London, Volume 4
Knight, Charles
1843
LXXXIV.-Westminster Abbey: No. V. A Walk Through the Edifice.
LXXXIV.-Westminster Abbey: No. V. A Walk Through the Edifice.
The author of the after a visit to the Abbey, remarks, This passage describes but too truly the general effect, even on the most intelligent minds, of a or occasional visit to the Abbey memorials. And the causes, no doubt, are to be found partly in the very multiplicity of the objects that meet the eye, but much more in the entire absence of any systematic arrangement. Indeed, whilst there are features in particular which invest with an interest and a value that belong to no other English structure, the of universal character,--the burial in it of so many of our great men; the other limited to the lovers of art,--the knowledge that it presents an unbroken series of examples of the history of sculpture for or centuries;--these are precisely the features which are the least attended to in the Abbey, and which therefore appear with the least possible effect. The Englishman, proud of his country, comes here to gaze upon the last resting-place of the men whose achievements have given him cause for his pride; but finds not only that remarkable men of every degree of intellectual power, of every variety of occupation and period, are confusedly mingled together, with the addition of a sprinkling of those remarkable only from the circumstance that their remains should be here at all, but that in reality he cannot discover, with anything approaching | |
130 | to general accuracy, the great men who were really buried in the Abbey from those who have merely had honorary memorials erected to them. The student's case is still more hopeless: what instruction can he possibly derive from the visible history of art, however rich, where the facts or monuments of which it is composed are dispersed throughout a vast building, in such order that, if their respective positions had been decided by lot, they could hardly have presented a greater chaos:--here the colossal statue of Watt, in the beautiful little chapel of , and by the side of the Gothic tomb of Henry V.'s standard-bearer;there the effigies of some of the ancient abbots, on their altar-tombs, overshadowed by the gigantic pile of masonry erected to an able seaman of the last century, who, we suspect, would have been in no slight degree astonished if he could have foreseen that he would be stuck up here in effigy in the garb of a Roman soldier. The Abbey, too, suffers sadly from these circumstances. We may, enjoy the grandeur of its architecture, may gaze, and gaze till we resign ourselves to that feeling which Coleridge so finely describes-unconsciousness of the actualities around, and expansion of the whole being into the infinite,--may listen whilst
may, in short, leave the heart and soul to wander where and how they please, whilst we notice nothing individually: but the moment we attempt to luxuriate in the details of the building, which are only less wonderful than the whole, the of the Abbey become too much for us. What senses of sublimity and devotion can withstand the sudden appearance of some preposterous effigy, connected generally with some still more preposterous pile, such as you are liable to meet with in almost every part of the Abbey-transepts, ambulatory, chapels, and nave-everywhere but in the choir, and in the chapel of the kings? But it is not such monuments only that injure the grand harmony of the structure; with the exception of Westmacott's Duke de Montpensier, in Henry VII.'s Chapel, we do not remember a single monument placed in the Abbey, for a century or past, that would not be again removed from it, if the purity of architectural taste which existed when the Abbey was built should be ever thoroughly revived. And the chief cause of such wholesale exclusion may be found, we think, in the very circumstance that sculptors have most congratulated themselves upon-the raising the effigies of the dead from their former recumbent position. But in this, as in many other cases in which we have departed from the practices of our ancestors, we live to find, after a long period of complacent indulgence, that we did so through ignorance of the principles upon which they worked. Let any walk through the chapel of the kings, or along the ambulatory, and he cannot but notice how the tombs, even the stateliest and most gorgeous, harmonise with, nay enhance, the effect of the Abbey; let him then look upon later monuments, and his most favourable judgment will be that, where they have not an absolutely injurious effect, they have at least a negative . Is there any secret in this most important difference? Surely not. In the class you are seldom reminded of anything but the life, or the mere circumstances of its close; in the other you can never forget that the end of all has come, and that king, prelate, |
