The Story of Westminster Abbey

by Violet Brooke-Hunt

THE CORONATION CHAIR.

It being in the chapel of the Confessor that she who was dearer than all else was laid, he brought here, as if to lay it at her feet, his greatest trophy wrested from the Scots, the famous stone of Scone, on which so many kings of Scotland had been crowned. This was put at his command into a chair by a certain Walter of Durham, who was paid one hundred shillings for his work, with an extra sum of about £2, 12s. for carving, painting, and gilding two small leopards, for the wages of carpenters and painters, and for colours and gold employed.

When you look at this chair, remember that on it every sovereign of England has been crowned from the reign of Edward II.

Another trophy had been offered to the shrine of the Confessor a few years before, and that was the golden crown of the conquered Welsh Prince Llewellyn. The offering had been solemnly made by Edward's own little son, Alphonso, a boy of twelve, who, dressed from head to foot in chain-armour, and wearing a long cloak, followed by nobles and knights, had laid it down at the feet of the blessed King Edward, the jewels thereof being applied to adorn the tomb. In the same year the little prince died, and was buried in this chapel of the kings.

More than one great disturbance agitated the Abbey during the later years of Edward's reign. First a fire, which began in the Palace, spread rapidly and caused much damage to parts of the building; then there were several quarrels with some of the Begging Friars, a new Order which was highly disapproved of by the regular monks, for those begging orders got a great reputation among the people, and likewise were in high favour with the Court of Rome. But worst of all, a terrible scandal arose, which ended in forty of the Westminster monks being thrown into prison.

King Edward, when he went to Scotland, left all his jewels and treasures, with a sum of money, amounting all told to the value of £100,000, in the care of the Abbot, who carefully put away most of this charge in the strongly made Chapel of the Pyx, and the rest in the Refectory. In the April of 1303 a great quantity of treasure was stolen, and the king, very wroth, ordered a strict investigation to be made, which ended in the discovery that a certain small merchant or pedlar, named Roger Podlicote, had got into the Abbey during the night on several occasions, and had carried away his booty in bags. That he could have got in unaided was impossible; he must have had accomplices within the Abbey. Besides, the Sacrist was found with a gold cup, which he said he had picked up outside St. Margaret's Church. William the Palmer, keeper of the Palace, declared he had noticed the Sacrist, the sub-Prior, and many of the monks, coming and going unusually often, carrying bags and hampers; while John Abbas, a workman, told how Alexander the monk had caused him to make tools of a special design, threatening to kill him if he spoke aught of this.

PYX CHAPEL.

Podlicote, a most adventurous spirit, made a full confession, in which he generously took all the blame upon himself, saying he knew the ways of the Abbey and where the treasury was; and being poor, he had thought how easily he could obtain the goods which were in the Refectory, which he had seen. But considering that this wholesale robbery went on for many months, it is impossible to believe that Master Podlicote's nightly visits to the Abbey through a window in the Chapter-House were quite unknown to the monks, and no one had much pity for them when they were committed to the Tower for two years. Still it was a great disgrace to fall on a monastery which held its head so high; besides, to quote Widmore, "it was a peculiar baseness to wrong a prince who had been so kind to their house, had readily renewed their charters, had improved some of them, and had been very bountiful in giving them lands of great value."

One action taken by the Abbot at this time, however, greatly pleased both the king and the people. For a certain brave knight, John de St. John, governor for Edward in Aquitaine, having been decoyed and taken prisoner by the French, and being too poor to pay the large ransom they demanded, was presented with a generous offering by Abbot Wenlock, "a commendable and charitable thing of public service," comments an old writer, "seeing that monasteries did not always lay out their money so well as for the liberty of a person in high command, a gallant man whom, while fighting valiantly for his prince, the chances of war had made prisoner." Edward's eventful reign was drawing to a close; already he was the oldest king who had ruled England, and his life had been a hard one. He had never spared himself in mind or body; he had never wavered in his great aims; and his favourite motto, Pactum serva, "Keep troth," words he had desired should be carved upon his tomb, was the motto to which he had consistently been faithful. And yet over these closing years a dark cloud hung, for his son, young Edward, showed no signs of rising to his great responsibilities. Tall and handsome to behold, he was weak, changeable, and careless, given to gambling and low society, a tool in the hands of first one and then another of his worthless friends. The old king knew all too well how useless it was to dream that his son would carry on the work to which he had devoted himself, but the knowledge was a veritable cup of bitterness. He had always sought to inspire him with high thoughts, great enthusiasms, and now, as the end loomed on the horizon, he made one more effort, and appealed to the deepest feelings of the young prince. At the festival of Whitsuntide in Westminster Abbey, he admitted his son, with many other young nobles, to the order of knighthood, and throughout one long night the Prince of Wales kept his vigil before the altar at the shrine of the Confessor. Then at the royal banquet which followed, Edward, though so weak he could barely stand, swore solemnly to march at once to Scotland to crush the rebellion which had broken out afresh when all seemed peaceful, and to avenge the death of Comyn, who had been murdered in the church at Dumfries by Robert Bruce. The Scotsmen had not kept troth, and the king was fierce with indignation. But to this vow Edward added another, which was made also by the prince and all the newly dubbed knights in the ball at Westminster; they pledged themselves that so soon as Robert Bruce was conquered, they would no more bear arms against Christendom, but would go to the Holy Land and conquer the infidel, or die in the attempt to do so.