WESTMINSTER ABBEY, ST. PAUL'S, AND THE CENOTAPH
There are two great cathedrals in London called Westminster Abbey and
St. Paul's. Westminster is much the older of the two, for, as you have
heard, St. Paul's was burnt down in the Great Fire and entirely rebuilt
then, so that it is not yet two hundred and fifty years old, but
Westminster is much more ancient. Long years ago, before the Saxons
invaded England, there was some sort of church at this place built by
monks. In those days there were not all the bridges there are now over
the river, but only one, London Bridge, and as there was a ford or
shallow place in the water near Westminster, many people who were
travelling and wanted to cross the river came down here, where they
could wade across without fear.
In very early times Westminster was an island called the Isle of
Thorney, from the brambles that grew over it. The island lay very low,
so that when the tide swept up the river it stood but little above the
water; and even after many years, when the ditch running round the
island was dried up, yet still the land was marshy. It was an odd place
to choose for the building of a church. Then, as you have read in
history, came the invasion of the Saxons, and the monks had to fly and
leave their church, for the Saxons were not Christians, and they came to
harry and ravage and burn; but after a long time, when the Saxons had
made themselves lords of London and settled down, the Saxon king himself
became a Christian, and so he rebuilt the church by the river. There is
an old legend told about Westminster which, whether you believe it or
not, is pretty. It is said that on the eve of the day when the new
church was to be consecrated and dedicated to St. Peter, one Edric, a
fisherman, who lived close by, was awakened in the night by a voice
calling him. He thought the voice came out of the darkness on the other
side of the river, and as he often had to bring people across in his
boat, he went to find the person who called. On landing he found a very
venerable-looking man, who carried some vessels that looked like holy
vessels used in church. Edric wondered, but said nothing, and rowed him
across, and when they reached the church the stranger entered, and all
at once the church was lit up by a radiant light, and a thousand lovely
voices were heard singing like angels. Then when they ceased the light
disappeared as suddenly as it had come, and the stranger turned and
said: 'I am St. Peter, and I have hallowed the church myself. I charge
thee to tell the bishop, and for a sign put forth upon the river and
cast in thy nets, and thou shalt receive a miraculous draught of
fishes.'
So the fisherman did as he was told, and he found that the fishes
enclosed in his net were so many that he could scarcely raise them from
the water.
The same fate befell the Saxon church that had befallen the British one,
for the Danes came down on England to plunder and to harry the Saxons,
as the Saxons had harried the Britons, and they destroyed the church.
After a hundred years the Danes, too, became Christians, and then the
church was built once more. King Edward the Confessor caused a great
part of this new church to be built, and since his time the magnificent
Abbey that now stands has grown up bit by bit around his church, being
added to and enriched by many kings.
Since the very earliest times it has been used as the burial-place of
kings and great men. It would be quite impossible to tell the names of
all those who lie here--poets, soldiers, artists, statesmen, and
authors--their graves are thick beneath the stones of the Abbey. It is
the greatest honour that the nation can offer any man to give him burial
in Westminster Abbey. In one corner there are many poets buried, and
this is called the Poets' Corner. Another is peculiarly dedicated to the
men who have ruled England as Prime Ministers or who have held office
under the King. Near to the east end are many kings and queens and
princes and princesses buried. But of all these there is one that stands
out by itself without any like it. This is the grave of the 'Unknown
Warrior,' a soldier who fell in the Great War, without any record of his
name or regiment. His body was brought here to be buried with all honour
so that he might represent the thousands who died for Britain.
The coronation chair is in the Abbey, the chair which encloses the stone
brought from Scone in Scotland. Do you know that story? When Edward I.
made raids into Scotland to try to conquer the country which then had a
king of its own, he brought away with him the sacred stone on which all
the Scottish kings had been crowned up to that time, and he had it
enclosed in a chair, and all the English kings since then have used it
as their coronation chair. But now England and Scotland are one, and it
was a Scottish and not an English king who first joined the two
kingdoms. James, who was James VI. of Scotland, was, on the death of
Queen Elizabeth, the heir to the throne of England through his mother,
and England had not had a King James before; and so he was James I. of
England and VI. of Scotland, and the two kingdoms were made one under
the name of Great Britain.
