Fraternity-Testvériség, 1943 (21. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1943-11-01 / 11. szám
10 TESTVÉRISÉG so much about it, I was most anxious to see it for myself. Its beauty has not been exaggerated. It has perhaps the most perfect and exquisitely detailed ceiling arches of any building I have ever seen pictures of, or read about, and its huge stature and towering columns were fitting for a cathedral. The long, narrow, stained glass windows and the lofty vaulted ceilings seemed to have no end, so tall were they, and just as in pictures we have seen, the sunlight was streaming in through some of the highest windows and causing a play of color and light upon the walls. There is an air of mystery and venerableness about the Abbey, and low, soft lights and many shadowed niches do not dispel but rather add to this feeling. Besides, in the central section of the Abbey there are wings on either side, and these are lavishly decorated with the most elaborate and exquisitely carved monuments and sarcophagi that I have ever even dreamt of. Here are buried the storied great of England and English history; here we saw the elaborate and beautifully carved stone memorials and monoliths and engraved tablets with which these great have been honored and by which the memory of their great works are kept alive. We saw the statue of Disraeli and that of Gladstone, and the memorials raised to William Pitt and the younger Pitt. There was the statue of John Wesley and of past deans of the Abbey. We saw many tablets to various famous British naval heroes, too many to mention, and to army men as well. The beautiful memorial to Mary, Queen of Scots, was buried under 5000 sand bags, as was that of Queen Anne, who rests here with nineteen children. These monuments must be very elaborate, and are protected in this manner. There is a poets’ corner, and of course, William Shakespeare is buried here, along with the poets laureate of England and other famous literary lights of the past. Except for the central section of the Abbey, which is used for services, the side wings are almost filled with these memorials, and only enough room is left in the middle of the wings for pews. Along one side of the central section there is an enormous monument to the Duke of Wellington, and this is entirely surrounded by a high brick wall which has been built around it to protect it. There are photograps on the outside of the wall, of course, showing what has been covered up. It is hard to describe the grandeur of the Abbey. There is something so legendary and intangible about the place. So much of England’s long history is connected with the personages who rest within its walls. The crypt, below the Abbey, is where the actual remains of the honored dead are kept, and here, too, we saw many tablets upon the walls and huge stone slabs set in the floor with names and dates engraved on them. There is something about the atmosphere in the Abbey which makes one almost wish to walk on tiptoe. The long- robed and solemn attendants and church-men who walk about almost soundlessly, in their slippered feet; the subdued voices of the visitors, and the soft shuffling and scraping of their shoes over the ancient stones — these things heighten the aura of timelessness and agelessness which seems to hang over the Abbey. It is an experience which once had is not easily forgotten. Here is the past brought so close up to the present that one can almost reach out and touch it. One half expects to see Disraeli, for instance, step boldly from his pedestal and go on about his orating and political intriguing as in the days past. One can almost envision the pomp and pageantry with which one of the queens or kings buried here would make formal procession to or from the Abbey; and the brilliantly and colorfully attired admirals and generals of old, how they would parade about the Abbey, with their retinue of lesser officers and the masked ranks of men. These things are not at all hard to visualize under the influences and feelings which are brought into play while seeing the Abbey. One has but to let impressions sink in and register as they appear, and to let the moods and feelings of the past, which throng the halls there, make themselves felt to the onlooker. Géza Gedeon Takaró Szabó László: CXXVI. ZSOLTÁR Mikor haza jött siratott foglyunk, Mint álmodozók, olyanok voltunk, Megtelt a szánk is nevető vággyal, Nyelvünk emelő vígadozással. Pogányáink is elibénk jöttek, Visszhangot vertek hegyek és völgyek, Derűit mosolyban fürdött az azúr: Hatalmasan bánt ezekkel az Ur! Hozd vissza, Uram, mindet, ki rokon, Mint a patakot sívó homokon, Mint harmat esőzzön a kegyelem, Áldásod gyöngye hősre peregjen. Olyanok vagyunk, mint víg aratók, Panaszainktól messze robogók; A vető-magját sírván emelő Kévét emelve vígan jön elő.
