the builder
of it, the aforementioned Prior Chillenden, died, “who after nobly ruling as
Prior of this church for twenty years twenty-five weeks and five days,” says
his epitaph, as given by Willis, “at length on the day of the Assumption of
the Blessed Virgin Mary closed his last day.” As it was written of
Christopher Wren, so here it might be of Chillenden—“If monument be
asked for, look around.” The architecture here is Perpendicular, contrasting
exquisitely with the early work of the choir; it is no new simile—but there
is no call to provide a new when the old is so good—to say that these
splendid pillars, rising from their firm, fixed roots in the stony floor and
springing up into the grey heights far above, strike deep upon the
imagination as being akin to the glorious pillars of a stately forest.
A curious and oft-repeated error is to say that Canterbury is unique
among churches, in that from the nave we look up to the choir, the latter
being raised on the crypt. A precisely similar cause and effect are to be
found, for example, at Worcester.
The stained glass which once adorned the nave, is gone, smashed by
zealous Puritans, and all of olden colour that we now see is in the great west
window, compiled of fragments from those that have departed.
Of the tombs and monuments in the nave the most noteworthy are in the
north aisle—those of Charles the First’s famous organist, Orlando Gibbons;
of Sir John Boys, founder of the hospital for the poor near the North Gate of
the city; and the altar tomb of Archbishop Sumner. Also to be noted, a
window to the memory of Dean Stanley, sometime canon of the Cathedral
and writer of that famous work, Historical Memorials of Canterbury.
As we stand in the choir of to-day, we would indeed be of dull
imagination did we not see and drink in the poetic beauty of such a growth
as this, beautiful in its association with the centuries, with countless
thousands of worshippers; beautiful intrinsically and as a record of faithful
labour, of splendid artistry, of devout perseverance. There are other
cathedral choirs more perfect as specimens of one or other style of
architecture, but not one more hallowed by sacred and stirring memories.
Here stands Norman and Early English work side by side, melting, as
historically they did, from one into the other; the work of French and
English hands and brains. Here the mind is forcibly carried back to the far,
dim ages, when on this very ground the rude Saxons worshipped—this
ground which Augustine found already dedicated to the worship of Christ,
upon which he reared his new temple,
IN THE NAVE AFTER EVENSONG, CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL
where ever since has sounded the chanting of the monks and of sweet-
voiced choirs.
One unusual structural feature at once strikes even the usually
unobservant; the trend inward of the walls as they reach toward the east,
accounted for by the builders having to accommodate themselves to the two
towers of St Anselm and St Andrew, left undestroyed by the great fire
which called for the rebuilding of the choir. It is not possible to say with
any degree of surety at what point the work of French William ended and
was succeeded by that of English William; and, indeed, it is most probable
that the latter worked from and completed the designs of the former.
Striking, however, is the exquisite contrast in the combination of the French
stone from Caen and the English Purbeck marble. Glorious as was the choir
of Conrad, this that succeeded to it is far more beautiful and, of course,
more ornate. The mouldings are very varied—billet-work, dog-tooth, zigzag
and so forth, Norman intermixed with the succeeding style. Gervase states
that “The old capitals were plain, the new are most artistically sculptured.
The old arches and everything else either plain, or sculptured with an axe
and not with a chisel; but in the new work first-rate sculpture abounded
everywhere. In the old work no marble shafts, in the new innumerable
ones.” But excellent work in stone can be executed with the axe in skilful,
practised hands—easy tools do not necessarily mean fine output; and Willis
points out the interesting fact that down to his day at any rate French
masons used the axe “with great dexterity in carving.”
A noteworthy feature of the triforium is the curious conjuncture of an
outer round-headed arch enclosing two that are pointed, again a mingling of
the Norman and Early English styles. To quote Willis yet again, this “may
have arisen either from the indifference of the artist as to the mixture of
forms, or else from deliberate contrivance; for as he was compelled, from
the nature of his work, to retain round-headed arcades, windows, and arches
in the side-aisles, and yet was accustomed to and desirous of employing
pointed arches in his new building, he might discreetly mix some round-
headed arches with them, in order to make the contrast less offensive by
causing the mixture of forms to pervade the whole composition, as if an
intentional principle.” Commentators are very fond of reading into the
works of dead and gone writers, in particular into the plays and poems of
Shakespeare, thoughts and speculations and intentions entirely alien to past
ages. Is it not more than likely that architectural critics fall not seldom into
the same blunder? Probably the sheer truth concerning these old builders is
that they builded better than they knew, and that we with the light of later
and present days attribute to design what was the result of inadvertence. But
why analyse and speculate? Let us be thankful for what we have received; if
it be justifiable to say grace before books, how much more so to return
thanks for these pictures drawn in stone.
Around the choir stands the screen of Prior Henry de Estria, dating from
about 1305, at least partly his handiwork; and noteworthy is the Norman
doorway.
The altar stands high, situated as it is above the later and loftier portion
of the crypt. Rich indeed it must have been in pre-Reformation days,
glowing with its costly and precious vessels; in a grated vault beneath it, the
treasury of gold and silver, which would have made Crœsus and Midas feel
poor, so says Erasmus. Most of this splendour was swept up by the greedy
hands of Henry VIII., the “professional widower” and equally professional
thief, and what of beauty this sinner left undespoiled was destroyed by
Puritan saints. The present altar is rich, but not religiously impressive.
The vast difference between the Christianity of mediæval times and of
the days that followed the Reformation cannot be more forcibly emphasised
than by recalling that this choir, now the centre of a simple ritual, was then
one of the most famous homes of relic worship. To the new choir when
ready to receive them were restored—they had stood in its predecessor—
the remains of St Dunstan and of St Alphege, “the co-exiles of the monks.”
Says Gervase: “Prior Alan, taking with him nine of the brethren of the
Church in whom he could trust, went by night to the tombs of the saints, so
that he might not be incommoded by a crowd, and having locked the doors
of the church, he commanded the stone-work that enclosed them to be taken
down. The monks and servants of the Church, in obedience to the Prior’s
commands, took the structure to pieces, opened the stone coffins of the
saints, and bore their relics to the vestiarium. Then, having removed the
cloths in which they had been wrapped, and which were half-consumed
from age and rottenness, they covered them with other and more handsome
palls, and bound them with linen bands. They bore the saints, thus prepared,
to their altars, and deposited them in wooden chests, covered within and
without with lead; which chests, thus lead-covered, and strongly bound with
iron, were enclosed in stone-work that was consolidated with melted lead.”
There is eloquent evidence of the morality of the times in that “in whom he
could trust”; thefts of relics were common enough, and monks earned high
recompense for showing themselves successful “cracksmen.”
Indeed, the bones of the saints were often the cause of bad blood
between communities of Christians, who preached to others peace and
goodwill among men. These very relics of St Dunstan are a case very much
to the point. The monks of Glastonbury denied that Canterbury possessed
them at all, saying that they had been conveyed thence to Glastonbury when
the Danes had sacked the metropolitan church. In 1508 Archbishop
Warham, little foreseeing the near approach of these days when saints’
relics would not any longer be a valuable property, answered this claim by
opening the shrine, wherein lay fragments of a human body, and on the
heart a leaden plate bearing the words Sanctus Dunstanus. The Abbot of
Glastonbury, however, refused to be convinced or to be comforted, at last
pitiably confessing that “the people had believed in the genuineness of their
saint for so long” that he was afraid to speak the truth to them! When the
tomb was laid open, the skull of the saint was removed from it, set in a
silver reliquary, and added to the other relics that were displayed to
wondering though not always credulous pilgrims. Among these other relics
may be named the right arm of Jesus Christ, some of the clay from which
Adam was created and portions of Aaron’s rod. Wonderful are the abuses of
credulity.
Of the shrine or altar of St Dunstan, destroyed at the Reformation, on the
south of the great altar, some Decorated diaper work is all the remnant; of
that of St Alphege, which probably stood opposite, there remains not a
trace.
