r
LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF
CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO
FOUNDED BY
'" RICHARD LORD RICH. A.D. 1564-
3ZL .FORM
PRIZE FOR
PRESENTED BY THE GOVERNORS
TO
D.S. INGRAM.
H e.(Ld Master.
I
WESTMINSTER ABBEY
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
ST PAUL'S EPISTLES TO THE CORINTHIANS, with CRITICAL NOTES
and DISSERTATIONS. 18*.
HISTORICAL MEMORIALS OF CANTERBURY. 6s.
SINAI AND PALESTINE, IN CONNECTION WITH THEIR HISTORY. 12*.
THE BIBLE IN THE HOLY LAND ; BEING EXTRACTS FHOM THE ABOVE
WORK, for Schools and Young Persons. 2*. 6d.
LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF THE EASTERN CHURCH. 6s.
LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF THE JEWISH CHURCH. 3 vols.
18*.
CHRISTIAN INSTITUTIONS : ESSAYS ON ECCLESIASTICAL S OBJECTS.
8vo. 12*. Crown 8vo. 6*.
SERMONS PREACHED IN THE EAST during the Tour of the PRINCE
OF WALES. 9*.
LIFE OF DR ARNOLD. 2 vols. 12*.
MEMOIRS OF EDWARD, CATHERINE, AND MARY STANLEY. 9*.
SERMONS ON SPECIAL OCCASIONS, Preached in Westminster Abbey.
8vo. 12*.
ENTRANCE TO THE TOMB OF HENRY VII. AS SEEN ON OPENING THE VAULT IN 18fif>.
FROM A DRAWING BY GEORGE SCHARF, ESQ.
HISTORICAL, MEMORIALS
OF
WESTMINSTEE ABBEY
BY AETHUE PENEHYN STANLEY, D.D.
LATE DEAN OP WESTMINSTER
CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE OF FRANCE
FIOX CHAIU
SIXTH EDITION
WITH THE AUTHOR'S FINAL REVISIONS
Illustrations
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1886
The right of Irnntlalion is rcscrvfl
• The Abbey of Westminster hath been always held the greatest
sanctuary and randevouze of devotion of the whole island ; where-
unto the situation of the very place seems to contribute much, and
to strike a holy kind of reverence and sweetness of melting piety
in the hearts of the beholders.'
HOWELL'S Perhutratlon of London (1657), p. 346.
TO
HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY
QUEEN VICTOEIA
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OP LOYAL AND EESPECTFUL GRATITUDE
THIS HUMBLE RECORD
OF THE ROYAL AND NATIONAL SANCTUARY
WHICH HAS FOR CENTURIES ENSHRINED
THE VARIED MEMORIES OF HER AUGUST ANCESTORS
AND THE MANIFOLD GLORIES OF HER FREE AND FAMOUS KINGDOM
AND WHICH WITNESSED THE SOLEMN CONSECRATION
OF HER OWN AUSPICIOUS REIGN
TO ALL HIGH AND HOLY PURPOSES
NOTE TO THE FIFTH EDITION.
This volume is printed from the copy left by
the Dean at his death, and containing his final
corrections and additions.
Easter, 1882.
PREFACE.
THE following Work was undertaken, in great measure, in con-
sequence of the kind desire expressed by many friends, chiefly by
my honoured colleagues in the Chapter of Westminster, on occa-
sion of the Eight Hundredth Anniversary of the Dedication of
the Abbey, that I would attempt to illustrate its history by
Memorials similar to those which, in former years, I had pub-
lished in connection with Canterbury Cathedral. Such a pro-
posal was in entire consonance with my own previous inclina-
tions ; but I have undertaken it not without much misgiving.
The task was one which involved considerable research, such
as, amidst the constant pressure of other and more important
occupations, I was conscious that I could ill afford to make.
This difficulty has been in part met by the valuable co-operation
which I have received from persons the best qualified to give it.
Besides the facilities rendered to me by the members and officers
of our own Capitular and Collegiate Body, to whom I here
tender my grateful thanks, I may especially name Mr. Joseph
Burtt, of the Public Record Office, whose careful arrangement of
our Archives during the last three years has given him ample
opportunities for bringing any new light to bear on the subject ;
the lamented Joseph Eobertson, of the Eegister House, Edin-
burgh, who was always ready to supply from his copious stores,
any knowledge bearing on the Northern Kingdom ; the Eev.
John Stoughton, who has afforded me much useful information
on the Nonconformist antiquities of the Abbey ; Mr. Thorns, the
learned Editor of ' Notes and Queries,' and Sub-Librarian of the
House of Lords ; Mr. George Scharf, Keeper of the National
Portrait Gallery ; Mr. Doyne C. Bell, of the Privy Purse, Buck-
ingham Palace ; and Colonel Chester, a distinguished antiquarian
of the United States,1 who, with a diligence which spared no
1 For the verification of statements Edward Rhodes, of the Public Record
and references in the earlier Chapters, Office ; and for the Index to my friend
I am in a great measure indebted to Mr. George Grove, and to Mr. Henry
Mr. Frank Scott Haydon and Mr. F. Turle.
[10] PBEFACE.
labour, and a disinterestedness which spared no expenditure, has
at his own cost edited and illustrated with a copious accuracy
which leaves nothing to be desired, the Eegisters of the Baptisms,
Marriages, and Burials in the Abbey.
For such inaccuracies as must be inevitable in a work
covering so large a field, I must crave, not only the indulgence,
but the corrections of those whose longer experience of West-
minster and whose deeper acquaintance with English history
and literature will enable them to point out errors which have
doubtless escaped my notice in this rapid survey.
After all that has been written on the Abbey, it would be
absurd for any modern work to make pretensions to more
than a rearrangement of already existing materials. It may be
as well briefly to enumerate the authorities from which I have
drawn.
I. The original sources, some of which have been hardly
accessible to former explorers, are —
1. The ABCHIVES preserved in the Muniment Chamber of the
Abbey. These reach back to the Charters of the Saxon Kings. They
were roughly classified by Widmore, in the last century, and have
now undergone a thorough and skilful examination under the care of
Mr. Burtt of the Public Eecord Office (see Archaeological Journal,
No. 114, p. 135).
2. The CHAPTER BOOKS, which reach from 1542 to the present
time, with the exception of two important blanks — from 1554 to 1558,
under the restored Benedictines of Queen Mary; and from 1642 to
1G62, under the Commissioners of the Commonwealth.
3. The EEGISTEES of Baptisms, Marriages, and Burials, mentioned
p. 96.
4. The PKECENTOR'S BOOK, containing a partial record of customs
during the last century.
5. The ' CONSUETUDINES ' of Abbot WARE, and
G. The MS. HISTORY OF THE ABBEY by FLETE, both mentioned
p. 826.
7. The MSS. in the Heralds' and Lord Chamberlain's Offices.
8. The ' INVENTORY OF THE MONASTERY,' lately discovered at the
Land Eevenue Record Office by the Rev. Mackenzie E. C. Walcott,
and printed in the Transactions of the London and Middlesex Archaeo-
logical Society, vol. iv.
II. The chief printed authorities are : —
1. Rcgcs, Eegina et Nobiles in Ecclesia Bcati Petri Westmonas-
teriensis Septilti, by WILLIAM CAMDEN (1600, 1603, and 1606).
2. Monumcntdj Wcstmonastcriensia, by HENRY KEEPE (usually
signed H. K.), 16b3.
PREFACE. [11]
3. Antiquities of St. Peter's, by J. CRULL (usually signed J. C.,
sometimes H. S.) [These three works relate chiefly to the Monu-
ments.]
4. History and Antiquities of the Abbey Church of Westminster,
by JOHN DART (2 vols. folio, 1723).
5. History of the Church of St. Peter, and Inquiry into the Time
of its First Foundation, by EICHARD WIDMORE, Librarian to the
Chapter and Minor Canon of Westminster 1750 (carefully based on
the original Archives).
G. History of the Abbey, by B. AKERMAN (2 vols. royal 4to,
1812).
7. History and Antiquities of the Abbey Church of St. Peter,
Westminster, by JOHN NEALE and EDWARD BRAYLEY (2 vols. folio,
1818). [This is the most complete work.]
8. Gleanings from Westminster Abbey, under the supervision of
GEORGE GILBERT SCOTT (2nd edit. 1863), by various contributors
(chiefly architectural).
To these must be added the smaller but exceedingly useful works
— PETER CUNNINGHAM'S Handbook of Westminster Abbey, and MR.
KIDGWAY'S Gem of Thorney Island ; and the elaborate treatises of
STOW, MALCOLM, and MAITLAND, on London ; of SMITH, BRAYLEY,
and WALCOTT, on Westminster ; and of CARTER, GOUGH, and WEEVER,
on sepulchral monuments in general.
III. In turning from the sources of information to the use
made of them, a serious difficulty occurred. Here, as in the case
of Canterbury Cathedral, it was my intention to confine myself
strictly to the historical memorials of the place, leaving the archi-
tectural and purely antiquarian details to those who have treated
them in the works to which I have already referred.1 But the
History of Westminster Abbey differs essentially from that of
Canterbury Cathedral, or, indeed, of any other ecclesiastical
edifice in England. In Canterbury I had the advantage of four
marked events, or series of events, of which one especially — the
murder of Becket — whilst it was inseparably entwined with the
whole structure of the building, was capable of being reproduced,
in all its parts, as a separate incident. In Westminster no such
single act has occurred. The interest of the place depends (as I
have pointed out in Chapter I.) on the connection of the different
parts with the whole, and of the whole with the general History
of England. These ' HISTORICAL MEMORIALS ' ought to be, in
fact, ' The History of England in Westminster Abbey.' Those
who are acquainted with M. Ampere's delightful book, L'Histoire
1 Documents of this kind, not before were printed in the Appendix to the
published, or not generally accessible, earlier editions of this work.
[12] PREFACE.
liomaine a Rome, will appreciate at once the charm and the
difficulty of such an undertaking. In order to accomplish it, I
was compelled, on the one hand, to observe as far as possible ;i
chronological arrangement, such as is lost in works like Neale's
or Cunningham's, which necessarily follow the course of the
topography. But, on the other hand, the lines of interest are so
various and so divergent, that to blend them in one indiscrimi-
nate series would have confused relations which can only be
made perspicuous by being kept distinct. At the cost therefore
of some repetition, and probably of some misplacements, I have
treated each of these subjects by itself, though arranging them
in the sequence which was engendered by the historical order of
the events.
The Foundation of the Abbey,1 growing out of the physical
features of the locality, the legendary traditions, and the motives
and character of Edward the Confessor, naturally forms the
groundwork of all that succeeds.
From the Burial of the Confessor, and the peculiar circum-
stances attendant upon it, sprang the Coronation of William the
Conqueror, which carries with it the Coronations of all future
Sovereigns. These scenes were, perhaps, too slightly connected
with the Abbey to justify even the summary description which I
have given. But the subject, viewed as a whole, is so curious,
that I may be pardoned for having endeavoured to concentrate
in one focus these periodical pageants, which certainly have been
regarded as amongst the chief glories of the place.2
The Tombs of the Kings, as taking their rise from the Burial
of Henry III. by the Shrine of the Confessor, followed next ; and
their connection with the structure of the Church is so ultimate,
that this seemed the most fitting point at which to introduce
such notices of the architectural changes as were compatible with
the plan of the work. This Chapter 3 accordingly contains the
key of the whole.
From the Burials of the Kings followed, in continuous order,
the interments of eminent men. These I have endeavoured to
track in the successive groups of Courtiers, Warriors, and States-
men, through the marked epochs of Richard II., of Elizabeth,
and of the Commonwealth, ending with the Statesmen's Corners
in the North Transept and the Nave. In like manner the Men
of Letters, and of Arts and Sciences, are carried through the
various links which, starting from the Grave of Chaucer in Poets'
1 Chapter I. 2 Chapter II. » Chapter III.
PREFACE. [13]
Corner, include the South Transept, and the other Chapels
whither by degrees they have penetrated. I have also added to
these such Graves or Monuments as, without falling under any
of the foregoing heads, yet deserve a passing notice.1
There still remained the outlying edifices of the Abbey,
which necessitated a brief sketch of the history of the events
and personages (chiefly ecclesiastical) that have figured within
the Precincts before and since the Reformation. For these two
Chapters, as a general rule, I have reserved the burial-places of
the Abbots and Deans. In the first period,2 I have thought it
best to include the whole history of such buildings as the Chapter
House, the Treasury, and the Gatehouse, although in so doing it
was necessary to anticipate what properly belongs to the second
division of the local history. Only such details are given as
were peculiar to Westminster, without enlarging on the features
common to all Benedictine monasteries. Again I have, in the
period since the Reformation,3 reserved for a single summary all
that related to the local reminiscences of the Convocations that
have been held within the Precincts. The History of West-
minster School, which opened a larger field than could be con-
veniently included within the limits of this work, I have noticed
only so far as was necessary to give a general survey of the
destination of the whole of the Conventual buildings, and to form
a united representation of the whole Collegiate Body during some
of the most eventful periods of its annals.
In treating subjects of this wide and varied interest, I have
endeavoured to confine myself to such events and such remarks
as were essentially connected with the localities. In so doing I
have, on the one hand, felt bound to compress the notices of
personages or incidents that were too generally known to need
detailed descriptions ; and, on the other hand, to enlarge on
some of the less familiar names, which, without some such ex-
planation, would lose their significance. I have also not scrupled
to quote at length many passages — sometimes celebrated, some-
times, perhaps, comparatively unknown — which, from their
intrinsic beauty, have themselves become part of the History of
the Abbey. This must be the excuse, if any be needed, for the
numerous citations from Shakspeare, Fuller, Clarendon, Addison,
Gray, Walpole, Macaulay, Irving, and Froude. The details of
the pageants, unless when necessary for the historical bearing
1 Chapter IV. - Chapter V. 3 Chapter VI.
[14] PREFACE.
of the events, I have left to be examined in the authorities to
which I have referred.
IV. I cannot bring this survey of the History of the Abbey
to a conclusion, without recurring for a moment to various sug-
gestions which were made, by those interested in the subject,
at the time of the celebration of the Eighth Centenary of the
Foundation. Some — the most important— have, happily, been
carried out. By the liberality of Parliament, under the auspices,
first of Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Cowper Temple in 1865, and
then of Sir Stafford Northcote and Lord Henry Lennox in 1875,
the ancient Chapter House has been restored. By the aid of the
Ecclesiastical Commission, an apparatus for warming has been
carried through the whole edifice, materially conducive to the
preservation of the Fabric and the Monuments, as well as to the
convenience of Public "Worship. The erection of a new Eeredos,
more worthy of so august a sanctuary, has at length been com-
pleted, under the care of the Subdean, Lord John Thynne, to
whose long and unfailing interest in the Abbey its structure and
arrangements have been so much indebted.
In addition to these improvements, it has been often sug-
gested that none would add so much to the external beauty of
the Building, without changing its actual proportions, or its rela-
tions to past history, as the restoration of the Great Northern
Entrance to something of its original magnificence, which has
almost disappeared under the alterations of later times. In this
plan for glorifying the main approach to the Abbey from the
great thoroughfare of the Metropolis much progress has been
made since the work was published.
The Royal Monuments — after a long discussion occasioned
by a Report presented in 1854, by the distinguished Architect of
the Abbey, Sir Gilbert Scott, to Sir W. Molesworth, then First
Commissioner of Public Works — were in 1869, at the advice of a
Commission of eminent antiquaries, successfully cleaned from
the incrustation which had obliterated their original gilding and
delicate workmanship. This work, which was originated for the
Tudor tombs, by Mr. Layard, was completed for the Plantagenet
tombs under his successor Mr. Ayrton.
The Private Monuments of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries offer less difficulty. I have much pleasure in express-
ing my grateful sense of the promptitude with which the Cecil,
Russell, Sidney, and Lennox tombs have, by the noble and illus-
PREFACE. [15]
trious Houses which they represent, been restored to their
original splendour, yet so as not to interfere with the general
harmony of the surrounding edifice. These examples, it is hoped,
will be followed up generally.
The question of the later Monuments is sufficiently discussed
in the account of them in the pages of this work.1 Doubtless,
some rearrangement and reduction might with advantage take
place. But, even where the objections of the representatives of
the deceased can be surmounted, constant care is needed not to
disturb the historical associations which in most cases have given
a significance to the particular spots occupied by each. Each
must thus be considered on its own merits. One measure, how-
ever, will sooner or later become indispensable, if the sepulchral
character of the Abbey is to be continued into future times, for
which, happily, the existing arrangements of the locality give
ample facilities. It has been often proposed that a Cloister
should be erected, communicating with the Abbey by the Chapter
House, and continued on the site of the present Abingdon Street,
facing the Palace of Westminster on one side, and the College
Garden on the other. Such a building, the receptacle not of
any of the existing Monuments (which would be yet more out of
place there than in their present position), but of the Graves and
the Memorials of another thousand years of English History,
would meet every requirement of the future, without breaking
with the traditions of the past.
I have ventured to throw out these suggestions, as relating
to improvements which depend on external assistance. For such
as can be undertaken by our Collegiate Body — for all measures
relating to the conservation and repair of the fabric, and to the
extension of the benefits of the institution — I can but express my
confident hope that they will, as hitherto, receive every con-
sideration from those whose honour is so deeply involved in the
usefulness, the grandeur, and the perpetuity of the venerable
and splendid edifice of which we are the appointed guardians,
and which lies so near our hearts.
1 See Chapter IV.
June 1876.
NOTE
TO
• THE FOURTH EDITION.
IN order to ease the bulk of this volume, I have omitted from it the
various documents which, having been printed in the three previous
Editions, are there available for any who wish to refer to them, but
are hardly required for general readers. I subjoin a list : —
CHAPTER II.
THE CORONATION STONE — PAGE
1. Letter from the late Joseph Robertson on the Legend,
with Notes of Mr. Skene and Mr. Stuart .... 587
2. Geological Examination of it by Professor Ramsay . . . 594
3. Verses on, in the Time of James I. ..... 597
CHAPTER III.
I. Grave ascribed to Edward the Confessor . . 598
II. Burial of Henry III. .... . . 599
III. Removal of the Body of John of Eltham . . 599
IV. BURIAL OF HENRY VI. —
(a) Depositions of Witnesses concerning the burial . . . 600
(b) Judgment of the Privy Council on . . . 609
(c) Expenses for the Legal Proceedings of the Chapter of Windsor . 612
(d) Indenture of Henry VII. with the Convent of Westminster
for the Removal . . . . . . 015
(e) Expenses incurred for the removal of from Windsor to West-
minster ........ 616
(/) Letter to the Archbishop of York, forbidding the Worship of
Henry VI. at York . . . . . . 617
V. James I.'s Letter for the Removal of the Remains of Mary Queen
of Scots from Peterborough . ... 618
[18]
NOTE.
CHAPTER IV.
I. Account of the Vault of Lennox, Duke of Kichmond
II. Account of the Vault of Villiers, Duke of Buckingham
III. Account of the Vault of Monk, Duke of Albemarle
IV. Account of the ' Cromwell,' 4 Monmouth,' or ' Ormond '
V. Warrant for the Disinterment of the Parliamentarians .
VI. The Middle Tread, and Ben Jonson's Gravestone .
Vault
PAGE
. 620
. 624
. 628
. 630
. 633
, 634
CHAPTER V.
I. Littlington's Buildings . , .
II. Orders against Wandering Monks .
III. Visit of the Bohemian Travellers in 1477
IV. Kecords of the early Painters of the Abbey
V. Kelics lent to the Countess of Gloucester
636
636
638
640
641
CHAPTER VI.
I. Feckenham's Speech on the Eight of Sanctuary
II. Extracts from Strype's edition of ' Stow's Survey ' .
642
648
EXPLANATION OF THE TYPES AND SIGNS USED
IN THE PLANS.
Boman capital letters indicate .
„ smaller ditto „ ...
„ small letters „
„ ditto, with spaces between the letters indicate
Italic capital letters indicate
„ small ditto „ . .
0 indicate
Royal persons
Military and Naval men
Literary men
Other famous personages
Statesmen
Ecclesiastics
Monuments
Graves
CONTENTS.
PREFACE ......... [9-15]
NOTE TO THE FOURTH EDITION ...... [17-18]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ........ [27]
CHRONOLOGICAL, TABLE OF EVENTS ...... [29]
GENERAL DIMENSIONS OF THE ABBEY CHCRCH ..... [36]
CHAPTER I.
THE FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
Natural growth of the Abbey, 2
i. Physical Features of London and Westminster, 2 —The Thames, the Hills
and Streams, 3 — The Island of Thorns, 5 — The Spring, 7
n. Legends: Temple of Apollo, 8 — Church of Lucius, 8— Church of Sebert
A.D. 616, his Grave, 9 — Monastery of Edgar, 10
in. Historical Origin, 10 — EDWAKD THE CONFESSOR; his Outward Appear-
ance, 10 — his Character, 11 — The Last of the Saxons, the First of the
Normans, 13
His motives in the Foundation of the Abbey ; 1. Consecration at
Reims; 2. Situation of Thorney: 3. Devotion to St. Peter, 14— His
Vow, 14— Connection of the Abbey with the name of St. Peter, 16 —
Legend of the Hermit of Worcester, 17 — of Edric the Fisherman, 17 —
of the Cripple, 20— of the Apparition in the Sacrament, 20
Palace of Westminster, 21 — Journey to Borne, 21 — Building of the
Abbey, 22
End of the Confessor. Legend of the Vision of the Seven Sleepers,
24— of the Pilgrim, 24— Dedication of the Abbey (Dec. 28, 1065), 25—
Death of the Confessor (Jan. 5, 1066), and Burial" (Jan. 6), 27
Effects of his Character on the foundation, 28 —Its Connection with
the Conquest, 29 — with the English Constitution, 30 — Legend of
Wulfstan, 30— Bayeux Tapestry, 31
CHAPTER II.
THE CORONATIONS.
The Rite of Coronation, 34— The Scene of the English Coronations, 36— Corona-
tion of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR (Dec. 25, 1066), 37— Connection of Corona-
tions with the Abbey, 39 ; the Regalia, 39 — Coronation Privileges of the
Abbots and Deans of Westminster, 10 ; of the Archbishops of Canterbury,
41 : Coronation of Matilda (May 11, 1067), 41
a 2
[20] CONTEXTS.
Coronation of WILLIAM RUFUS (Sept. 26, 1087), 41 ; of HENRY I. (Aug. 5, 1100),
42; of Maude (Nov. 10, 1100), 43; of STEPHEN (Dec. 26, 1135), 43; of
HENRY II. (Dec. 19, 1154), 44 ; of his son Henry (June 14, 1170), 44 ; and
its results, 44 ; of RICHARD I. (Sept. 3, 1189), 45, and its disasters, 45 ; his
Second Coronation (1194), 47 ; Coronation of JOHN (May 27, 1199), 47 ; the
Cinque Ports, 47— Two Coronations of HENRY III. (Oct. 28, 1216 : May 17,
1220), 47, 48; Abolition of Lord High Stewardship, 48— Coronation of
EDWARD I. and Eleanor (Aug. 19, 1274), 49
The CORONATION STONE, 49 ; Installation of Kings, 49 —Legend and History of
the Stone of Scone, 50-52— its Capture, 52 — its Retention and Use, 53, 54 —
Prediction concerning, 54 — its Interest ; the ' Spectator ' ; Goldsmith, 55, 56
Coronation of EDWARD II. (Feb. 25, 1308), 56 ; of EDWARD III. (Feb. 1, 1327), 57 ;
of Philippa (Feb. 2, 1328), 57 ; the Shield and Sword of State ; Coronation
of RICHARD II. (July 16, 1377) ; the Liber Regalis ; the Procession from the
Tower ; the Knights of the Bath, 57, 58 ; the Champion, 58— Coronation of
HENRY IV. (Oct. 13, 1399) ; the Election, 59— The Ampulla, 59— Coronation
of Queen Joan (Feb. 26, 1403); of HENRY V. (April 9, 1413), 60; and of
Catherine (Feb. 24, 1420), 60 ; of HENRY VI. (Nov. 6, 1429) ; and of Margaret
(April 30, 1445) ; of EDWARD IV. (June 29, 1466), 60, 61— Preparations for
the Coronation of EDWARD V. (June 22, 1483), 61 ; Coronation of RICHARD III.
(July 6, 1483), 61 ; of HENRY VII. (Oct. 30, 1485), 62 ; of Elizabeth of York
(Nov. 25, 1487) ; the Yeomen of the Guard ; Coronation of HENRY VIII.
(June 24, 1509), 62, 63 ; of Anne Boleyn (June 1, 1533), 63-65 ; of EDWARD VI.
(Feb. 20, 1546), 66— Cranmer's Address, 68 — Coronation of Queen MARY
(Oct. 1, 1553), 68-70 ; of Queen ELIZABETH (Jan. 15, 1559), 70-71 ; of
JAMES I. (July 25, 1603), 72 ; of CHARLES I. (Feb. 2, 1625-26), 72-74
Installation of CROMWELL (June 26, 1657), 75
Coronation of CHARLES II. (April 23, 1661), 75-77 ; of JAMES II. (April 23, 1685),
77, 78 ; of WILLLVM AND MARY (April 11, 1689) ; Sanction of Parliament,
78, 79 — Coronation Oath changed, 78— Coronation of Queen ANNE (April 23,
1702), 80
Coronation of GEORGE I. (Oct. 20, 1714), 81 — Reconstruction of the Order of the
Bath, 81— Installation of Knights, 84— Lord Dundonald's Banner, 85
Coronation of GEORGE II. (Oct. 11, 1727), 85 ; of GEORGE III. (Sept. 22, 1761),
86 ; withdrawal of the claims to the Kingdom of France, 88 ; appearance of
Prince Charles Edward at the Coronation, 89. Coronation of GEORGE IV.
(July 19, 1821), 89— Attempted Entrance of Queen Caroline, 90, 91— Coro-
nation of WILLIAM IV. (Sept. 8, 1831), its Curtailment, 91 — Coronation of
QUEEN VICTORIA (June 28, 1838), 92— Conclusion, 92-95
CHAPTER III.
THE ROYAL TOMBS.
On the Tombs of Kings generally, 97— Peculiarities of in the Abbey : 1. In com-
bination with Coronations, 98 ; 2. with the Palace, 99 ; 3. Importance of
the Royal Deaths, 100 ; 4. Publicity of the Funerals, 101 ; 5. Connection of
Burials with the Services of the Church, 101
Beginning of Royal Burials :— Sebert, Ethelgoda, Harold Harefoot, EDWARD THE
CONFESSOR, 101 ; Norman Kings buried at Caen, Winchester, Reading,
Faversham, Fontevrault, Worcester, 102, 103; MAUD (May 1, 1118), 104—
First Translation of the Confessor (Oct. 13, 1163), 105
HENRY III.— his Foundation of the Lady Chapel (1220), 106— characteristics of
his Reign ; his English feelings ; his imitation of St. Denys ; his devotion ;
his addiction to Foreign Arts ; his extravagance, 106-110— Demolition of the'
Old and Building of the New Church, 110— The Confessor's Shrine, 110
CONTENTS. [21]
Second Translation of the Confessor (Oct. 13, 1269), 112— The Belies, 112—
His Death (Nov. 16), Burial (Nov. 20, 1272), and Tomb, 114— Delivery of his
Heart to the Abbess of Fontevrault (1291), 115
Family of Henry III.— Princess Catherine (1257), Prince Henry (1271), 116;
William de Valence (1296), Edmund Earl of Lancaster (1296), and Aveline
his Wife (1273), 116, 117
Eleanor of Castille (1291)— Alfonzo (1284), 118 ; EDWAED I. 1307, his Tomb and
Inscription, 119— opening of Tomb (1771), 120 — EDWABD II.'s Tomb at
Gloucester (1327)— John of Eltham (1334), 121 ; Aymer de Valence (1323),
121
Philippa (1369), 122;' EDWABD III. (1377), his Tomb, Children, Sword and
Shield, 122, 123 ; Belies from France ; the Black Prince, 123
BICHABD II. — his affection for the Abbey, and Marriage, 123 ; his Badge and
Portrait, 124— his Wife's Burial and Tomb (1394-95), 125— his Burial at
Langley (1399), and Bemoval to Westminster (1413), 126— Thomas of
Woodstock and his Wife, Philippa of York, 126, 127
HOUSE OF LANCASTER.
HENRY IV. buried at Canterbury ; HENRY V.'s Interest in the Abbey, completion
of the Nave, 127— his Death and Funeral (1422), 128— his Tomb, 129— his
Saddle and Helmet, 132— his Statue, 133— Catherine of Valois (1437), 134 —
HENRY VI. visits the Abbey to fix the place of his sepulture, 134— With-
drawal of the York Dynasty to Windsor, 136— Margaret of York (1472),
Anne of Warwick (1485), Anne Mowbray of York, 136
Claims of Windsor, Chertsey, and Westminster for the burial of HENRY VI., 137 —
Origin of the CHAPEL OP HENRY VII., 138, 139— The Chantry; the Saints,
139— The close of the Middle Ages and the Wars of the Boses ; revival of
the Celtic Baces, 140, 141 — The Beginning of Modern England, 141 — Death
of Elizabeth of York (1503), 144 ; of HENRY VII. (1509), 145 ; his Burial
and Tomb, 145 ; Tomb of Margaret of Bichmond (1509), 146, 147— Marriage
Window of Prince Henry, Intended Tomb of HENRY VIII., 147, 148
The BEFOBMATION in the Abbey, 148— Funeral of Edward VI. (1553), 149— his
Tomb, 150 ; Anne of Cleves (1557), Queen MARY I. (1558), 151 — Obsequies of
Charles V., ' Emperor of Borne ' (1558), 151
Queen ELIZABETH (1603), and Tomb, 152, 153 — Tombs of the Stuarts ; Margaret
Lennox (1577), 154— Charles Lennox— MABY STUABT (1587), 154 — End of the
Boyal Monuments, 155
Tombs of Princesses Mary and Sophia (1607), 156; Graves of Prince Henry,
Arabella Stuart, 157 ; Anne of Denmark (1619), JAMES I. (1625), 157, 158 ;
Prince Charles (1629), and Princess Anne (1640), 158
The COMMONWEALTH : — The Family of Cromwell, 159 ; OLIVEB CROMWELL, Eliza-
beth Claypole (1658), 160 — Disinterment of Cromwell's Bemains, 161
The BESTORATION :— Intended Tomb of CHABLES I., 162 ; Henry Duke of
Gloucester (1660), Mary of Orange (1660), Elizabeth of Bohemia (1661),
Prince Bupert (1682), 162, 163 ; illegitimate Sons of Charles II. ; CHABLES II.
(1685), 163
Death of JAMES II. (1701), 164, and his Children, 165 ; WILLIAM III. (1702), 164
— MABY II. (1694), 165— Queen ANNE (1714) and Prince George of Denmark
(1708), 166
The HOUSE OF HANOVEB, 166— GEORGE II. (1760) and Caroline of Anspach (1737),
167, and their Family, 168 ; GEORGE III.'s Vault at Windsor, 169 — Antony,
Duke of Montpensier (1807), 170 ; Lady Augusta Stanley (1876), 172 ; Arthur
Penrhyn Stanley, Dean of Westminster (1881), 172
[22] CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MONUMENTS.
Peculiarity of the Tombs at Westminster, 174— Comparison of the Abbey with
the church of Santa Croce at Florence, 175— Eesult of the Royal Tombs, 176
Burials in the Cloisters :— Hugolin, Geoffrey of Mandeville, 177-- First Burials
within the Abbey, 177 — COURTIERS OF RICHARD II. : John of Waltham (1395),
Golofre (13%), 178; Brocas (1400), Waldeby (1397), 179- OF HENRY V., 179
OF EDWARD IV., 179— OF HENRY VII., 180
LADIES OF THE TUDOR COURT : — Frances Grey (1559), 181*; Anne Seymour (1587),
Frances Howard (1598), 181, 182 ; Frances Sidney (1589), 182
ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES, 182 — Jane Seymour (1561), Catherine Knollys (1568),
Sir R. Pecksall (1571), John Lord Russell, and his Daughter (1584), 183,
184— Winyfred Brydges (1586), Bromley (1587), Puckering (1596), 185—
Owen (1598), Lord Hunsdon (1596), 186— Lord Burleigh and his Family
(1598), 187 ; the Norris Family, 193, 194 ; William Thynne (1584), 195
FLEMISH HEROES :— Sir Francis Vere (1609), 191; Sir George Holies (1626), De
Burgh (1594), 192, 193 ; the Norris Family (1598-1604), 193, 194— Bingham
(1598), 195
COURTIERS OF JAMES I., 195 — Duke of Richmond (1623), 196
COURTIERS or CHARLES I., 197 :— The Villiers Family (1605-1632), 197, 201—
Cranfield, Earl of Middlesex (1645), 203 ; Lord Cottington (1652), 203 ; Sir
T. Richardson (1635), 204— Thomas Cary (1649), 204
MAGNATES OF THE COMMONWEALTH : — PYM (1643), 204 — Earl of Essex (1646), 205
— Popham (1651), Dorislaus (1749), 206— IHETON (1651), 207— BLAKE (1657),
207— BRADSHAW (1659), 209. Their Disinterment, 209— Exceptions, 209;
Popham, Ussher, Elizabeth Claypole, Essex, Grace Scot, George Wild, 209,
210
THE CHIEFS OF THE RESTORATION :— MONK (1670), MONTAGUE, Earl of Sandwich
(1672), THE ORMOND VAULT, 211, 212; Duke of Ormond and his Family
(1684-1688), 212— Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1674), Bishop Nicholas Monk
(1661), Bishop Feme (1662), Bishop Duppa (1662), 213, 214
HEROES OF THE DUTCH WAR, 214, 215
Thomas Thynne (1681), 216— Sir E. B. Godfrey (1670), T. Chiffinch (1666), Duke
and Duchess of Newcastle [Cavendish] (1676-1677), 216, 217— Holies, Duke
of Newcastle (1711), 218
THE REVOLUTION OF 1688 : — The Bentinck, Schomberg, and Temple Families ;
Saville, Marquis of Halifax (1695), 218, 219 — STATESMEN AND COURTIERS OF
QUEEN ANNE : Montague, Earl of Halifax (1715), 219 — Craggs, 219 —
Godolphin (1712), 221— HEROES OF THE WAR OF THE SUCCESSION, 223, 224
— Sir Cloudesley Shovel (1707), 224 — The DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, mourning
of Sarah for her son, 225; Funeral of the Duke (1722), 226— Sheffield,
Duke of Buckinghamshire, and his Family (1721), 227-230
STATESMEN OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER : — John Duke of Argyll and Greenwich
(1743), 231— Wife of Sir R. Walpole (1737), 232- Pulteney, Earl of Bath
(1764), 233
SOLDIKRS : Roubiliac's Monument to Wade (1748), 235 — Hargrave (1750), Fleming
(1751), 252
SAILORS :— Hardy (1720), Cornewall (1743), Tyrrell (1766), Wager (1743), Vernon
(1751), 235, 236; Lord A. Beauclerk (1740), 236— Lord Dundonald (1860),
238
CONTENTS. [23]
INDIAN AND AMERICAN WABS :— WOLFS (1759), 237 — Lord Howe's Captains (1794),
238— Rodney's Captains (1782), Burgoyne (1792), Andre (1780), 239— Wilson,
Outram, Clyde, Pollock, 240 - Franklin, 240
THE MODERN STATESMEN, 241— The North Transept: Lord Chatham (May 11,
1778), 241— Lord Mansfield (1793), 243; Follett (1845), 244— Pitt (1806),
244— Fox (1806), 244. The Whigs' Corner: Perceval (1812), Grattan (1820),
Tierney (1830), Mackintosh (1832), Lord Holland (1840), 245— Castlereagh
(1822), Canning (1827), Peel (1850), 246, 247— Palmerston (1865), 247—
Cornewall Lewis (1863), Cobden (1865), 249
INDIAN STATESMEN: Staunton (1801), Warren Hastings (1818), Malcolm (1833),
Baffles (1826), Lord Canning (1862), 247, 248
PHILANTHROPISTS : — Hanway, Granville Sharp, Zachary Macaulay, Wilberforce,
Buxton, Homer, Buller, 248, 249— Peabody (1875), 249
POETS' CORNER— South Transept : CHAUCER (1400), 251 — Spenser (1599), 252—
Beaumont (1615), Shakspeare's monument, 253 — Drayton (1631), 254 — Ben
Jonson (1637), 255— Ayton (1638), May (1650), Davenant (1668), 256, 257—
Cowley (1667), 257— Denham (1668), Dryden (1700), 258, 259— Shadwell
(1692), 260; Stepney (1707), Phillips (1708), 261-Milton (1674), 262—
Butler (1680), Rowe (1718), 263— Aphara Behn (1689), St. Evremond (1703),
264 ; Tom Brown (1704), Addison (1719), Steele (1729), 264, 265— Congreve
(1729), 266— Prior (1721), 267— Gay (1732), 268— Pope (1744), 269— Thomson
(1748), Gray (1771), Mason (1797), 270
HISTORICAL AISLE. — Casaubon (1614), 270 — Izaak Walton's Monogram (1658),
Camden (1623), 271— Spelman (1641), 272
THEOLOGIANS :— The Presbyterian Preachers (1643-1658), 273; Triplett (1670),
Barrow (1677), Outram (1679), 273— Busby (1695), Grabe (1711), 274;
Horneck (1696), South (1716), Vincent (1815), 294; Thorndyke (1672),
Atterbury (1732), 274-276— Wharton (1695), 276— Watts (1748), 277— The
two Wesleys (1791), 277
MEN OF LETTERS:— Goldsmith (1774), 277, his Epitaph, 278— JOHNSON (1784),
279; Macpherson (1796), Cumberland (1811), Sheridan (1816), 280, 281—
Anstey (1805), Granville Sharp (1813), 280; Campbell, Cary (1844), 281—
Byron (1824), 281; William Gilford (1827), 281; Southey (1843), Words-
worth (1850), Keble (1866), 282 ; Lytton (1873), Macaulay (1859), Thackeray
(1863), Dickens (1870), Grote and ThirlwaU (1870, 1875), 282, 283
THE ACTORS, 283— Anne Oldfield (1730), 284— Anne Bracegirdle (1748), 285;
Betterton (1710), Booth (1733), Cibber (1766), Prichard (1768), 285, 286—
Barry, Foote (1777), Garrick (1779), 286, 287; Henderson (1785), Siddons
(1831), 288— Kemble (1823), 288
MUSICIANS: Lawes (1662), 288; Christopher Gibbons (1676), PURCELL (1695),
Blow (1708), 289— Croft (1727), HANDEL (1759), Cooke (1793), Arnold (1802),
Burney (1814), Bennett (1875), Clementi (1832), 290
ARTISTS :— Kneller (1723), 291. ARCHITECTS :— Taylor (1788), Chambers (1796),
Banks (1805), Wyatt (1813), Barry (1860), 292. ENGRAVERS :— Vertue (1756),
Woollett (1785), 292
MEN OF SCIENCE :— NKWTON (1727), by the side of the Stanhopes, 292, 293 —
Conduitt (1737), Ffolkes (1754), 294; Herschel (1870), Lyell (1875), 295;
Livingstone (1875), 299
PHYSICIANS :— Chamberlen, Woodward and Freind (1728), 295 ; Wetenall (1733),
Mead (1754), Pringle (1782), Hunter (1793), Winteringham (1794), Buchan
(1805), Baillie (1823), Davy, Young (1829), 296, 297
[24]
CONTENTS.
PRACTICAL SCIENCE :— Sir B. Moray (1673), Sir Samuel Morland (1696), 297—
Tompion (1713), Graham (1751), 297— Hales (1761), WATT (1819), 298—
Bennell (1830), Telford (1834), Stephenson (1859), Brunei (1859), Locke
(1860), 299
The NOBILITY : Elizabeth Percy, Duchess of Northumberland (1776), 301— The
Delaval Family, 301 ; Countess of Strathmore, 302. — The YOUNG : — Jane
Lister, Nicholas Bagnall, 302 ; Thomas Smith, Carteret, Dalrymple, 304. —
MOURNERS: — Lord and Lady Kerry, 304 — Lady Elizabeth Nightingale, 304.
— FRIENDS : — Mary Kendall, Grace Gethin, 305 ; Withers, Disney, 306. —
LONGEVITY : — Anne Birkhead, Thomas Parr, Elizabeth Woodfall, 306, 307. —
FOREIGNEHB : — Spanheim, Courayer, 307 ; Paleologus, 307 ; Chardin, Paoli,
Steigerr, Duras, 308, 309; Armand and Charlotte de Bourbon, 309.—
Translation of Lyndwood, 309. — SERVANTS, 310
Conclusion of the Survey— gradual growth of the monuments, uncertain distribu-
tion of honours, the toleration of the Abbey, changes of taste, variety of
judgment, 311-320
Note on the WAXWORK EFFIGIES, 321-325
CHAPTER V.
THE ABBEY BEFOEE THE REFORMATION.
The MONASTERY, 327 — Its connection with the Palace, 327 — and independence,
328
The ABBOTS, 329— The Norman Abbots, 331— The Plantagenet Abbots, 333—
Ware, Langham, Littlington, 332-334 — Islip, 335 — their general character,
329-336
The MONKS, 336— the monastic life, 337
The MONASTERY — Its Possessions on the North-west of Westminster : the Mill,
Orchard, Vineyard, Bowling Alley, and Gardens : the pass of the Knights'
Bridge, Tothill Fields, the Manors of Hyde and Neate, 338, 339— on the
North-east : Covent Garden, St. Martin's-le-Grand, 339, 340
PBKCINCTS— King Street— the GATEHOUSE: its uses as a Prison, 340-345— its
Keeper, 345
The SANCTUARY, 346 — Murder of Hawle, 348 — Outrage of Wat Tyler, 350 — Two
Visits of Elizabeth Woodville, 350— Owen Tudor, 352— Skelton, 352; End
of the Sanctuary, 352
The ALMONRY : St. Anne's Lane, 353, 354 — ' The Elms ' in Dean's Yard, the
Granary, 354
' The ABBOT'S PLACE ' (the Deanery), the Dining Hall, 354— Conspiracy of
William of Colchester, 355
JERUSALEM CHAMBER, 356 : Death of Henry IV., 358— Conversion of Henry V.,
359— Sir Thomas More, 361
The PRIORS and SUBPRIORS, 361
The CLOISTERS, 361 :— The School in the West Cloister, Shaving of the Monks,
362, 364
The RKFKCTORY, 365
The DORMITORY OF THE MONKS, 366
CONTENTS. [25]
The TREASURY, 367— The Tomb of Hugolin, 367— The Bobbery, 368
The CHAPTER HOUSE, 371: — tombs, 371 — rebuilt by Henry III., 371— its
peculiarities, 372 — its monastic purposes, 372 — capitular meetings, 373—
occupied by the House of Commons, 374-376 — statutes of Circumspecte
Agatis, Provisions, Prffimunire, 276 ; convention of Henry V., Wolsey's
Legatine Court, the Acts of the Beformation, 377 — used as a Becord Office,
379— Agarde, Bymer, Palgrave, 380— its Bestoration, 382
The JEWEL HOUSE, 382— the Parliament Office, 383
The ANCHORITE, 383— William Ushborne and his Fishpond, 383
The INFIRMARY and Garden, 384 — Chapel of St. Catherine, 385 ; Consecrations of
Bishops, Councils of Westminster, 385, 386 — Struggles of the Primates, 386
Cardinal Wolsey — the Beception of his Hat, 390 — his Visitations, 390
Conclusion — Caxton's Printing Press, 393
CHAPTEE VI.
THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION.
The Dissolution of the Monastery (1540), 395 — The Cathedral under the Bishop
of Westminster, Thirlby (1540), 396— under the Bishop of London, Bidley
(1550), 'Bobbing Peter to pay Paul,' 397— The Deans, Benson (1539), Cox
(1549), 398, 399— Weston (1553), 399
The Bevival of the Abbacy: — High Mass of the Golden Fleece (Nov. 30, 1554),
399, 400— Abbot Feckenham (1555), 400— Bestoration of the Shrine (1557),
402 — The Westminster Conference, 404 — Feckenham's Farewell to the
College Garden, and Death (1585), 405, 406
The Change under Queen Elizabeth, 406 — The COLLEGIATE CHURCH of St. Peter,
407 — The Chapter Library, the Schoolroom, the old Dormitory of the
Scholars, the College Hall, connection of School with Oxford and Cambridge
— its collegiate constitution, 408-411
The DEANS : Bill (1560), 411 ; Goodman (1601), 412— Pest House at Chiswick,
412 — Nowell and Camden, Headmasters, 413 — Deans : Lancelot Andrewes
(1605), Neale (1610), Monteigne (1617), Tounson (1620), 413, 415
DEAN WILLIAMS (1620-50) ; his Benefactions, his Preferments, 415-417 — Enter-
tainments given by him in the Jerusalem Chamber and College Hall, 419 —
The adventure of Lilly in the Cloisters, 423 — Williams's first Imprisonment,
Ussher at the Deanery, 424 — Williams's Beturn (1640), 425 — Peter Heylin in
the Pulpit, 425 — Conferences in the Jerusalem Chamber, 426 — Attack on the
Abbey, 426 — Williams's Second Imprisonment (1641), 427 — Puritan Changes,
428 — Desecration of the Abbey, Destruction of Edward VI.'s Memorial and
of the Begalia, 428, 429
The COMMONWEALTH, 459 — The Commissioners, the Presbyterian Preachers, 429 —
The Westminster Assembly, the Westminster Confession, 431-436 — Bichard
Stewart, Dean, 437 — Bradshaw, 437 — Osbaldiston, Busby, Glynne and Wake,
Uvedale, South, Philip Henry, 438-441
The BESTORATION, 442— Consecrations of Bishops, 444 — Deans : Earles (1663),
Dolben, 445, 446— The Plague, 446— The Fire (1666), 447— Dean Sprat
(1713), 447 — Declaration of Indulgence, 448 — Barrow's Sermons, 448 — Pre-
bendaries : John North, Symond Patrick, Robert South, 449-452 — South's
Death, 454
[26] CONTENTS.
Atterbury (1713-23), 455 — his researches, repairs of the Abbey, and preaching,
455— rebuilds the Dormitory of the School, 456— his Fall, 457— his Plots,
459— his Exile, 461— his Funeral (1732), 461— The Wesleys, 462
The Convocations, 463 — original seat of at St. Paul's, 463 — Transference of to
Westminster under Wolsey, 463 — Held in Henry VII. 's Chapel, 465 — in the
Jerusalem Chamber, 466 ; the Prayer Book of 1662, 466 — Commission for
Eevision of the Liturgy of 1689, 468 — Disputes between the two Houses as to
the place of meeting, 468 — Bevision of the Authorised Version, 472
Knipe and Freind, Headmasters ; Fire in the Cloisters (1731), 473 — Deans,
Bradford (1723), Wilcocks (1731), 474— Building of Westminster Bridge
(1738), 475— Deans : Pearce (1756), 476— Thomas (1768), 477— Headmasters :
Nicoll, Markham, 479, 480— Deans : Horsley (1793), Vincent (1802), Ireland
(1815-42), Turton (1842-45), Wilberforce (1845), Buckland (1845-56), Trench
(1856-63), Headmasters, 481-483
Baptisms and Marriages, 484 — Consecration of Bishops, 484
Changes of public sentiment towards the Abbey, 485-489 ; Carter the Antiquary,
490
Conclusion — The various uses of the Abbey, 493 — Continuity of Worship, 493 —
the Altar, 494 — the Pulpit, 495 — Fulfilment of the purposes of the Founder,
497
PAGE
AN ACCOUNT OF TUB SEABCH FOR THE BURIALPLACE OF JAMES I. . . 499
INDEX ....... . 527
LIST OF ILLUSTBATIONS.
Entrance to the Tomb of Henry VII., as seen on opening the Vault
in 1869 (from a drawing by George Scharf, Esq.) . . . Frontispiece
The Coronation Chair . . . . . . Vignette Title
PAGE
Plan of the Abbey and its precincts about A.D. 1535 . . . To face 1
Beliefs from the Frieze of the Chapel of Edward the Confessor :—
1. The Remission of the Danegelt. 2. The Pardon of the Thief. 3. The
Shipwreck of the King of Denmark. 4. The Visit to the Seven
Sleepers. 5. St. John and the Pilgrims . . . 12
The Abbey, from the Bayeux Tapestry .... . .32
The Coronation Stone . . . . . . 51
Installation of the Knights of the Bath, in 1812, in Henry VH.'s Chapel . 83
Plan of the Tombs in the Chapel of the Kings . . . Ill
Chantry of Henry V. . . . , . ' ' . ' . .130
Helmet, Shield, and Saddle of Henry V., still suspended over his Tomb . 131
Plan of the Tombs of the Abbey in 1509 . . . . .142
Chapel of Henry VII. . . . . . . . 143
Chapel of St. Nicholas . . . . . .188
St. John the Baptist . . . 188
St. Paul ....... 189
St. Edmund . . . . . . 189
„ Chapels of St. John the Evangelist, St. Michael, and St.
Andrew . . . . . . . .190
Monument to Sir Francis Vere . . . . . . . 192
Plan of Buckingham's (Villiers) Vault, Henry VH.'s Chapel . . . 198
Plan of the Chapel of St. Benedict . . . . . 202
Plan of General Monk's vault, in the North Aisle of Henry VH.'s Chapel 211
Plan of the Nave . , . . . . . . 222
„ North Transept . . . . . . 242
„ Poets' Corner . 250
[28] LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Chaucer's Monument ........ 252
The Nightingale Monument . . . . . . 305
Old Gatehouse of the Precincts, Westminster; pulled down in 1776 . 341
Jerusalem Chamber, Westminster . . . . . 357
The Cloisters, with entrance to the Chapter House .... 363
The Chapter House, as restored by Sir Gilbert Scott . . 381
Shrine of Edward the Confessor ...... 403
Plan of the ' Abbot's Place,' and of the Jerusalem Chamber at the time of
the Westminster Assembly . . . . . . 435
Wooden case of Leaden Coffin of Queen Elizabeth . . . .512
Torregiano's Altar, formerly at the head of Henry VII.'s Tomb, under which
Edward VI. was buried (from an engraving in Sandford's ' Genealogical
History') . . . . . . . . . 513
Marble Fragment of Torregiano's Altar ..... 514
Carving of Torregiano's Altar . . . . . . . 514
Leaden Plate of Edward VI.'s Coffin . . . . . .515
Henry VH.'s Vault, west end . . . . 520
The Coffins of James I., Elizabeth of York, and Henry VII., as seen on the
opening of the Vault in 1869 (from a drawing of George Scharf, Esq. . 521
Plan of Henry VH.'s Vault ....... 522
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
OF
EVENTS CONNECTED WITH WESTMINSTER ABBEY.1
A.n. A.D.
153 ? Fall of the Temple of Apollo ? 1189
90-190 ? Foundation of the Abbey by Lucius?
616 ? Foundation by Sebert and Vision of
Edric ? 1191
785? Charter of Offa? 1194
951 ? „ of Edgar ?
1042 Fulfilment of the Vow of Edward the 1195
Confessor to St. Peter.
1049 Edtrin, Abbot. 1197
Embassy to Reims.
1050 Foundation of the Abbey. 1198
1065 Dedication of the Abbey, Dec. 28. 1199
1066 Death of the Confessor,' Jan. 5.
Burial of the Confessor, Jan. 6.
Coronation of Harold (?) Jan. R. 1200
„ of William the Conqueror,
Dec. 25.
1068 Coronation of Matilda, May 11.
Geoffrey, Abbot.
1069 Imprisonment of Egelric, Bishop of 1203
Durham.
1072 Egelric buried.
1076 First Council of Westminster under
Lanfranc. 1214
Miracle of Wolfstan's Crozier. 1220
Fi/a/w, Abbot.
1082 Gislebert, Abbot. 1221
1087 Coronation of William Rufus, Sept. 26.
1098 Opening of the Confessor's Coffin by 1222
Gundulph and Gtislebert. 1224
1100 Building of New Palace of Westminster.
Coronation of Henry I., Aug. 5.
of Matilda, Nov. 11.
1102 Council under Anselm. 1226
1115 Consecration of Bernard, Bishop of St.
David's, Sept. 19. 1236
1118 Burial of Matilda, May 1.
1120 Herbert, Abbot. 1244
Consecration of David of Bangor, April 4. 1245
1124 Council under John of Crema. 1246
1135 Coronation of Stephen, Dec. 26. 1247
1140 Gerrase, Abbot.
1154 Coronation of Henry II., Dec. 19. 1250
1160 Lam-ence, Abbot.
1163 Canonisation of the Confessor, and First
Translation of his Remains, Oct. 13. 1252
1170 Coronation of Prince Henry, June 14.
1176 Council of Westminster, and Struggle of 1256
the Primates.
1186 Consecration of Hugh of Lincoln, Sept. 21.
Consecration of William of Worcester, 1257
Sept. 21. 1258
Coronation of Richard I., Sept. 3.
Consecration of Hubert of Salisbury and
Godfrey of Winchester, Oct. 22.
Posturd, Abbot.
Consecration of Herbert of Salisbury.
June 5.
Trial between the Archbishop of Canter-
bury and the Abbot.
Consecration of Robert of Bangor, March
16.
Consecration of Eustace of Ely, March 8.
Consecration of William of London, May
23.
Coronation of John, May 27.
Papillon, Abbot.
Consecration of John Gray of Norwich,
Sept. 24.
Consecration of Giles Braose of Hereford,
Sept. 24.
Consecration of William de Blois of Lin-
coln before the High Altar, Aug. 24.
Consecration of Geoffrey of St. David's,
Dec. 7.
ffumez, Abbot.
Foundation of Lady Chapel, May 16.
Coronation of Henry IIL, May 17.
Consecration of Eustace of London, April
26.
Barking, Abbot.
Consecration of William Brewer of Exeter,
April 21.
Consecration of Ralph Neville of Chiches-
ter, April 21.
Consecration of Thomas Blunville of
Norwich, Dec. 20.
Marriage of Henry IIL and Eleanor,
Jan. 14.
Council of State held in Refectory.
Rebuilding of the Abbey by Henry ILT.
Crokesley, Abbot.
Fulk de Castro Novo buried.
Deposition of Relics.
Chapter House begun.
Richard of Wendover, Bishop of Roches-
ter, buried.
Excommunication of Transgressors of
Magna Charta.
Parliament met in Chapter House, March
2f>.
Council of State in Chapter House.
Princess Catherine buried.
Leuisham, Abbot.
1 When the Table contains reference to the burial of illustrious persons in the Abbey, the date of
their burial is given ; where they have only cenotaphs, then the date of their deaih.
[30]
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.
A.D.
1258 Ware, Abbot.
1261 Ford, Abbot of Glastonbury, buried.
1263 Commons of London assemble in Cloisters.
1267 Mosaic Pavement brought from Rome.
1269 Second Translation of Edward the Con-
fessor, Oct. 13.
Marriage of Edmond and Aveline, Earl
and Countess of Lancaster.
1271 Heart of Prince Henry, Nephew to the
King, placed near Confessor's T6mb.
1272 Burial of Henry III., Nov. 20.
1273 Aveline of Lancaster buried.
1274 Coronation of Edward I. and Eleanor,
Aug. 19.
1281 Erection of the Tomb of Henry III.
1284 Wenlock, Abbot.
Dedication of Coronet of Llewelyn to the
Confessor.
Prince Alfonso buried, Aug. 14.
1285 Statute ' Circumspecte Agatis.'
1290 Council of Westminster. Expulsion of
the Jews from England.
1291 Reinterment of Henry III., and Delivery
of his Heart to the Abbess of Fontev-
rault.
Eleanor of Castile buried, Dec. 17.
1292 Withdrawal of Claims by John Baliol in
Chapter House.
1294 Inundation of the Thames.
Assembly of Clergy and Laity in Refectory
1296 William of Valence buried.
Edmund Crouchback buried.
Dedication of the Stone of Scone.
1303 Robbery of the Treasury.
1307 Burial of Edward I., Oct. 27.
Removal of Sebert.
1308 Coronation of Edward II., February 25.
Kijtluntjton, Abbot.
1315 Curtlinyton, Abbot.
1323 Ayruer de Valence buried.
1327 Coronation of Edward III., Feb. 1.
1328 Coronation of Philippa, Feb. 2.
Writ of Edward III. rpquiring the Abbot
of Westminster to give up the Stone of
Scone, July 21.
1334 Henley, Abbot.
John of Eltham, buried.
1344 Byrchetton, Abbot.
1345 Eastern Cloister finished.
1348 The Black Death. Burial of twenty-six
Monks.
1349 Langham, Abbot.
1350 Statute of Provisions passed in Chapter
House.
Continuation of Nave and Cloisters by
Abbot Langham.
1362 Littlington, Abbot.
1363 Negotiations with David n. for the Re-
storation of the Stone of Scone.
Rebuilding of Abbot's House and of
Jerusalem Chamber, and Building of
South and West C.oisters, by Abbot
Littlington.
1369 Burial of Philippa.
1376 Langham buried.
1377 Purchase of Tower which became the
Jewel House, and later the Parliament
Office, by Edward III.
Burial of Edward III.
Coronation of Richard II., July 16.
1378 Murder of Sir John Hawle in the Abbey,
Aug. 11.
Reopening of the Abbey, Dec. 8.
1381 Outrage of Wat Tyler.
1382 Marriage of Richard II. with Anne of
Bohemia, Jan. 22.
1386 William of Colchester, Abbot.
1391 Walter of Leycester buried.
1393 Statute of Praemunire passed in Chapter
House.
1394 Burial of Anne of Bohemia.
131*5 John of Waltham buried.
A.D.
1396 Shackle buried.
Sir John Golofre buried.
1397 Prince Thomas of Woodstock buried.
Robert Waldeby buried.
1399 Widow of Thomas of Woodstock buried.
Sir Bernard Brocas buried.
Coronation of Henry IV., Oct. 13.
Conspiracy of William of Colchester.
1400 Chaucer buried.
1403 Coronation of Joan.
1413 Death of Henry IV. in Jerusalem Cham-
ber, March 20.
Conversion of Henry V.
Coronation of Henry V., April 9.
Removal of body of Richard II. from
Langley to Windsor.
1413-1416 Prolongation of the Nave under
Henry V. by Whittington.
1414 Sir John Windsor buried.
1415 Richard Courtney, Bishop of Norwich,
buried.
Te Deum for the Battle of Agincourt,
Nov. 23.
1421 Coronation of Catherine, Feb. 24.
ffaicerden, Abbot.
Convention of Henry V. in Chapter House.
1422 Burial of Henry V., Nov. 7.
1429 Coronation of Henry VI., Nov. 6.
1431 Louis Robsart buried.
1433 Philippa, Duchess of York, buried.
1437 Burial of Catherine of Valois, Feb. 8.
1440 Kyrton, Abbot.
1445 Coronation of Margaret, April 30.
1457 Sir John Harpedon buried.
1451-1460 Visits of Henry VI. to the Abbey to
choose his Grave.
1461 Coronation of Edward IV., June 28.
1466 Jfonricfi, Abbot.
1469 Milling, Abbot.
1470 Humphrey Bourchier buried.
Lord Carew buried.
Elizabeth Woodville takes Sanctuary,
Oct. 1.
Edward V. born in the Sanctuary, Nov. 4.
1472 Infant Margaret of York buried, Dec. 11.
1474 Milling consecrated to Hereford in the
Lady Chapel, Aug. 21.
Esteney. Abbot.
1477 Caxton exercises his art in the Abbey.
1482 Dudley, Bishop of Durham, buried.
1483 Elizabeth Woodville and Richard of York
take refuge in the Abbot's Hall, and take
Sanctuary a second time, April.
Coronation of Richard III., July 6.
1485 Anue Neville, Queen of Richard III.,
buried.
Coronation of Henry VII., Oct. 30.
1487 Coronation of Elizabeth of York, Nov. 25.
1491 Caxton buried in St. Margaret's Church-
yard.
1492 Bishop Milling buried
1495 Princess Elizabeth buried, Sept.
1498 Fascet, Abbot.
Lord Wells buried in Lady Chapel.
Decision of the Privy Council on the
burial of Henry VI.
1500 IsKp, Abbot.
1503 Foundation of Henry VII.'s Chapel, Jau.
24.
Burial of Elizabeth of York, Feb. 25.
1504 License of Pope Julius II. for the removal
of the body of Henry VI. to Westmin-
ster.
1505 Sir Humphrey Stanley buried.
1507 Sir Giles Daubeney buried.
1509 Infant Prince Henry buried.
Burial of Henry VII., May 9.
Coronation of Henry VIII., June 24.
Margaret of Richmond buried.
1512 Attempt to rescue a Prisoner in Sanc-
tuary.
1515 Reception of Wolsey's Hat, Nov. 18.
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.
[31]
A.D.
1523 Convocation summoned by Wolsey.
Kuthell, Bishop of Durham, buried.
1529 Convocation in the Chapter House.
1531 Act of Submission, April 12.
Death of Skelton in the Sanctuary, buried
in St. Margaret's Churchyard.
1532 Abbot Islip buried.
Boston or Benson, Abbot.
1 533 Coronation of Anne Boleyn, June 1.
1534 Imprisonment of Sir Thomas More in
Abbot's House.
1539 Be>4ion, Dean.
1540 Convocation in the Chapter House on
Anne of Cleves, July 7.
Consecration of Thlrlby to the see of
Westminster, Dec. 19.
1542 First Orders of Dean and Chapter.
1543 Nowell, Head-Master.
1544 Bellringer appointed at request of
Princess Elizabeth.
1545 Consecration of Kitchin, Bishop of Llan-
daff, May 3.
Great Refectory pulled down.
1 546 Robbery of Silver Head of Statue of Henry
V., Jan. 3.
1547 Last Sitting of Commons in Chapter
House, Jan. 28.
Coronation of Edward VI., Feb. 20.
Chapter House used as a Record Office.
Order for Twenty Tons of Caen Stone
granted to the Protector Somerset.
Order for selling ' Monuments of Idolatry '
and for buying books.
1549 Dean Benson buried.
Cox, Dean.
Substitution of ' Communion ' for ' Mass '
and change of Vestments.
1551 Lord Wentworth buried, March 7.
Redmayne buried.
Monument erected to Chaucer.
1553 Burial of Edward VI., Aug. 8.
Coronation of Mary, Oct. 1.
F.ight of Cox.
Weston, Dean.
1554 High Mass for opening of Parliament,
Oct. 5.
High Mass of the Order of the Golden
Fleece, Nov. 30.
1555 Abbot Fecktnham installed, Nov. 22.
Feckenham and his Monks walk in pro-
cession, Dec. 6.
1557 Shrine of the Confessor set up, Jan. 5.
Remains of the Confessor restored to the
Shrine, March 20.
Sermons by Abbot Feckenham, April 5.
Shrine visited by the Duke of Muscovy,
April 21.
Philip and Mary attend Mass, May 22.
Burial of Anne of Cieves, Aug. 4.
Master Gennings buried. Nov. 26.
Procession in the Abbey, Nov. 30.
1558 Paschal Candle restored, March 21.
Master Wentworth buried, Oct. 22.
Burial of Mary, Dec. 13.
Obsequies of Charles V. celebrated, Dec.
24.
1559 Coronation of Elizabeth, Jan. 15.
Conference between Protestants and
Roman Catholics, March 31.
Frances Grey, Duchess of Suffolk, buried
Dec. 5.
Feckenham deprived, Jan. 4.
1560 Feokenham's Farewell to the College
Garden.
Fejkenhain sent to the Tower, May 20.
1561 Bill, ban.
Dean Bill buried, July 22.
Gabriel Goodman, Dean.
1563 Convocation in Henry VII.'s Chapel,
Jan. 9-April 17.
Signature of the thirty-nine Articles,
Jan. 29.
A.D.
1566 Fall of the Sanctuary.
Hangings of the Abbey given to the
College.
1568 Lady Catherine Knollys buried.
Anne Birkhead buried.
1571 Sir R. Pecksall buried.
1574 Library founded.
1575 Christening of Elizabeth Russell.
1577 Margaret Lennox buried.
1580 Maurice Pickering, Keeper of Gatehouse.
1584 Wm. Thynne buried.
John, Lord Russell, buried.
1586 Winyfred Brydges, Marchioness of Win-
chester, buried.
1587 Anne Seymour, Duchess of Somerset,
buried.
Sir Thomas Bromley buried.
1588 Anne Vere, Countess of Oxford, buried.
1589 Frances Sidney, Countess of Sussex,
buried.
Mildred Cecil, Lady Burleigh, buried.
Frances Howard, Countess of Sussex,
buried.
1591 Elizabeth, Countess of Salisbury, buried.
Elizabeth, Countess of Exeter, buried.
1593 Camden, Head-Master.
Keeper appointed for the Monuments.
1594 John de Burgh died.
1596 Lord Hunsdon buried
Sir John Puckering buried.
Henry Noel buried.
1598 Frances Howard, Countess of Hertford
buried.
Bells given by Dean Goodman.
Sir Thomas Owen buried.
Lord Burleigh buried.
Sir R. Bingham died.
1599 Spenser buried.
Schoolroom constructed.
1601 Elizabeth Russell buried.
Dean Goodman buried.
L. Andrewes, Dean.
Monument to Henry, Lord N^-rris, and
his Sons.
Consecration of Goodwin, Bishop of Llan-
daff, Nov. 22.
1602 Entire Suppression of Sanctuary Rights.
1603 Burial of Elizabeth, April 28.
Coronation of James I., July 25.
Meeting of Convocation.
1605 R. A'eale, Dean, Nov. 5.
Sir G. Villiers buried.
1607 Infant Princess Sophia buried.
Infant Princess Mary buried.
1609 Sir Francis Vere buried.
1610 George Monteigne, Dean.
Transference of the Body of Mary Stuart
to Westminster, Oct. 4.
1612 Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, buried
in her vault, Dec. 8.
1614 Isaac Casaubon buried.
Lady C. St. John buried. (Monument.)
1615 Arthur Agarde buried, Aug. 24.
Arabella Stuart buried, Sept. 27.
1616 Beaumont buried.
Bilson buried.
1617 Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, buried.
R. Tounson, Dean.
1618 Sir George Fane buried.
Sir W. Ralegh imprisoned in Gatehouse,
Oct. 29.
Sir W. Raleigh buried in St. Margaret's,
Oct. 30.
1619 Sir Christopher Hatton buried.
M >nument erected to Spen~t r.
Burial of Anne of Denmark, May 13.
1620 John n'illiitmx. I),,m.
1621 Bishop Tounson buried.
Lawrence the servant buried.
1622 Francis Holies died.
Thomas Cecil, Earl of Exeter, buried.
1623 Camden buried, Nov. 10.
[32]
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.
. .
1U24 Lewis Stuart, Duke of Lennox and
Richmond, Feb. 17.
Entertainment of the French Ambassadors
in the Jerusalem Chamber, Dec. 15.
Their attendance at the dinner in the
College Hall.
1625 Burial of James I., May 5.
1626 Coronation of Charles I., Feb. 2.
Sir Geo. Holies buried.
1627 Charles, Marquis of Buckingham. Earl of
Coventry, buried, March 16.
Philip Fielding buried, June 11.
1628 George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham,
Sept. 28.
1629 Lady Jane Clifford buried.
Infant Prince Charles, May 13.
1631 Sir James Fullerton buried, Jan. 3.
Michael Drayton buried.
1632 Countess of Buckingham buried, April 21.
1633 Monument to Geo. Villiers, Duke of
Buckingham, completed.
1635 Sir Thomas Richardson buried.
Wife of Casaubon buried.
Thomas Parr buried.
1637 Lilly's Search for Treasure in the Clois-
ters.
Imprisonment of Williams.
Ben Jonson buried.
1638 Marchioness of Hamilton buried.
Sir Robert Ayton buried, Feb. 28.
1639 Jane Crewe, Heiress of the Pulteneys,
buried.
Archbishop Spottiswoode buried, Nov. 29.
Duchess of Richmond buried.
1640 Williams released.
Convocation, April 17-May 29, in Henry
VIL's Chapel.
Conference in Jerusalem Chamber.
Attack on the Abbey.
1641 Sir Henry Spelman buried, Oct. 24.
Williams raised to the See of York.
Meeting of Bishops in the Jerusalem
Chamber.
Williams's second imprisonment.
1642 Regalia taken from the Abbey and broken
in pieces.
Williams's second release.
Lord Hervey buried.
1643 Assembly of Divines opened, July 6.
Pym buried, Dec. 13.
1644 R. Stewart, Dean.
Theodore Paleologus buried, May 3.
Col. Meldrum buried.
1645 Col. Boscawen and Col. Carter buried.
Cranfield, Lord Middlesex, buried.
Grace Scot buried.
Commissioners appointed by Parliament,
Nov. 18.
1646 Twiss buried, July 24.
Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, buried,
Oct. 22.
1648 Francis Villiers, youngest Son of Duke of
Buckingham, buried, July 10.
1649 Assembly of Divines closed, Feb. 22.
Isaac Dorislaus buried, June 14.
Thomas Gary buried.
1650 Thomas May buried.
George Wild buried, June 21.
1651 Ireton buried, Feb. 6.
Col. Popham buried, Aug.
Thomas Haselrig buried, Oct. 30.
Humphrey Salwey buried, Dec. 20.
1653 Col. Deane buried, June 24.
1654 Strong buried, July 4.
Col. Mackworth buried, Dec. 26.
Elizabeth Cromwell buried.
1655 Sir William Constable buried, June 21.
Marshall buried, Nov. 23.
1656 Archbishop Ussher buried, April 17.
Jane Disbrowe buric 1.
1657 Cromwell installed on the Stone of Scone
iu Westminster Hall, June 26.
A.D.
1657
1658
1669
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1673
Blake buried.
Denis Bond buried.
Elizabeth Claypole buried, Aug. 10.
Burial of Cromwell, Sept. 26.
Bradshaw buried.
Earlei, Dean.
Henry, Duke of Gloucester, buried, Sept.
13.
Thomas Blagg buried.
Confirmation of Election of Sheldon,
Bishop of London ; Saunderson, of Lin-
coln ; Morley, of Worcester ; Hench-
man, of Salisbury ; and Griffith, of St.
Asaph, Oct. 28.
Consecration of Lucy, Bishop of St.
David's ; Lloyd, of Llandaff ; Gauden,
of Exeter; Sterne, of Carlisle; Cosin,
of Durham ; Walton, of Chester ; and
Lancy, of Peterborough, Dec. 2.
Mary of Orange buried, Dec. 29.
Consecration of Ironside, Bishop of Bris-
tol ; Reynolds, of Norwich ; Monk, of
Hereford ; Nicholson of Gloucester,
Jan. 6.
Disinterment of Regicides, Jan. 29.
Coronation of Charles II., April 23.
Convocation in Henry VII.'s Chapel, May
16-Oct. 20.
Thomas Smith buried.
Mother of Clarendon buried.
Disinterment of Magnates of the Common-
wealth, Sept. 12.
Consecration of Fairfoul, Bishop of Glas-
gow ; Hamilton, of Galloway ; Leighton,
of Dunblane; Sharpe, of St. Andrews,
Dec. 15.
Bishop Nicholas Monk buried, Dec. 20.
Heart of Esme Lennox buried.
Elizabeth of Bohemia buried, Feb. 17.
Upper House of Convocation in Jerusalem
Chamber, Feb. 22.
Feme. Bishop of Chester, buried, March
25.
Duppa, Bishop of Winchester, buried,
April 24.
Henry Lawes buried, Oct. 25.
Consecration of Earles, Bishop of Wor-
cester, Nov. 30.
John Dolben, Dean.
Paul Thorndyke and Duall Pead chris-
tened, April 18.
Robert South, Prebendary and Arch-
deacon.
Consecration of Barrow, Bishop of Sodor
and Man, July 5.
Consecration of Rainbow, Bishop of
Carlisle, July 10.
School removed to Chiswick on account
of the plague.
Earl of Marl borough buried.
Lords Muskerry and Falmouth buried.
Sir E. Broughton buried.
T. Chiffinch buried, April 10.
Sir Robert Stapleton buried, July 15.
Berkeley buried.
William Johnson buried, March 12.
Abraham Cowley buried, Aug. 3.
William Davenant buried, April 9.
John Thorndyke.
John Denham buried.
Monk's Wife, Duchess of Albemarle,
buried, Feb. 28.
Monk, Duke of Albemarle, buried, April
29.
Marriage of Sir S. Morland with Carola
Harsnett.
Triplett buried.
Anne Hyde, Duchess of York, buried,
April 5.
Harbord and Cotterill died.
Consecration of Carleton, Bishop of Bris-
tol, Feb. 11.
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.
[33]
A.D.
1672 Montague, Earl of Sandwich, buried,
July 3.
Herbert Thorndyke buried, July 13.
1673 Sir R. Moray buried, July 6.
Hamilton, Le Neve, Spragge, died.
1674 Earl of Doncaster buried, Feb. 10.
Carola Morlaud buried.
Margaret Lucas, Duchess of Newcastle,
buried, Jan. 7.
1675 Earl of Clarendon buried, Jan. 4.
1676 Sanderson buried, July 18.
Christopher Gibbons buried, Oct. 24.
1677 William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle,
buried, Jan. 22.
Isaac Barrow buried, May 7.
1678 Transference of the York Princes from
the Tower.
Sir E. Berry Godfrey died.
1679 Diana Temple buried, March 27.
1680 Anne Morland buried, Feb. 24.
Sir Palmes Fairborne died.
Earl of Plymouth buried.
Earl of Ossory buried, July 30.
1682 Thomas Thynne buried.
Prince Rupert buried, Dec. 26.
1683 Sprat, Dean.
1684 Lord Roscommon buried, Jan. 24.
Duchess of Ormonde buried, July 24.
1685 Burial of Charles II., Feb. 14.
Coronation of James II., April 23.
Confessor's Coffin opened.
1687 George Tilliers, second Duke of Buck-
ingham, buried, June 7.
1688 Nicholas Bagnall buried, March 9.
Reading of the Declaration of Indul-
gence by Sprat, May 20.
James Butler, Duke of Ormonde, buried,
Aug. 4.
Jane Lister buried, Oct. 7.
Sermon by South, Nov. 5.
1689 Coronatio'n of William and Mary, April
11.
First Chair for the Queen s Consort.
Aphara Behn buried in East Cloister,
April 20.
Commission for the Revision of the
Liturgy in Jerusalem Chamber, Oct.
3-Nov. 18.
Convocation, Nov. 20-Dec. 14.
1692 Shadwell died.
Sarah. Duchess of Somerset, buried.
1694 Lady Temple buried.
Fire in the Cloisters and burning of MSS.
in Wil.iams's Library.
1695 Burial of Mary, March 5.
Wharton buried, March 11.
Busby buried, April 5.
George Saville, Marquis of Halifax,
buried, April 11.
Purcell buried, Nov. 26.
Sir Thomas Duppa died.
Knipe, Head-Master.
1697 Horneck buried, Feb. 4.
Grace Gethin buried.
1699 Sir William Temple buried.
1700 John Dryden buried, May 13.
William, Duke of Gloucester, buried,
Aug. 9.
1701 Sir Joseph Williamson buried, Oct. 14.
1702 Burial of William III., April 12.
Coronation of Anne, April 23.
Couvocation, Feb. 12-June 6.
Duchess of Richmond buried, Oct. 22.
1703 St. Evreruond buried, Sept. 11.
Mourning of the Duchess of Marlborough
for her son.
1704 Major Creed died.
Tom Brown buried in East Cloister.
1706 Colonel Bingfie.d died.
1707 Admiral Delaval buried, Jan. 23.
General Killigrew died,
George Stepney buried, Sept. 22.
A.D.
1707 Sir Cloudesley Shovel buried, Dec. 22.
1708 Consecration of Dawes, Bishop of Chester.
Feb. 8.
Josiah Twysden buried.
Methuen buried.
Blow buried, Oct. 8.
Prince George of Denmark buried, Nov.
13.
1709 Heneage Twysden died.
Bentinck, Duke of Portland, buried.
1710 Betterton buried, May 2.
Admiral Churchill buried, May 12.
Spanheim buried.
Mary Kendall buried.
John Phillips died.
1711 Grabe died.
Carteret buried.
Knipe buried,
Freind, Head-Master.
John Holies, Duke of Newcastle, buried,
Aug. 9.
1712 Lord Godolphin buried, Oct. 8.
1713 Lady A. C. Bagnall buried, March It.
Dean Sprat buried.
Atterbury, Dean.
Tompion buried.
1714 Burial of Queen Anne, Aug. 24.
Coronation of George I., Oct. 20.
1715 Charles Montague, Earl of Halifax, buried,
May 26.
Great Bell of Westminster purchased for
St. Paul's.
1716 Baker died.
South buried, July 16.
1717 John Twysden died.
Convocation prorogued.
1718 Sir J. Chardin died.
Nicholas Rowe buried, Dec. 14.
Mrs. Steele buried, Dec. 30.
1719 Joseph Addison buried, June 26.
Duke of Schomberg, Aug. 4.
Almeric de Courcy buried.
1720 Lady Hardy buried, May 3.
Monument to Monk erected.
William Longueville buried.
James, first Earl of Stanhope, died.
De Castro buried.
1721 James Craggs buried, March 2.
Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire,
buried, March 25.
Thomas Sprat, Archdeacon of Rochester,
buried.
Matthew Prior, Sept. 21.
1722 First Stone of New Dormitory laid.
Duke of Marlborough buried, Aug. 9.
Arrest of Atteronry, Aug. 22.
1723 Monument to John Holies, Duke of New-
castle.
Lord Cornbury buried.
Charles Lennox, son of the Duchess of
Portsmouth, buried, June 7.
Exile of Atterbury, June 18.
.<nni4tl Bradford, Dean.
Monument to Bishop Nicholas Monk.
Sir Godfrey Kneller died.
1725 Establishment of the Order of the Bath.
1727 Sir Isaac Newton buried, March 28.
Croft buried, Aug. 23.
Coronation of George II. and Queen
Caroline, Oct. 11.
1728 Chamberlen died.
Freind died.
Woodward buried, May.
1729 Cougreve buried, Jan. 26.
Withers buried.
1730 Occupation of the Dormitory.
Anne Oldfield buried, Oct. 27.
Duke of Cleveland and Southampton
buried, Nov. 3.
1731 Disney buried.
Dean Bradford buried.
Lady Elizabeth Nightingale buried.
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.
A.D.
1731 Joseph Wilcocks. D?an.
Fire in the Cloisters, Documents removed
to Chapter House.
1732 Atterbury buried, May 12.
Sir Thomas Hardy buried, Aug. 24.
Monument to Samuel Butler erected.
John Gay buried, Dec. 23.
Nicolls, Head-Master.
1733 Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough,
buried.
Wetenall died.
1736 Edmund Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham-
shire, buried. Jan. 31.
1737 Conduitt buried, May 29.
Monument to Milton erected.
Burial of Queen Caroline of Anspach,
Dec. 27.
1738 Building of Westminster Bridge.
1739 Western Towers finished.
1740 Transference of the Remains of Duras,
Earl of Feversham, Armandde Bourbon,
and Charlotte de Bourbon, to the Abbey,
March 21.
Ephraim Chambers buried, May 21.
Lord Aubrey Beauclerk died.
Monument erected to Shakspeare.
1742 Boulter, Archbishop of Armagh, buried.
1743 Captain Cornewall died.
Wager died.
Catherine, Duchess of Buckinghamshire,
buried, April 8.
John Campbell, Duke of Argyll and Green-
wich, Oct. 15.
1744 Balchen died.
1746 William Horneck buried, April 27.
Cowper entered Westminster School.
1/47 General Guest buried, Oct. 16.
Warren Hastings aud Elijah Impey ad-
mitted into Westminster College.
Saumarez died.
1748 Marshal Wade buried, March 21.
Isaac Watts died.
Anne Bracegirdle buried, Sept. 8.
1750 Removal of the Sanctuary.
1751 General Hargrave buried, Feb. 2.
General Fleming buried, March 30.
Graham buried, .Nov. 23.
Vernon died.
1752 Warren died.
1753 The Green in Dean's Yard laid out.
Markham, Head-Master.
1754 Monument to Lady Walpole erected.
1756 Vertue buried.
Dean Wilcocks buried.
Z'.ichary Ptarce, Dean.
1757 Colonel Townsend died.
Temple West died.
Admiral Watson died.
1758 Viscount Howe died.
W. Nightingale buried.
Monument to Lady E. Nightingale
erected.
Removal of Old Dormitory and Brew-
house.
1759 General Wolfe died.
Handel buried, April 20.
1760 Celebration of the Bicentenary of West-
minster School, June 2.
Burial of George II., Nov. 11.
1761 Coronation of George III. and Queen Char-
lotte, Sept. 22.
Hales died.
Holmes died.
1762 Monument erected to Thomson.
1764 Pulteney, Earl of Bath, buried, July 17
iri>5 William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland,
buried, Nov. 10.
1766 Susanna Maria Gibber buried.
Admiral Tyrrell died.
1767 Widow of the Duke of Argyll and Green-
wich buried, April 3.
Duke of York buried, Nov. 3.
A.D.
1768 Dean Pearce retires.
Bonuell Thornton buried.
Hannah Prichard died.
1770 Lord Ligonier buried.
1771 George Montague, Earl of Halifax, buried.
Opening of the Tomb of Edward I.
Gray died.
1772 Bust of Booth erected.
Steigerr buried, Dec. 28.
1774 Goldsmith died.
1775 General Lawrence died.
1776 Conrayer buried.
Elizabeth Percy, Duchess of Northumber-
land, Dec. 8. '
Roberts, Secretary to Pelham, died.
1777 Barry buried, Jan. 20.
Wragg died.
Gatehouse taken down.
Foote buried, Nov. 3.
1778 William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, buried,
June 9.
Restoration of Spencer's Monument.
Erection of Wolfe's Monument.
1779 Garrick buried, Feb. 1.
1780 Restoration of Camden's Monument.
1781 Lady Charlotte Percy, last torchlight
Funeral not royal.
1782 Captains Bayn and Blair, and Lord R.
Manners, died. (Monument.)
William Dalrymple died.
Pringle died.
Admiral Kempenfelt died.
1783 Sir Eyre Coote died.
Admiral Storr died.
Lady Delaval buried.
1784 Handel Festival, May 26-June 5.
Johnson buried, Dec. 20.
