As the county is predominantly rural, there were no Corpus Christi processions taking place actually on Corpus Christi Day (although there is one in a town in the north of the county this coming Sunday).
However, there were several processions taking place in London.
The Corpus Christi observance was developed by the Dominican Friars in the thirteenth century following visions by an Augustinian holy woman. At the same time the appearance of a bleeding host gained widespread cult following and was proclaimed as a miracle, leading to official sanction by the Papacy (Thomas Aquinas wrote an official liturgy for the day). Both Friars and Augustinians were based in towns and cities (unlike monks and nuns who were based in secluded monasteries and convents) which is probably why the Corpus Christi celebrations acquired an urban characteristic.
Above: taking a late lunch, I went down to Cannon Street and into Dowgate Hill (which runs up the side of the station) where the Skinners livery company has been located on the same site since the fourteenth century. The Skinners guild was originally dedicated to Corpus Christi, and on this day each year they elect their new master. The road outside Skinners Hall was cordoned-off by security and two police on horses waited to escort the Skinners Company’s Corpus Christi procession (watched by construction workers).
Above: being a semi-religious fraternity, the Skinners first met in City churches, but soon became wealthy enough to build a permanent Hall on Dowgate Hill. As well as rooms for feasting and ceremonial, the design of the Hall included a courtyard for the marshalling of the annual procession (an example of function shaping architecture which then continues to shape function). Here you can see, slightly late, the procession starting to emerge.
Above: there is very little publicity about this annual ceremony, which has quietly taken place year after year. The first recorded procession took place in 1327. In the later middle ages, when intercessory religion was in vogue and the guilds were at the height of their importance, the procession included hundreds of clergy and civic dignitaries (many carrying ornate wax torches).
Above: the master and wardens, wearing fur-trimmed robes and carrying posies (anyone who has read Huizinga will realise how quietly exciting this sight is). The guild elects its new master each year by a ritual trying-on of a cap (the origin of the saying “if the cap fits, wear it”). The health of the new master is then drunk from special silver Cockayne cups, made in 1599 in the shape of cockerels.
Above: during Corpus Christi processions the Host is carried in elaborate monstrances. The Victoria & Albert Museum has dozens of medieval and renaissance monstrances on display - they used to be in line after line of dreary glass cases, but now they have been rearranged more artistically (but less amenable to scholastic study). I’m really pleased with the way in which this photograph turned out, as I took the picture through glass using a flash (the shadow effect was unexpected).
Above: after work I decided to attend one of the Anglican Corpus Christi services. I really wanted to go to the service in Kentish Town, but it didn’t start until 7.30 and would have meant not getting home until eleven o’clock (I am a long-distance commuter). So I went to All Saints in Margaret Street, just round the corner from the BBC.
I got to the church only a couple of minutes before the 6.30 service began. I had not been to the church before, which is one of Butterfield’s finest, praised by Ruskin. Inside it was packed, the congregation of several hundred encased in a big town church of porphyry columns, pictures formed from encaustic tiles, and polychromatic bricks.
It was unmistakably “high”. Not just “high” in the tracterian sense, but the sumptuous chancel was physically high, like a stage (three tiers of candles on the high altar). The mixture of High Church furnishings, fading evening light and office workers interspersed with elderly ladies made me feel I had entered the world of Barbara Pym.
Because of the importance of this service clergy had been brought in from neighbouring parishes. The clerical entrance procession was one of the largest I have seen, the senior clergy wearing vestments. From my seat on the right edge of the nave I could see additional clergy in a sort of back area by the organ (metal ladder leaning incongruously against the wall), sitting in a line like the substitutes’ bench at a football match.
Clerical intonations, choking amounts of incense, Tallis anthems sung in Latin. The vicar, with Tyneside accent, gave a sermon on the three bodies of Christ - physical, Eucharistic and The Church. We sang the Creed.
As so many people were in the church the Communion took nearly half an hour. The church is famous for its choir, and throughout the Communion they half turned towards the nave and sang the Agnes Dei. As I walked up the chancel steps towards the altar I felt I was passing through a wall of sound created by this choir.
Above: after Communion the clergy, choir and congregation lined up in Margaret Street for the Corpus Christi procession. Several banners were carried, including this one which shows the Host and Chalice (“a wafer dipped in a wine drop is the Presence the angels hail”). Behind the banner you can see a brass band from one of the local Church of England schools.
Above: among the choristers were young girls wearing flower garlands. In the medieval period houses along the Corpus Christi route would be hung with tapestries. The road would be strewn with rushes, and temporary wayside shrines would be set up, decorated with roses and sweet woodruff.
Above: preceded by censors (you can see the clouds of incense) the Host was carried in a monstrance under a canopy. You can see the monstrance just above the shoulder of the nearest attendant (if you click on the photo you can enlarge it). Although it was past eight, the sky was still light.
Above: the congregation followed on behind, singing processional hymns, the entire procession about three hundred yards in total (274 metres). The procession turned right into Wells Street then right again to go along Oxford Street. In the medieval period the population would kneel as the Host passed, but now the people stared with uncomprehending eyes and took photos with their mobile phones.
More about the Skinners: http://www.skinnershall.co.uk/
More on All Saints Margaret Street: http://www.allsaintsmargaretstreet.org.uk/
Corpus Christi carol: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corpus_Christi_Carol
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