131 | warrior, statesman, and courtier have alike forgotten the vanities of the world, in this kind of beautiful and touching communion with their Maker, which they are contented to share in common with their lowliest fellow-creatures. Their deeds may be recorded on their monuments by grateful hands for to read and think of, but even then we see that think only of God. This it is that makes the old monuments of the Abbey essentially a part of the Abbey: they exhibit the same magnificence, the same repose; they inculcate the same impressive lesson. Would we then banish from churches all monuments that have not recumbent effigies?--That were to be guided by the letter rather than the spirit. We should certainly be glad to see the rule systematically enforced that only monuments of an unmingled and unmistakeable devotional character should be received into the Abbey; and if that result can be obtained in better or in more various ways than of old; it is very desirable such modes should be adopted. The sculptors are even more interested than the public in this matter. Their skill in monuments of a different class is in a great measure wasted here, wanting the charm of fitness: the Abbey is as unsuitable for them as they for the Abbey. Lord Mansfield's monument in the chief court of English judicature, Canning's in the halls of parliament, and Watt's in the meeting-place of the |
| merchant-princes of England, would be so impressive as to raise the art itself at once to a higher level: we should begin as a people to feel, what for centuries as a people we have not felt, the importance of the sculptor's mission. As to the memorials for which no particular public situations are marked out by the characters of the men they commemorate, they might be erected with the happiest | |
132 | effect (as has recently been observed) in the localities made memorable by their lives; and then what is to prevent us from having our , as the Germans call their new building, instead of our present imperfect and unsystematic method of honouring the illustrious dead, and in buildings so unsuitable as and ? |
Under the circumstances we have indicated, the best mode, perhaps, of examining the Abbey memorials is to steadily adhere, except in peculiar cases, to the principle which guided us in the previous paper--that is, to fix our attention chiefly upon those which relate to the illustrious dead who have been interred here. And for that purpose we shall follow the route marked by the sequence of the figures in the plan (which is, with slight exceptions, the exact reverse of that pursued by the guides in the Abbey), in order that we may, as far as the circumstances permit, pass over the great mass of the modern monuments at the commencement of our walk through the Abbey, and end with the more ancient ones. | |
Pausing a moment in Poets' Corner to gaze upon what may be called the finest interior view of the Abbey, including as it does the transepts, with the rich painted rose window in the opposite to us, the choir, and a portion of the nave; and taking also a brief glance at the interesting paintings in the Chapel of St. Blaize, we move along the southern aisle of the choir towards the nave, observing as we pass Sir Cloudesley Shovel's monument, the constant butt of our wits, and the pious and learned Dr. Isaac Watts's, whom Johnson calls on the left; and Behnes' bust of Dr. Bell, the founder of the Madras system of education, and Thynne's monument, with its bas-relief representing the assassination of that gentleman in , on the right. Among the earliest memorials that attract us in the nave is that to the unfortunate, but certainly not innocent, Major Andre, whose remains were interred here many years after his death on the scaffold. An interesting bas-relief, showing Andre as a prisoner in the tent of Washington, with the bearer of a flag of truce come to solicit his pardon, has been the mark of much and very pertinacious ill usage, such as the knocking off the heads of the principal figures: new ones consequently have been several times put on. Charles Lamb could not resist the opportunity that it occurred to him this afforded of a hit at his friend Southey's change of political opinions. Having called the mutilation he adds, most innocently, It is said the circumstance caused a temporary severance of their intimacy. Beyond Andre's monument, and filling up the breadth of the spaces between successive windows, are the monuments, by Roubiliac, of Lieut.-General Hargrave, where Time has overthrown Death and broken his dart, and the dead is rising in resurrection; of Major-General Fleming, where the wisdom, prudence, and valour of the dead warrior are represented by the emblems of those virtues which Minerva and Hercules are binding together; and of the well-known Marshal Wade, who signalised himself in the rebellion of , and which, like all Roubiliac's works, shows how that great artist was accustomed to think for himself within the bounds which | |