There are many tombs here which may well give us pause, for in them
lie buried many of the great ecclesiastical rulers of days gone by. Hard by
where stood the altar of St Dunstan, sleeps Simon of Sudbury, archbishop
from 1375 to 1381. He was one of those enlightened few who protested
against the evil resulting from the promiscuous concourse of pilgrims that
resorted to the shrine of St Thomas. Let Dean Stanley tell us the story: “In
the year of the fourth jubilee, 1370, the pilgrims were crowding as usual
along the great London road to Canterbury, when they were overtaken by
Simon of Sudbury, at that time Bishop of London, but afterwards Primate,
and well known for his munificent donations to the walls and towers of the
town of Canterbury. He was a bold and vigorous prelate; his spirit was
stirred within him at the sight of what he deemed a mischievous
superstition, and he openly told them that the plenary indulgence which
they hoped to gain by their visit to the holy city would be of no avail to
them. Such a doctrine from such an authority fell like a thunderbolt in the
midst of the vast multitude. Many were struck dumb; others lifted up their
voices and cursed him to his face, with the characteristic prayer that he
might meet with a shameful death. One especially, a Kentish gentleman—
by name, Thomas of Aldon—rode straight up to him, in towering
indignation, and said, ‘My Lord Bishop, for this act of yours, stirring the
people to sedition against St Thomas, I stake the salvation of my soul that
you will close your life by a most terrible death’; to which the vast
concourse answered, ‘Amen, Amen.’ The curse, it was believed, prevailed.
The vox populi, so the chronicler expressly asserts, turned out to be the vox
Dei. ‘From the beginning of the world it never has been heard that any one
ever injured the Cathedral of Canterbury, and was not punished by the
Lord.’ Eleven years from that time, the populace of London not unnaturally
imagined that the rights of St Thomas were avenged, when they saw the
unfortunate Primate dragged out of the Tower, and beheaded by the Kentish
rebels under Wat Tyler. His head was taken to his native place, Sudbury,
where it is still preserved. His body was buried in the tomb, still to be seen
on the south side of the choir of the Cathedral, where not many years ago,
when it was accidentally opened, the body was seen within, wrapped in
cerecloth, the vacant space of the head occupied by a leaden ball.”
Archbishop Stratford (1333-48) lies to the west of the above, a
monument sadly defaced. It was he who rendered weighty service to
Edward III., when the monarch looked upon him with unfavourable eye,
considering that it was his advice that had caused his, the King’s, troubles.
The archbishop fled from London, seeking refuge at Canterbury. He
preached a pathetic sermon to the multitudinous congregation that had
flocked into the Cathedral, concluding by excommunicating the King’s evil
advisers. When the last words were spoken, the torches that struggled with
the gloom were put out; the bell was tolled; the people scattered in
confusion. So great was the power and awe of holy church in those days
that this proceeding of the archbishop’s proved powerfully effective and the
King’s hand was stayed.
Then there is the tomb of Cardinal Kemp, archbishop from 1452-54,
with a curious wooden canopy. He was at Agincourt with Henry V.
On the north side, noticeable is the monument to Archbishop Chichele,
founder of the colleges of St John and of All Souls, Oxford, by the fellows
of which latter college his tomb is kept in repair. The effigy of the living
man is gruesomely put in conjunction with a grisly skeleton in a winding
sheet; to the mediæval mind death was almost disgustingly horrible. It was
he who aided and abetted Henry V. in his preposterous claim upon the
throne of France, which prosaic plea has been turned into poetry by
Shakespeare in Scene 2 Act I. of The Life of King Henry the Fifth.
Then of much more recent date, William Howley (1828-48), who so
bitterly opposed the Roman Catholic Relief Bill and the Reform Bill, which
brought him disfavour with the good citizens of Canterbury. He crowned
Queen Victoria, and performed the marriage ceremony of the Prince
Consort.
