From 10:30 am The Choir of Westminster Abbey and the Choir of Her Majesty's Chapel Royal, St James's Palace, proceed to their places in Quire. From the Royal Wedding program.
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Did you climb out of bed before daybreak to view the Royal Wedding telecast? What attracted you: the royals, their fashions, the high Anglican service? Being inside that wondrous Abbey in real time, even if virtually, motivated me to start my day on London time.
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| Big Ben |
A lifetime ago on my first trip to Europe, I queued up one August weekday morning at the Westminster Abbey. According to my copy of Arthur Frommer's "Europe on $5 Dollars a Day", visitors were welcomed during the Matins service (now called Morning Prayer) when the choir sang. After figuring out the London Underground maze and crossing busy streets with traffic going the "wrong way", I'd arrived at the Abbey's West Gate entrance doors in the heart of London near Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament.
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Why are so few people waiting to go in, I wonder. Today's Tuesday; maybe most people are working. But where are all the tourists? I expected crowds of folks. I hear sounds of locks or chains clanking - must be almost time. The massive doors swing open. An attendant pushes them back against the building. Searching my purse for my head scarf - Arthur Frommer says women have to cover up in churches, I quickly drape it around my head. Strange: men remove hats and women hide their hair. I've seen the oddest items on women's heads like lacy handkerchiefs or found pieces of newsprint.
"This way, ma'am," the man says. And, then, I'm inside Westminster Abbey. Westminster Abbey, The Westminster Abbey!
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The excitement of arriving at that site of so much Anglo-Saxon history - where, ever since the founding of the Abbey in 960 CE (AD), the British Empire had held its state occasions! Like emerging out of a page of my school history books, I crossed the floor tiles of that Gothic structure where seventeen monarchs were buried! How did a small town girl from western New York state get there?
Back in 1953, I'd raced home from school to see the first-ever televised recordings of a coronation. Apparently the young Queen-to-be had persuaded authorities to allow cameras inside the Abbey, so non-royals could view images of the great event. I'd seated myself in front of the 13-inch Heathkit TV my father had built into the living room wall.
Peering through the snowy black and white images, I almost felt the burden of that enormous crown when it was solemnly positioned on Queen Elizabeth's head. (Advance the video time to about 7:35 for the crowning ceremony.) She must have practiced walking with books on her head for weeks. What modern technology: I could view a Queen crowned on the very same day it happened!
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Now I follow the usher through the Abbey's nave. Dressed in a formal suit with tails, he sashays up the endless aisle. I swivel my neck and chin to take in the high arched ceilings. We continue to move forward. I'm surprised; I imagined I'd be sitting way out in "left field" like at a baseball game. We're approaching the area with all the little lamps for illuminating choristers' sheet music. Where are we heading? Then, the "tails" stop and their wearer turns toward me.
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| The Quire |
"Ma'am," he says as his arm directs me. "Please sit here. We only have a few visitors today."
He bends slightly as if I am semi-royalty. I try to slide seamlessly into the pew, to look like it's nothing at all to be placed in the Quire in Westminster Abbey.
I sit in awe of my surroundings. How beautiful this sanctuary is! I finger the smooth wooden pew. If the seats could talk! I find the Matins service in the hymnbook.
The men and boys of the choir are filing in - and here I sit, right across the aisle from them. Organ music creeps into my consciousness. The choristers rise for the opening hymn. The glorious organ sounds, seeming to swirl around me, lift me up. The hymn commences. My organist's heart strings vibrate as if in concert with souls, present as well as departed. I don't want it to end.
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As the cameras panned the seated guests in the Abbey last Friday morning, I watched keenly as those lucky folks seated in the Quire came into view. Obviously, they were royalty or, perhaps friends of, related to, or, at least, influential enough to get wiggle space there. I smiled as I noticed their smug, uplifted countenances. I understood how important they felt.
Life is, indeed, grand when you have a seat in the Quire.
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Ring some bells, just for the joy of it!
Donna
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