133 | the taste of the period marked out, if he did not go to any remarkable degree beyond it. In Wade's monument, Time endeavours to overthrow the soldier's memory, typified by a pillar decorated with trophies of warfare, but is successfully opposed by Fame, who drives him back. In this part of the nave a door opens into the cloisters where lie of the early Abbots,--Vitalis, Crispinus, De Blois, and Laurentius,--with some distinguished men of a more recent era. Here, for instance, repose Barry, the famous actor; Sir John Hawkins, the historian of music; the lady dramatist of Charles II.'s time, Aphra Behn, whose numerous comedies show the truth of Pope's line-
Mrs. Bracegirdle, Congreve's friend and favourite actress; Lawes, the original writer of the music of and Milton's friend; with a host more of actors and actresses, as Betterton, of whose interment so interesting an account is given in the Foote, Mrs. Gibber, Mrs. Yates, &c. &c. To also was brought the body of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey, after its strange discovery on , and consequent public exposure in the city. The funeral was remarkable. clergymen marched in the front of the procession, whilst above a persons of rank or distinction followed it. At the service strong able-bodied divines stood in the pulpit, on the believed, or pretended, necessity of guarding him from the violence of the Papists, who, it was presumed, had committed the murder. Here, lastly, rests to use the words of the poetical inscription, Vertue, the Engraver; and near that monument with the musical score of the Benjamin Cooke, its author, deputy-organist of the Abbey at the age of years, subsequently organist, and of the true masters in that school of music about which the people of this country almost seem to know the least-the English. |
Returning into the nave, we perceive, extending over Dean Wilcock's monument, with its view of the Abbey, Dean Sprat's, the poet, and friend of Cowley and Buckingham (the last he is said to have assisted in the famous ), and Sir L. Robinson's, a work by Roubiliac's pupil, Read, which, perhaps, excites more notice than any of the master's own; not, however, for the same cause. Let those who have not seen it imagine an immense mass of sea, with rocks of coral, where a vessel lies jammed for the base; then above, a figure of the Admiral (Tyrrell) ascending towards a great number of white-looking patches, or pancakes, as they have been not inaptly called, which we are to suppose clouds, plastered thickly about the sides and back of the upper surface of the structure, which are blue, we are to presume as representing Heaven. Cherubs, harps, branches of palm, Hope writing on a rock, and other figures equally profitably engaged, complete this work, which is unexampled in the extent of its absurdity, though belonging to a class which makes much of the history of the sculpture of the last century a burlesque upon that which should be its living principle--the ideal. Turn we now to a memorial of a different kind-that to the dramatic writer Congreve, with his bust in high relief, wearing the fullbottomed wig of his time, which here, as in the portraits of Congreve, sits not ungracefully. No doubt, the author of the wittiest comedies in the language achieved the much dearer object of his ambition, and was the fine gentleman he | |
134 | desired to be thought. The inscription on the tomb records that he lies near the place, and that it was set up by Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough, as &c. Congreve may be said to have paid for this inscription (for he left the Duchess, who did not want his property, the whole, and his ancient and embarrassed family nothing), and no doubt thought it cheap at the money. Voltaire, forsooth! Who would care for the opinions of him, or such mere literati, when a duchess could be found to write thus on 's tomb? Congreve died in . His body, after lying in state in the Jerusalem Chamber, was removed with great pomp into the Abbey, noblemen bearing the pall. Among the noticeable personages buried in this part of the nave, without any memorials, are Dean Atterbury--the place was his own previous choice, as being as he tells Pope, in of his letters in -and Mrs. Oldfield, the actress, who was buried in a very fine Brussels-lace head, a Holland shift with a tucker and double ruffles of the same lace, a pair of new kid gloves, &c.; circumstances which Pope has made the most of in his lines- This was, perhaps, a fair mark; but, generally speaking, we could imagine no more startling commentary than might be made on the works of most satirists by a mere statement of the exact facts they have referred to, whether in praise or condemnation. At the end of the wall of this aisle, for example, is the statue of James Craggs, with an inscription by the author just mentioned, Pope, who speaks of his deceased friend as a statesman the said James Craggs being the Secretary of State whose name was down on of the swindling subscription-lists of the South Sea Scheme for the fictitious sum of , as we have already had occasion to observe in a previous number, and who died, it was said, from the small-pox, but really, it was thought, from mental anguish, during the parliamentary examination into the affair. As we now stand by the door of the great western entrance to the Abbey, we