One of the grandest sights ever witnessed in the Abbey was when Aldred, Archbishop of York, crowned William the Conqueror, King of England. The mail clad bodies of Norman soldiery lined every part of old London to keep down the Saxons, while William, superbly mounted, and followed by a train of two hundred and sixty barons, lords and knights, entered the Abbey. When the multitude reached the high altar, Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances, asked the Normans if they were willing to have the Duke crowned King of England, and the nobles, knights, and priests, among whom the English lordships and abbeys were already parceled out, cried aloud with one voice that they were. The Norman horsemen without the walls of the abbey hearing the shout, fancied that the Saxons within had attacked their countrymen, and immediately they set fire to the houses around the abbey, and in a few minutes the abbey was deserted of friend and foe alike with the exception of William and a few priests who stood firm, although the Duke trembled violently as the crown was placed upon his head. He declared that he would treat the English people as well as the best of their kings had done, vowing by the Splendor of God, his usual oath.
The coronation of Richard I, the Lion Heart as he was called, was attended with great pomp.
On the third of September, 1189, the Archbishops of Canterbury, Rouen, Treves in Germany, and Dublin, arrayed in silken copes, and preceded by a body of clergy bearing the cross, holy water, censers and tapers, met Richard at the door of his privy chamber in Westminster Palace, and proceeded with him to the Abbey. In the midst of a numerous body of bishops and ecclesiastics, marched four barons, each with a golden candlestick and taper, then in succession—Geoffrey de Lacey with the royal cap, John the Marshal with the royal spurs of gold, and William, Earl of Striguil and Pembroke, with the golden Rod and Dove. Then came David, brother to the King of Scotland, and present as Earl of Huntington, and Robert, Earl of Leicester, supporting John the King's brother, the three bearing upright swords in richly gilded scabbards.
Following them came six barons bearing a chequered table, upon which were the King's robes and regalia, and now was seen approaching the central object of this gorgeous picture—Richard himself, under a gorgeous canopy stretched by six lances, borne by as many nobles, having immediately before him the Earl of Albemarle with the crown, and a bishop on each side. The ground on which he walked was spread with rich cloths of Tyrian dye.
THE MASSACRE.
At the foot of the altar, Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, administered the oath, by which Richard undertook to bear peace, honor, and reverence to God and Holy Church, to exercise right, justice, and law, and to abrogate all wicked laws and customs. He then put off all his garments from the middle upwards, like a modern prize fighter, except his shirt, which was open at the shoulders, and he was annointed on the head, breast, and arms, with oil, signifying glory, fortitude, and wisdom. He then covered his head with a fine linen cloth and set the cap thereon, placed the surcoat of velvet and dalmatica over his shoulders, and took the sword of the Kingdom from the Archbishop to subdue the enemies of the Catholic Church, and then put on the golden sandals and the royal mantle, which last was splendidly embroidered, and was led to the altar, where the Archbishop charged him on God's behalf, not to presume to take this dignity upon him unless he were resolved to keep inviolably the vows he had made; to which the king replied:
"By God, His grace, I will faithfully keep them all: Amen." The crown was then handed to the Archbishop, by Richard himself, in token that he held it only from God, when the Archbishop placed it on the King's head; he also gave the sceptre into his right hand, and the royal rod into his left.
At the close of this part of the ceremony Richard was led back to the throne, and High Mass being performed with grand pomp, Richard offered as was usual, a mark of pure gold to the altar.
While the coronation was going on inside massacre and arson reigned outside of the Abbey. Before the ceremony, Richard, by proclamation had forbidden all Jews to be present at Westminster, either within or without the Abbey, but some members of that persecuted race had rashly ventured within the walls, and a hue and cry being set up at what was deemed a sacrilege, the populace ejected a prominent Israelite and beat him with sticks and stones. In a few minutes a report spread that the King had ordered the destruction of the Jews, and the furious mob spread all over the city, burning the houses and destroying the lives of the miserable Jews. Men, women, and children of tender age were burned alive in their domiciles, where resistance was made to the mob, and the cries of the murdered children blended discordantly with the sounds of the shaums, and jongleurs, and the shouts of the rabble, who were celebrating the coronation. The riot became so formidable that at last Richard, who was at dinner in Westminster Hall, ordered the Chief Justiciary of the Kingdom, Ranulf de Glanville, to go and quell it, but this was more easy to order than to perform, and the King's officers were driven back to the Hall.
Through all that night and day the pillage, arson, and massacre continued, and the next day the King hanged three of the rabble as an atonement.