The last coronation was that of King George V., who was crowned on June
22, 1911. All the streets of London had been made brilliant with flowers
and lights until they were like those of a fairy town. Thousands and
thousands of pounds had been spent, and people had given large sums for
seats to see the procession going to the Abbey and coming away again.
Great stands were erected at every open space and outside many of the
houses on the route of the procession. Even standing room in a window
was eagerly sought for, and very many people who had left their
arrangements to the last minute could not find places at all.
When I learned history at school Queen Victoria was still on the
throne, and she had reigned so long a time that people had to be a great
age to remember history books which ended at the reign of her uncle
William IV. The two reigns before her were short ones and so was that of
her son, Edward VII., who came after her. He reigned only nine years and
died at the age of sixty-eight; by far the greater part of his long life
had been spent preparing, as Prince of Wales, for the throne he filled
so short a time. He was well over middle age before he became king.
King Edward's eldest son, Prince Albert Victor, had died before him
after he had grown to manhood. He had never been strong. So the only
remaining son became our King, George V. Long before this, after the
death of his brother, he had married a distant cousin, 'Princess May,'
now our beloved Queen Mary; and, before their grandfather's death in
1910, all the royal children at present living had been born. Prince
Edward was seventeen when he was made Prince of Wales in 1911.
So they all took part in the coronation of their parents. A very gallant
figure was the fair young Prince of Wales in his magnificent dress. But
he was not then known to the Empire as he is now when he has travelled
thousands of miles to visit his father's dominions in the uttermost
parts of the earth.
Coronations do not happen very frequently and for this one people came
from immense distances and from many foreign countries.
When did the people begin gathering up in the streets to see the King on
his way to be crowned? No one can certainly tell, but it was before the
daylight dawned on June 22, 1911. In the darkness of the night the
police marched to their positions in hundreds, and the soldiers who were
to line the route that the King and Queen would traverse made their
appearance. But even before the soldiers and the policemen took up their
stations came shadowy forms, who crept up to good places in the glimmer
of the street-lamps as they blew in the night wind. These were people
who were so anxious to see the procession that they would gladly wait
all night in the streets, so as to get a good view on the day itself.
They gathered and gathered, and when the first rays of morning dawned
every inch of pavement which commanded a front view was full already,
and those who came after six o'clock could hardly find standing room.
Unfortunately, the day was not brilliantly fine as the first one had
been, but dull and cloudy. Hours went by before carriages containing
the princes and princesses began to pass toward the great Abbey where
the ceremony was to be, and though the people cheered a little at the
sight of them they were not very enthusiastic, for they were waiting
breathlessly to see the King and Queen, and princes and princesses did
not seem very important on this great day.
Just before eleven o'clock the splendid state coach drawn by eight
cream-coloured horses came round from the stables to the front of
Buckingham Palace, and then the people waiting near grew more intensely
excited. The coach was just such as you might expect. It was all gold
and glass, and swung upon high springs so lightly that as it stopped the
body of the coach swayed about, and had to be steadied by the footmen.
The cream-coloured horses wore harness of crimson and gold, and they
tossed their heads and pawed the ground, as if they knew quite well what
was expected of them and how important they were. Then the King and
Queen took their seats, and as they were seen there was a great outburst
of shouting, taken up and echoed again and again; it was a royal salute,
and the volley of cheering rolled along the crowd from one to another,
on and on, announcing to those who waited farther off that King George
was really on his way to be crowned King of the greatest kingdom in the
world. The King and Queen were in royal robes, and they both bowed and
smiled, and the Queen's fair hair shone out like gold. As Princess she
had been popular but as Queen and a model mother to her children, the
darlings of the nation, she was to win a special position in the hearts
of the people. The Royal couple did not wear their crowns on the way to
the Abbey, but they would return in them after the ceremony.
As it went along under the trees in the park, the royal procession
passed close by some large stands built near St. James's Palace, these
were filled with children from the Foundling Hospital, the homes for
soldiers' sons and daughters and sailors' sons and daughters, of which
you have read in another chapter.
One of the most pathetic figures at the coronation was that of the
widowed Queen-Mother, Alexandra, who had come as a beautiful young girl
nearly forty years before from over the sea to marry King Edward.