perceive that the injury done to the latter by the memorials placed in it has not been confined to the mere incongruities before pointed out. beautiful screens stood here, against the base of the west towers; that on the south till , and that on the north down to the present century, when they were pulled down, to make room for the immense military memorials which now occupy their places, recording exploits utterly forgotten, and names that fail to rouse a single interesting association. Half hidden among memorials of this kind that occupy the western end of the northern aisle, to which we now cross, are those to the eminent critical geographer, Major Rennell, who lies buried here; to Tierney, the well-known orator; and to the great painter, greater wit, and most sublime coxcomb, Sir Godfrey Kneller, which has an inscription by Pope, showing that |
135 | Nature must have been in a very critical position altogether with regard to him, for-
would think the poet had determined to beat the painter even in his own rich vein of extravagance. Kneller lies at Twickenham with Pope, having objected to be buried in the Abbey, because Passing along the wall of the aisle eastwards, which, like the we have just quitted, is covered from end to end with memorials, we need only pause to notice the monument to Mrs. Jane Hill, the antique work among a wilderness of modern ones; the monument, nearly above, to Spencer Perceval, with an alto-relievo representing the circumstances of his assassination by Bellingham; and the scroll, held in the outstretched hands of Time, on which is written a very beautiful Latin inscription by Dr. Friend to a youth, Philip Carteret: the Doctor, we may observe, has, with each of his friends and rivals, Woodward and Mead, an honorary memorial in the nave. Before entering the north aisle of the choir, we must pause a moment to examine the beautiful screen which has been erected here by Mr. Blore. It is in the same style as the architecture immediately around it, which forms the continuation of Henry III.'s building by his son Edward. On each side of the screen are large monuments, of which the principal is that to Sir Isaac Newton. If this were a much greater work than it is, it would suffer from our remembrance of Roubiliac's noble statue of the philosopher at Cambridge, where the loftiest speculations are suggested by the simplest and purest means; but when we add that this, although cut by Rysbrach, is Kent's design, we need hardly say more. Here, too, we may fitly pause an instant to gaze on the stained glass windows of the western front, with its rows of Jewish patriarchs, glorious in their brilliant dyes of amber and purple, the work of comparatively recent times, and the smaller windows in the towers at the sides, which are ancient, and seem to have lost something of their original splendour. We have said little in the present or in the preceding papers in the way of description of the architecture of the Abbey, for we believe such descriptions are very useless in works of a general character; the worst engraving or the briefest visit will give a more accurate idea of a building than many pages of letterpress. We therefore leave the architectural wonders of the nave, as of the other parts of the Abbey, undescribed (seeing, too, that previous engravings will have made our readers tolerably familiar with all), merely remarking that it is the loftiest in England, measuring feet,[n.135.1] and at the same time of the most graceful. Without entering into the vexed question of the origin of pointed architecture, or overlooking the difficulties that attach to the hypothesis of finding in nature the type of what is but the last of a series of architectural changes and improvements, rather than the , which no doubt all the chief styles are, it is still, it seems to us, impossible to pace along this centre aisle of the nave, |
136 | and look up, without being reminded of the extraordinary similarity of its expression to that of an over-arching avenue of trees. We have an avenue now in our memory formed of very tall and stately, but not aged trees, where the trunks ascend as regularly and gracefully upwards as these pillars, and where, as their tops meet over the middle space, you can detect the branches running across and interweaving, in a capricious, but all beautiful forms, which the groined roof appears but tamely to imitate. All this may be, as architectural writers tell us, accidental; but certainly the accident is harder to believe than the improbabilities of the opposite opinion. |
