phere of the murder seems to
be all about one, notwithstanding the rebuilding at a later period of
the actual scene, but the historic entrance is by the south porch
facing the great gate of the priory, and as it is still the usual
place of entry this short account of the interior will begin at that
point.

[Illustration: THE GREYFRIARS' HOUSE IN CANTERBURY.
This picturesque house of the Franciscans, who came to the town in
1220, stands on a branch of the Stour near Stour Street.]

The porch belongs to the great period of rebuilding under Prior
Chillenden, and, with its double row of canopied niches containing
statues, is a beautiful feature, even with the central space which
contained a representation of the martyrdom of Becket still vacant
since the days of Henry VIII. There is in the first view of a vast
Cathedral nave something almost overpowering in its sense of ordered
beauty. It may be that average lives are so planless, so haphazard and
without order that an achievement of such magnitude representing years
of labour and concentrated thought in steadily following out a
preconceived plan cannot fail to be a tremendous contrast to the
smallness and pettiness of the majority--a contrast so great that it
is mentally and spiritually a glimpse of the world of new
possibilities attainable when once the feverish clinging to the ideals
of the totem post is abandoned. This vast nave, reminiscent in many
ways of Winchester, but far more satisfying, is generally bathed in a
cool, greenish light, and is, in reality, a magnificent vestibule to
the crowded interest beyond the transept. The effect of emptiness
existing to-day is vastly different to what the pilgrims used to gaze
upon while waiting their turn to be sprinkled with holy water, for
before the Reformation and the complete sweeping away of the
enrichments of Roman Catholic times the roof and walls were brilliant
with paintings, the windows glowed with the warm colour of medieval
glass, sumptuous hangings were suspended in many places and the altars
twinkling with lighted candles added much gilding and colour to the
aisles. All this barbarous crowding of colour and ornament, all this
splendour of a ritual that appealed to an age capable of stilling the
voice of conscience with an absolution obtainable for a few pence has
passed away, but the vast building remains to tell of the reality of
endeavour of one side of monastic life.

[Illustration: THE PICTURESQUE GABLED