A SPECTATOR 'S NOTEBOOK
TWO people attended morning service in Romsey Abbey last Sun- day for the purpose for which that ancient and noble pile was raised—the worship of God. It was the first Sunday of their married lives, and there was no question for them how it should be observed. They, of course, were not the only ones who were there in that spirit ; the Abbey always has its respectable quota of worshippers. But what of the crowds that came in their cars from miles away and packed the Abbey long before the hour of mattins and strained and craned and jostled to get a glimpse of the royal pair? What was the motive that took them to this place of worship? The enthusiasm the wedding has evoked is stirring and impressive, but there is nothing to be said for it when it degenerates into extravagance, still less when it sinks to gross unseemliness. One daily paper tells how women after the Romsey service moved up to the front row to kneel and pray where the Princess had knelt and prayed. It may be, of course, that petitions (if any were in fact framed) with such a cachet have a special efficacy. Who was it who once spoke of the well-known preference of the Almighty for University men? There may, similarly, be a special preference for prayers offered from a stool where royalty has knelt. I, certainly, am in no position to deny that there is. But to my terrestrial mind it seems simply a blasphemous business.
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