The north aisle of the choir, or the space extending from the north aisle of the nave to the north transept, contains several matters worthy of notice; some for their amusing character,--as Dame Carteret's, where a dancing figure is, we are told, a Resurrection; and some for their deeper interest, as Wilberforce's memorial by Joseph, which is original enough at all events, and Sir Stamford Raffles's by Chantrey; but this part should be sacred to all lovers of music, as a kind of musicians' corner, for here lies Purcell, with of the most striking epitaphs ever penned, and which is said to have been by Dryden. It runs thus: He was interred in , and, according to the picturesque old custom, at night, with a magnificence suitable to the burial of the greatest English musician; and, as was most fitting, in the Abbey where he had been appointed organist at the age of eighteen, and where his sublime anthems had been so often heard. His memorial is against side of a pillar on the right of the aisle; on the other side of the same pillar is the memorial to Samuel Arnold, another organist of the Abbey in which he is interred, and a worthy successor to Purcell. Opposite to these, on the left wall of the aisle, is the memorial of Blow, who, according to the inscription, was the although it is now established that Purcell owed much more to another musician, Captain Cook, than to Blow: the latter, however, had claims of his own to entitle him to respect and commemoration. Beneath Blow's memorial is his pupil's, Dr. Burney, Hawkins's.rival historian, with an inscription that does little credit to the taste of his daughter, the authoress of whilst, lastly, close by their side is the bust, in all the majesty of full-bottomed wiggism, of Dr. Croft, who in ecclesiastical music is said to have had no superior. He also held the situation of organist to the Abbey; and his death was brought on here (during, we presume, the performance of his duties) at the coronation of George II. He now lies near the most illustrious of his predecessors. | |
The north transept is rich in great names of another kind, chiefly of those connected with the business or offices of the state. Occupying the entire space between of the pillars dividing the western aisle of the transept from the centre, is Flaxman's noble monument of Mansfield; taken altogether perhaps the noblest of modern sculpture. The illustrious judge is seen in the judgmentseat elevated to a considerable height, with figures of Wisdom and Justice attending, whilst behind, on the base of the monument, immediately below the circular chair, is the beautifully-sculptured figure of a youth: what he is intended to represent seems to be a matter of some doubt, for Mr. Brayley | |
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says it whilst Mr. Peter Cunningham, in his excellent little describes it as a Lord Mansfield is buried beneath his memorial. In the central portion of the transept repose Chatham, Pitt, Fox, Castlereagh, Canning, Wilberforce, and Grattan--a rich and wonderful neighbourhood, to which Byron's lines may apply with a wider application than to the mere graves of Pitt and Fox:-- Of their memorials we need only observe that Chatham's lofty pile, by Bacon, representing the statesman at the top in the act of speaking, is against the end of the left-hand wall; Canning's statue, by Chantrey, nearly opposite; Fox's memorial, by Westmacott, showing the orator dying in the arms of Liberty, attended by Peace and a kneeling negro, against the wall of the choir looking towards the transept; and Pitt's over the great western door of the nave; where a work, costing of the public money, is entirely beyond the reach of public appreciation: it is by Westmacott. Turning from the military and naval memorials, |
138 | which here too, as in the nave, thrust themselves forward on all sides (Roubiliac's to Sir Peter Warren and Banks's to Sir Eyre Coote are, however, deserving of the attention they demand), we are attracted by an exquisite piece of sculpture in the western aisle, near Kemble's statue, dedicated to the memory of Mrs. Warren and child: this is also by Westmacott, and perhaps the artist's most beautiful work. monuments, differing much in character, but agreeing in having each a beautiful inscription, are also deserving of notice--the is the sumptuous tomb of the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, on which the Duchess thus beautifully speaks of her family:-- and the other a plain tablet, close by, to Grace Scot, who died in , which says- Was this the Colonel Scot who was executed on the Restoration for his share in the king's death, and who died so bravely under the revolting atrocities to which he and his companions were exposed during execution? If it was, Grace Scot died not too soon. |
The eastern aisle of the transept is shut out from the principal space by the monuments which have closed up the inter-columniations; it was formerly also subdivided into chapels by screens of a very rich character. Here we find of the most remarkable works in the Abbey; the , on the floor, to the right as we enter, consisting of a low basement on which lies Sir Francis Vere's effigy, with kneeling knights at the corners supporting a plain canopy or table over the dead warrior, on which are his helmet, breastplate, and other martial accoutrements. Roubiliac, whilst engaged in the erection of the work of which we are about presently to speak, was seen day, by Gayfere, the Abbey mason, standing with his arms folded, and gazing intently on of these knights. said he, pointing to the figure