Archbishop Bourchier (1454-86) also lies here; who was visited by the
Maronite Patriarch of Antioch, Peter II., with his camels and his
dromedaries, and who left to the church “one image of the Holy Trinity of
pure gold, with the diadem, and xj balassers, x saphires, and xliiij gems
called perlys.”
Then proceeding toward the east we enter the Trinity Chapel, standing
upon the same site as the old chapel of the same name.
But it is not our purpose here to write in detail the story of Canterbury
Cathedral; it can be found elsewhere by those who desire it; all our aim is to
tell sufficient of it and in such manner as to make the building a living
thing, not the dead mass to which it is too often reduced by guides and
guide-books.
To the skill and genius of English William we owe the Trinity Chapel,
where stood the shrine of St Thomas of Canterbury, now but a memory,
where still stands the tomb of Edward the Black
EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE’S TOMB IN TRINITY CHAPEL, CANTERBURY
CATHEDRAL
Prince, who, in his will, laid it down that he should be buried in the
crypt, but here in the brighter light he lies. A splendid figure of romance he
was—a great fighter, and, as such, beloved of his race; the boy victor of
Cressy; the conqueror at Poitiers, where the French King became his
captive; in his life the glory of his country, by his untimely death leaving it
to anarchy and civil war. A great figure of a man, a name resonant in
history, yet on the whole one of the least effective of our princes in that his
work lasted not. We stand by his tomb, looking upon his effigy which is
life-like in its strength. “There he lies: no other memorial of him exists in
the world so authentic. There he lies, as he had directed, in full armour, his
head resting on his helmet, his feet with the likeness of ‘the spurs he won’ at
Cressy, his hands joined as in that last prayer which he had offered up on
his death-bed.” That prayer which he uttered when the evil spirit, the lust of
revenge, departed from him: “I give Thee thanks, O God, for all Thy
benefits, and with all the pains of my soul I humbly beseech Thy mercy to
give me remission of those sins I have wickedly committed against Thee;
and of all mortal men whom, willingly or ignorantly, I have offended, with
all my heart I desire forgiveness.” He died on Trinity Sunday in the forty-
sixth year of his age. Above the canopy hang his gauntlets, his helm, his
velvet coat that once blazed with the arms of England and of France, and
the empty scabbard of his sword. We stand by this tomb, and all the horror,
brutalities, cruelties of those cruel days are forgotten, and the air resounds
with echoes of the trumpets of chivalry.
Close by lie Henry IV. and his second queen, Joan of Navarre; in 1832
the tomb was opened, and the body of the King found in strangely perfect
preservation: “the nose elevated; the beard thick and matted, and of a deep
russet colour; and the jaws perfect, with all the teeth in them except one
fore-tooth.” Hard by is the small chapel founded by the King, “a chauntre
perpetuall with twey prestis for to sing and prey for my soul”; but their
voices are hushed.
Here also are the monuments of Odo Coligny, brother of the famous
admiral, and of Archbishop Courtenay (1381-96); he gave munificently to
the building and its adornment; he was the judge before whom Wiclif was
arraigned, and found no pity in his heart for the reformer’s disciples.
Fortune has spared for us three of the interesting thirteenth-century
windows in this chapel, and they well repay study. The rest were smashed
amid the ruinous havoc decreed by Henry VIII., which is described
elsewhere. The pictures are of scenes connected with the miracles wrought
by the dead saint, with representations of his first tomb in the crypt below
and of his later shrine in this very chapel.
Becket’s Crown forms the easternmost portion of the Cathedral. The old-
time explanation that this chapel was so named as having contained once a
part shorn off from the saint’s skull by the sword of one of his murderers,
can scarcely be correct. On the north stands the tomb of Cardinal
Archbishop Pole (1556-58), who died but two-and-twenty hours after his
cousin and patron, Queen Mary; and, in the centre, the chair of St
Augustine, carved out of three pieces of Purbeck marble. By some it has
been called the chair of St Ethelbert, saying that he himself used it as a
throne, and, after his conversion, gave it to the greater saint. Others, more