Description
Description
The abbey nave is properly the entire central vault of the church. In practice, however, that vault is divided into several parts. The areas for important people are listed under the quire, apse, and St. Edward's Chapel areas. This space is what is left over behind the quire screen. All visitors to the abbey must pass through the Great West Door into the nave to access the other areas, so this is the least private location in the abbey. During the coronation, vassal knights without their own manors and all non-noble persons who are unaffiliated with the abbey or who are not bishops sit in temporary seating here. These people hear, rather than view, the coronation ceremony, and only pass into the main area and see the assembled nobility and religious figures when receiving the Eucharist.
The temporary seating here is removed directly after the ceremony, leaving a vast, imposing, empty hall.
Gm * Man of Angles * Sionnach * Scealai *
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding