Coronets, Crowns, Knights and Chests.... Westminster Abbey.

A whirlwind visit to Westminster Abbey saw me wandering around this historic site in a very haphazard way as I tried to immerse myself in the beauty of the architecture and sculpture whilst dodging the many other tourists who were presumably doing the same! Trying to escape the 21st century was obviously going to be a challenge with throngs of visitors but I focused on what I hoped to find (and indeed found) and avoided everybody else, especially those intent of taking selfies at every given opportunity.

As chest tombs with their ornate sculpted forms fill me the strangest feeling of almost inexplicable happiness, I was certainly overwhelmed in the most positive sense here at Westminster. I wonder what visitors, past and present, feel when encountering the strange supine forms of knights, kings and queens? Is it intrigue at the lifelike figures of individuals long-since departed, yet whose presence is still visible? Is there a desire to touch these frozen beings, whose faces with unseeing eyes stare beyond, up to the towering ceilings high above?

The almost translucent nose on this regal figure, suggests an irrespressible urge to stroke cold stone that is centuries old, to experience its perfectly smooth surface...

Meanwhile scratched initials and names elsewhere reflect a will to leave a personal mark on the passage of time through a fast, furtive inscription on the stonework...

Or is there a thrill at the sight of this abundance of curious ornate detail, some in the most vivid colours, that make these works so unique and strangely joyful as a result? Or a delight at observing the majestic beings and beasts that render the modern-day offerings so plain, uninspiring and sad in comparison?

Scores of illustrious individuals; monarchs, statesmen, scientists, literary figures, actors, clergymen and so on, lie or kneel in pious devotion, represented in all their finery in this regal setting which has presided over coronations, royal weddings and... funerals.

Their hands are generally joined in prayer...

But there are the odd exceptions...

Clasping the Bible or some chattel...

Or used to prop up a strangely reclined figure, waiting for eternity...

Meanwhile the clothing is either lavish and rich...

Or simply functional...

Or modest...

But whatever the finery of their accoutrements, most figures were accompanied by an animal figure, boldly represented or rather more discreet...

I was already familiar with bestial footrests for the figures of the departed, with the standard lion, dog and dragon forms, faithfully supporting the feet of their honoured patron. Here, however, was a more varied collection of imaginary beasts, alongside buildings, beings and diverse objects to symbolise the wordly and spiritual status of the long-deceased, many in the boldest of colours...

Of course, faithful lions and hounds figure heavily here, guarding feet at Westminster too, ensuring that the power and prestige of their charges are intact, even if the bodily forms of both beast and human being are sometimes in rather sorry state due to the ravages of time...

Or look somewhat bewildered in their obedience, with their eyes wide open and little carved claws clutching onto the tomb slab with dogged devotion or determination...

Or a little too meak perhaps, gazing on lovingly rather than in defiance of any assault on their master's honour...

Or simply appear insignificant in size, barely larger than a domestic cat in this instance!

And occasionally, the figures that are carefully watched over seem likewise disproportionally small and vulnerable , despite their armour and weaponry...

Perhaps one beast will growl and glower - almost held down in submission by a dominant male boot - whilst the other will gently rest on its haunches, amongst the fine linen of the lady in question...

Although dogs typically sit at the feminine foot, this is not always the case; here a growling hound bares its teeth next to the imposing blunt-toed steel sabaton footwear of his male charge, while a snarling gryphon guards over the lady companion's feet.

Other gryphons crouch patiently, with the folded wings, oddly pointed (and chipped) ears and ruffled feathers that bear the symbolic fleur-de-lys...

A flamboyant wooden porcupine squats at the folds in clothing around his (equally colorful) charge's feet, a golden chain shackling him to the spot...

A stag stares up from the hem of long ecclesiastical robes towards the clergyman that he accompanies in his endless state of devotion...

Meanwhile, angels support the headrest of one departed knight...

Just as a sad female figure, presumably a servant or perhaps daughter lies in a strangely stiff - literally wooden - horizontal position...

A pair of ecclesiastic figures kneel by a strangely elongated lion figure, their faces shrouded by their monastic hooded gowns...

For all its grandeur, I had the strange impression that the abbey was far smaller than I had imagined. Meanwhile, even though the rather hefty entrance fee is somewhat dissuasive, it was quite cheering to see that the abbey has considerable success, as the crowds attest.