1785 John Henderson buried, Dec. 9.
1786 Jonas Hanway died.
Taylor died.
1789 Broughton buried.
Gideon Loten died.
Sir John Hawkins buried, Jan. 28.
1790 Monument to Martin Ffolkes erected.
Duke of Cumberland buried, Sept. 28.
1791 Oak taken down in Dean's Yard.
Admiral Harrison buried, Oct. 26.
1792 Sir John Burgoyne buried, Aug. 13.
1793 Lord Mansfield buried, March 28.
Cooke buried, Sept. 1.
Samuel Horsley, Dtan.
1794 Winteringham died.
Captains Harvey, Hutt, and Montagu,
died June 1.
1795 Alexander Duroure buried.
1796 Macpherson buried, March 15.
Chambers buried, March 18.
1797 Mason died.
1799 Lady Kerry buried.
Captain Cook died.
1800 Warren, Bishop of Bangor, buried.
M. E. Bowes, Countess of Strathmore,
buried, May 10.
lady Tyrconnell buried.
Totty died.
1801 Sir George Staunton buried, Jan. 23.
1802 Arnold buried, Oct. 29.
William Vincent, Dean.
See of Rochester parted from the Deanery.
1805 Dr. Buchan buried.
Banks died.
Christopher Anstey died.
1806 William Pitt buried, Feb. 22.
Charles Fox buried, Oct. 10.
1807 Admiral Delaval buried, Jan. 27.
Antony, Duke of Montpeusier, buried,
May 26.
Markham, Archbishop, buried, Nov. 11.
Bust of Paoli erected.
1808 Lord Delaval buried.
Monument to Adtlison erected.
1809 Agar, Lord Normantou, buried.
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.
[35]
A.D.
1810 Louise de Savoie, buried, Nov. 26.
1811 „ removed to Sardinia,
March 5.
Richard Cumberland buried. May 14.
Lady Mary Coke, daughter of the Duke of
Argyll and Greenwich, buried.
Captain Stewart died.
1812 Perceval died.
Last Installation of Knights of the Bath
in the Abbey.
1813 Grauville Sharpe died.
Wyatt buried, Sept. 28.
1814 E. H. Delaval buried.
Burney died.
1815 Dean Vincent buried, Dec. 29.
1816 Lord Kerry buried.
John Ireland, Dean.
Lord Minto buried, Jan. 29.
Sheridan buried, July 13.
1817 Horner died.
1819 James Watt died.
Bust of Warren Hastings erected.
1820 Grattan buried, June 16.
1821 Coronation of George IV., July 19.
Major Andre buried, Nov. 28.
1822 Lord Castlereagh buried, Aug. 20
Eva Maria Garrick buried, Oct. 25.
1823 John Philip Kemble died.
Bailie died.
1824 Restoration of Altar Screen by Bernascon.
1826 Sir Stamford Raffles died.
1827 Giffard buried, Jan. 8.
G-eorge Canning buried, Aug. 16.
1829 Davy died.
Young died.
Fire in the Triforium.
1830 Tierney died.
Rennell buried, April 6.
1831 Coronation of William IV. and Queen
Adelaide, Sept. 8.
Mrs. Siddons died.
1832 Andrew Bell buried.
Mackintosh died.
1833 Sir John Malcolm died.
Wilberforce buried, Aug. 3.
1834 Telford buried, Sept. 10.
1838 Zachary Macaulay died.
Coronation of Queen Victoria, June 28.
1840 Lord Holland died.
1842 Dean Ireland buried, Sept. 8.
Thomas Turton, Dean. Consecration of
five Colonial Bishops, May 24.
1843 Southey died.
1844 Campbell buried, July 3.
Henry Cary buried, Aug. 21.
1845 Sir Fowell Buxton died.
Samuel Wilberforce, Dean.
Sir William Follett died.
William liuckland, Dtan.
1847 Consecration of three Australian Bishops,
and of R. Gray, Bishop of Cape Town.
1848 Charles Buller died.
1849 Sir R. Wilson buried, May 15.
1850 Consecration of Fulford, Bishop of Mon-
treal.
Wordsworth died.
Peel died.
1852 Transference of the Remains of Lynd-
wood to the Abbey, March 6.
Convocation revived, Nov. 12.
1856 Bishop Monk buried, June 14.
R. C. Trench, Dean.
1858 Consecration of G. L. Cotton, Bishop of
Calcutta.
1859 Transference of the Remains of John
Hunter to the Abbey, March 28.
Consecration of Bishops of Columbia,
Brisbane, and St. Helena, and of the
Bishop of Baugor.
AJ>.
Stephenson buried, Oct. 21.
1860 Lord Macaulay buried, Jan. 9.
Sir Charles Barry buried, May 22.
Lord Dundouald buried, Nov. 14.
Celebration of Tercentenary of West-
minster School, Nov. 17.
1862 Elizabeth Woodfall buried.
Earl Canning buried, June 21.
1863 Sir Jas. Outram buried, Mar. 25.
Lord Clyde buried, Aug. 22.
Sir G. Cornewall Lewis died.
Thackeray died.
Consecration of First Missionary Bishop
to Central Africa, Orange River State.
1864 Arthur P. Stanley, Dean.
Consecration of the Bishop of Ely.
Acts of Parliament removed from the
Parliament Office to the Victoria Tower.
1865 Lord Palmerston buried, Oct. 27.
Celebration of 800th anniversary of the
Foundation of the Abbey, December 28.
1866 Restoration of Chapter House under-
taken.
1867 Monument to Cobden.
Restoration of Altar Screen in Marble.
Royal Commission on Ritual in Jerusalem
Chamber.
1868 Consecration of the Bishop of Hereford.
1869 Discovery of Grave of James I.
Consecration of the Bishops of Lincoln,
Grafton and Armidale, and Mauritius,
Feb. 24.
Consecration of the Bishops of Auckland,
Bathurst, and Labuan, June 29.
1869 Consecration of the Bishop of Montreal,
Aug. 1.
Consecration of the Bishop of Salisbury,
Oct. 28.
Funeral of Geo. Peabody, Nov. 12.
Consecration of the Bishop of Exeter,
Dec. 21.
Consecration of the Bishop of Oxford.
1869 Charles Dickens buried.
1870 Entertainment of Archbishop of Syria,
Jan. 25.
1871 Sir John Herschel buried.
George Grote buried.
Revision of Authorised Version — Com-
munion in Henry VII.'s Chapel.
1872 Sir George Pollock buried.
1873 Lord Lytton buried.
Funeral Service for Bishop Macilwaine.
Visit of the Shah.
1874 David Livingstone buried.
Visit of the Emperor of Russia.
1875 Burials of Sir Sterndale Bennett, Sir
Charles Lyell, and Bishop Thirlwall.
1876 Burial of Lady Augusta Stanley
1877 Caxton Celebration, June 2.
Consecration of Dr. Thorold as Bishop of
Rochester, July 25.
Consecration of Bishops of Rangoon and
Lahore ; and Suffragan Bishop of Not-
tingham, Dec. 21.
1878 Funeral of Sir Gilbert Scott, April 6.
1879 Consecration of Dr. Lightfoot as Bishop
of Durham, by Archbishop of York,
April 25.
Funeral of Lord Lawrence, July 5.
Funeral of Sir Rowland Hill, Sept. 4.
1881 Jubilee Service for King's College, Lon-
don, June 2 1.
Funeral of Lord Hatherley, July 15.
Death (July 18) and Funeral of Dean
Stanley, July 25.
G. Granrille liradley, Dean, installed No-
vember 1.
Funeral of G. E. Street, December 29.
[36]
GENERAL DIMENSIONS OF THE ABBEY CHUECH.
Interior.
Feet In.
Length of the Nave . . 166 0
Breadth of ditto . . . 38 7
Height of ditto . . . 101 8
Breadth of the Aisles . 16 7
Extreme breadth of the Nave
and Aisles . . . 71 9
Length of the Choir . . 155 9
Extreme breadth of ditto . 38 4
Height of ditto . . . 101 2
Extreme length from north to
sooth of the Transepts and
Choir 203 2
Length of each Transept . 82 5
Entire breadth of ditto, includ-
ing Aisles . . . 84 8
Extreme length from the west
door to the piers of Henry
VII.'s Chapel . . . 403 0
Ditto, including Henry VII.'s
Chapel . . . . 511 6
Exterior.
Extreme length of the Abbey
Ditto, including Henry VII.'s
Chapel ....
Height of the western towers
to the top of the pinnacles .
Height of Nave and Transept
roofs
Height of lantern .
Height of north front, includ-
ing pinnacle . . .
Henry VII.'s Chapel :—
Interior, length
Exterior „
Interior, breadth
Exterior „
Interior, height
Exterior
Feet
423
138
151
530 0
225 4
166 0
104 6
106 6
69 10
82 0
61 5
82 0
Dimensions of the Isle of Thorns, 470 yards long, 370 yards broad.
1TEST3TOSTER. AKKEIT ^* ITS
ABOUT AD 1535
CHAPTER I.
THE FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
THE devout King destined to God that place, both for that it was near unto the
famous and wealthy city of London, and also had a pleasant situation amongst
fruitful fields lying round about it, with the principal river running hard by,
bringing in from all parts of the world great variety of wares and merchandise
of all sorts to the city adjoining : but chiefly for the love of the Chief Apostle,
whom he reverenced with a special and singular affection (Contemporary Life of
Edward the Confessor, in Harleian MSS., pp. 980-985).
SPECIAL AUTHOKITIES.
THE special authorities for the physical peculiarities of Westminster are : —
1. Smith's Antiquities of Westminster. London. 1807.
2. Saunders's Situation and Extent of Westminster, in Arcliceologia,
vol. xxvi. pp. 223-241.
3. Dean Buckland's Sermon (1847) on the reopening of Westminster Abbey,
with a Geological Appendix.
4. History of St. Margaret's, Westminster, by the Kev. Mackenzie E. C.
Walcott.
For Edward the Confessor : —
1. Life by Ailred, Abbot of Bievaulx, A.D. 1163, derived chiefly from an
earlier Life by Osbert, or Osbern of Clare, Prior of Westminster, A.D.
1158.
2. The Four Lives published by Mr. Luard, in the Collection of the Master
of the Kolls :—
(a) Cambridge MS. French poem, dedicated to Eleanor, Queen of
Henry III., probably about A.D. 1245.
(b) Oxford MS. Latin poem, dedicated to Henry VI., probably between
A.D. 1440-1450.
(c) Vatican and Gains Coll. MSS., probably in the thirteenth century.
All these are founded on Ailred.
(d) Harleian MS., A.D. 1066-1074 (almost contemporary).
(e) The charters of the Saxon Kings. (For the suspicions attaching to
them, see ArcTiceological Journal, No. 114, pp. 139-140.)
CHAPTER I.
THE FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
IT is said that the line in Heber's ' Palestine ' which describes
the rise of Solomon's temple originally ran—
Like the green grass, the noiseless fabric grew ;
and that, at Sir Walter Scott's suggestion, it was altered to its
present form —
Like some tall palm, the noiseless fabric sprung.
Whether we adopt the humbler or the grander image, the com-
parison of the growth of a fine building to that of a natural
product is full of instruction. But the growth of an historical
edifice like Westminster Abbey needs a more complex figure to
do justice to its formation : a venerable oak, with gnarled and
hollow trunk, and spreading roots, and decaying bark, and
twisted branches, and green shoots ; or a coral reef extending
itself with constantly new accretions, creek after creek, and
islet after islet. One after another, a fresh nucleus of life is
formed, a new combination produced, a larger ramification
thrown out. In this respect Westminster Abbey stands alone
amongst the buildings of the world. There are, it may be, some
which surpass it in beauty or grandeur ; there are others, cer-
tainly, which surpass it in depth and sublimity of association ;
but there is none which has been entwined by so many con-
tinuous threads with the history of a whole nation.
I. The first origin of Westminster is to be sought in the
physical natural features of its position, which include the
London. origin of London no less. Foremost of these is what
to Londoners and Englishmen is, in a deeper and truer sense
CHAP. i. FEATUEES OF LONDON. 3
than was intended by Gray when he used the phrase, our
The Thames. ' Father Thames : ' the river Thames, the largest river
in England, here widening to an almost majestic size, yet not
too wide for thoroughfare — the direct communication between
London and the sea on the one hand, between London and the
interior on the other. When roads were bad, when robbers
were many, when the forests were still thick, then, far more
than now, the Thames was the chief highway of English life,
the chief inlet and outlet of English commerce. Here, from the
earliest times, the coracles of the British tribes, the galleys of
the Eoman armies, were moored, and gave to the place the
most probable origin of its name — the ' City of Ships.'
The Thames is the parent of London. The chief river of
England has, by a natural consequence, secured for its chief
city that supremacy over all the other towns which have at
various times claimed to be the seats of sovereignty in England
—York, Canterbury, and Winchester. The old historic stream,
which gathered on the banks of its upper course Oxford, Eton,
Windsor, and Richmond, had already, before the first beginning
of those ancient seats of learning and of regal luxury, become,
on these its lower banks, the home l of England's commerce and
of England's power.
Above the river rose a long range of hills, covered with a
vast forest, full of wild deer, wild bulls, and wild boars,2 of
The bins which the highest points were Hampstead and High-
aud streams, gate. A desolate moor or fen, marked still by the
names of Finsbury, Fenchurch, and Moorfields, which in winter
was covered with water and often frozen, occupied the plateau
immediately north of the city. As the slope of the hills de-
scended steeply on the strand of the river, slight eminences, of
stiff clay, broke the ground still more perceptibly. Tower Hill,
Corn Hill, and Ludgate Hill remind us that the old London,
like all capitals, took advantage of whatever strength was af-
forded by natural situation : and therefore as we go up to
Cornhill, the traditional seat of British chiefs and Koman
governors, as we feel the ground swelling under our feet
when we begin the ascent from Fleet Street to St. Paul's, or
as we see the eminence on which stands the Tower of London,
the oldest fortress of our Norman kings, we have before us the
1 Londinium . . . copia negotiate- 2 Fitzstephen. Vita S. Thomas,
rum et commeatuum maxime celebre. Descriptio nobilissimae civitatis Londo-
(Tac. Ann xiv. 33.) nias.
B 2
4 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
reasons which have fixed what is properly called the ' city ' of
London on its present site.
And yet again, whilst the first dwellers of the land were
thus entrenched on their heights by the riverside, they were at
once protected and refreshed by the clear swift rivulets de-
scending from the higher hills through the winding valleys that
intersected the earthen bulwarks on which the old fastnesses
stood. The streams still survive in the depths of the sewers
into which they are absorbed, and in the streets to which they
give their names. On the eastern 1 side the Long stream
(Langborne) of ' sweet water ' flowed from the fens (of Fen-
church), and then broke into the ' shares or small rills ' of
Shareborne and Southborne, by which it reached the Thames.
By St. Stephen's Walbrook, probably forming the western
boundary of the Eoman fortress of London,2 there flows the
Brook of London Wall — the Wall Brook, which, when swelled
by winter floods, rushed with such violence down its gully,
that, even in the time of Stow, a young man was swept away
by it.3 Holborn Hill takes its name from the Old Bourne,* or
Holebourne, which, rising in High Holborn, ran down that steep
declivity, and turned the mills at Turnmill (or Turnbull) Street,
at the bottom : the Eiver of Wells, as it was sometimes called,
from those once consecrated springs which now lie choked and
buried in Clerken Well, and Holy Well, and St. Clement's
Well — the scene in the Middle Ages of many a sacred and
festive pageant which gathered round their green margins.
Fleet Ditch and Fleet Street mark the shallow bed of the
' Fleet ' 5 as it creeps down from the breezy slopes of Hampstead.
The rivulet of Ulebrig crossed the Strand under the ' Ivy
' Bridge,' 6 on its way to the Thames.
Such are the main natural features of London. In recall-
ing them from the graves in which they are now entombed,
1 Arch, xxxiii. 110. p. 200, No. 59), the Earl of Lincoln
* Ibid, xxxiii. 104. stated that in old times ten or twelve
1 Ibid, xxxiii. 104. Stow's Survey. ships used often to come up to Fleet
Account of Downe Gate. Bridge with merchandise, and some
4 If ' Old Bourne,' as it appears in even to Holborn Bridge, to scour the
Stow (see also Hayward's Edward VI., watercourse. It has been suggested to
pp. 96, 97), the aspirate has been added me that the word ' Fleet,' as a local
as a London vulgarism. If ' Hole- designation, does not mean ' swift,' but
' bourne,' as it appears in earlier docu- ' shallow,' or ' flat.' In East Anglia it is
ments, it is probably derived from always so used by the common people,
flowing in a hollow. See Letter in the as a ' fleet plate,' and so of meadows
Times, Aug. 17, 1868. and fords in the fen country, where a
1 In a petition to the Parliament at rapid stream is unknown.
Carlisle, in 35 Edward I. (Rot. Parl. i. « Arch. xxvi. 227.
CHAP. i. THE ISLAND OF THORNS. 5
there is something affecting in the thought that, after all, we
are not so far removed from our mother earth as we might have
supposed. There is a quaint humour in the fact that the great
arteries of our crowded streets, the vast sewers which cleanse
our habitations, are fed by the lifeblood of those old and living
streams ; that underneath our tread the Tyburn, and the
Holborn, and the Fleet, and the Wall Brook, are still pursuing
their ceaseless course, still ministering to the good of man,
though in a far different fashion than when Druids drank of
their sacred springs, and Saxons were baptized in their rushing
waters, ages ago.
Thus much has been necessary to state respecting the
origin of London, because without a general view of so near
and great a neighbour it is impossible to understand the
position of our own home of Westminster.
Here too the mighty river plays an important part, but
with an auxiliary which was wanting in the eastern sweep
The island which has cradled the hills of London. Those steep
of Thoms. s^ff banks Of London clay forbade any intrusion of the
Thames beyond his natural shores ; but both above and below
that point the level ground enabled the river to divide his
stream and embrace within his course numerous islands and
islets. Below, we still find the Isle of Dogs and the Isle of
Sheep. Above, in like manner, the waters spread irregularly
over a long low flat, and enclosed a mass of gravel deposit
forming a small island or peninsula. The influx and reflux of
the tide, which lower down was said even to have undermined
the river walls of the fortress of London,1 rushed, it was be-
lieved, through what once was Flood Street ; and some of our
chroniclers fix the scene of Canute's rebuke to his courtiers ' on
* the banks of the Thames as it ran by the Palace of West-
' minster at flowing tide, and the waves cast forth some part of
' their water towards him, and came up to his thighs.' 2 On
the north-east a stream came up by the street thence called
Channel (afterwards corrupted into Canon 3) Eow, through
Gardiner's Lane, which was crossed by a bridge as late as the
seventeenth century.4 On the north this channel spread out
1 Fitzstephen (as above). See Arch. * From its being the residence of
xxxiii. 116. In the memory of man the canons of St. Stephen's Chapel,
the vaults of the Treasury buildings 4 The statement of Maitland (His-
vrere flooded. tory of London, p. 730) and Dart (ii.
- Fabian, p. 229. Knyghton, c. 28), that the first bridge over this
2325.
6 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
into a low marshy creek, now the lake in St. James's Park ;
and the steepness of the sides of the islet is indicated by the
stairs descending into the Park from Duke Street Chapel. At
the point where Great George Street enters Birdcage Walk by
Storey's Gate, there was a narrow isthmus which connected the
island with a similar bed of gravel, reaching under Buckingham
Palace to Hyde Park.1 Then through Prince's Street (formerly,
from this stream, called Long Ditch),2 another channel began,
and continued through Dean Street and College Street, till it
fell again into the Thames by Millbank Street, where, in later
days, the Abbot's Mill stood on the banks of the stream.
The watery waste, which on the south spread over Lambeth
and Southwark, on the north was fed by one of those streams
which have been already noticed. There descended from
Hampstead in a torrent, which has scattered its name right and
left along its course, the brook of the Aye or Eye,3 so called
probably from the Eye (or Island) of which it formed the eastern
boundary, and afterwards familiarly corrupted into the Aye
Bourn, T'Aye Bourn, Tybourn.4 It is recognised first by the
Chapel of St. Mary on its banks, Mary-le-bourne (now corrupted
into Marylebone) — then by ' Brook ' Street. Next, winding
under the curve of ' Aye Hill,' 5 it ran out through the Green
stream was built by Matilda, the good Eow, Westminster ; for in his Survey
queen of Henry I., is probably a mis- he merely mentions it as before quoted,
take founded on the statement of And in his notice of Matilda's place of
Weever, who says (p. 454) that Matilda sepulture he makes no allusion to it. I
' builded the bridges over the River owe this correction to Mr. F. S. Haydon.
' of Lea at Stratford Bow, and over Mr. Walcott has since discovered that
' the little brooke called Chanelse- the bridge over the Westminster stream
' bridge.' The situation of the second was called the Abbot's Bridge at Tot-
bridge not being definitely given in hill.
this passage, Maitland may have as- ' See Appendix to Dean Buckland's
sumed, as Dart actually does assume, Sermon on Westminster Abbey,
that it was identical with the bridge - The word ' ditch ' is used for a
near Channel Row, Westminster. On brook, as in Kenditch, near Harnp-
referring to Stow, however (Annals, stead. The ditch was remembered in
A.D. 1118), we find that the Queen 1799. (Gent. Mag. Ixix. part ii. p.
built two stone bridges— one over the 577.)
Lea at Stratford, and one not far 3 For the whole plan of the manor
from it, over a little brook called or plain of Eye or Eia, containing the
' Chanel sebridge.' And it is evident course of the brook, see Arch. xxvi. 224,
from other facts which he mentions, 226, 234.
that Stow had seen the record of 4 Stratford Place marks the site of
proceedings in the King's Bench in the banqueting house attached to the
6 Edward II., in which is recited an conduits of Tybourne. (Arch. xxvi.
inquisition of 32 Edward I., assigning 226.) The T'aye is probably from the
the foundation of these two bridges, Saxon 'set,' ' at ' (as in Attwater, Att-
the Stratford bridge and the ' Chaneles- wood, Atbourne), meaning 'the road
' brigg,' near it, to Queen Matilda. ' near the bourne from the island.'
Stow evidently knew nothing about 5 In the case of Hay Hill, the Lon-
the founder of the bridge near Channel don vulgarism has permanently prefixed
CHAP. i. THE ISLAND OF THORNS. 7
Park ; and whilst a thin stream found its way through what is
now called the King's Scholars' Pond Sewer into the Thames,
its waters also spread through the morass (which was afterwards
called from it the manor of Eyebury, or Ebury) into the vast
Bulinga Fen.1
The island (or peninsula) thus enclosed, in common with
more than one similar spot, derived its name from its thickets
of thorn— Thorn Ey,2 the Isle of Thorns — which formed in their
jungle a refuge for the wild ox 3 or huge red deer with towering
antlers, that strayed into it from the neighbouring hills. This
spot, thus entrenched, marsh within marsh, and forest within
forest, was indeed locus terribilis,* ' the terrible place,' as it was
called in the first notices of its existence ; yet even thus early
it presented several points of attraction to the founder of
whatever was the original building which was to redeem it from
the wilderness. It had the advantages of a Thebaid, as con-
trasted with the stir and tumult of the neighbouring fortress
of London. And, on the other hand, the river, then swarming
with fish,5 was close by to feed the colony ; the gravel soil and
the close fine sand, still dug up under the floor of the Abbey and
in St. Margaret's Churchyard, was necessarily healthy ; and in
the centre of the thickets there bubbled up at least one
spring, perhaps two, which gave them water clear and
pure, supplied by the percolation of the rain-water from the
gravel beds of Hyde Park and the Palace Gardens through the
isthmus, when the river was too turbid to drink.6 It has been
said, with a happy paradox, that no local traditions are so
durable as those which are ' writ in water.' 7 So it is here. In
the green of Dean's Yard there stands a well-worn pump. The
the aspirate. The original ' Aye Hill ' foundations of the Victoria Tower, and
appears in a charter of Henry VI., in red deer, with very fine antlers, below
the archives of Eton College. the River Terrace. I derive this from
1 Tothill Fields (Vincent Square). Professor Owen. Bones and antlers of
(Arch. xxvi. 224.) the elk and red deer were also found in
• Or Dorney. (Burton's London 1868 in Broad Sanctuary in making the
and Westminster, p. 285.) There was Metropolitan Railway,
a Thorney Abbey in Cambridgeshire 4 ' In loco terribili ' is the phrase
and in Somersetshire. The description used by Offa in the first authentic
of one of these in Order icus Vital is charter, and repeated in Edgar's (Wid-
(book xi.) exactly describes what more's Inquiry, pp. 14, 15 ; Kemble,
Westminster Abbey must have been. Codex Anglo- Saxonicus, § 149).
' It is called in English the Isle of s Fluvius maximus, pisccsus. (Fitz-
' Thorns, because its woods, thick with Stephen. Vita Sancti Thomas. Dese.
' all manner of trees, are surrounded civ. Lond.)
' by vast pools of water.' 6 See Appendix to Dean Buckland's
3 The bones of such an ox (Bos Sermon.
primkcrius) were discovered under the ; Clark's Peloponnesus, p. 286.
8 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
spring,1 which, till quite recently, supplied it, was the vivifying
centre of all that has grown up around.
II. These were the original elements of the greatness of
Westminster, and such was the Isle of Thorns. On like islands
Legendary arose tne cathedral and town of Ely, the Abbey of
Croyland, the Abbey of Glastonbury, and the Castle-
Cathedral of Limerick. On such another grew up a still more
exact parallel — Notre Dame at Paris, with the palace of the
kings close by. What was the first settlement in those thorny
shades, amidst those watery wastes, beside that bubbling spring,
it is impossible to decipher. The monastic traditions rnain-
Temnie of tained that the earliest building had been a Temple
Apoiio. Of Apollo, shaken down by an earthquake in the year
A.D. 154, not, however, before it had received the remains of
Bladud the magician, who lighted here in his preternatural
flight from Bath, and was thus the first interment in the
venerable soil. But this is probably no more than the attempt
to outshine the rival cathedral of St. Paul's, by endeavouring
to counterbalance the dubious claims of the Temple of Diana 2
by a still more dubious assertion of the claims of the temple of
her brother the Sun God.3 Next comes King Lucius, the
church of legendary founder of the originals of St. Peter's,
Cornhill, Gloucester, Canterbury, Dover, Bangor, Glas-
tonbury, Cambridge, Winchester. He it was who was said to
have converted the two London temples into churches ; 4 or,
according to one version, to have restored two yet more ancient
churches which the temples had superseded.5 He it was who,
in the Swiss legends, deserted his British throne to become the
bishop of Coire in the Grisons, where in the -cathedral are shown
his relics, with those of his sister Emerita; and high in the
woods above the town emerges a .rocky pulpit, still bearing the
marks of his fingers, from which he preached to the inhabitants
1 There is also another in St. Mar- main British divinities were so called
garet's Churchyard. by the Komans, and Apollo is said to
'-' For the story of the Temple of have been Belin, — according to one
Diana, as well as for all -other illustra- version the origin of Billingsgate. (See
tions rendered to the Abbey, partly by Fuller's -Church Hist. i. § 2.)
parallel, partly by contrast, from" its 4 Westminster alone is ascribed to
great rival, the Cathedral of London, him in Brompton. (Twysden, c. 724.)