[Illustration: THE CORONATION CHAIR, WESTMINSTER ABBEY.]
The royal coach was followed by an escort of soldiers, and all the way
to the Abbey that loud roar of cheering was kept up. It must have
been very delightful for the King and Queen to think how warmly all
their people loved them, and how glad they were to see them crowned.
Meantime, at the Abbey itself everything had been got ready for the
ceremony. It is the custom at a coronation that all the peers and
peeresses should be present, and that they should all dress alike in
rich robes of crimson velvet and white ermine, and each peer and peeress
has a little coronet which he or she does not put on at first, but keeps
on a cushion until the King puts on his crown. Then all the little
coronets are put on at the same instant. Now, the arrangements for the
coronation were very difficult to make, for all the peers and peeresses
had to have seats in the Abbey given to them, and there were so many
that it was difficult for them all to get in. Quite early that morning,
at seven o'clock, the Abbey doors had been opened, and the dukes,
marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons, with their wives, had rolled
up in their carriages, and alighted and gone inside there to wait. I
expect a good many of them had never been up so early in their lives,
and had never waited patiently for so long before. Some of them did not
come in carriages, but as it was fine walked across from their houses,
which were only a short way off, and what a sight they made! Nowadays to
see a man dressed in crimson velvet and white ermine, with white silk
stockings, and with a page carrying a coronet on a cushion by his side,
and another page holding up his long train, is not very usual. The
people watching must have enjoyed all this unusual grandeur, and felt as
if they were living in a page of English history.
Then the royal carriages, with the scarlet-clad coachmen and footmen,
began to sweep up, and the great festival had begun. The guns boomed
out, telling that the King and Queen had left Buckingham Palace, and not
very long after they arrived at the hall which had been built at one end
of the Abbey, and there the Duke of Norfolk, bareheaded, waited to
receive their Majesties. The Queen, being nearest to him, stepped out
first, and she was clothed in cloth-of-gold, which shone and glittered
even on that dull day. The King followed her, looking up with pleased
surprise at the beautiful reception-hall that was prepared for him, and
they entered the Abbey hall to make ready for the procession in the
Abbey itself.
Already we have spoken so much of the grandeur of the spectacle that it
is difficult to say more; perhaps no one who did not see it can ever
realize quite what it was like. The peers and peeresses took their
places in the Abbey, and then the procession which was to walk up the
aisle was formed. First came princes and princesses, with distinguished
persons bearing their trains; then guests, invited by the King, and many
high officials and nobles, with coronets carried after them by pages;
and then the clergy, who were the King's own chaplains. After that came
the Queen, with all her attendants and ladies and many more nobles, and
the jewels of the coronation called the Regalia; and then the King, with
bishops before and on either side. He was attended by eight royal pages,
boys of about twelve to fourteen years, who were dressed alike in
scarlet coats, with bunches of white ribbon on their shoulders. Most of
these boys were peers in their own right, their fathers having died, and
the titles having descended to them. They were followed by more nobles
and more of the Court officials, and so the grand procession swept up
the Abbey aisle to the east end to begin the service.
The boys of Westminster School, which adjoins the Abbey, have the
privilege of shouting out 'Vivat Rex!' at the coronation of their
Sovereign--this means 'Let the King live'--and right heartily did the
hundreds of young voices greet their King and Queen in this quaint way,
shouting, 'Vivat, Vivat, Vivat Rex Georgius!' as the King was seen
advancing up the aisle. The organ rang out, trumpets sounded, and a
glorious mass of sound ascended to the roof and died away in echoes in
the gray arches that have seen so many kings crowned and buried.
We have heard that the first English Edward, the Confessor, began to
build the present Abbey, and that the last Edward, seventh of that name,
was crowned King in that place. It was an Edward, too, called the First
of England, who had brought here the coronation stone. On the chair
which enclosed this stone sat the King. Among other notable people
present that day were the Duke of Connaught, the late King's only living
brother, and the Princess Royal, King George's eldest sister, with her
two daughters. Also his other sisters the Queen of Denmark and Princess
Victoria.