as Gayfere approached, This is the true spirit of genius; and that Roubiliac was a man of high genius this famous Nightingale monument before us proves. In respect it may be said to be unique. Roam through the Abbey often as you will, examine every of the immense variety of works by distinguished men that line its walls, and still there shall be the same sudden startling, as it were, of the heart, when you reach this; the same equally novel and refreshing emotion experienced. It is not the grim monster starting from the depths below, and just about to launch the fatal dart, that affects us, terrible as is the truth of the representation; it is the agonized figure of the husband, clasping his dying wife with the hand, and endeavouring with the other to ward off the irresistible attack, that at once appeals, as sculpture seldom can appeal, to the feelings of the spectator. The wife, too, so touchingly, droopingly beautiful, is an exquisite performance: as Allan Cunningham observes, This was Roubiliac's last work. He died the year after its erection, . In the same aisle is Baily's colossal statue of Telford, the famous engineer, who was buried here; and | |
139 | numerous other interesting works which our space compels us to pass over. Between the end of this aisle and the dark but beautiful little chapel known as Islip's, and which has quaint rebuses of his name carved over it (a man slipping from a .), is the immense monument, by Wilton, to General Wolfe, with a spirited bas-relief on its base of the landing at Quebec. We now reach the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, where, in a corner, lies a tomb with a design on a brass plate to Sir Thomas Vaughan, shown in our page. Here, too, is the monument to Lord Hunsdon, Queen Elizabeth's Chamberlain, which, as it forms but of a numerous class spread through the other chapels of the Abbey, we may as well describe, so far at least as a few words will enable us to do so. It consists of a pile built up story upon story, so as almost to reach the ceiling of the chapel (which is of great height), and consists chiefly of recesses, pillars with gilded Corinthian capitals, sculptured obelisks, &c., whilst the lower part is filled by an enormous sarcophagus; the whole of marble, and profusely decorated. With but comparatively unimportant alterations this brief account would apply to a dozen other works of the greatest pretension in the Abbey, and which we may therefore pass over through the remainder of our walk. The ponderous tomb of the Earl of Exeter, in the same chapel, obtains more attention than it deserves, from the story connected with it. By the earl's effigy lies that of his wife, on side, whilst the other was left vacant for his , who, it is said, left express directions in her will that her effigy should not be placed there: the noble blood of Chandos could not brook the left-hand position under any circumstances. Here, too, is the figure of a lady clasping her hands, apparently in great anguish, which has an inscription attached to it that seems to have been undeservedly overlooked. The lady in question is thus described by whose desire to be buried in the same tomb shows that there was something deeper in the writer's heart than the wish to imitate ordinary panegyric:-- The golden mean, it seems, for once was discovered. Casting a last glance around, the eye falls on Colonel Popham's alabaster monument, which was saved at the Restoration only through influential intercessors, and on the condition of erasing the inscription, with its unpleasant reminiscences of the Commonwealth. Between this chapel and the ambulatory-their canopies forming the original screen--are the tombs of Abbots Colchester and Fascet, with Millyng's stone coffin on the latter, brought from some other part. Between these abbots' memorials is a similar to Bishop Ruthall, whose end is attributed to of the oddest of circumstances. He had drawn up a book on state affairs, to be laid before Henry VIII., but unfortunately sent instead an . What a delicious joke must this have appeared to Bluff Hal and his court! With what zest must they have turned over those precious pages! Their sport, however, was death to the unhappy bishop. Shakspere, it will be remembered, has used this incident in connexion with Wolsey's fall. |
It is in the chapel of St. Paul that we meet with the contrast before mentioned--Watt's colossal statue, big enough to lift the roof off, if it should by | |
140 | any accident stand up; the very incarnation of that principle of active, busy, worldly occupation, to which its owner has given such gigantic impulses; and, half-concealed behind it, the beautiful Gothic monument of Lord Bourchier, Henry V.'s standard-bearer at Agincourt, with its low broad arch opening into the-ambulatory; whilst the view of the sumptuous chantry of Lord Bourchier's lord, beyond, is still more completely intercepted. The noble inscription to the philosopher of the steam-engine is by Lord Brougham. Among the other monuments--some of them very large and stately-Sir Giles and Lady Daubeny's, in the centre, should be mentioned for the peculiar decorations of their recumbent effigies, in accordance with the style of the beginning of the century; and Sir John and Lady Fullerton's, for the punning inscription:--He died Hearing mass in this chapel at time conferred an indulgence for years and days; and the cloth which held the patron saint's head--that of St. Paul-after his decapitation by Nero, was among the relicts presented to the Abbey by the Confessor, and most probably deposited on an altar in the chapel, as an additional attraction. |
