THE STORY OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY

Turn to the picture facing . If you have ever been in London, I think you will know that this is a picture of part of Westminster Abbey. Even if you have never seen the Abbey, perhaps you know that it is a very old and beautiful church near the River Thames in London. Imagine that you are standing near it now, and that you can see its old grey walls, and the grass and railings which separate it from the busy street with its motors and omnibuses, its carriages and carts. Now, with the roar of the streets in our ears, with the tall London buildings all around us, and busy people constantly hurrying past us, let us try to fancy what this spot was like in the very early times when we first hear of it.

Then the Thames was clear and fresh and full of fish, and many a red deer and other wild animal wandered along its banks and drank of its waters. About a mile and a half above London, where the river was wide and shallow, one of those little brooks of which I have told you ran into it; and here, where the waters of the brook and of the river met, was a bank of sandy gravel, which at high tide was an island, so it was called Thorney or Thorn Ey the Island of Thorns for it was all overgrown with thorn-bushes. Very lonely, very quiet, Thorney must have been.

Who first lived there, what kind of a dwelling-place they had, we do not really know. In later days the monks, whose home it then was, said that once the temple of a Roman god had stood there, and that when the Britons became Christians a good King built in its place a Christian church called the Abbey of St. Peter. Do you remember that, after the Romans left Britain, the English, who were still heathen, came over the North Sea and conquered the Britons and settled on their lands? The monks said that in those days of war and trouble the little Abbey of St. Peter was destroyed. Early in the seventh century, when the English also had learnt the Christian Faith, Sebert, King of the East Saxons, rebuilt the little abbey, and when he died he was buried there. So said the monks, and to this very day there is a grave in Westminster Abbey which is said to be Sebert’s.

There is a strange story told about this ancient church. It was just finished, and the first Bishop of London, Mellitus, was to come on a certain Monday to consecrate it that is, to set it apart for the service of God. The evening before a man called Edric was fishing in the river. Suddenly, on the southern bank, he saw a bright light; he pulled his little boat towards it, and saw standing by the water a strange-looking stately man, who pointed towards Thorney and said, “Ferry me, I pray thee, across to yonder place”; and Edric did so. As the stranger landed and went to the new church the air was filled with heavenly light, the church was “without darkness or shadow,” and through the light angels came flying from the skies, and with their help the stranger held the solemn service of consecration. All this Edric heard and saw. Do you wonder that he forgot all about his fishing?

When the service was ended and, I suppose, the heavenly light had faded away and darkness again covered the place, the stranger came to Edric and asked for food. “Alas!” he answered, “I have none. I have not caught a single fish.”

Then said the stranger, “I am Peter, Keeper of the Keys of Heaven. When the Bishop comes to-morrow, tell him that I, St. Peter, have consecrated my own church of St. Peter. Go thou out into the river; thou wilt catch many a fish, whereof the most part will be salmon. This I grant thee if thou wilt promise two things; first, that never again wilt thou fish on Sunday; and, secondly, that thou wilt give one-tenth of thy fish to the Abbey of St. Peter.”

Next day King Sebert and the Bishop of London came to Thorney. There, by the new church, with a salmon in his hand, Edric, the fisherman, was waiting to tell his story. Did they believe it? How could they help believing? for he showed them the marks of twelve crosses on the church, and the traces of the sacred oil and of the candles which the angels had held! There was nothing left for the Bishop to do but to declare that the church had been well and truly consecrated.

These are the wonderful stories the monks used to tell of their abbey. I suppose they loved it so much that they wanted people to think it as old and as wonderful as it could possibly be.

But now we have come to real history which we know to be true. In 1042 Edward, called the Confessor, became King of England. Englishmen long remembered him and what he looked like; his hair and beard were milky white, and his cheeks were red; he loved hunting and long services in church; and his people believed that the touch of his hand would heal the sick, and that God spoke to him in dreams and visions.

His father had been driven out of England by the Danes, and Edward had grown up in Normandy; so it came about that he loved the Normans, who were more courteous than the rude rough English. Yet I think he loved England too, for we are told that he made a vow to St. Peter that if ever he returned there in safety he would make a pilgrimage to the saint’s grave in Rome.

He did not keep this vow; his people would not let him, for they said, “The journey to Rome is long and dangerous, and our King is very precious to us. We cannot let him go.” But a man, even if he is a King, may not break a solemn vow, so Edward asked the Pope what he must do, and the Pope answered, “Stay at home and rule thy people; yet, as thou hast vowed to make a pilgrimage to Rome, do some other costly thing instead. Build a new church, or rebuild an old one in honour of St. Peter.” And King Edward determined to rebuild the little church at Thorney, or Westminster as we must now call it; for the thorns had long since been cleared away, the sandy bank was no longer an island even at high-water, and pleasant meadows lay on either side of the river.

For fifteen years the work went on; Edward was so interested in it, so loved it, that he watched over and cared for every part of it. Now at last, at Christmas-time of the year 1065, the east end was finished. How eagerly the King looked forward to its consecration! It was indeed consecrated three days after Christmas, on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, but the King was not there; he was very ill, and within a few days he died. The first great service held in the new Abbey was his funeral; he was buried before the high Altar. After this there was no peace or happiness in England for many a day. Edward left no son, so the greatest of the English Earls, Earl Harold, was made King. But William, Duke of Normandy, declared that Edward had promised him the crown; and he came across the sea, and fought and killed Harold on the Sussex Hills at the Battle of Hastings. Thus the Norman Duke became William I., King of England, and he was crowned in Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day, 1066. Inside the church with him were the Norman nobles; outside crowded the poor English.

When he was proclaimed King at the Altar, the English shouted, as was their custom, “God save the King!” The Normans within the Abbey heard and wondered. What could the shouts mean? Were the English rising against them? Full of fear and anger they rushed out to find everything in confusion, the houses ablaze, and their men, who had been left outside on guard, killing the poor English. In the Abbey William and the Bishops and monks were left almost alone; and thus, in the gloom and darkness of the winter’s day, with the sound of tumult and fighting ringing in their ears, the Conqueror was crowned. This was the first coronation in the Abbey; facing is a picture of it.

Two hundred years later King Henry III. pulled down Edward the Confessor’s Abbey, and built in its place the Abbey we still have. In it the Confessor’s tomb is behind the altar; for Henry had his body reverently moved from its first grave to a chapel which he had especially prepared for it. When you go to the Abbey you will see that this chapel is higher than any of the others; some people say the reason is that, to do more honour to the Confessor, King Henry sent ships to bring earth from the Holy Land, and this sacred earth was piled up into a mound behind the high Altar, and on it the Confessor’s chapel was built. This is the part of the Abbey shown in picture 3; turn back and look at it again. Do you see that the old tomb is covered with purple velvet? Are not the pillars and arches about it beautiful?

I have told you only the beginning of the Abbey’s history. Not only are all our Kings crowned there but many of them lie buried there too; so also do some of the best and wisest men who have served our country, some of our bravest sailors, and of our greatest poets. Thus it comes about that the history of the Abbey is as long as the history of our country indeed, it is the history of our country.