I have a melancholy pleasure in re- For his supposed establishment of the
ferring to the 'Annals of St. Paul's,' Sanctuary, see Abbot Feckenham's
the last work of its illustrious and speech, A.D. 1555, quoted in Chap. V.
venerable chief, Dean Milman. « Ellis's Diigdale, p. 3; Milman's
3 Letter of Sir Christopher Wren Church of St. Paul's, p. 3.
(Life, App, xxix. p. 105). The two
CHAP. i. THE LEGENDARY ORIGIN. 9
of the valleys, in a voice so clear and loud, that it could be heard
on the Luciensteig (the Pass of Lucius), twelve miles off. The
only authentic record of the Roman period is the sarcophagus
of Valerius Amandinus, discovered in the north green of the
Abbey l in 1869.
The clouds which hang so thick over the Temple of Apollo
and the Church of Lucius are only so far removed when we
reach the time of Sebert,2 as that in him we arrive at
cimrchof an unquestionably historical personage, if indeed the
Sebert to whom the foundation of the Abbey is ascribed
be the king of that name in Essex, and not, as another writer
represents, a private citizen of London.3 But Bede's entire
omission of Westminster in his account 4 of Sebert's connection
with St. Paul's throws a doubt over the whole story, and the
introduction of the name in relation to Westminster may be
only another attempt of the Westminster monks to redress their
balance against St. Paul's.
Still the tradition afterwards appeared in so substantial a
form, that Sebert's grave has never ceased to be shown in the
Grave of Abbey from the time of the erection of the present
building. Originally it would seem to have been in-
side the church. Then, during the repairs of Henry III., the
remains were deposited on the south side of the entrance to the
Chapter-house,5 and subsequently, in the reign of Edward II.,
removed to the Choir,6 where they occupy a position on the
south of the altar analogous -to that of Dagobert the founder of
St. Denys. A figure, supposed to be that of Sebert, is painted
over it.7 The same tradition that records his burial in the
Chapter-house adds to his remains those of his wife Ethelgoda
and his sister Ricula.8
1 For a complete account of it, see s Flete MS.
the dissertations on it collected by Mr. 6 Weever's Funeral Monuments, p.
Albert Way, and reprinted from the 456. See the Epitaph in Ackermann,
Archaeological Journal. It is now in i. 83. The right arm was supposed to
the entrance to the Chapter-house. be still undecayed, with the skin cling-
•'-' ' Our father Saba,' as his wild sons ing to the bone, A.D. 1307. (Walsing-
used to call him, when they envied the ham, i. 114 ; Rishanger, p. 425.)
fragments of ' white bread ' which they 7 A sarcophagus of Purbeck marble
saw the bishop give him in the Eucha- was found under the canopy, in 18(56,
rist. (Bede, ii. 5.) The fine description when the modern structure of brick-
of the Abbey by Montalembert (Moincs work was removed, which had been
de rOccident, iv. 432) is .in connection erected by Dean Ireland, and which is
with Sebert. elaborately described in Gent. Mag.
3 Sulcard, in Cotton MSS. Fans- xcv. p. 306.
tina, B. iii., f. 12, in marg. ; Higden, p. 8 His mother, according to Bede (ii.
228 ; Thorn. Twysden, c. 1768. 3), sister to Ethelbert. See Chapters
4 Bede, ii. 3. III. and V.
10 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
The gradual formation of a monastic body, indicated in the
charters of Offa and Edgar, marks the spread of the Benedictine
Order throughout England, under the influence of Dunstan.1
The * terror ' of the spot, which had still been its chief charac-
teristic in the charter of the wild Offa, had in the days of the
more peaceful Edgar given way to a dubious ' renown.' Twelve
Foundation monks is the number traditionally said to have been
of Edgar. established by Dunstan.2 A few acres near Staines
formed their chief property, and their monastic character was
sufficiently recognised to have given to the old locality of the
' terrible place ' the name of the ' Western Monastery,' or
' Minster of the West.' 3 But this seems to have been overrun
by the Danes, and it would have had no further history but for
the combination of circumstances which directed hither the
notice of Edward the Confessor.
III. It has been truly remarked that there is a striking
difference between the origin of Pagan temples and of Christian
Historical churches. ' The Pagan temples were always the public
origin. « works of nations and of communities. They were
' national buildings, dedicated to national purposes. The
' mediaeval churches, on the other hand, were the erections of
' individuals, monuments of personal piety, tokens of the hope
* of a personal reward.' 4 This cannot be said, without reserve,
of Southern Europe, where, as at Venice and Florence, the
chief churches were due to the munificence of the State. But
in England it is true even of the one ecclesiastical building
which is most especially national — the gift not of private in-
dividuals, but of kings. Westminster Abbey is, in its origin,
the monument not merely of the personal piety, but of the
personal character and circumstances of its Founder.
We know the Confessor well from the descriptions preserved
by his contemporaries. His appearance was such as no one
Edward the could forget. It was almost that of an Albino. His
S°u^tSird full-flashed rose-red cheeks strangely contrasted with
appearance, fog miiky whiteness of his waving hair and beard.
His eyes were always fixed on the ground. There was a kind
1 William of Malmesbury. De Gest. Edgar (ibid., Charters, No. 5), 'nomi-
Eeg. Angl. (Hardy), i. 237, 240, 247 ; and ' natissimo loco qui dicitur West-
De Gest. Pont. Angl. (Savile, Scriptores « mynster.' The name must have been
post Bedam, p. 202.) given in contradistinction to St. Paul's
2 Diceto. Twysden, c. 456. in the East.
* Charter of Offa (Abbey Archives, 4 Merivale's Boyle Lectures, Con-
Charters, No. 3), ' loco terribili quod version of the Northern Nations,
' dicitur set Westmunster.' Charter of p. 122.
CHAP. T. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 11
of magical charm in his thin white hands and his long trans-
parent fingers,1 which not unnaturally led to the belief that
there resided in them a healing power of stroking away the
diseases of his subjects. His manners presented a singular
mixture of gravity and levity. Usually affable and gentle, so as
to make even a refusal look like an acceptance, he burst forth at
times into a fury which showed that the old Berserkir rage was
not dead within him.2 ' By God and His mother, I will give
' you just such another turn if ever it come in my way ! ' was
the utterance of what was thought by his biographers a mild ex-
pression of his noble indignation against a peasant who inter-
fered with the pleasure of his chase.3 Austere as were his habits
— old even as a child 4 — he startled his courtiers sometimes by
a sudden smile or a peal of laughter, for which they or he could
only account by some mysterious vision.5 He cared for little
but his devotional exercises and hunting. He would spend
hours in church, and then, as soon as he was set free, would be
off to the woods for days together, flying his hawks and cheering
on his hounds.
With his gentle piety was blended a strange hardness
towards those to whom he was most bound. He was harsh to
His cha- n^s mother. His alienation from his wife, even in that
racter. fantastic age, was thought extremely questionable.6
His good faith was not unimpeachable. ' There was nothing,'
it was said, ' that he would not promise from the exigency of
' the time. He pledged his faith on both sides, and confirmed
1 by oath anything that was demanded of him.' 7 On the other
hand a childish kindliness towards the poor and suffering made
them look upon him as their natural protector. The un-
reasoning benevolence which, in a modern French romance,
appears as an extravagance of an unworldly bishop, was lite-
rally ascribed to the Confessor in a popular legend, of which
the representation was depicted on the tapestries that once
hung round the Choir, and may still be seen in one of the com-
1 Longis interlucentibus digitis. (See Freeman's Norman Conquest, ii.
(Harleian Life, p. 240.) The presence 27.)
of ' the pious king ' is intimated in 4 Ailred of Rievaulx, c. 373.
Shakspeare (Macbeth, act iv. scene 3) 5 As when he saw in a trance the
only by the crowd waiting to be shipwreck of the King of Denmark
touched for the Evil. (Oxford Life, 244 ; Cambridge Life,
"- Harleian Life, 225. See this well gS^ * g6 movements of the Seven
dnuvrMjut in the North British Review, * -HarleiarfLife, 480-495.
7 William of Malmesbury, ii. 13.
3 William of Malmesbury, ii. 13. Harleian Life, 875-890.
CHAP. i. EDWAKD THE CONFESSOR. 18
partments of the screen of his shrine.1 The king was reposing
after the labours of the day. His chamberlain, Hugolin, had
opened the chest of the royal monies to pay the servants of
the palace. The scullion crept in to avail himself, as he sup-
posed, of the King's sleep, and carried off the remains of the
treasure. At his third entrance Edward started up, and
warned him to fly before the return of Hugolin (' He will
' not leave you even a halfpenny ') ; and to the remonstrances
of Hugolin answered, ' The thief hath more need of it than we —
' enough treasure hath King Edward ! ' 2
Another peculiar combination marks his place equally in
the history of England and in the foundation of the Abbey.
The last of He was the last of the Saxons — that is, the last of
Ms' those concerned in the long struggle against the
Danes. As time went on, the national feeling transfigured
him almost into a Saxon Arthur.3 In him was personified all
the hatred with which the Anglo-Saxon Christians regarded
the Pagan Norsemen. His exile to escape from their tyranny
raised him at once to the rank of ' Confessor,' as Edmund the
East Angle, by his death in battle with them, had been in
like manner raised to the rank of ' Martyr.' A curious legend
represents that, on entering his treasury, he saw a black
demon dancing on the casks4 which contained the gold ex-
tracted from his subjects to pay the obnoxious tax to the
Danes, and how in consequence the Danegelt was for ever
abolished.
He was also the first of the Normans. His reign is the
earliest link which reunites England to the Continent of Europe.
The first Hardly since the invasion of Caesar — certainly not
Normans, since the arrival of Augustine — had such an influx of
new ideas poured into our insular commonwealth as came with
Edward from his Norman exile. His mother Emma and his
1 The legends which are here cited thus represented, so few are actually
are not found in the contemporary historical.
life of the Confessor in the eleventh - Cambridge Life, 1000-1040.
century, and therefore cannot be * See the comparison in the Cam-
trusted for the accuracy of their bridge Life, 900-910.
facts or their language, but only as 4 Cambridge Life, 940-961. The
representing the feeling of the next casks are represented in the frieze of
generation. The screen is of the fif- the screen. This long continued to
teenth century, but it faithfully pre- be the mode of keeping money, as ap-
serves these records of the twelfth. pears from the story of Wolsey and
Nothing shows the rapidity of the the Jester. For the abolition of the
growth of these legends more than the Danegelt see Cambridge Life, 922,
fact that out of the fourteen subjects 1884 ; Oxford Life, 302.
14 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP, i,
maternal grandfather Eichard were more to him than his
father Ethelred ; the Norman clergy and monks than his own
rude Anglo-Saxon hierarchy. His long hair and beard, dis-
tinguishing his appearance from that of the shorn and shaven
heads of his Norman kinsmen, were almost the only outward
marks of his Saxon origin. The French handwriting super-
seded in his court the old Anglo-Saxon characters ; ' the French
seals, under his auspices, became the type of the sign-manual
of England for centuries.2 From him the Norman civilisation
spread not only into England, but into Scotland. His grand-
nephew Edgar Atheling, as the head of the Anglo-Norman
migration into the north, was the father of the Scottish Low-
lands.
These were the qualities and circumstances which went to
Foundation make up the Founder of Westminster Abbey. We have
Abbey. now to ask, What special motive induced the selection
of this particular site and object for his devotion ?
The idea of a regal Abbey on a hitherto unexampled scale
may have been suggested or strengthened by the accounts
consecra- brought back to him of Eeims, where his envoys had
ReLs. been present at the consecration of the Abbey of St.
Rerny, hard by the cathedral in which the French kings were
crowned.3 By this time also the wilderness of Thorney was
Meadows of cleared ; and the crowded river, with its green
Thorney. meadows, and the sunny aspect of the island,4 may
have had a charm for the King, whose choice had hitherto
lain in the rustic fields of Islip and Windsor.
But the prevailing motive was of a more peculiar kind, be-
longing to times long since passed away. In that age, as still
Theconfes- amongst some classes in Roman Catholic countries,
ttontos? religious sentiment took the form of special devotion
to this or that particular saint. Amongst Edward's
favourites St. Peter was chief.5 On his protection, wrhilst in
Normandy, when casting about for help, the exiled Prince
had thrown himself, and vowed that, if he returned in
HlS TOW.
safety, he would make a pilgrimage to the Apostle's
grave at Rome. This vow was, it is said, further impressed on
1 Lappenberg (Thorpe), ii. 246. leian MS. 980-985.) Quoted as the
2 Palgrave's History of England, motto to this chapter.
p. 328. s The church of the Confessor's re-
3 Saxon Chronicle, 1049. sidence at Old Windsor is dedicated to
4 The combination of motives is well St. Peter, and the site of his palace is
given in the contemporary Life. (Har- thence called Peter's Hill.
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 15
his mind by the arrival of a messenger from England, almost
immediately afterwards, with the announcement of the de-
parture of the Danes, and of his own election as King.1 It
was yet further confirmed by a vision, real or feigned, of
Brithwold, Bishop of Winchester, at Glastonbury,2 in which
St. Peter, the patron saint of Winchester Cathedral, appeared
to him, and announced that the Bishop himself should crown a
youth, whom the saint dearly loved, to be King of England.3
Accordingly, when Edward came to the throne, he an-
nounced to his Great Council his intention of fulfilling his vow.
The proposal was received with horror by nobles and people.
It was met both by constitutional objections, and on the
ground of the dangers of the expedition. The King could not
leave the kingdom without the consent of the Commons; he
could not undertake such a journey without encountering the
most formidable perils — ' the roads, the sea, the mountains,
' the valleys, ambuscades at the bridges and the fords,' and
most of all ' the felon Eomans, who seek nothing but gain and
' gifts.' ' The red gold and the white silver they covet as a
' leech covets blood.' 4 The King at last gave way, on the sug-
gestion that a deputation might be sent to the Pope who
might release him from his vow. The deputation went. The
release came, on the condition that he should found or restore
a monastery of St. Peter, of which the King should be the
especial patron. It was, in fact, to be a pilgrimage by proxy,
such as has sometimes been performed by traversing at home
the same number of miles that would be travelled on the way
to Palestine ; 5 sometimes by sending the heart, after death,6 to
perform what the living had been unable to accomplish in
person.
Where, then, was a monastery of St. Peter to be found
which could meet this requirement ? It might possibly have
been that at Winchester. Perhaps in this hope the story of
Bishop Brithwold's vision was revived. But there was also
the little ' minster,' west of London, near which the King
1 Cambridge Life, 780-825. 4 Ibid. p. 222. The various dan-
2 Ailred, 373. There is a difficulty gers of the journey to Rome are well
in distinguishing Brithwold, Bishop of given in William of Malinesbury (ii.
Winchester, and Brithwold, Bishop of 13).
Wilton. The chronicles in general are 5 As in the case of the late King of
in favour of Winchester. One of the Saxony.
Lives of the Confessor is in favour of 6 As in the case of Edward I. of
Wilton. England, and Robert the Bruce and
3 Cambridge Life, G40-700. James I. of Scotland.
16 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
from time to time resided, and of which his friend Edwin,1 the
courtier abbot, was head. It had, as far back as memory ex-
connection tended, been dedicated to St. Peter. A Welsh legend
withethebey of later times maintained that it was at ' Lampeter,'
stTeter. ' the Church of Peter,' that the Apostle saw the vision
in which he was warned that he must shortly ' put off his
' earthly tabernacle.' 2 If the original foundation of the Abbey
can be traced back to Sebert, the name, probably, must have
been given in recollection of the great Roman Sanctuary, whence
Augustine, the first missionary, had come.3 And Sebert was
believed to have dedicated his church to St. Peter in the Isle
of Thorns, in order to balance the compliment he had paid to
St. Paul on Ludgate Hill : 4 a reappearance, in another form,
of the counterbalancing claims of the rights of Diana and
Apollo — the earliest stage of that rivalry which afterwards
expressed itself in the proverb of ' robbing Peter to pay Paul.' 5
This thin thread of tradition, which connected the ruinous
pile in the river-island with the Roman reminiscences of
Augustine, was twisted firm and fast round the resolve of
Edward; and by the concentration of his mind6 on this one
object was raised the first distinct idea of an Abbey, which the
Kings of England should regard as their peculiar treasure.
There are, probably, but few Englishmen now who care to
know that the full title of Westminster Abbey is the ' Col-
' legiate Church or Abbey of St. Peter.' But at the time of its
first foundation, and long afterwards, the whole neighbourhood
and the whole story of the foundation breathed of nothing else
but the name, which was itself a reality. ' The soil of St.
' Peter ' was a recognised legal phrase. The name of Peter's
' Eye,' or ' Island,' 7 which still lingers in the low land of
Battersea, came by virtue of its connection with the Chapter
of Westminster.8 Anyone who infringed the charter of the
Abbey would, it was declared, be specially condemned by St.
Peter, when he sits on his throne judging the twelve tribes of
Israel.9 Of the Abbey of St. Peter at Westminster, as of the
1 See Chapter V. " The ' Cock ' in Tothill Street,
2 2 Pet. i. 14. (I cannot recover where the workmen of the Abbey re-
the reference to this legend.) ceived their pay, was probably from
3 See Memorialsof Canterbury, p. 11. the cock of St. Peter. A black marble
4 Ailred, c. 384. statue of St. Peter is said to lie at the
5 See Chapter VI. bottom of the well under the pump in
6 Dagobert, in like manner, had a Prince's Street. (Walcott, 73, 280.)
peculiar veneration for St. Denys. 9 Pope Nicholas's Letter, Kemble
; Smith's Antiquities, p. 34. (Codex), § 825.
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 17
more celebrated basilica of St. Peter at Rome, it may be said
that ' super hanc Petram ' the Church of Westminster has been
built.
Eound the undoubted fact that this devotion to St. Peter
was Edward's prevailing motive, gathered, during his own life-
time or immediately after, the various legends which give it
form and shape in connection with the special peculiarities of
the Abbey.
There was in the neighbourhood of Worcester, ' far from
' men in the wilderness, on the slope of a wood, in a cave, deep
Legend of * down in the grey rock,' a holy hermit ' of great age,
of wor-mit ' living on fruits and roots.' One night, when, after
reading in the Scriptures ' how hard are the pains of
' hell, and how the enduring life of Heaven is sweet and to be
' desired,' he could neither sleep nor repose, St. Peter appeared
to him, ' bright and beautiful, like to a clerk,' and warned him
to tell the King that he was released from his vow ; that on
that very day his messengers would return from Eome ; that
' at Thorney, two leagues from the city,' was the spot marked
out where, in an ancient church, ' situated low,' he was to
establish a Benedictine monastery, which should be ' the gate
' of heaven, the ladder of prayer, whence those who serve St.
' Peter there shall by him be admitted into Paradise.' The
hermit writes the account of the vision on parchment, seals it
with wax, and brings it to the King, who compares it with the
answer of the messengers just arrived from Rome, and deter-
mines on carrying out the design as the Apostle had ordered.1
Another legend 2 still more precise developed the attractions
of the spot still further. In the vision to the Worcestershire
Legend of hermit, St. Peter was reported to have said that he
fisherman, had consecrated the church at Thorney with his own
hands. How this came to pass was now circulated in versions
slightly varying from each other, but of which the main
features agreed. It was on a certain Sunday night in the reign
of King Sebert, the eve of the day fixed by Mellitus, first
Bishop of London, for the consecration of the original
monastery in the Isle of Thorns, that a fisherman of the name
1 Cambridge Life, 1740 ; Oxford The first trace of it is the allusion in
Life, 270. the Confessor's charters, if genuine
z That this story was not in existence (Kemble, vol. iv. §§ 824-6). It does
before the Confessor's reign, appears not appear in the contemporary Har-
from its absence in the original charter leian Life, but is fully developed in
of Edgar (Widmore's Inquiry, p. 22). Sulcard and Ailred.
18 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
of Edric was casting his nets from the shore of the island into
the Thames.1 On the other side of the river, where Lambeth
now stands, a bright light attracted his notice. He crossed,
and found a venerable personage, in foreign attire, calling for
some one to ferry him over the dark stream. Edric consented.
The stranger landed, and proceeded at once to the church. On
his way he evoked with his staff the two springs of the island.
The air suddenly became bright with a celestial splendour.
The building stood out clear, ' without darkness or shadow.'
A host of angels, descending and reascending, with sweet
odours and flaming candles, assisted, and the church was dedi-
cated with the usual solemnities. The fisherman remained in
his boat, so awestruck by the sight, that when the mysterious
visitant returned and asked for food, he was obliged to reply
that he had caught not a single fish. Then the stranger re-
vealed his name : ' I am Peter, keeper of the keys of Heaven.
' When Mellitus arrives to-morrow, tell him what you have
' seen ; and show him the token that I, St. Peter, have conse-
' crated my own Church of St. Peter, Westminster, and have
' anticipated the Bishop of London.2 For yourself, go out into
' the river ; you will catch a plentiful supply of fish, whereof
' the larger part shall be salmon. This I have granted on two
' conditions — first, that you never fish again on Sundays ;
' secondly, that you pay a tithe of them to the Abbey of West-
' minster.'
The next day, at dawn, 'the Bishop Mellitus rises, and
' begins to prepare the anointing oils and the utensils for the
' great dedication.' He, with the King, arrives at the appointed
hour. At the door they are met by Edric with the salmon in
his hand, which he presents ' from St. Peter in a gentle manner
* to the Bishop.' He then proceeds to point out the marks ' of
' the twelve crosses on the church, the walls within and without
' moistened with holy water, the letters of the Greek alphabet
' written twice over distinctly on the sand ' of the now sacred
island, ' the traces of the oil, and (cjiiefest of the miracles) the
' droppings of the angelic candles.' The Bishop professed him-
self entirely convinced, and returned from the church, ' satisfied
' that the dedication had been performed sufficiently, better,
1 Cambridge Life, 2060 ; Sulcard ' sanctificationis auctoritate prteveni.'
in Dugdale's Monasticon, i. 289. (Ailred, cc. 385, 386. Sporley and
2 ' Episcopalem benedictionem mete Sulcard in Dugdale, i. 288, 289.)
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 19
' and in a more saintly fashion than a hundred such as he could
' have done.' l
The story is one which has its counterparts in other
churches. The dedication of Einsiedlen, in Switzerland, and
that of the rock at Le Puy, in Auvergne,2 were ascribed to
angelic agency. The dedication of the chapel of St. Joseph of
Arimathea at Glastonbury was ascribed to Christ Himself, who
appeared to warn off St. David, as St. Peter at Westminster did
Mellitus. St. Nicholas claimed to have received his restored
pall, and St. Denys the sacraments of the Church, from the
same source, and not from any episcopal or priestly hands. All
these legends have in common the merit of containing a lurking
protest against the necessity of external benediction for things
or persons sacred by their own intrinsic virtue — a covert de-
claration of the great catholic principle (to use Hooker's words)
that God's grace is not tied ' to outward forms.' But the
Westminster tradition possesses, besides, the peculiar charm of
the local colouring of the scene, and betrays the peculiar motives
whence it arose. We are carried back by it to the times when
the wild Thames, with its fishermen and its salmon,3 was still
an essential feature of the neighbourhood of the Abbey. We
see in it the importance attached to the name of the Apostle.
We see also the union of innocent fiction with worldly craft,
which marks so many legends both of Pagan and Christian
times.4 It represents the earliest protest of the Abbots of
Westminster against the jurisdiction of the Bishops of London.
It was recited by them long afterwards as the solid foundation
of the inviolable right of sanctuary in, Westminster.5 It con-
tains the claim established by them one the tithe of the Thames
fisheries from Gravesend to Staines. A lawsuit was successfully
carried by the Convent of Westminster against the Kector of
Eotherhithe, in 1282, on the ground that St. Peter had granted
the first haul.6 The parish clergy, however, struggled against
the claim, and the monastic historian Flete, in the gradually
1 The Roman annalists are not the Chamber of Angels. (Mandet's
satisfied with the purely British cha- Hist, du Velay, ii. 27.)
racter of this legend, and add that 3 A ' Thames salmon,' with aspara-
Mellitus being in doubt deferred the gas, was still a customary dish in the
consecration till being at Rome in a time of Charles I. (State Papers,
council he consulted with Pope Boni- April 12, 1629.)
face IV., who decided against it. 4 See Lectures on the History of the
Surius, torn. i. in Vit. St. Januar. ; Eastern Church, p. 80.
Baronius, vol. viii. anno 610. s See Chapter V.
2 The bells were rung by the hands • See Neale, p. 6 ; Ware's Consue-
of angels, and the church was called inclines.
c 2
20 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
increasing scarcity of salmon, saw a Divine judgment on the
fishermen for not having complied with St. Peter's request.
Once a year, as late as 1382, one of the fishermen, as repre-
sentative of Edric, took his place beside the Prior, and brought
in a salmon for St. Peter. It was carried in state through the
middle of the Eefectory. The Prior and the whole fraternity
rose as it passed up to the high table, and then the fisherman
received ale and bread from the cellarer in return for the fish's
tail.1
The little Church or Chapel of St. Peter, thus dignified by
the stories of its first origin, was further believed to have been
Legend ot specially endeared to Edward by two miracles, reported
the cripple. j.Q faye occurre(j within it in his own lifetime. The
first was the cure of a crippled Irishman, Michael, who sate in
the road between the Palace and 'the Chapel of St. Peter,
' which was near,' and who explained to the inexorable Hugolin
that, after six pilgrimages to Rome in vain, St. Peter had
promised his cure if the King would, on his own royal neck,
carry him to the monastery. The King immediately consented ;
and, amidst the scoffs of the Court, bore the poor man to the
steps of the High Altar. There he was received by Godric the
sacristan, and walked away on his own restored feet, hanging
his stool on the wall for a trophy.2
Before that same High Altar was also believed to have
been seen one of the Eucharistical portents, so frequent in the
Legend Middle Ages. A child, ' pure and bright like a spirit,'
sacrament, appeared to the King in the sacramental elements.3
Leofric, Earl of Mercia, who, with his famous countess Godiva,
was present, saw it also. The King imposed secrecy upon
them during his life. The Earl confided the secret to a holy
man at Worcester (perhaps the hermit before mentioned), who
placed the account of it in a chest, which, after all concerned
were dead, opened of itself and revealed the sacred deposit.
Such as these were the motives of Edward. Under their
influence was fixed what has ever since been the local centre
of the English monarchy and nation — of the Palace and the
Legislature no less than of the Abbey.
There had, no doubt, already existed, by the side of the
Thames, an occasional resort of the English Kings. But the
Boman fortress in London, or the Saxon city of Winchester, had
1 Pennant's London, p. 57. s Cambridge Life, 2515-55. It ap-
* Cambridge Life, 1920-2020. pears on the screen of the chapel.
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 21
been hitherto their usual abode. Edward himself had formerly
Pa'aceof spent his time chiefly at his birthplace, Islip, or at
•darter. the rude palace on the rising ground, still marked
by various antique remains, above ' Old Windsor.' l But now,
for the sake of superintending the new Church at Westminster,
he lived, more than any previous king, in the regal residence
(which he hi great part rebuilt) close beside it. The Abbey and
the Palace grew together, and into each other, in the closest
union : just as in Scotland, a few years later, Dunfermline
Palace and Dunfermline Abbey sprang up side by side ; and
again, Holyrood Abbey — first within the Castle of Edinburgh,
and then on its present site— by Holyrood Palace. ' The
' Chamber of St. Edward,' as it was called from him, or ' the
' Painted Chamber,' from its subsequent decorations, was the
kernel of the Palace of Westminster. This fronted what is still
called the ' Old Palace Yard,' as distinguished from the ' New
' Palace ' of William Rufus, of which the only vestige is the
framework of the ancient Hall, looking out on what, from its
novelty at that time, was called the ' New Palace Yard,' —
' New,' like the ' New Castle ' of the Conqueror, or the ' New
' College ' of Wykeham.