We have incidentally, in an early part of this paper, mentioned Westmacott's statue of the Duke de Montpensier, brother of the present King of France: if, on entering Henry VII.'s Chapel, to see who have been admitted here into dead companionship with our kings, we pass directly forward to the centre window, with its rich storied panes, we perceive in the chapel there beneath, a recumbent coroneted figure on a low couch, the face turned toward us: that is the monument of modern times which we have said assimilates with the structure. The old and touching gesture, it is true, is wanting here, but there is a something so serenely beautiful in the expression of both face and form, such a consciousness, might fancy, of the those angels which extend above him all round the chapel keep throughout the beautiful and holy place, that it would be difficult to say there is not a very high devotional feeling exhibited in it. What a contrast is this work, in its simplicity, grace, and elevation, to that gigantic medley of great black obelisks, heathen deities, and strapping virtues which surround the effigies of James's Steenie, the Duke of Buckingham, and his duchess, in the chapel on the side; or to that quadrangular structure, on the other, where Fame is mounted aloft on an open-worked canopy, which Faith, Hope, Charity, and Prudence are supporting, while it sounds the merits of the deceased Duke and Duchess of Richmond below; or, lastly, to the ducal poet's monument in a chapel, Sheffield's (Dryden's patron), with its Roman duke, and English duchess down to her sandals, where she too becomes Roman. The monuments in the aisles are some of them of a higher character, though the mentioned in a former paper, that of Henry VII.'s mother, which is in the south aisle, is worth all the rest, mere altar-tomb though it be. The finest of the others undoubtedly is the erected by James I. to his unhappy mother, a truly sumptuous specimen of the style. In the same aisle lie the remains of Monk, Duke of Albemarle, who was buried here, Charles himself personally attending the funeral, which was of extraordinary magnificence. Walpole says, referring to the body's lying in state, that His monument, by Kent, represents Monk standing by some preposterous looking emblematical pillar-difficult, but fortunately not at all necessary, to be understood. There is a tall but graceful figure in memory of Horace Walpole's mother, in the same chapel, brought by Horace from Rome. The most interesting memorial in the northern aisle, where Addison lies buried, is the great pyramidal monument of Addison's friend and patron, the Earl of Halifax, and of the poets of Johnson's Before leaving Henry VII.'s Chapel, the sight of the banners and arms of the Knights of the Bath, hung on high, reminds us that we must notice the splendid ceremony which occasionally takes place here, --the installation of the members of that famous order. The institution is supposed to have been called into existence to grace the coronation of Henry IV.; and, in consequence, from that period the creation of a number of Knights of the Bath became a usual preliminary of such ceremonies. After Charles II.'s coronation, the order was discontinued for some time; and then subsequently revived by George I., when full directions with regard to badges, decorations, dress, attendants, &c., were issued. By George IV., whilst Prince Regent, the order was remodelled; when classes of members were constituted,--Knights Grand Crosses, Knights Companions, and Knights,--instead of the general class of Knights Companions previously existing. Th? ceremony of installation is | |
142 | picturesque and interesting. When George l. revived the order, he revived also the bath and the vigil; and the precautions he caused to be taken for the health of his infant grandson, on knighting him, are amusing. The bathing-tub was covered with tapestry, and before it was a warm mat, on which to place the tiny Chevalier whilst he was dried and clothed
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Returning into the ambulatory, let us stand awhile in front of the archway beneath Henry V.'s chantry, and gaze upon its decorations. Though unnoticed by a large proportion of the visitors to the Abbey, the sculpture of this arch is among the most precious of our artistical remains. It is says Flaxman, It would be hardly possible to bestow higher praise than this. The tomb was no doubt by the same artist. | |