Among the reigning monarchs of other countries, who were guests, was the
ex-Kaiser, of Germany, now living in exile. His mother was King Edward's
sister. It is fortunate for her that she died before she saw all the
misery and slaughter caused by her son in the Great War. There were
perhaps some present even then who knew the Kaiser's evil dreams of
world-power, and his wicked ambition, and feared what it might cause.
After prayer the King turned to face the representatives of his people,
and the Archbishop presented him, and everyone shouted together, 'God
save King George!' There were many more prayers and beautiful singing by
the rich voices of well-trained choir-boys; and then came the anointing,
during which the Archbishop touched the King with oil in the form of a
cross on head, breast, and hands. After many other ceremonies, in the
course of which the King received the sceptre and the orb, made of gold
and mounted with precious stones, symbols of his authority, the crown
was brought forward, the magnificent crown, covered with rubies,
sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds, and the Archbishop held it above the
King's head, and a great hush fell on all that vast congregation. Slowly
it was lowered, it touched the King's forehead, and the trumpets
sounded, and all the nobles raised their coronets, and, putting them on
their heads, shouted: 'God save the King!'
Then, after many prayers, and the blessing, the nobles headed by the
Archbishop, came to do homage to the newly-crowned King. The Archbishop
knelt down and vowed to be faithful, and, rising, kissed the King's
cheek, and then slowly made way for the Prince of Wales, who in his turn
knelt and promised fidelity to his father, and kissed him on the cheek.
Then all the nobles did the same in order of their importance and rank.
There are very precise rules about all this. Those who bear title of the
same rank take precedence of one another according to the ancientness of
the title they bear. But the whole question of title is a puzzling one
and we cannot go into it here.
After this came the crowning of the Queen. A great pall of gold was
supported at four corners by four duchesses, who held it up while the
Queen knelt before the King to swear to be true to him always. She was
then anointed and crowned, and as her crown was put on her head by the
Archbishop the coronets of all the peeresses flashed on to their
wearers' heads at the same moment, as the peers' coronets had done at
the moment the King was crowned.
The service was ended by the Holy Communion, and the King and Queen,
wearing their crowns and looking like a fairy king and queen, went back
in their royal coach to their palace, and the show, so far as
Westminster Abbey was concerned, was ended. Westminster Abbey will
always be associated with this great and splendid ceremony, which has
been described so minutely, and whenever you visit the Abbey you will
think of King George's coronation.
Before leaving the Abbey there are some things you must certainly see.
The first is the tomb of the 'Unknown Soldier.' This was a wonderful
idea thought of after the Great War. So many thousands of men in the
army gave their lives for their country, unknown and uncommemorated,
that the body of one, unidentified, was chosen as a symbol for the rest,
and buried with all the ceremony given to the most honoured dead of the
nation. There the humble warrior lies, surrounded by the dust of kings
and statesmen, authors, poets, and sages. Other countries imitated this
idea, and now each nation of the Great War has its 'Unknown Soldier's'
grave. In the Abbey, besides the many splendid statues, there is a set
of curious wax figures, only eleven in number, representing Queen
Elizabeth, King Charles II., King William and Queen Mary, Queen Anne,
Admiral Nelson, and five other persons of less importance.
So much for Westminster Abbey, the crowning-place of kings and the
burial-place of kings and great men.
St. Paul's Cathedral cannot claim the coronation of the kings, but it is
a splendid building, with its great dome overlooking London far and
wide. We can climb up through the belfry to the gallery which encircles
the dome, and, looking down upon the street below, see the people
crawling about like ants. Around us the pigeons flash their wings in the
sun, and beyond the houses we can catch a glimpse of the gray river
flowing down to the sea. Inside St. Paul's there is a great gallery
running all around the dome, and if you stand at one side of this and
whisper gently, the whisper runs round the walls, and reaches the person
standing on the opposite side many yards away, across a great space.
This is very curious, and because of it the gallery is called the
Whispering Gallery.
[Illustration: ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL.]
Though St. Paul's cannot claim the coronations, it has always been the
place to which our Sovereigns go for their services of thanksgiving.