The privileges 2 which the King was anxious to obtain for
the new institution were in proportion to the magnificence of
his design, and the difficulties encountered for this purpose are
a proof of the King's eagerness in the cause. As always in
such cases, it was necessary to procure a confirmation of these
Jonmeyto privileges from the Pope. The journey to Rome was,
in those troubled times, a serious affair. The deputa-
tion consisted of Aldred,3 who had lately been translated from
Worcester to York ; the King's two chaplains, Gyso and
Walter ; Tosti and Gurth, the King's brothers-in-law ; and
Gospatrick, kinsman of the Confessor and companion of Tosti.
Some of the laymen had taken this opportunity to make their
pilgrimage to the graves of the Apostles. The Archbishop of
York had also his own private ends to serve — the grant of
the pall for York, and a dispensation to retain the see of Wor-
cester. The Pope refused his request, on the not unreasonable
1 Runny - Mede, ' the meadow of exact statement of these privileges
' assemblies,' derives its name and its depends on the genuineness of the
original association from this neigh- charters, but their general outline is
bourhood of the royal residence. unquestionable.
z Cambridge Life, 2325. Kemble, 3 Harleian Life, 755-80.
§§ 824, 825. See Chapter V. The
22 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. j.
ground that the two sees should not be held together. Tosti
was furious on behalf of his friend Aldred, but could not gain
his point. On their return they were attacked by a band of
robbers at Sutri, a spot still dangerous for the same reason.
Some of the party were stripped to the skin— amongst them
the Archbishop of York.1 Tosti was saved only by the mag-
nificent appearance of Gospatrick, who rode before, and misled
the robbers into the belief that .he was the powerful Earl.2
Meanwhile Tosti returned to .Rome, in a state of fierce indigna-
tion, and, with his well-known ' adamantine obstinacy,' declared
that he would take measures for stopping Peter's pence from
England, by making it known that the Pope, whose claims
were so formidable abroad, was in ihe hands of robbers at
home,3 With this threat (so . often repeated hi every form and
tone since) he carried the suit of his friend ; and the deputation
returned, not only with the privileges of Westminster, but with
the questionable confirmation of Aldred's questionable demands.
The Abbey had been fifteen years hi building. The King
had spent upon it one-tenth of the property of the kingdom.
Buiuung of I* was *° be a marvel of its kind. As in its origin it
the Abbey. jj0re tne traces of the fantastic childish character of
the King and of the age, in its architecture it bore the stamp of
the peculiar position which Edward occupied in English history
between Saxon and Norman. By birth he was a Saxon, but in
all else he was a foreigner. Accordingly, the Church at West-
minster was a wide sweeping innovation on all that had been
seen before.4 'Destroying the old building,' he says in his
Charter, ' I have built up a new one from the very foundation.' 5
Its fame as ' a new style 6 of composition ' lingered in the minds
of men for generations. It was the first cruciform church in
England, from which all the rest of like shape were copied — an
1 Stubbs, c. 1702. William of Lady Chapel of Henry III. must have
Malmesbury in Life of Wulfstan, pt. abutted on the east end of the old choir
ii. c. 10. (Anglia Sacra, vol. ii. 250.) as of the present. 2. That the cloisters
'- Harleian Life, 770. occupied the same relative position, as
1 Brompton, c. 952 ; Knyghton, c. may be seen from the existing sub-
2336. structures. 3. That the pillars, as ex-
4 The collegiate church of Walt- cavated in the choir in the repairs of
ham, which was founded by Harold in 1866, stand at the same distance from
A.D. 1060, must have been the nearest each other as the present pillars. The
approach to this. But whatever view nave of the church and the chapel of
is taken of the present structure of the St. Catherine must have been finished
church at Waltham, it was consider- under Henry I., the south cloister
ably smaller than the Abbey. The under William Bufus.
proof of the size of the Confessor's s Kemble, No. 824, iv. 176.
church rests on the facts— 1. That the 6 Matthew Paris, p. 2.
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 23
expression of the increasing hold which the idea of the Cruci-
fixion in the tenth century had laid on the imagination of
Europe.1 Its massive roof and pillars formed a contrast with
the rude wooden rafters and beams of the common Saxon
churches. Its very size — occupying, as it did, almost the whole
area of the present building — was in itself portentous. The
deep foundations, of large square blocks of grey stone, were
duly laid. The east end was rounded into an apse. A tower
rose in the centre crowned by a cupola of wood. At the
western end were erected two smaller towers, with five large
bells. The hard strong stones were richly sculptured. The
windows were filled with stained glass. The roof was covered
with lead. The cloisters, chapter-house, refectory, dormitory,
the infirmary, with its spacious chapel,2 if not completed by
Edward, were all begun, and finished in the -next generation on
the same plan. This structure, venerable as it would be if it
had lasted to our time, has almost entirely vanished. Possibly
one vast dark arch in the southern transept — certainly the sub-
structures of the dormitory, with their huge pillars, ' grand and
' regal at the bases and capitals ' 3 — the massive low-browed
passage, leading from the great cloister to Little Dean's Yard
— and some portions of the refectory and of the infirmary
chapel, remain as specimens of the work which astonished the
last age of the Anglo-Saxon and the first age of the Norman
monarchy.4
The institution was made as new as the building. Abbot
Edwin remained; but a large body of monks was imported
from Exeter,5 coincidently with the removal of the see of
Crediton to Exeter in the person of the King's friend Leofwin.
The services still continued in the old building whilst the new
one was rising. A small chapel, dedicated to St. Margaret,
which stood on the north side of the present Abbey,6 is said to
have been pulled down ; and a new church, bearing the same
name, was built on the site of the present Church of St.
Margaret.7 The affection entertained for the martyr-saint of
Antioch by the House of Cerdic appears in the continuation of
her name in Edward's grandniece, Margaret of Scotland.
1 Milman's History of Latin Chris- Conquest, ii. 509.
tianity, vi. 507. 5 Cambridge Life, 2390 ; Oxford
2 Cambridge Life, 2270-2310. Life, 381.
3 Ibid. 2300. 8 Ackermann, i. 86, 87.
4 See Gleanings of Westminster * Widmore, p. 12. Compare the
Abbey, pp. 3, 4 ; Freeman's Norman same process at Pershore and Norwich.
24 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
The end of the Confessor -was now at hand. Two legends
mark its approach. The first is as follows. It was at Easter.1
Legend of He was sitting in his gold-embroidered robe, and
sueper?.11 solemnly crowned, in the midst of his courtiers, who
were voraciously devouring their food after the long absti-
nence of Lent. On a sudden he sank into a deep abstraction.
Then came one of his curious laughs,2 and again his rapt
meditation. He retired into his chamber, and was followed
by Duke Harold, the Archbishop, and the Abbot of West-
minster.3 To them he confided his vision. He had seen the
Seven Sleepers of Ephesus suddenly turn from their right sides
to their left, and recognised in this omen the sign of war,
famine, and pestilence for the coming seventy years, during
which the sleepers were to lie in their new position. Imme-
diately on hearing this, the Duke despatched a knight, the
Archbishop a bishop, the Abbot a monk, to the Emperor of
Constantinople.4 To Mount Celion under his guidance they
went, and there found the Seven Sleepers as the King had seen
them. The proof of this portent at once confirmed the King's
prevision, and received its own confirmation in the violent con-
vulsions which disturbed the close of the eleventh century.
The other legend has a more personal character. The
King was on his way to the dedication of the Chapel of St.
Legend John the Evangelist.5 As Peter, the Prince of the
pugrim. Apostles, was the saint before whom the Confessor
trembled with a mysterious awe, John, the Apostle of Love,
was the saint whom he venerated with a familiar tenderness.6
A beggar implored him, for the love of St. John, to bestow
alms upon him. Hugolin was not to be found. In the chest
there was no gold or silver. The King remained in silent
thought, and then drew off from his hand a ring, ' large, royal,
' and beautiful,' which he gave to the beggar, who vanished.
Two English pilgrims, from the town of Ludlow,7 shortly after-
wards found themselves benighted in Syria; when suddenly
1 William of Malmesbury, ii. 13. (see Freeman's Norman Conquest, ii.
2 Ailred, c. 395. 512) this church is said to have been
3 The 'Duke Harold' is named in at Clavering. There was a chapel of
the legend, ' Le Dues Harauldz ' (Cam- St. John close to the palace, now that
bridge Life, 338) ; and it can hardly of St. Stephen (Smith, 127). The
be doubted that by the prelate and parish of St. John, in Westminster, was
abbot were meant the Primate and the created in the last century.
Abbot of Westminster. « Ailred, c. 397.
4 Oxford Life, 409. Their journey 7 Hence the representation of the
is represented in the screen. story in the painted window of St.
' By one of the Saxon chroniclers Lawrence's Church at Ludlow.
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 25
the path was lighted up, and an old man, white and hoary,
preceded by two tapers, accosted them. They told him of their
country and their saintly King, on which the old man, 'joy-
' ously like to a clerk,' guided them to a hostelry, and announced
that he was John the Evangelist, the special friend of Edward ;
and gave them the ring to carry back, with the warning that
in six months the King should be with him in Paradise. The
pilgrims returned. They found the King at his palace in
Essex, said to be called from this incident Havering atte
Bower, and with a church dedicated to St. John the Evangelist.
lie acknowledged the ring, and prepared for his end accord-
ingly.1
The long-expected day of the dedication of the Abbey at
last arrived. ' At Midwinter,' says the Saxon Chronicle,
Dedication ' King Edward came to Westminster, and had the
Ibbey. ' minster there consecrated, which he had himself
' built, to the honour of God and St. Peter, and all God's
' saints.' It was at Christmas-time (when, as usual at
1fu*e x
that age, the Court assembled) that the dedication so
eagerly desired was to be accomplished. On Christmas Day
he appeared, according to custom, wearing his royal crown ; 2
December but on Christmas night, his strength, prematurely ex-
hausted, suddenly gave way. The mortal illness, long
anticipated, set in. He struggled, however, through the three
next days, even appearing, with his occasional bursts
of hilarity, in the stately banquets with the bishops and
nobles. On St. John's Day he grew BO rapidly worse, that he
December gave orders for the solemnity to be fixed for the
morrow.3 On the morning of that morrow (Wednes-
day, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, Childermas 4) he roused
December himself sufficiently to sign the charter of the Founda-
tion. The peculiar nature of the Festival may have
had an attraction for the innocent character of the King ; but
in the later Middle Ages, and even down to the last century,
1 Cambridge Life, 3455-3590 ; Ox- From the time of Henry III. a figure
ford Life, 410-40. The story is one of St. John, as the pilgrim, stood by
of those which attached to St. John, the Confessor's shrine ; and one such
from the old belief (John xxi. '23) that still stands in Henry V.'s Chantry,
he was not dead, but sleeping. Com- z Cambridge Life, 3610.
pare his apparition to James IV. at 3 Ailred, c. 399.
Linlithgow. It occupies three com- 4 So in the Charter itself (Kemble,
partments on the screen, and is also iv. 180). Robert of Gloucester and
to be seen on the tiles of the Chapter- Ailred of Rievaulx fix it on St. John's
house floor. (See Archceol. xxix. 39.) Day.
26 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
a strong prejudice prevailed against beginning anything of
moment on that day.1 If this belief existed already in the
time of the Confessor, the selection of the day is a proof of
the haste with which the dedication was pushed forward. It
is, at any rate, an instance of a most auspicious work begun
(if so be) on the most inauspicious day of the year. The
signatures which follow the King's acquire a tragic interest in
the light of the events of the next few months. Edith the
Queen, her brothers Harold and Gurth, Stigand and Aldred,
the two rival primates, are the most conspicuous. They, as
the King's illness grew upon him, took his place at the conse-
cration. He himself had arranged the ornaments, gifts, and
relics ; 2 but the Queen presided at the ceremony 3 (she is
queen, as he is king, both in church 4 and in palace) ; and the
walls of Westminster Abbey, then white and fresh from the
workman's tools, received from Stigand their first consecration
— the first which, according to the legend of St. Peter's visit,
had ever been given to the spot by mortal hands. By that
effort the enfeebled frame and overstrained spirit of the King
were worn out. On the evening of Innocents' Day he sank
into a deep stupor and was laid in the chamber in Westminster
Palace which long afterwards bore his name. On the third
December day, a startling rally took place. His voice again
sounded loud and clear ; his face resumed its bright-
ness. But it was the rally of delirium. A few incoherent
sentences broke from his lips. He described how in his trance
he had seen two holy monks whom he remembered in Normandy,
and how they foretold to him the coming disasters, which
should only be ended when ' the green tree, after severance
' from its trunk and removal to the distance of three acres,
' should return to its parent stem, and again bear leaf and
' fruit and flower.' The Queen was sitting on the ground,
fondling his cold feet in her lap.5 Beside her stood her brother
Harold, Eodbert the keeper of the palace, and others who had
been called in by Edward's revival. They were all terror-
struck. Archbishop Stigand alone had the courage to whisper
1 Hone's Everyday Book, i. 1648. of her assumption (which is also shown
See Chapter II. in the Batopsedi Convent of Mount
- For the relics, see Dart, i. 37. Athos), and the cross which came over
They consisted of the usual extra- sea, against winds and waves, with the
ordinary fragments of the dresses, etc., Confessor from Normandy,
of the most sacred personages. The 3 Ailred, c. 399.
most remarkable were the girdle dropt * Cambridge Life, 3655.
by the Virgin to convince St. Thomas * Harleian Life, 1480-90.
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 27
into Harold's ear that the aged King was doting. The others
carefully l caught his words ; and the courtly poet of the next
century rejoiced to trace in ' the three acres ' the reigns
of the three illegitimate kings who followed ; and in
the resuscitation of ' the parent tree,' the marriage of the First
Henry with the Saxon Maud, and their ultimate issue in the
Third Henry.2 Then followed a calm, and on the fifth day
afterwards, with words variously reported, respecting the Queen,
Death the succession, and the ' hope that he was passing
coniewor, ' from the land of the dead to the land of the living,'
he breathed his last ; and ' St. Peter, his friend,
' opened the gate of Paradise, and St. John, his own dear one,
' led him before the Divine Majesty.'
A horror, it is described, of great darkness filled the whole
island. With him, the last lineal descendant of Cerdic, it
seemed as if the happiness, the strength, the liberty of the
English people had vanished away.3 So gloomy were the fore-
His buriai bodings, so urgent the dangers which seemed to press,
Jan-6- that on the very next day (Friday,4 the Festival of
the Epiphany), took place at once his own funeral and the
coronation of his successor.
We must reserve the other event of that memorable day —
the coronation of Harold — for the next chapter, and follow the
Confessor to his grave. The body, as it lay in the palace,
seemed for a moment to recover its lifelike expression. The
unearthly smile played once more over the rosy cheeks, the
white beard beneath seemed whiter, and the thin stretched-out
fingers paler and more transparent than ever.5 As usual in the
funerals of all our earlier sovereigns, he was attired in his royal
habiliments : his crown upon his head ; a crucifix 6 of gold,
with a golden chain round his neck ; the pilgrim's ring on his
hand. Crowds flocked from all the neighbouring villages. The
prelates and magnates assisted, and the body was laid before
the high altar. Thrice at least it has since been identified :
once when, in the curiosity to know whether it still remained
uncorrupt, the grave was opened by order of Henry L,
in the presence of Bishop Gundulf, who plucked out a
1 Cambridge Life, 3714-85. cester, and the Cambridge Life it is
2 Ibid. 3934. See Chapter III. January 4.
3 Ailred, c. 402. Saxon Chronicle, 5 Harleian Life, 1590. Ailred, c.
A.D. 1066. 402.
4 The usual date of his death is * Taylor's Narrative of the Finding
January 5. In Fabian, Robert of Glou- of the Crucifix in 1688, p. 12.
28 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
hair from the long white beard ; l again when, on its ' trans -
iiea. ' lation ' by Henry II., the ring was withdrawn ; and
1269. again at its final removal to its present position by
Henry III. It must probably also have been seen both during
lass. its disturbance by Henry VIII., and its replacement
1557. by Mary ; and for a moment the interior of the coffin
less. was disclosed, when a rafter broke in upon it after
the coronation of James II.2 The crucifix and ring were given
to the King.
In the centre of Westminster Abbey thus lies its Founder,
and such is the story of its foundation. Even apart from the
Effects of legendary elements in which it is involved, it is im-
r^r^n possible not to be struck by the fantastic character of
aation.uu" all its circumstances. We seem to be in a world of
poetry. Edward is four centuries later than Ethelbert and
Augustine; but the origin of Canterbury is commonplace and
prosaic compared with the origin of Westminster. We can
hardly imagine a figure more incongruous to the soberness of
later times than the quaint, irresolute, wayward Prince whose
chief characteristics have been just described. His titles of
Confessor and Saint belong not to the general instincts of
Christendom, but to the most transitory feelings of the age—
the savage struggles between Saxon and Dane, the worldly
policy of Norman rulers, the lingering regrets of Saxon sub-
jects. His opinions, his prevailing motives, were such as in no
part of modern Europe would now be shared by any educated
1 Ailred, c. 408. Pepys (Letters in Camdcn Society, No.
* Shortly after the coronation of Ixxxviii. p. 211), and of Patrick, who
James II., in removing the scaffold, the was prebendary of Westminster at the
coffin in which it was enclosed ' was time. ' The workmen,' he says, ' chanced
' found to be broke,' and ' Charles ' to have a look at the tomb of Edward
' Taylor, Gent,' ' put his hand into the ' the Confessor, so that they could see
' hole, and turning the bones, which he ' the shroud in which his body was
' felt there, drew from underneath the ' wrapped, which was a mixed coloured
' shoulder- bones ' a crucifix and gold ' silk very frail.' In the original MS.
chain, which he showed to Sancioft, of Patrick's autobiography, a small
Dugdale, and finally to the King, who piece of stuff less than an inch square,
took possession of it, and had the coffin answering this description, is pinned to
closed. It was remarked as an omen the paper, evidently as a specimen of
that the relics were discovered on June the shroud. ' It appears to be a woven
11, the day of Monmouth's landing, « fabric of black and yellow silk.'
and given to the King on July 6, the (Patrick, ix. 560.) The gold crucifix
day of his victory at bedgmoor. (Tay- and ring are said to have been on
lor's Narrative, p. 16.) The story is James's person when he was rifled by
doubted by trough (Sepulchral Monu- the Faversharn fishermen in 1688, and
ments, ii. 7), but is strongly confirmed to have been then taken from him.
by the positive assertion of James II. (Thoresby's Diary.)
to Evelyn (Memoirs, iii. 177), and to
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 29
teacher or ruler. But in spite of these irreconcilable differences,
there was a solid ground for the charm which he exercised
over his contemporaries. His childish and eccentric fancies
have passed away; but his innocent faith and his sympathy
with his people are qualities which, even in our altered times,
may still retain their place in the economy of the world.
Westminster Abbey, so we hear it said, sometimes with a
cynical sneer, sometimes with a timorous scruple, has admitted
within its walls many who have been great without being good,
noble with a nobleness of the earth earthy, worldly with the
wisdom of this world. But it is a counterbalancing reflection,
that the central tomb, round which all those famous names
have clustered, contains the ashes of one who, weak and erring
as he was, rests his claims of interment here not on any act of
power or fame, but only on his artless piety and simple good-
ness. He — towards whose dust was attracted the fierce Norman,
and the proud Plantagenet, and the grasping Tudor, and the
fickle Stuart, even the Independent Oliver,1 the Dutch William,
and the Hanoverian George — was one whose humble graces are
within the reach of every man, woman, and child of every time,
if we rightly part the immortal substance from the perishable
form.
Secondly, the foundation of the Abbey and the character
of its Founder, consciously or unconsciously, inaugurated the
connection greatest change which, with one exception, the English
conquest, nation has witnessed from that time till this. Not
in vain had the slumbers of the Seven Sleepers been disturbed ;
nor in vain the ghosts of the two Norman monks haunted
the Confessor's deathbed, with their dismal warnings ; nor in
vain the comet appeared above the Abbey, towards which, in
the Bayeux Tapestry, every eye is strained, and every finger
pointing. The Abbey itself — the chief work of the Confessor's
life, the last relic of the Royal House of Cerdic — was the
shadow cast before the coming event, the portent of the mighty
future. When Harold stood by the side of his brother Gurth
and his sister Edith on the day of the dedication, and signed
(if so be) his name with theirs as witness to the Charter of the
Abbey, he might have seen that he was sealing his own doom,
and preparing for his own destruction. The solid pillars, the
ponderous arches, the huge edifice, with triple tower- and sculp-
1 Both Cromwell (see Marvell's poem Chapter III.) were compared to the
on his funeral) and George II. (see Confessor on their deaths.
30 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTEE ABBEY. CHAP. i.
tured stones and storied windows, that arose in the place and
in the midst of the humble wooden churches and wattled
tenements of the Saxon period, might have warned the nobles
who were present that the days of their rule were numbered,
and that the avenging, civilising, stimulating hand of another
and a mightier race was at work, which would change the
whole face of their language, their manners, their church, and
their commonwealth.
The Abbey, so far exceeding the demands of the dull and
stagnant minds of our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, was founded
not only in faith but in hope : in the hope that England had
yet a glorious career to run : that the line of her sovereigns
would not be broken even when the race of Alfred ceased to
reign ; that the troubles which the Confessor saw, in prophetic
vision, darkening the whole horizon of Europe, would give way
before a brighter day than he, or any living man, in the gloom
of that disastrous winter and of that boisterous age, could
venture to anticipate. The Norman church erected by the
Saxon king — the new future springing out of the dying past —
the institution, founded for a special and transitory purpose,
expanding, till it was co-extensive with the interests of the
whole commonwealth through all its stages — are standing
monuments of the continuity by which in England the new7 has
been ever intertwined with the old ; liberty thriving side by
side with precedent, the days of the English Church and State
' linked ' each to each ' by natural piety.'
Again, it may be almost said that the Abbey has risen and
fallen in proportion to the growth of the strong English instinct
connection of which, in spite of his Norman tendencies, Edward
was the representative. The first miracle believed to
tion!"1 ' have been wrought at his tomb exemplifies, as in a
parable, the rooted characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon basis of
the monarchy. When, after the revolution of the Norman Con-
c'e of quest, a French and foreign hierarchy was substituted
' / ,. . . 0 • • . ,
for the native prelates, one Saxon bishop alone re-
mained — Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester. A Council was
summoned to Westminster, over which the Norman king and
the Norman primate presided, and Wulfstan was declared in-
capable of holding his office because he could not speak French.1
The old man, down to this moment compliant even to excess,
was inspired with unusual energy. He walked from St.
1 M. Paris, 20; Ann. Burt., A.D. 1211 ; Knyghton, c. 23C8 (Thierry, ii. 224).
WulMau's
CHAP. i. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 31
Catherine's Chapel ' straight into the Abbey. The King and
the prelates followed. He laid his pastoral staff on the Con-
fessor's tomb before the high altar. First he spoke in Saxon
to the dead King: 'Edward, thou gavest me the staff; to thee
' I return it.' Then, with the few Norman words that he could
command, he turned to the living King : ' A better than thou
' gave it to me — take it if thou canst.' 2 It remained fixed in
the solid stone,3 and Wulfstan was left at peace in his see.
Long afterwards, King John, in arguing for the supremacy of
the Crown of England in matters ecclesiastical, urged this
story at length in answer to the claims of the Papal Legate.
Pandulf answered, with a sneer, that John was more like the
Conqueror than the Confessor.4 But, in fact, John had rightly
discerned the principle at stake, and the legend expressed the
deep-seated feeling of the English people, that in the English
Crown and Law lies the true safeguard of the rights of the
English clergy. Edward the Confessor's tomb thus, like the
Abbey which incases it, contains an aspect of the complex
union of Church and State of which all English history is a
practical fulfilment.
In the earliest and nearly the only representation which
exists of the Confessor's building — that in the Bayeux Tapestry
—there is the figure of a man on the roof, with one hand resting
on the tower of the Palace of Westminster, and with the other
grasping the weathercock of the Abbey. The probable inten-
tion of this figure is to indicate the close contiguity of the two
buildings. If so, it is the natural architectural expression of a
truth valuable everywhere, but especially dear to Englishmen.
The close incorporation of the Palace and the Abbey from its
earliest days is a likeness of the whole English Constitution —
a combination of things sacred and things common — a union of
the regal, legal, lay element of the nation with its religious,
clerical, ecclesiastical tendencies, such as can be found hardly
elsewhere in Christendom. The Abbey is secular because it is
sacred, and sacred because it is secular. It is secular in the
common English sense, because it is ' ssecular ' in the far higher
French and Latin sense : a ' saecular ' edifice, a ' saecular ' insti-
tution— an edifice and an institution which has grown with the
growth of ages, which has been furrowed with the scars and
cares of each succeeding century.
1 There, doubtless, the Council must 3 Brompton, c. 576 ; M. Paris, 21
have been held. See Chapter V. Yit. Alb. 3.
- Knyghton, c. 2368. 4 Ann. Burt. A.D. 1211.
32 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. CHAP. i.
A million wrinkles carve its skin ;
A thousand winters snow'd upon its breast,
From cheek, and throat, and chin.
The vast political pageants of which it has been the theatre,
the dust of the most worldly laid side by side with the dust of
the most saintly, the wrangles of divines or statesmen which
have disturbed its sacred peace, the clash of arms which has
pursued fugitive warriors and princes into the shades of its
sanctuary — even the traces of Westminster boys, who have
played in its cloisters and inscribed their names on its walls —
belong to the story of the Abbey no less than its venerable
beauty, its solemn services, and its lofty aspirations. Go else-
where for your smooth polished buildings, your purely ecclesi-
astical places of worship : go to the creations of yesterday — the
modern basilica, the restored church, the nonconformist taber-
nacle. But it is this union of secular with ecclesiastical gran-
deur in Westminster Abbey which constitutes its special de-
light. It is this union which has made the Abbey the seat of
the imperial throne, the sepulchre of kings and kinglike men,
the home of the English nation, where for the moment all
Englishmen may forget their differences, and feel as one family
gathered round the same Christmas hearth, finding underneath
its roof, each, of whatever church or sect or party, echoes of
some memories dear to himself alone — some dear to all alike —
all blending with a manifold yet harmonious 'voice from
' Heaven,' which is as ' the voice of many waters ' of ages past.
To draw out those memories will be the object of the fol-
lowing Chapters.
FROM THE BATEUX TAPESTRY.
CHAPTEK II.
THE CORONATIONS.
THE QUEEN sitting in King' Edward's Chair, the Archbishop, assisted with the
same Archbishops and Bishops as before, comes from the Altar : the Dean of
Westminster brings the Crown, and the Archbishop, taking it of him, reverently
putteth it upon the Queen's head. At the sight whereof the people, with loud
and repeated shouts, cry ' God save the Queen ! ' and the trumpets sound, and, by
a signal given, the great guns at the Tower are shot off. As soon as the Queen
is crowned, the Peers put on their coronets and caps. The acclamation ceasing,
the Archbishop goeth on and saith : ' Be strong and of a good courage. Observe
' the commandments of God, and walk in his Holy ways. Fight the good fight of
' faith, and lay hold on eternal life : that in this world you may be crowned with
' success and honour, and, when you have finished your course, receive a crown of
' righteousness, which God the righteous Judge shall give you in that day.' —
(Rubric of Coronation Service, p. 40.)
1 ' St. Edward's Chair ' (in Charles II.'s Coronation) ; ' King Edward's Chair '
(in James II.'s Coronation, and afterwards).
SPECIAL AUTHORITIES.
