Readying for a trip to England brought back a flood of vivid adolescent nostalgia. It reactivated my interest in the Canterbury pilgrims’ journey. So my first day trip was to Dover and Canterbury.
Both locations are near the White Cliffs of Dover. Both have structures dating to the Roman occupation. Dover Castle is more recent. William the Conqueror built it to secure his ascendancy beginning in 1066, after winning nearby at the Battle of Hastings. Dover is so close to the French coast that visitors’ cellphones change to Continental time and display the greeting, “Bienvenue a France”.
A little farther inland, Canterbury is about the size of greater Oneonta, with a student population similar in size to ours. The city’s town-gown issues are also similar to ours. We are proper sister cities.
St. Augustine built a house of worship near Canterbury circa 597. The Diocese of Canterbury rebuilt the cathedral in the 11th and 12th centuries and again in the 14th to the 16th century. It transformed into a magnificent structure, with flying buttresses hidden behind stone walls.
In 1170, Henry II made a derisive comment about his bishop, Thomas à Becket. Authors have quoted him, “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” But King Henry spoke French and Latin. Translating his words from 12th century French into modern English leaves the phrasing open to conjecture.
Henry’s personal knights took it upon themselves to murder Beckett as he worshipped in the cathedral. His followers buried him as a martyr, and the Holy See canonized him in 1173. Thus began a tradition of pilgrimages to the martyr of Canterbury. We know of them today from Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.
Did St. Thomas à Becket ever catch a break? Was not murder sufficient contempt? Four centuries later, Henry VIII convicted him of treason, disinterred his remains and confiscated the valuables in his crypt. The final disposition of his remains is unknown.
Carole and I enjoyed Masterpiece Mysteries on PBS. Our early favorites were Midsomer Murders and Morse. With that in mind, I had crossed the pond to see the crime scenes in person. Headquartering in London, I booked day trips for a journey through history.
My next visit was to Warwick Castle. Richard Neville was the famous occupant of the castle. He was called The Kingmaker. Owing to his vast holdings and personal magnetism, he deposed and installed monarchs during the early years of the Wars of the Roses.
The same day we visited Stratford-upon-Avon and the house where William Shakespeare came of age.
We finished the day with a visit to Oxford, visiting the haunts of Inspectors Morse and Lewis. En route to Oxford, we traversed the picturesque villages of the Cotswolds, which serve as the backdrop for Midsomer Murders.
Then I traveled to the city of Bath, which takes its name from the communal baths the Romans built over warm mineral springs. The city’s buildings have a consistent look because of honey-colored limestone, which is plentiful in the area.
On the trip back to London, we stopped at Stonehenge. As I turned away from the henge and faced a series of berms, I learned from a marker that they are burial mounds. I grew up near the Cahokia mounds, and it never occurred to me that the practice was common among other stone age cultures.
Before delivering me to my hotel, the tour stopped by Windsor Castle, which is a sprawling, working, royal residence. It’s on the Thames River west of Heathrow Airport. Across the river is the village of Eton, which is famous for its secondary school. The swans in the river belong to the Crown and harming them is a criminal offense.
Warwick, Dover and Windsor castles date to the Norman Conquest. William the Conqueror intended them as imposing structures projecting his power throughout the realm.
My travels brought the past to life, from the Roman occupation to the Wars of the Roses. Although I never got to channel my inner Morse, the mix of crime and castles added a unique twist to the usual sightseeing.