other chapels yet remain: those of St. Nicholas, with its large, open stone screen; St. Edmund's, with its wooden ; and St. Benedict's, behind Dryden's monument in Poets' Crner. The most painful object in the Abbey is that which greets you on entering the chapel of St. Nicholas--a very beautiful Gothic recess facing you--where has once been the brass effigies of D udley, Bishop of Durham, who died in , but which is now occupied by the effigy of a lady in that most hideous of costumes, the long, tapering waist, and extravagantly broad hips, which is stuck up on side against the wall at the back, | |
143 | in so ludicrous a position, that, if some wit had been desirous to play off a practical satire on the general arrangement of the Abbey memorials, he could not have made a better hit. The fine effigies of the father and mother of James's favourite, Buckingham, on a lofty table-monument in the centre--the admirably-preserved effigies in brass, on the floor, of Sir Humphrey Stanley-and the old freestone tomb and effigy of Philippa Duchess of York, wife of Edmund Langley, son of Edward III.,--are the least showy, but most interesting, of the remaining monuments in this chapel. |
In the next we have on the right, immediately we enter, the tomb of William de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, and half-brother to Henry III., with an oaken effigy on an oaken chest, the former covered with thin plates of copper, and the latter originally decorated with small statues in niches. This must have been a work of great beauty. On the pillow and round the belt there yet remain portions of the ornamental surface, arranged in small delicate patterns, the colours brilliant to this day. On the other side of the entrance lies John of Eltham, son of Edward II., with an alabaster effigy, supported at the head by guardian angels, and having numerous statues, or the ruins of them, around his tomb. To judge of the workmanship of these statues, should stoop down in the corner at the end of the monument, where there are or nearly perfect, and exhibiting considerable refinement of expression in the face. Equally excellent, in another material, is the brass effigy of Eleanor de Bohun, wife of Thomas of Woodstock, youngest son of Edward III. That king has still nearer connexions lying in the Chapel of St. Edward, On a little tomb are the curious alabaster effigies of of his children, measuring only about inches long. With a glance at Stone's figure of Frances Holles, which Walpole admired for its antique simplicity and beauty, and at the Chapel of St. Benedict, where repose the remains of the famous Langham, Archbishop of Canterbury, among other personages of less importance, we--ow, finally, direct our steps towards the Choir. Here is an object of attraction, which we wonder does not form part of the show in the Abbey, Abbot Ware's mosaic pavement, with its ingeniously enigmatical design; as ingeniously executed in tesserae of all kinds of shapes, and all sorts of materials, as coloured marbles, porphyry, jasper, alabaster, &c. The colours at present appear somewhat dim, but may, no doubt, be revived; and we understand the attempt is to be made. This pavement lies between the altar and the public portion of the Choir. As we step into the enclosure of the altar, we seem once more surrounded by all the feelings and influences that belong to the Cathedral, as sees it fresh from the recollections of its early history. The monuments of recent centuries, nay, the centuries themselves, are forgotten here, where all things wear the aspect of solemn, unchanging beauty. The glorious roof still spans in airy grandeur the temple where our forefathers have so long worshipped; the breathing sculpture beneath these lofty canopies, coeval almost with the edifice, still lift their hands in eloquent supplication; the ashes of the founder are yet by our side: through all changes, through all lapses of time, Sebert still guards the place. | |
In conclusion, we would desire the reader to looks back for a few moments over the engravings of the preceding pages. He will perceive that, with the exception of Sir Thomas Vaughan's memorial in the page, which belongs to a position | |
144 | between the tombs of Mary Queen of Scots and Henry V., the whole of the designs are arranged in a reversed chronological order. By the scanty materials thus borrowed from the Abbey, perhaps some faint notion may be obtained of the visible history of art to which we alluded, and of which the entire Abbey memorials might form but grand exposition. |
Footnotes: [n.135.1] The dimensions of the Abbey, generally, are as follows: Extreme length, including Henry VII.'s Chapel exterior 530 feet, interior 511; extreme breadth (across the transepts), interior, 203; height of the western towers, 225. Of the chief parts of the structure we may observe that the extreme breadth of the nave and aisles is 71 feet, the choir 38, the transepts and aisles 84, the extreme length of the nave 166, of the choir 155, of each transept 82. Henry VII.'s Chapel measures in length (the nave) 103 feet, in breadth with aisles 70, in length 60. |