THE special authorities for each Coronation are contained in the various
Chronicles of each reign. On the general ceremonial the chief works
are —
1. Maskell's Monuments, Ritualia Ecclesia Anglicana, vol. iii.
2. Selden's Titles of Honour.
3. Martene's De Antiq^uis Ecclesice Ritibus.
4. The Liber Regalis of Richard II., in the custody of the Dean of West-
minster.
5. Ogilvy's Coronation of Charles II.
6. Sandford's Coronation of James II.
1. Taylor's Glory of Regality (published for the Coronation of George IV.).
8. Chapters on Coronations (published for the Coronation of Queen Victoria).
9. The Coronation Services for Edward VI. to the present time, preserved in
the Lambeth Library.
10. MS. Records in the Heralds' College.
34 THE CORONATIONS.
CHAPTEE II.
THE CORONATIONS.
THE Church of the Confessor was, as we have seen, the pre-
cursor of the Conquest. The first event in the Abbey of which
The corona- there is any certain record, after the burial of the
Confessor, is one which, like the Conquest, arose im-
\V illittni tu f
conqueror, mediately out of that burial, and has affected its
fortunes ever since. It was the Coronation of William the
Conqueror.
No other coronation-rite in Europe reaches back to so early
a period as that of the sovereigns of Britain. The inauguration
of Aidan by Columba is the oldest in Christendom.1
The rite of »
coronation. From the Anglo-Saxon order of the Coronation of
Egbert 2 was derived the ancient form of the coronations of the
Kings of France. Even the promise not ' to desert the throne
' of the Saxons, Mercians, and Northumbrians ' was left un-
altered in the inauguration of the Capetian Kings at Reims.3
But, in order to appreciate the historic importance of the
English coronations, we must for a moment consider the
original idea of the whole institution. Only in two countries
does the rite of coronation retain its full primitive savour. In
Hungary, the Crown of St. Stephen still invests the sovereign
with a national position ; and in Eussia, the coronation of the
Czars in the Kremlin at Moscow is an event rather than a cere-
mony. But this sentiment once pervaded the whole of mediaeval
Christendom, of which the history was, in fact, inaugurated
through the coronation of Charlemagne by Pope Leo III., in
the year 800. The rite represented the two opposite aspects of
1 A.D. 571. (Martene, De Antiquis 2 MaskelTs Monuments, Ritualia,
Ecclesia Ritibus, ii. 213.) It was per- iii. p. Ixxvii. The form of the Coro-
formed by a benediction and imposi- nation of Ethelred II. is given in
tion of hands— at the command, it was Turner's Anglo-Saxons, ii. 172.
said, and under the lash of an angel, * See Selden's Titles of Honour,
who appeared in a vision to Columba. pp. 177, 189 ; Maskell, iii. p. xiv.
(Reeves' Adamnan, 197-199.)
CHAP. ii. THEIK SACRED CHARACTER. 35
European monarchy. On the one hand, it was a continuation
its elective °^ the old German usage of popular election, and of
character, ^he pledge given by the sovereign to preserve the
rights of his people — in part, perhaps, of the election of the
Eoman Emperors by the Imperial Guard.1 Of this aspect two
traces still remain : the recognition of the Sovereign at the
demand of the Archbishop, and the Coronation oath imposed
as a guarantee of the popular and legal rights of the subjects.
its sacred ^n ^ne other hand, partly as a means of resisting the
character, claims of the electors, it was a solemn consecration by
the hands of an abbot 2 or a bishop. The unction with the gift
of a crown, suggested doubtless by the ceremonies observed in
the case of some of the Jewish kings,3 was unknown in the
older Empire. It first began 4 with Charlemagne.5 The sacred
oil was believed to convey to the sovereign a spiritual jurisdic-
tion 6 and inalienable sanctity :
Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed king.
A white coif was left on his head seven days, to allow the oil to
settle into its place, and was then solemnly taken off.7 This
unction was believed to be the foundation of the title, reaching
back to the days of King Ina, of ' Dei Gratia.' 8 By its virtue
every consecrated king was admitted a canon of some cathedral
church.9 They were clothed for the moment in the garb of
bishops.10 The ' Veni Creator Spiritus ' was sung over them as
over bishops. At first five sovereigns alone received the full
consecration — the Emperor,11 and the Kings of France, England,
Jerusalem, and Sicily. And, though this sacred circle was
1 The Earls Palatine in England oil might flow freely over his person,
wore the sword to show that they had (Hoveden, A.D. 1189. Roger of Wen-
authority to correct the King. (Holin- dover, ibid. ; Grafton, Cont. of Har-
shed, A.D. 1236.) dyng, p. 517 ; Maskell, iii. p. xv.)
2 The benediction of the Abbot 5 Selden's Titles of Honour, p. 237.
rather than the Bishop prevailed in 6 33 Edward III. § 103.
the Celtic tribes both of Ireland and ' Maskell, iii. p. xxi.
Scotland. (See Reeves' Adamnan, 199.) 8 Ibid. p. xiii.
3 See Lectures on the History of the 9 Ibid. p. xvi.
Jewish Church, ii. 18, 48, 331, 397. 10 Taylor, p. 81. ' . . . . Lyke as a
4 Charlemagne is described as hav- ' Bysshop shuld say masse, with a dal-
ing been anointed from head to foot. ' niatyk and a stole about his necke.
(Martene, ii. 204.) In like manner, ' And also as hosyn and shone and
in English history, on more than one ' copys and gloves lyke a bysshop. . . .'
occasion the King is described as hav- (Maskell, iii. p. liii, speaking of Henry
ing been stripped from the waist up- VI.'s coronation.)
wards, in the presence of the whole " Taylor, p. 37.
congregation, in order that the sacred
D 2
36 THE COKONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
constantly enlarged by the ambition of the lesser princes, and
at last included almost all, the older sovereigns long retained
a kind of peculiar dignity.1
A King, therefore, without a coronation was regarded
almost as, by strict ecclesiologists, a bishop-elect would be
regarded before his consecration, or a nonconformist minister
without episcopal ordination.2 Hence the political importance
of the scenes which we shall have to describe. Hence the
haste (the indecent haste, as it seems to modern feeling) with
which the new king seized the crown, sometimes before the dead
king was buried. Hence the appointment of the high state
officer, who acted as viceroy between the demise of one sovereign
and the inauguration of another, and whose duty it was, as it
still is in form, to preside at the coronations — the Lord High
Steward, the ' Steadward,' or ' Ward of the King's Stead or
' Place.' Hence the care with which the chroniclers note the
good or evil omen of the exact day on which the coronation
took place. Hence the sharp contests which raged between the
ecclesiastics who claimed the right of sharing in the ceremony.
Hence, lastly, the dignity of the place where the act was per-
formed.
The traditionary spot of the first coronation of a British
sovereign is worthy of the romantic legend which enshrines
The scene of his name. Arthur was crowned at Stonehenge,3 which
the English
coronations, had been transported by Merlin for the purpose to
Salisbury Plafn from Naas in Leinster. Of the Saxon Kings,
seven, from Edward the Elder to Ethelred (A.D. 900-971), were
crowned on the King's Stone4 by the first ford of the Thames.
The Danish Hardicanute was believed to have been crowned at
Oxford. But the selection of a church as the usual scene of the
rite naturally followed from its religious character. A throng
of bishops always attended. The celebration of the Communion
1 What marks the more than cere- the ninth century, by the crimes of
monial character of the act is the dis- Eadburga, but Judith, Queen of Ethel-
tinction drawn between the coronation wulf, regained it. (Maskell, iii. p. xxiv.)
of the actual sovereigns and their 2 Many Bretons maintained that
consorts. The Queens of France were Louis Philippe, not having been
crowned, not at Reims, but at St. crowned, had no more right to exercise
Denys (Taylor, p. 50). Of the Queens- the right of royalty than a priest not
Consort of England, out of seventeen ordained could exercise the sacerdotal
since the time of Henry VIII., only six functions. (Eenan, Questions Contem-
have been crowned (Argument of the poraines, 434.)
Attorney - General before the Privy » Eishanger, Annals, p. 425 ; Gi-
Council, July 7, 1821, in the case of raldus Cambrcnsis, Dist. ii. 18.
Queen Caroline). The Anglo-Saxon 4 Still to be seen in the market-
Queens were deprived of the right in place of Kingston-on-Thames.
THE SAXON KINGS.
37
Coronation
always formed part of it.1 The day, if possible, was Sunday,
or some high festival.2 The general seat of the Saxon corona-
tions, accordingly, was the sanctuary of the House of Cerdic
— the cathedral of Winchester. When they were crowned in
London it was at St. Paul's. There at least was the coronation
of Canute, It is doubtful whether Harold was crowned at St.
Paul's,3 or Westminster.4 From the urgent necessity of the
crisis, the ceremony took place on the same day as the Con-
fessor's funeral. All was haste and confusion. Stigand, the
last Saxon primate, was present.5 But it would seem that
Harold placed the crown on his own head.6
1. The coronation of Duke William in the Abbey is, how-
ever, undoubted. Whether the right of the Abbey to the coro-
nation of the sovereigns entered into the Confessor's
designs depends on the genuineness of his Charters,
qneror. gu^ jn anv case> "William's selection of this spot for
the most important act of his life sprang directly from regard
to the Confessor's memory. To be crowned beside the grave of
the last hereditary Saxon king, was the direct fulfilment of the
whole plan of the Conqueror, or ' Conquestor ; ' that is, the
inheritor,7 not by victory but by right, of the throne of 'his
' predecessor King Edward.' 8
The time was to be Christmas Day 9 — doubtless because on
that high festival, as on the other two of Easter and Whitsun-
Monday, tide, the Anglo-Saxon kings had appeared in state, re-
1U66. ' enacting, as it were, their original coronations.
' Two nations were indeed in the womb ' of the Abbey on
that day. Within the massive freshly-erected walls was the
Saxon populace of London, intermixed with the retainers of the
Norman camp and court. Outside sate the Norman soldiers on
their war-horses eagerly watching for any disturbance in the
interior. The royal workmen had been sent into London a few
1 Maskell, iii. p. xxxix. — The break-
ing of the fast immediately after the
Communion, was in the retiring-place
by St. Edward's Shrine in the Abbey.
(Ibid. p. Ivi.)
2 Liber Begalis ; Maskell, iii. p. Ixiv.
' A Peace of God ' succeeded for eight
days. (Ibid. p. Ixvi.)
3 Brompton, c. 958 ; Eishanger's
Annals, p. 427. William of Malmes-
bury (De Gest. Pont. ii. 1) implies that
the Conqueror's coronation was the first
that took place in the Abbey.
* Rclatio de Origins Will. Conq.
p. 4. (Giles, Script. Her. Gest. Will.
Conq. 1815.)
5 Bayeux Tapestry.
• Brompton, c. 958 ; Rishanger's
Annals, p. 427; Matthew of West-
minster, p. 221.
7 The Bayeux Tapestry is devoted
to the proof of this right.
8 Charter of Battle Abbey.
9 Midwinter Day. (Baine's Arch-
bishops of York, i. 144.) It was also
the day of Charlemagne's coronation.
38 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
days before, to construct the mighty fortress of the Tower,
which henceforth was to overawe the city.1 Before the high
altar, standing on the very gravestone of Edward, was the fierce,
huge, unwieldy William, the exact contrast of the sensitive
transparent King who lay beneath his feet. On either side
stood an Anglo-Saxon and a Norman prelate. The Norman
was Godfrey, Bishop of Coutances ; the Saxon was Aldred,
Archbishop of York, holding in his own hand the golden crown,
of Byzantine workmanship, wrought by Guy of Amiens.
Stigand of Canterbury, the natural depositary of the rite of
Coronation, had fled to Scotland. Aldred, with that worldly
prudence which characterised his career, was there, making
the most of the new opportunity, and thus established over
"William an influence which no other ecclesiastic of the time,
not even Hildebrand, was able to gain.2 The moment arrived
for the ancient form of popular election. The Norman prelate
was to address in French those who could not speak English ;
the Saxon primate was to address in English those who could
not speak French. A confused acclamation arose from the
mixed multitude. The Norman cavalry without, hearing but
not understanding this peculiarity of the Saxon institution,
took alarm, and set fire to the gates of the Abbey, and perhaps
the thatched dwellings which surrounded it.3 The crowd —
nobles and poor, men and women — alarmed in their turn,
rushed out. The prelates and monks were left alone with
William in the church, and in the solitude of that wintry day,
amidst the cries of his new subjects, trampled down by the
horses' hoofs of their conquerors, he himself, for the first time
in his life, trembling from head to foot, the remainder of the
ceremony was hurried on. Aldred, in the name of the Saxons,
exacted from him the oath to protect them before he would put
the crown on his head.4 Thus ended the first undoubted West-
minster coronation. William kept up the remembrance of it,
according to the Saxon custom, by a yearly solemn appearance,
1 William of Poitiers, A.D. 1066. away, but he persisted, and would not
2 See Chapter I.— An instance of leave the place without a full apology,
this occurred in the Abbey a few (Stubbs, c. 1703-4 ; Brompton, c. 962.)
years later. Aldred came up to Lon- See also, for a different account,
don to remonstrate with William for William of Malmesbury, De Gest.
a plundering expedition in Yorkshire. Pont. p. 271.
He found the King in the Abbey, and 3 Ord. Vit. A.D. 1065 ; William of
attacked him publicly. The King fell Malmesbury, p. 184 ; Palgrave's Nor-
at his feet, trembling. The officers of mandy, iii. 379.
the court tried to push the Archbishop 4 Saxon Chronicle (A.D. 1066).
CHAP. ii. THE NORMAN KINGS. 39
with the crown on his head, at the chief festivals. But, perhaps
from the recollection of this disastrous beginning, the Christmas
coronation was not at Westminster, but at Worcester; Easter
was still celebrated at the old Saxon capital of Winchester;
and Whitsuntide only was observed in London, but whether at
St. Paul's or the Abbey is not stated.1
From this time forward the ceremony of the coronation has
been inalienably attached to the Abbey. Its connection with
The con- the grave of the Confessor was long preserved, even in
the'conmL ^s mmutest forms. The Eegalia were strictly Anglo-
thTlbtey Saxon, by their traditional names : the crown of
The Regaiia Alfred or °f St. Edward for the King,2 the crown of
withnthecte(* Edith, wife of the Confessor, for the Queen. The
confessor, sceptre with the dove was the reminiscence of
Edward's peaceful days after the expulsion of the Danes. The
gloves were a perpetual reminder of his abolition of the Dane-
gelt — a token that the King's hands should be moderate in
taking taxes.3 The ring with which as the Doge to the
Adriatic, so the king to his people was wedded, was the ring of
the pilgrim.4 The Coronation robe of Edward was solemnly
exhibited in the Abbey twice a year, at Christmas and on the
festival of its patron saints,5 St. Peter and St. Paul. The
* great stone chalice,' which was borne by the Chancellor to the
altar, and out of which the Abbot of Westminster administered
the sacramental wine, was believed to have been prized at a
high sum ' in Saint Edward's days.' 6 If after the anointing
the King's hair was not smooth, there was ' King Edward's
' ivory comb for that end.' 7 The form of the oath, retained till
the time of James II., was to observe ' the laws of the glorious
' Confessor.' 8 A copy of the Gospels, purporting to have be-
longed to Athelstane, was the book which was handed down as
that on which, for centuries, the coronation-oath had been
taken.9 On the arras hung round the choir, at least from the
thirteenth century, was the representation of the ceremony,10
with words which remind us of the analogous inscription in
St. John Lateran, expressive of the peculiar privileges of the
place —
1 Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 259). s Ware's Consuetudincs.
7 Spelman's History of Alfred. * Maskell, iii. p. Ixx.
(Planche's Royal Records, p. 64.) 7 State Papers, Feb. 2, 1625-26.
3 The ' orb ' appears in the Bayeux * Taylor, 85.
Tapestry. 9 Gent. Mag. 1838, p. 471.
4 Planch^, p. 85 ; Mill's Catalogue lo Weever, p. 45.
of Honours, p. 86 ; Fuller, ii. §§ 16, 26.
40 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
Hanc regum sedem, ubi Petrus consecrat aedem,
Quain tu, Papa, regis ; l inungit et unctio regis.
The Church of Westminster was called, in consequence, 'the
' head, crown, and diadem of the kingdom.' 2
The Eegalia were kept in the Treasury of Westminster en-
tirely till the time of Henry VIIL, and the larger part till the
time of the Commonwealth, when (in 1642) they were broken
to pieces.3 But the new Eegalia, after the Eestoration, were
still called by the same names ; and, though permanently kept
in the Tower, are still, by a shadowy connection with the past,
placed under the custody of the Dean before each coronation.
The Abbot of Westminster was the authorised instructor to
prepare each new King for the solemnities of the coronation,
Thecoro- as ^ ^or confirmation; visiting him two days before,
privaeges *° in^orm him of the observances, and to warn him to
AbbJftsand 8hriye and cleanse his conscience before the holy
anointing.4 If he was ill, the Prior (as now the Sub-
dean) took his place.5 He was also charged with the
singular office of administering the chalice to the King and
Queen, as a sign of their conjugal unity, after their reception
of the sacrament from the Archbishop.6 The Convent on that
day was to be provided, at the royal expense, with ' 100
' simnals (that is, cakes) of the best bread, a gallon of wine,
4 and as many fish as become the royal dignity.'
These privileges have, so far as altered times allow, de-
scended to the Protestant Deans. The Dean and Canons of
Westminster, alone of the clergy of England, stand by the side
of the Prelates. On them, and not on the Bishops, devolves the
duty, if such there be, of consecrating the sacred oil.7 The
Dean has still the charge of the ' Liber Regalis,' containing the
ancient Order of the Service. It is still his duty to direct the
sovereign in the details of the Service. Even the assent of the
people of England to the election of the sovereign has found its
1 Alluding to its exemption from 6 Ibid. ; Maskell, iii. p. xlv.
the jurisdiction of the see of London. 7 Maskell, iii. p. xxii. See Sand-
See Chapter V. ford's account of the Coronation of
2 Liber Regalis ; Maskell, iii. p. James II. p. 91. In Charles I.'s time
xlvii. the King's physicians prepared it ; and
* Taylor, p. 94 ; see Chapters V. and Laud (who was at that time Bishop of
VI. St. David's as well as Prebendary of
4 Ibid., p. 134 ; Liber Regalis ; Westminster) ' hollowed ' it on the
Maskell, p. Ixvi. high altar. (State Papers, Feb. 2,
* Liber Regalis. 1625-6.)
CHAP. ii. THE NORMAN KINGS. 41
voice, in modern days, through the shouts of the Westminster
scholars, from their recognised seats in the Abbey.1
If by the circumstances of the Conqueror's accession the
Abbey was selected as the perpetual place of the coronations,
so by the same circumstances it became subject to the one
intrusion into its peculiar privileges. It was now that the
ecclesiastical minister of the coronation was permanently fixed.
Neither the Abbot of Westminster nor (as might have been ex-
pected from his share in the first coronation) the Archbishop
of York could maintain his ground against the overwhelming
The right of influence of the first Norman primate. Lanfranc
buhtpsof pointed out to William, that if the Archbishops of
canterbury. York were allowed to confer the crown, they might
be tempted to give it to some Scot or Dane, elected by the
rebel Saxons of the north ; 2 and that to avoid this danger, they
should be for ever excluded from the privilege which belonged
to Canterbury only. In the absence of the Archbishop of
Canterbury, the privilege was to belong, not to York, but to
London.3 From that time, accordingly, with three exceptions,
the Primate of Canterbury has been always the chief ecclesi-
astic at the coronations.4 On that occasion, only, these prelates
take their places, as by right, in the Choir of the Abbey ; and
coronation the Archbishop of York has been obliged to remain
WMteun- content with the inferior and accidental office of
n,io67.' crowning the Queen-Consort, which had been per-
formed by Aldrad for Queen Matilda two years after the
Conqueror's coronation.5
2. The arrangement of Lanfranc immediately came into
coronation operation. William Eufus — whose fancy for West-
Eufos!ham minster manifested itself in the magnificent Hall,
September which was to be but as a bedchamber to the 'New
26,1087. « Palace,' meditated by him in the future6— naturally
1 Sandford's James II., p. 83 .; Mas- rests on the theory that the Kings and
kell, iii. pp. xlvii, xlviii. Queens are always parishioners of the
: Eadmer, c. 3 ; Lanfranc, 306, 378 ; see of Canterbury : hence the protest
Stubbs, c. 1706 (Thierry, ii. 145) .; Hugh of the nobles against the claim of the
Sotevagine (Eaine, i. 147). Bishop of Salisbury to marry Henry I.,
3 Eudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 248). on the ground that the castle of
4 But by 1 W. and M. c. 6« it is now Windsor was in the diocese of Salis-
enacted ' that the coronation may be bury. (Maskell, iii. p. Ixii.)
' performed by the Archbishop of Can- 3 Eaine, i. 144 ; Saxon Chronicle,
1 terbury or the Archbishop of York, A.D. 1067.
' or either of them, or any other bishop 6 Lain6 (Archives de la Noblesse do
' whom the King's Majesty shall ,ap- France, v. 57) says Turlogh O'Brian,
' point.' The claim of the Archbishop King of Ireland, presented William
of Canterbury to marry royal personages Eufus with Irish oak for the roof of
42 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
followed the precedent of his father's coronation in the Abbey ;
and as the Norman Godfrey and the Saxon Aldred had lent
their joint sanction to the Conqueror's coronation, so his own
was inaugurated by the presence of the first Norman primate,
with the one remaining Saxon bishop Wulfstan.1
3. The coronation of Henry I. illustrates the importance
attached to the act. He lost not a moment. Within four
coronation days of his brother's death in the New Forest, he was
of Henry i. jn Westminster Abbey, claiming the election of the
nobles and the consecration of the prelates.2 'At that time
Aug. 5, ' the present providing of good swords was accounted
Eleventh « more essential to a king's coronation than the long
Sunday after , ,,
Trinity. 'preparing of gay clothes. Such preparatory pomp
Oswald.' ' < as was used in after-ages for the ceremony was now
'conceived not only useless but dangerous, speed being safest
* to supply the vacancy of the throne.' 4 Anselm, the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, was absent ; and here, therefore, Lan-
franc's provision was adopted, and Maurice, Bishop of London,
acted in his stead. Thomas, Archbishop of York, who had
made a desperate effort to recover the lost privileges of his see
at Anselm's consecration, was at Bipon when the tidings of
William's death reached him. He, like Henry, but for a dif-
ferent reason, hurried up to London. But Winchester was
nearer than Eipon, and the King was already crowned.5 The
disappointment of the northern Primate was met by various
palliatives. The King and the prelates pleaded haste. Some
of the chroniclers represent that he joined in the ceremony,
giving the crown after Maurice had given the unction.6 But
in fact the privilege was gone.
The compact between Henry and the electors was more
marked than in any previous Norman coronation. He promised
everything, except the one thing which he declared that he
could not do, namely, to give up the forests of game which he
the Abbey of Westminster. But this * Palgrave's Normandy, iv. 688.
is probably a confusion for the Palace 4 Fuller, iii. 1, § 41.
of Westminster. (See MacGeoghan's » Hugh the Cantor. (Eaine, i. 153.)
Histoire d'lrlande, i. 426.) The oak • Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 273) ;
is from the oak woods of Shillela, Diceto, c. 498; Chronicle of Peter-
which stood till 1760. (Young's borough (Giles), p. 69 ; Walsingham
Travels in Ireland, i. 125.) (Hypodigma Neustrise, p. 443). Eaine,
1 Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 263). Ordericus Vitalis (book x. i. 153), ac-
2 Saxon Chronicle, A.D. 1100; Flo- counts for his absence by supposing him
rence of Worcester, ii. 46 ; Malmes- to have died before.
bury, v. ; Brompton, c. 997.
CHAP. ii. THE NOKMAN KINGS. 43
had received from his father.1 A yet more important corona-
tion than his own, in the eyes of the Saxon population, was
that of his wife Matilda. ' Never since the Battle of Hastings
' had there been such a joyous day as when Queen Maude, the
coronation ' descendant of Alfred, was crowned in the Abbey and
st. Martin's ' feasted in the Great Hall.' 2 The ceremony was per-
io?iioo.T' formed, according to some,3 by Anselm ; according to
others, by Gerard,4 at that time Bishop of Hereford, but on the
very eve of mounting the throne of York. Either from his
timely presence at the coronation of Henry, or from a confusion
with this coronation, he was believed to have crowned the King
himself, and as a reward for his services to have claimed the
next archbishopric. When the vacancy occurred at the end of
the year, Henry tried, it was said, to buy him off by offering to
make the income of Hereford equal to that of the Primates,
and its rank to that of Durham. But Gerard held the King to
his word, and became the rival — often the successful rival — of
Anselm.5
4. Stephen, in securing ' the regalising and legalising virtue
' of the crown,' 6 was, from the necessities of his position,
coronation hardly less precipitate than his predecessor. Henry I.
of Stephen, ,.,,,. ,., 1_ i
st. Stephen's died, of his supper of lampreys, on December 1 ; and
26, 1135.°' whilst he still lay unburied in France, Stephen — with
the devotion to favourite days then so common — chose Decem-
ber 26, the feast of his own saint, Stephen, for the day of the
ceremony. The prelates approved the act ; the Pope went out
of his way to sanction it.7 But the coronation teemed with
omens of the misfortunes which thickened round the unhappy
King. It was observed that the Archbishop, whose consent
was directly in defiance of his oath to Maude,8 died within the
year, and that the magnates who assisted all perished miserably.9
It was remarked that the Host given at the Communion sud-
denly disappeared,10 and that the customary kiss of peace was
forgotten.11
5. The coronation of Henry II. was the first peaceful in-
' Palgrave's Normcmdy, iv. 730. ' Thierry, ii. 393, 394.
2 Ibid. iv. 719-722 ; see Chapter III. 8 Gesta Stepliani, p. 7. See the
3 Symeon (c. 226). whole case in Hook's Archbishops, ii.
4 Ordcric. Vit. book x. 318.
s Eaine, i. 159, 160. 9 Eudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 284).
6 I owe this expression to a strik- 10 Knyghton, c. 2384 ; Brompton, c.
ing description of this incident in 1023.
an unpublished letter of Professor " Gervas, c. 1340; Hoveden, 481.
Vaughan.
44 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
auguration of a King that the Abbey had witnessed. In it the
coronation Saxon population saw the fulfilment of the Confessor's
De£w!TlL prophecy, and the Normans rejoiced in the termina-
tion of their own civil war. Theobald of Canterbury
presided, but with the assistance of the Archbishop of Eouen
and the Archbishop of York, who was a personal friend of
Theobald.1 It was a momentary union of the two rival sees,
soon to be broken by blows, and curses, and blood — of which
the next coronation in the Abbey was the ill-fated beginning.
The King in his later years determined to secure the
succession, by providing that his eldest son Henry should be
And of uis crowned during his lifetime. In his own case the
^Heury, ceremony of consecration had been repeated several
times.2 The coronation took place hi the Abbey,
during the height of the King's quarrel with Becket. Accord-
ingly, as the Primate of Canterbury was necessarily absent, the
Primate of York took his place. It was the same Eoger of
Bishopsbridge who had assisted at Henry's own inauguration.
