This Day, That Year: What Happened on December 28

Cinématographe Shows Moving Images to Crowds in Paris

On the evening of December 28, 1895, a hush fell over a bustling Parisian café. The Grand Café, usually alive with clinking glasses and lively chatter, stood captivated by an unassuming wooden box humming with possibility. This was the Cinématographe, an invention birthed in the minds of the Lumière brothers, and this night, it was ready to unveil its magic to the world.

As flickering beams of light danced across a white sheet draped at the back of the room, a collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd. On the screen, there appeared the unassuming facade of the Lumière factory itself, followed by a torrent of everyday life captured in motion. Workers streamed out of the gates, laughing and jostling, their figures surprisingly lifelike, their movements eerily real. A baby peeked from its pram, a blacksmith pounded his anvil, and a train puffed into a station, its steam plume billowing toward the startled audience.

Each film, barely exceeding a minute, showcased a slice of ordinary moments, yet the effect was extraordinary. Laughter erupted at the clumsy antics of a watering gardener, gasps of awe arose as a train steamed seemingly towards the screen, and a hush fell as a baby took its first wobbly steps. The Cinématographe, more than a mere recording device, became a window into a world both familiar and new, a canvas upon which reality itself danced with a touch of enchantment.

The Lumières' invention wasn't just about the moving pictures; it was about the spark of recognition igniting in every viewer's eye. They saw themself as the bustling worker, their child in the curious baby, their own world reflected in the mundane and the marvellous. In that dimly lit Parisian café, a new art form was born, not with a bang, but with a gentle flicker of light, capturing hearts and imaginations with the quiet poetry of everyday life. The seeds of a revolution had been sown, and the world, forever changed, stood entranced before the grand illusion of the Cinématographe.

 Westminster Abbey Opens its Doors to a Nation

On this day, amidst the bustling heart of London, a majestic stone tower rose from the banks of the River Thames – the original Westminster Abbey. Not merely an architectural prowess, this grand abbey, consecrated by King Edward the Confessor himself, would become a stage for England's most defining moments, a silent witness to coronations, triumphs, and even whispers of dissent.

London, cloaked in the crisp December air, was abuzz with anticipation. Dignitaries draped in rich furs, commoners craning their necks, all converging on the newly minted abbey. The scent of incense mingled with the earthy aroma of fresh-cut stone while chants resonated through the hallowed halls. King Edward, frail yet resolute, stood before the altar, his voice echoing in the cavernous space as he consecrated the abbey to the Almighty.

Westminster Abbey wasn't just a church but a declaration, a symbol of a nation on the cusp of change. The Norman Conquest loomed just a year away. Yet, amidst the impending upheaval, Edward's abbey stood as a beacon of hope, a promise of continuity, and a testament to the enduring spirit of England.

And what a legacy it would become! Within these hallowed walls, over 30 English monarchs have been crowned, from the formidable William the Conqueror to the ever-popular Queen Elizabeth II. Witness to the pomp and pageantry of coronations, the abbey has also borne witness to quieter moments of national significance – weddings, funerals, and prayers offered in times of turmoil and triumph.

Westminster Abbey, however, wasn't solely reserved for royalty. Throughout its storied past, it has served as a platform for poets and playwrights, scholars and scientists, their voices echoing through the nave, shaping the cultural landscape of England. The echoes of William Shakespeare's verses, the fiery sermons of Oliver Cromwell, and the scientific musings of Isaac Newton all resonated within these hallowed walls.