Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-10-27
He Knows it All.

He Knows it All.
| RUT the English verger speaks English. 1t is
| true he speaks it with fine disdain of the
| initial "H' and the final "G''; but you can uu-
| derstand him. And that is the worst part of it,
| If there must be vergers it. would be vastly bet
| ter to have them speak in Welsh or Gaelic
| The verger is crammed to the throat with
names and dates, and he must tell you every
| one His speech is musty with ancient anec-
dotes, to which you must listen. Sometimes
he breaches. he extracts moral. he instructs
| you in your Christian duty; then he is unbear-
| able.
| And you must keep within sight and hearing
| of him. If you linger he is after You with a
| long rod. No talking man was ever more dill
| gent in the whlpping-in of a straying congrega-
| ton. Here is crowd of visitors gathered be-
side one of the great gates which lead into the
| chapels. Out comes a verger. We pay our
| sixpences and follow. The gates are locked
| behind u.s. We make our way into the Middle
! Ages. The interest deepens. AT every step we
want to stop. and look, and read our guide
books, and mediate. We want to get into
| the spirit of the place. But the verger
| interrupts us. He breaks in upon our musings
| with his wearisome explanations. The crowd
of inquistive tourists pushes at our elbows.
And in two minutes must move on. The
verger is everywhere a terror to the inteli-
| gent traveller. But the most exasperatng of
vergers those whose black gowns sweep
the dusty pavements of Westminster Abbey
''The very silence seemed sacred y Evidently
| Edmund Burke was not conducted by verger.
The yerger banishes both silence and sanctity-
| 1 wonder how people can come away from the
| abbey bringing with them any uplifting
memories. You might as well try to read
Browning during serenade OF vicious mos
uuitoes as to see Westminster Abbey in the
company of verger.
We avoided the verger. We went to the
Dean and requested permission to explore the
abbey at our leisure. And the Dean sent us a
little card, with his name written UDon IT,
which emancipated us from the tyranny of
vergerdom: And then we began to see West
hhav Am Inv
ing of disappointment diminished until at last
nothing was left of it at all. We grew
enthusiastic. We began to appreciate the
wonder, the beauty, the associations SANITY
and heroic. the immeasurable preciousness of
the place. We fingered at our will among the
old tombs of the old chapels where ecclesIas-
tics of ancient days Still kneeing at their
prayers, where knights and crusaders lie with
praying hands upon their tombs. 1t is aston
ishing how good these fierce old fellows were,
these grim old fghters-it is amazing how de-
vout and pious they all were-after they were
dead. These stout hands were more at ease
with battle-axes than with breviaries when they
were hands OF flesh and blood. But they are all
diligently clasped in perpetual prayer as they
lie in the gloom of the Abbey chaPels.
A Chapel With History.
WE saw the wonderful chapel which the
w seventh Henry built. all set about with
the armorial bearings of the Tudors with the
red rose of Lancaster and the white rose of
X,
the dragon of Cadwallader, and the grey
hound of Nevilles and the lion of En-.
gland. Over the carved stalls hang the
faded banners of the Knights of the Bath.
All about are tombs of kings and queens.
Henry Ill is here and Edward H., and Eliza
beth and Mary Queen of Scots. and the princes
vino were murdered in the towers. Here they
buried Oliver Cromwell and afterward dug him
up and threw him out when the times changed.
Here amidst the sovereigns of England lies the
,0fn nno IN nnIn
We saw the great shrine of Edward the Con-
fessor behind the high altar of the abbey once
adorned with gold and jewels. now defaced,
broken, pluudered and unbeautifuI. We might
have seen the Virgin Mary's girdle and aJbit of
the true cross set in gems, but we were 300
years too late for that. Beside the shrine is
the stout chair. having a rough stone beneath
its seat in which for now these seven Centuries
the sovereigns of England have sat to receive
their crowns. 1t is a battered old chair all cut
over with the initials of tourists He must
have been a bold plebeian who first set his yul-
gar name upon it. Probably the letters were
cut IN some of the troubled times which the
old chair has known. when men cared little for
people who wore crowns. They were certainly
inscribed there before the days of vergers. The
rough old stone beneath is the rock on which
the patriarch Jacob rested his troubled head
the night he dreamed that wonderful dream
about the ladder and the angels. So they said
in the "ages Of faith" they cover the old chair
with cloth of gold when there is need of It for
the crowning of new king. and move it out
into the chancel.
That historic chancel, what scenes have been
created therei You sit on the stone steps
which lead up to it and think of the professions
which have passed there, of the kings and
queens who have gone up to be crowned and
who have come down in their collins Here
stood William the Conquorer to be consecrated
king of England. Here came Charles IL to
undo the Puritan revolution the abbey being
hung with the red OF victory. Monks have
sung their psalms here. prayers have been |
prayed here in days of national peril and disas.
ter; te deums have been chanted here in grati-
tude for historic victories Here they read the
burial service over the greatest men in English |
history. Here the other day they married an |
American newspaper reporter who had the |
bravery to convey the light OF civilization into ]