After great victories in old time, after deliverance from deadly
illness, after unexpected blessings, the King or Queen of England has
journeyed to St. Paul's to hold a thanksgiving service. The greatest of
all these services were those at the Jubilee and Diamond Jubilee of
Queen Victoria. Of course, you all know that good Queen Victoria, the
mother of King Edward, reigned longer than any English Sovereign had
done before her. The three who came nearest to her in this respect were
George III., who reigned sixty years; Henry III., who reigned fifty-six
years; and Edward III., who reigned fifty years. It was an odd
coincidence that each should be the third of his name. Queen Victoria's
reign was marked not only by its length, but by its happiness and
prosperity. When she had been on the throne fifty years, she celebrated
what is called a Jubilee, and then many foreign princes and sovereigns
came over to England and joined in a procession, and went with her to
give thanks in St. Paul's Cathedral. Ten years later, when she had
completed her sixtieth year on the throne, it was felt that she ought to
have another Jubilee, called a Diamond Jubilee, for having equalled the
period of the longest reign in English history, and the Diamond Jubilee
was hardly less splendid than the first one. After this Queen Victoria
lived to the beginning of 1901, thus having reigned very nearly
sixty-three years and a half. It is very rare for any sovereign to do
this. To begin with, the sovereign must be quite young when he ascends
the throne, and that is not always the case, and then he must live to a
great age. Queen Victoria was only eighteen when she became Queen, and
she was eighty-one when she died. At the two Jubilees the carriages of
the Queen, with all the gorgeous attendants and outriders, formed a
group outside the great west door of St. Paul's, and waited while the
service was held; and all the stands and seats were thronged with
people, and everyone cheered the Queen, who will in future times be
known as Victoria the Good. The whole of the route to St. Paul's was
magnificently decorated, and every window and balcony, and even the
roofs, were crowded with spectators.
Some very famous men are buried in St. Paul's, though not so many as
there are in Westminster Abbey. Those who are here are chiefly military
men, and the greatest soldier England has ever had is included among
them, namely, the Duke of Wellington.
If you have read history you will all know how the Duke of Wellington
conquered Napoleon, who had so terrified the countries of Europe that
none dare face him; and if England had not sent her soldiers under the
great Duke to fight Napoleon, the whole course of European history would
now be different. Napoleon had gone on from one success to another,
until he began to think he was not to be conquered at all; but he met
his fate at the Battle of Waterloo, and his career was ended. The King
of England at that time was George III., who was very old and insane,
and his son George was Prince Regent; and after the great victories of
Wellington there was a procession formed to go to St. Paul's, and
Wellington carried the sword of state before the Prince Regent to the
cathedral.
Our greatest sailor as well as our greatest soldier lies in St. Paul's,
and we can see here his tomb. We have already seen his wax effigy in
Westminster. The name of Nelson is familiar to every child, and his
sea-fights are perhaps more exciting to read about than the land
victories of Wellington. Nelson died nearly fifty years before
Wellington, and his coffin was made of the wood of the ship _Orient_.
Earl Haig, whose name became a household word to every British child
during the Great War, had expressed a wish to be buried in the ruins of
Dryburgh Abbey, near his own home, before he died, so his body is not
found here, though as one of England's great generals it might well be
here.
The great architect who built the Cathedral, Sir Christopher Wren, is
buried here, too, and in the inscription on his tombstone there are
words in Latin, which mean, 'If thou desirest to see my monument, look
around thee,' meaning that the splendid Cathedral is his best memorial.
There is one monument in London which attracts, and will always attract,
not only the attention of visitors, but the homage of the ordinary
everyday man going about his business in the London streets. This is a
curiously shaped great block of stone in the midst of Whitehall, about
which the traffic divides and passes on either side. It rears itself up
like a great cliff, and its base is never without wreaths and flowers
swathing it. This is the Cenotaph, the national memorial to the British
soldiers who gave their lives in the Great War, 1914-1918. It is simple
in form, but very solemn in outline, and you could not help knowing that
it meant something to do with the dead. On Armistice Day, each November
11--for you know that the Great War ended at the eleventh hour of the
eleventh day of the eleventh month--there is a solemn service here, and
during the two minutes' silence, after the strokes of Big Ben have begun
to sound, thousands of people stand bareheaded and absolutely immovable
around it.