England’s cathedrals, despite their Taleban-like despoliation and destruction during the Reformation and the Civil War, remain one of that country’s major mediaeval glories. Over time I have seen most of them. Among these I particularly admire Durham, York, Lincoln, Norwich, Ely, Rochester, Canterbury, Winchester, Salisbury, Exeter, Hereford and Worcester.
One place, however, I had never visited till now: a cathedral with an extraordinary facade, a unique mediaeval ceiling, a spectacular number of spires and towers and the most varied interior styles ranging from Romanesque arches to Perpendicular fan vaults.
Where is this bishop’s see? The location of a memorable BBC TV dramatisation of Trollope’s ‘Barchester Towers’ it returned to mind when I recently rewatched that mini series. I could not delay visiting this wonder any further.We alighted the fast train from London’s Kings Cross to Peterborough. After a free coffee, courtesy of the adjoining branch of Waitrose, we headed for the cathedral crossing a blatant shopping mall on the way.
Entering a more characteristic Middle England town square I saw a forest of steeples and spires rising above the shops. Passing under a gateway before me spread a wondrous sight.
Three soaring gothic arches formed the cathedral’s facade, the centre one being slightly narrower than the ones on either side of it. In the centre arch a perpendicular chapel had been erected.
After a dull start to the frosty day the sun began to peep through the clouds. It was an ideal time to gaze upon the honeyed barnack limestone tinged by the rays of the weak midwinter sunshine. I was so glad I’d finally made it to Peterborough cathedral.
The portal opened out onto the cathedral’s magisterially long nave, longer even than Ely’s or Winchester’s. Before me spread the most massive Norman arches I’d seen since Durham.
Above was the painted mediaeval ceiling, one of only four surviving in Europe (the Ely.ceiling is Victorian) and the biggest.
I decided to join a tour, not just to learn more about this miraculous building from a very knowledgeable guide, but also to give an offering for a building which, because of lack of funds towards its immensely expensive upkeep, is in a real crisis and, some say, in danger of closing down! For Peterborough cathedral is not rich as other cathedrals, like Norwich or Winchester, are. Gone are those heady mediaeval days when pilgrims thronged here to venerate its relics and make munificent offerings.
Our guide led us through the cathedral’s history pointing out salient points. The third church on the site it was founded as a Benedictine monastery, dedicated to Peter and Paul, with an abbot and an infirmary to heal the sick. When the dastardly Henry VIII ordered the dissolution of the monasteries (I would prefer to use the word destruction instead) the abbey was luckily saved and turned into a cathedral with an amazing turn of events for the former monastery abbot, John Chambers, was now ordained bishop of the new cathedral.
There was also another fact that saved the building from regal vandalism: the king’s ex-wife Katharine of Aragon was buried here. We looked upon Katharine’s tomb where her devotees on the occasion of Katharine’s death adorn her monument with pomegranates. I was reminded of how another great lady Matilda of Canossa, responsible for the famous bridge of the Magdalen at Borgo a Mozzano, is similarly feted.
I was particularly struck by the beauty of Wastell’s fan vaulting in the ‘new building’ which wraps itself around the unusually (for English cathedrals) rounded apse. Wastell also executed this type of vaulting at my university college chapel of King’s and Windsor castle’s chapel.
Sadly the vandalism not only of Henry VIII but of Oliver Cromwell’s soldiers has removed most of the original stained glass, the interior sculptures, the old chantry chapels and the original choir stalls. However, what the Victorians did to replace them has managed to restore something of the mediaeval atmosphere. The cathedral still stands in all the power of its mediaeval architecture and remains a stronghold of faith and hope in this confused time.
After our tour, attended by a handful of other visitors, we went outside into the cathedral’s close and circumambulated its animated exterior which in the setting sun glowed with an evocative rosy tinge.
Unfortunately the other place we had planned to visit in Peterborough, the local museum, had already closed. We did not even have time to attend the cathedral’s Evensong but headed instead for the railway station, the cold of a bleak east England ever more impinging on us.
Sadly due to someone being knocked down by a train on our line we were subject to a very considerable delay on our return. We could have attended Evensong after all and heard that Purcell anthem the choir sang. Never mind. Since the delay was also two hours we were eligible for a refund.
My main mission had been achieved: to visit Peterborough’s monumental cathedral. As the assistant at the bank we visited en route said to us when we told her we’d come to Peterborough for a day trip. ‘Peterborough? Why would you have wanted to come here?’ ‘To see the cathedral’ I answered. ‘Ah yes’ she said and continued. ‘It is beautiful but once you’ve seen it I doubt that you will ever return to Peterborough again’. She may be right of course. But who is to say?.