To fortify him in his precarious position, the Bishops of
London, Durham, Salisbury, and Eochester were also present ; 3
and the young Prince who was crowned by them rose, under
the name of Henry III.,4 at once to the full pride of an actual
sovereign. When his father appeared behind him at the coro-
nation banquet, the Prince remarked, ' The son of an Earl may
' well wait on the son of a King ! ' His wife, the French princess,
was afterwards crowned with him at Winchester, by French
bishops.5
Perhaps no event — certainly no coronation — hi Westminster
Abbey ever led to more disastrous consequences. ' Ex hac
' consecratione, potius execratione, provenerunt detestandi
' eventus.' 6 — ' From this consecration, say rather execration,'
followed directly the anathema of Becket on the three chief
prelates, the invaders of the inalienable prerogative of the see
of Canterbury, and, as the result of that anathema, the murder
of Becket, by the rude avengers of the rights of the see of
York ; indirectly, the strong reaction in favour of the clerical
party ; and, according to popular belief, the untimely death of
1 Raine, i. 234. Richard I. brother of Henry III.
• Maskell, iii. pp. xviii, xix. 5 Taylor, 247.
3 Benedict, A.D. 1170. « Annals of Morgan, p. 16 (A.D.
4 See Memorials of Canterbury, p. 1170). Memorials of Canterbury,
63. Richard of Devizes (i. § 1) calls c. 2.
CHAP. n. THE PLANTAGENETS. 45
the young Prince Henry himself, the tragical quarrels of his
brothers, and the unhappy end of his father.
6. With the coronation of Eichard I. we have the first de-
tailed account of the ceremonial, as continued to be celebrated :
coronation the procession from the Palace to the Abbey — the
ofKichanii. SpUrs> the swords, the sceptre — the Bishops of
Durham and Bath (then first mentioned in this capacity) sup-
porting the King on the right and left — the oath — the anoint-
ing, for which he was stripped to his shirt and drawers l — the
crown, taken by the King himself from the altar, and given to
the Archbishop. There was an unusual array of magnates.
The King's mother and his brother John were present, and the
primate was assisted by the Archbishops of Kouen, Tours, and
Dublin : the Archbishop of York was absent.2
The day was, however, marked by disasters highly charac-
teristic of the age. It was on September 3, a day fraught with
Sept 3 associations fatal to the English monarchy in a later
1189- ' age, but already at this time marked by astrologers as
ill-omened, or what was called 'an Egyptian day.'3 Much
alarm was caused during the ceremony by the appearance of a
bat, 'in the middle and bright part of the day,' fluttering
through the church, ' inconveniently circling in the same tracks,
' and especially round the King's throne.' Another evil augury,
' hardly allowable to be related even in a whisper,' was the peal
of bells at the last hour of the day, without any agreement or
knowledge of the ministers of the Abbey.4
But the most serious portent must be told in the dreadful
language of the chronicler himself : ' On that solemn hour in
' which the Son was immolated to the Father, a sacri-
he jews. , £ce QJ ^ jewg to fljgjj. father the devil was com-
' menced in the City of London ; and so long was the duration
' of the famous mystery, that the holocaust could hardly be ac-
' complished on the ensuing day.' 5 It seems that on previous
coronations the Jews of London had penetrated into the Abbey
and Palace to witness the pageant. The King and the more
orthodox nobles were apprehensive that they came there to
exercise a baleful influence by their enchantments. In conse-
quence, a royal proclamation the day before expressly forbade
1 Benedict, A.D. 1189. by the Egyptians as unwholesome for
2 Hoveden, A.D. 1189. bleeding.
* Ibid. There were two such in ' Richard of Devizes, A.D. 1189.
each month, supposed to be proscribed s Ibid.
46 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
the intrusion of Jews or witches into the royal presence. They
were kept out of the Abbey, but their curiosity to see the
banquet overcame their prudence. Some of their chief men
were discovered. The nobles, in rage or terror, flew upon them,
stripped off their clothes, and beat them almost to death. Two
curious stories were circulated, one by the Christians, another
by the Jews. It was said that one of the Jews, Benedict l of
York, to save his life, was baptized « William,' after a godfather
invited for the occasion, the Prior of St. Mary's, in his native
city of York. The next day he was examined by the King as
to the reality of his conversion, and had the courage to confess
that it was by mere compulsion. The King turned to the
prelates who were standing by, and asked what was to be done
with him. The Archbishop, ' less discreetly than he ought,'
replied, ' If he does not wish to be a man of God, let him re-
' main a man of the devil.' 2 The Jewish story is not less charac-
teristic. The King in the banquet had asked, 'What is this
' noise to-day ? ' The doorkeeper answered, ' Nothing ; only
' the boys rejoice and are merry at heart.' When the true state
of the case was known, the doorkeeper was dragged to death at
the tails of horses. ' Blessed be God, who giveth vengeance !
' Amen.' 3 But however the King's own temper might have
been softened, a general massacre and plunder amongst the
Jewish houses took place in London, < and the other cities and
1 towns ' (especially York) ' emulated the faith of the Londoners,
' and with a like devotion despatched their bloodsuckers with
' blood to hell. Winchester alone, the people being prudent
' and circumspect, and the city always acting mildly, spared
' its vermin. It never did anything over-speedily. Fearing
' nothing more than to repent, it considers the result of every-
' thing beforehand, temperately concealing its uneasiness, till
' it shall be possible at a convenient time to cast out the whole
' cause of the disease at once and for ever.' 4 Such was the
coronation of the most chivalrous of English Kings. So truly
did Sir Walter Scott catch the whole spirit of the age in his
description of Front de Bceuf s interview with Isaac of York.
Such could be the Christianity, and such the Judaism, of the
Middle Ages.
On his return from his captivity, Eichard was crowned
1 Probably ' Baruch.' (Bialloblotzky, i. 196, 197). Chapters
Benedict, A.D. 1189. on Coronations, 148.
3 The Chronicles of Rabbi Joseph 4 Richard of Devizes, A.D. 1189
CHAP. ii. THE PLANTAGENETS. 47
again at Winchester, as if to reassure his subjects. This was
Richar.rs the last trace of the old Saxon regal character of Win-
nation, 1194. Chester.1 He submitted very reluctantly to this re-
petition ; 2 but the reinvestiture in the coronation robes was
considered so important, that in these he was ultimately buried.
7. John was crowned on Ascension Day3 — the same fatal
festival as that which the soothsayer afterwards predicted as
coronation the end of his reign. On this occasion, in order to
of John. exclude the rights of Arthur, the son of John's eldest
brother Godfrey, the elective, as distinct from the hereditary,
character of the monarchy was brought out in the strongest
terms. At a later period Archbishop Hubert gave as his reason
Ascension for scrupulously adopting all the forms of election on
ir.iiw.3 that day, that, foreseeing the King's violent career, he
had wished to place every lawful check on his despotic passions.4
Geoffrey, the Archbishop of York, was absent, and, on his behalf,
the Bishop of Durham5 protested, but in vain, against Hubert's
sole celebration of the ceremony.6
A peculiar function was now added. As a reward for the
readiness with which the Cinque Ports had assisted John, in
The cinque his unfortunate voyages to and from Normandy, their
five Barons were allowed henceforward to carry the
canopy over the King as he went to the Abbey, and to hold it
over him when he was unclothed for the sacred unction. They
had already established their place at the right hand of the
King at the banquet, as a return for their successful guardian-
ship of the Channel against invaders ; the Conqueror alone had
escaped them.7
8. The disastrous reign of John brought out the sole in-
stance, if it be an instance, of a coronation apart from West-
First coro- minster. On Henry III.'s accession the Abbey was in
Hen?" in. the hands of Prince Louis of France, Shakspeare's
St. Simon , . , TT T i -i .
and st. ' Dauphin. He was, accordingly, crowned in the
as, i2i6°. ' Abbey of Gloucester, by the Bishop of Winchester, in
the presence of Gualo the Legate ; but without unction or im-
position of hands, lest the rights of Canterbury should be
infringed, and with a chaplet or garland rather than a crown.8
1 Richard of Devizes, A.D. 1194. 6 He was afterwards crowned at
• M. Paris, 176. See Chapter III. Canterbury with his Queen, Isabella.
s Hoveden, 793. (Hoveden, 818 ; Ann. Margan, A.D.
« M. Paris, 197. 1201.)
s Hoveden, 793 ; Maskell, iii. p. Ridgway, p. 141.
Iviii. 8 Possibly this might be from John's
48 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. 11.
At the same time, with that inconsistency which pervades the
history of so many of our legal ceremonies, an edict was issued
that for a whole month no lay person, male or female, should
appear in public without a chaplet, in order to certify that the
King was really crowned.1 So strong, however, was the craving
for the complete formalities of the inauguration, that, as soon
as Westminster was restored to the King, he was again crowned
second GO- *nere in state, on Whitsunday, by Stephen Langton,2
having the day before laid the foundation of the new
i?, kady Chapel,3 the germ of the present magnificent
church. The feasting and joviality was such that the
oldest man present could remember nothing like it at any
previous coronation.4 It was a kind of triumphal close to the
dark reign of John. The young King himself, impressed
probably by his double coronation, asked the great theologian
of that time, Grossetete, Bishop of Lincoln, the difficult question,
' What was the precise grace wrought in a King by the unction ? '
The bishop answered, with some hesitation, that it was the
sign of the King's special reception of the sevenfold gifts of the
Spirit, ' as in Confirmation.' 6
One alteration Henry III. effected for future coronations,
which implies a slight declension of the sense of their im-
portance. The office of Lord High Steward (the
temporary Viceroy between the late King's demise
stewardship. an(j foe new King's inauguration), which had been
hereditary in the house of Simon de Montfort, was on his death
abolished — partly, perhaps, from a dislike of De Montfort's
encroachments, partly to check the power of so formidable a
potentate. Henceforward the office was merely created for.
coronation the occasion. The coronation of his Queen Eleanor
ofproreniM, of Provence was observed with great state.6 But a
1236. ' curious incident marred the splendour of the corona-
tion banquet. Its presiding officer, the hereditary Chief Butler,
Hugh de Albini, was absent, having been excommunicated by
crown having been lost in the Wash. 4 Bouquet. Rer. Gallic. Script, xviii.
(Pauli, i. 489.) 186.
1 Capgrave's Henries, p. 87.— Henry * Epistola, § 124, p. 350 (ed. Luard).
IV. of France, in like manner, was He adds a caution, founded on Judah's
crowned at Chartres, instead of Reims, concession in the Testament of the
from the occupation of that city by the Twelve Patriarchs, that it did not equal
opposite faction. the royal to the sacerdotal dignity.
- See Hook's Archbishops, ii. 735. • Matthew Paris, 350.
3 See Chapter HI.
CHAP. ii. EDWARD I. AND ELEANOR. 49
the Archbishop of Canterbury, for refusing to let the Primate
hunt in his Sussex forest.1
9. The long interval between the accession of Edward I.
and his coronation (owing to his absence in the Holy Land)
reduced it more nearly to the level of a mere ceremony than it
had ever been before. He was also the first sovereign who
discontinued the commemoration of the event in wearing the
crown in state at the three festivals.2 But in itself it was a
peculiarly welcome day, as the return from his perilous journey.
It was the first coronation in the Abbey as it now appears,
bearing the fresh marks of his father's munificence. He and
coronation his beloved Eleanor appeared together, the first King
and Eietnor,' and Queen who had been jointly crowned. His
ml' 19> mother, the elder Eleanor, was present. Archbishop
Kilwarby officiated as Primate.4 On the following day Alex-
ander III. of Scotland, whose armorial bearings were hung in
the Choir of the Abbey, did homage.5 For the honour of so
martial a king, 500 great horses — on some of which Edward
and his brother Edmund, with their attendants, had ridden to
the banquet— were let loose among the crowd, any one to take
them for his own as he could.6
There was, however, another change effected in the corona-
tions by Edward, which, unlike most of the incidents related
Thecoro- in this chapter, has a direct bearing on the Abbey
stonT itself. Besides the ceremonies of unction and coronation,
which properly belonged to the consecration of the kings, there
was one more closely connected with the original practice of
The insta'- election — that of raising the sovereign aloft into an
Kings: e elevated seat.7 In the Frankish tribes, as also in the
Eoman Empire, this was done by a band of warriors lifting the
chosen chief on their shields, of which a trace lingered in the
French coronations, in raising the King to the top of the screen
between the choir and nave. But the more ordinary usage,
1 ' De officio pincernariffi servivit ea ' cunque voluerit.' Red Book of the
die Comes Warenn' vice Hugonis de Exchequer (f. 232). He was under age.
Albiniaco Comitis de Arundel ad quern Matthew Paris (p. 421).
[? nunc] illud officium spectat. Fuit 2 Camden's Remains, 338.
autem idem . . . . eo tempore senten- 3 Close Roll, 2 Edw. I. m. 5.
•tia excommunicationis innodatus a 4 Hook, iii. 311.
Cant' eo quod cum fugare fecisset * Trivet, p. 292. See Chapter III.
Archiepiscopus in foresta dicti Hu- 6 Stow's Annals ; Knyghton, c.
gonis in Suthsex idem Hugo canes 2461. (Pauli, ii. 12.)
suos cepit. Dicit autem Archi- 7 So Liber Regalis. See Maskell,
episcopus hoc esse jus suum fugandi iii. p. xlviii.
in qualibet foresta Anglise quando-
50 THE CORONATIONS. CHAP. n.
amongst the Gothic and Celtic races, was to place him on a huge
natural stone, which had been, or was henceforth, invested with
a magical sanctity. On such a stone, the ' great stone ' (mora-
sten), still visible on the grave of Odin near Upsala, were in-
augurated the Kings of Sweden till the time of Gustavus Vasa.
Such a chair and stone, for the Dukes of Carinthia, is still to
be seen at Zollfell.1 Seven stone seats for the Emperor and his
Electors mark the spot where the Lahn joins the Rhine at
Lahnstein. On such a mound the King of Hungary appears,
sword in hand, at Presburg or Pesth. On such stones decrees
were issued in the republican states of Torcello, Venice, and
Verona. On a stone like these, nearer home, was placed the
Lord of the Isles. The stones on which the Kings of Ireland
were crowned were, even down to Elizabeth's time, believed to
be the inviolable pledges of Irish independence. One such
remains near Derry, marked with the two cavities in which the
feet of the King of Ulster were placed ; 2 another in Monaghan,
called the M'Mahon Stone, where the impression of the foot
remained till 1809.3 On the King's Stone, as we have seen,
beside the Thames, were crowned seven of the Anglo-Saxon
kings. And in Westminster itself, by a usage doubtless dating
back from a very early period, the Kings, before they passed
from the Palace to the Abbey, were lifted to a marble seat,
twelve feet long and three feet broad, placed at the upper end
of Westminster Hall, and called, from this peculiar dignity,
' The King's Bench: 4
Still there was yet wanting something of this mysterious
natural charm in the Abbey itself, and this it was which
Legend of Edward I. provided. In the capital of the Scottish
the Stone . . , .
of scone. kingdom was a venerable fragment of rock, to which,
at least as early as the fourteenth century, the following legend
was attached : — The stony pillar on which Jacob 5 slept at Bethel
was by his countrymen transported to Egypt. Thither came
Gathelus, son of Cecrops, King of Athens, and married Scota,
daughter of Pharaoh. He and his Egyptian wife, alarmed at
1 Gilbert and Churchill's Dolomite * Taylor, p. 303. — It is mentioned
Mountains, p. 483. at the coronations of Eichard II. and
2 It is now called St. Columb's Richard III. (Maskell, iii. pp. xlviii.
Stone. The marks of the feet are, xlix.)
according to the legend, imprinted by 5 Or Abraham. (Bye's Visits of
Columba. But Spenser's statement of Foreigners, p. 10.) For the belief still
the Irish practice (see Ordnance Survey maintained that the coronation stone is
of Londonderry, p. 233) leaves no doubt Jacob's pillow, see Jewish Chronicle,
as to their origin. June 14, 21, 1872; and an elaborate
3 See Shirley's Farney, p. 74. oration by the Rev. R. Glover.
THE STONE OF SCONE.
51
the fame of Moses, fled with the stone to Sicily or to Spain.
From Brigantia, in Spain, it was carried off by Simon Brech,1
the favourite son of Milo the Scot, to Ireland. It was thrown
on the seashore as an anchor ; or (for the legend varied at this
point) an anchor which was cast out, in consequence of a rising
storm, pulled up the stone from the bottom of the sea. On the
sacred Hill of Tara it became ' Lia Fail,' the ' Stone of Destiny.'
On it the Kings of Ireland were placed. If the chief was a
true successor, the stone was silent ; if a pretender, it groaned
aloud as with thunder.2 At this point, where the legend begins
to pass into history, the voice of national discord begins to
make itself heard. The Irish antiquarians maintain that the
true stone long remained on the Hill of Tara. One of the green
mounds within that venerable precinct is called the 'Corona-
THE CORONATION STONE.
' tion Chair ; ' and a rude pillar, now serving as a monument
over the graves of the rebels of 1798, is by some 3 thought to
be the original ' Lia Fail.' But the stream of the Scottish
tradition carries us on. Fergus, the founder of the Scottish
monarchy, bears the sacred stone across the sea from Ireland
to Dunstaffnage. In the vaults of Dunstaffnage Castle a hole
is still shown, where it is said to have been laid. With the
migration of the Scots eastward, the stone was moved by
1 Holinshed, The Historic of Scot-
land (1585), p. 31. Weaver's Funeral
Monuments, p. 239.
2 Ware's Antiquities of Ireland
(Harris), 1764, i. 10, 124.— Compare
the Llechllafar, or Speaking Stone, in
the stream in front of the Cathedral
of St. David's. (Jones' and Freeman's
History and Antiquities of St. David's,
p. 222.)
3 Petrie's History and Antiquities
of Tara (Transactions of Eoyal Irish
Academy, xviii. pt. 2, pp. 159-161).
The name of Fergus is still attached
to it.
B 2
52 THE CORONATIONS. CHAP. 11.
Kenneth II. (A.D. 840), and planted on a raised plot of ground
at Scone, ' because that the last battle with the Picts was there
« fought.' l
Whatever may have been the previous wanderings of the
relic, at Scone it assumes an unquestionable historical position.
It was there encased in a chair of wood, and stood by
a cross on the east of the monastic cemetery, on or
beside the ' Mount of Belief,' which still exists. In it, or upon
it, the Kings of Scotland were placed by the Earls of Fife.
From it Scone became the ' Sedes principalis ' of Scotland, and
the kingdom of Scotland the kingdom of Scone ; and hence for
many generations Perth, and not Edinburgh, was regarded as
the capital city of Scotland.2
Wherever else it may have strayed there need be no ques-
tion, at least, of its Scottish origin. Its geological formation
is that of the sandstone of the western coasts of Scotland.3
It has the appearance— thus far agreeing with the tradition of
Dunstaffhage — of having once formed part of a building. But
of all explanations concerning it, the most probable is that
which identifies it with the stony pillow on which Columba
rested, and on which his dying head was laid in his Abbey of
lona ; 4 and if so it belongs to the minister of the first authentic
Western consecration of a Christian Prince5 — that of the Scot-
tish chief Aidan.
On this precious relic Edward fixed his hold. He had already
hung up before the Confessor's Shrine the golden coronet
of the last Prince of Wales. It was a still further
glory to deposit there the very seat of the kingdom of
Scotland. On it he himself was crowned King of the Scots.6
From the Pope he procured a Bull to raze to the ground the
rebellious Abbey of Scone, which had once possessed it ; and
his design was only prevented, as Scotland itself was saved,
by his sudden death at Brough-on-the-Sands. Westminster
was to be an English Scone. It was his latest care for the
Abbey. In that last year of Edward's reign, the venerable
1 Holinshed's Hist. Scot. p. 132. examination by Professor Ramsay in
* The facts respecting Scone and 1865.
the Scottish coronations I owe to 4 For the argument by which this
the valuable information of the late is supported, I must refer to Mr. Ro-
lamented Mr. Joseph Robertson of bertson's statement. (Appendix.)
Edinburgh. See Appendix to Chapter 3 See p. 39.
II., and Preface to Statute Ecclesice 6 The Life and Acts of Sir William
Scoticarue, p. xxi. Wallace (Blind Harry), Aberdeen, 1630,
3 This is the result of a careful p. 5.
CHAP. ii. THE STONE OF SCONE. 53
chair, which still encloses it, was made for it by the orders of
its captor ; the fragment of the world-old Celtic races was em-
bedded in the new Plantagenet oak.1 The King had originally
intended the seat to have been of bronze, and the workman,
Adam, had actually begun it. But it was ultimately constructed
of wood, and decorated by Walter the painter, who at the same
time was employed on the Painted Chamber, and probably on
the Chapter House.
The elation of the English King may be measured by the
anguish of the Scots. Now that this foundation of their
monarchy was gone, they laboured with redoubled energy to
procure, what they had never had before, a full religious con-
secration of their Kings. This was granted to Eobert the
Bruce, by the Pope, a short time before his death ; and his son
David, to make up for the loss of the stone, was the first
crowned and anointed King of Scotland.2 But they still
cherished the hope of recovering it. A solemn article in the
Treaty of Northampton, which closed the long war between
the two countries, required the restoration of the lost relics to
\D isss Scotland. Accordingly Eichard III., then residing at
Bardesly, directed his writ, under the Privy Seal, to
the Abbot and Convent of Westminster, commanding them to
give the stone for this purpose to the Sheriffs of London, who
would receive the same from them by indenture,3 and cause it
to be carried to the Queen-mother. All the other articles of
the treaty were fulfilled. Even ' the Black Rood,' the sacred
cross of Holy Eood, which Edward I. had carried off with the
its reteii. other relics, was restored. But ' the Stone of Scone,
tiou. ( on which the Kings of Scotland used at Scone to be
' placed on their inauguration, the people of London would by
' no means whatever allow to depart from themselves.' 4 More
than thirty years after, David II. being then old and
without male issue, negotiations were begun with
Edward III. that one of his sons should succeed to the Scottish
crown ; and that, in this event, the Eoyal Stone should be
delivered out of England, and he should, after his English
coronation, be crowned upon it at Scone.5 But these arrange-
ments were never completed. In the Abbey, in spite of treaties
1 Gleanings, p. 125 ; Neale, ii. 132. 4 Chronicle of Lanercost, p. 261 ;
2 Statuta Eccl sice Scoticance, Pref Maitland, p. 146.
p. xlvi.
3 Ayliffe's Calendar of Ancient 5 Bymer's Fcedera, vi. 426.
CJiarters, p. Iviii.
54 THE CORONATIONS. CHAP. n.
and negotiations, it remained, and still remains. The affec-
tion which now clings to it had already sprung up, and forbade
all thought of removing it.
It would seem as if Edward's chief intention had been to pre-
sent it, as a trophy of his conquest, to the Confessor's Shrine.
On it the priest was to sit when celebrating mass at
the altar of St. Edward. The Chair, doubtless, stand-
ing where it now stands, but facing, as it naturally would,
westward, was then visible down the whole church, like the
marble chair of the metropolitical See at Canterbury in its
original position. When the Abbot sate there, on high festivals,
it was for him a seat grander than any episcopal throne. The
Abbey thus acquired the one feature needed to make it equal
to a cathedral — a sacred Chair or Cathedra.
In this chair and on this stone every English sovereign
from Edward I. to Queen Victoria has been inaugurated. In
this chair Richard II. sits, in the contemporary portrait still
preserved in the Abbey. The ' Eegale Scotiae ' is expressly
named in the coronation of Henry IV.,1 and 'King Edward's
1 Chair ' in the coronation of Mary.2 Camden calls it ' the
' Eoyal Chair ; ' and Selden says, ' In it are the coronations of
' our sovereigns.' When Shakspeare figures the ambitious
dreams of the Duchess of Gloucester, they fasten on this august
throne.
Methinks I sate in seat of majesty
In the Cathedral Church of Westminster,
And in that Chair where kings and queens are crowned.3
When James VI. of Scotland became James I. of England,
'the antique regal chair of enthronisation did confessedly
'receive, with the person of his Majesty, the full accomplish-
' ment also of that prophetical prediction of his coming to the
' crown, which antiquity hath recorded to have been inscribed
Thepre- ' thereon.' 4 It was one of those secular predictions
of which the fulfilment cannot be questioned. Whether
the prophecy was actually inscribed on the stone may be
doubted, though this seems to be implied,5 and on the lower
side is still visible a groove which may have contained it ; but
1 Annales Henrici Quarti (St. Al- ' Shakspeare's Henry VI. Part II.
ban's Chronicles. Riley, A.D. 1399), p. Act i. Sc. ii.
294. ' Speed, p. 885.
5 Boethius, Hist. Scot. (Par. 1575),
3 Planch<S p. 16. f. 2, § 30.
CHAP. ii. THE STONE OF SCONE. 55
the fact that it was circulated and believed as early as the
fourteenth century l is certain :
Ni fallat fatum, Scoti, quocunque locatum
Invenient lapidem, regnare tenentur ibidem.
Once only it has been moved out of the Abbey, and that for an
occasion which proves, perhaps more than any other single
event since its first capture, the importance attached to it by
the rulers and the people of England. When Cromwell was
installed as Lord Protector in Westminster Hall, he was placed
' in the Chair of Scotland,' brought out of Westminster Abbey
for that singular and special occasion.2
It has continued, probably, the chief object of attraction to
its interest. ^ne innumerable visitors of the Abbey. ' We were
The 'Spec- ' then,' says Addison,3 'conveyed to the two corona-
' tion chairs, when my friend, having heard that the
' stone underneath the most ancient of them, which was brought
' from Scotland, was called Jacob's Pillow, sate himself down
' in the chair ; and, looking like the figure of an old Gothic
' king, asked our interpreter what authority they had to say
' that Jacob had ever been in Scotland. The fellow, instead of
' returning him an answer, told him that he hoped his honour
' would pay the forfeit. I could observe Sir Eoger a little
' ruffled on being thus trepanned ; but, our guide not insisting
' upon his demand, the knight soon recovered his good humour,
' and whispered in my ear that if Will Wimble were with us,
' and saw those two chairs, it would go hard but he would get
' a tobacco-stopper out of one or t'other of them.'
That is indeed a picture which brings many ages together :
—the venerable mediaeval throne ; the old-fashioned Tory of
the seventeenth century, filled with an unconscious reverence
for the past ; the hard-visaged eighteenth century, in the person
of the guide, to whom stone and throne and ancient knight
were alike indifferent ;. the philosophic poet, standing by, with
an eye to see and an ear to catch the sentiment and the humour
of the whole scene. In the next generation, the harsh indif-
ference had passed from the rude guide into the mouth of the
most polished writer of the time. ' Look ye there, gentlemen,'
1 See Appendix. Fordun, 1. i. c. * Forster's Life of Cromwell, v. 421.
xxviii. Some inscription was upon it
in the sixteenth century. (Eye's Visits * Spectator, No. 329.
of Foreigners, p. 132.)
56 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
said the attendant to Goldsmith, pointing to an old oak chair ;
' there's a curiosity for ye ! In that chair the Kings
Goldsmith. j -17 i
' of England were crowned. You see also a stone under-
' neath, and that stone is Jacob's Pillow ! ' 'I could see no
' curiosity either in the oak chair or the stone : could I, indeed,
' behold one of the old Kings of England seated in this, or
* Jacob's head laid on the other, there might be something
' curious in the sight.' l But, in spite of Goldsmith's sneer, the
popular interest has been unabated ; and the very disfigurements
of the Chair,2 scratched over from top to bottom with the names
of inquisitive visitors, prove not only the reckless irreverence of
the intruders, but also the universal attraction of the relic. It
is the one primeval monument which binds together the whole
Empire. The iron rings, the battered surface, the crack which
has all but rent its solid mass asunder, bear witness to its long
migrations.3 It is thus embedded in the heart of the English
monarchy — an element of poetic, patriarchal, heathen times,
which, like Araunah's rocky threshingfloor in the midst of the
Temple of Solomon, carries back our thoughts to races and
customs now almost extinct ; a Jink which unites the Throne of
England to the traditions of Tara and lona, and connects the
charm of our complex civilisation with the forces of our mother
earth, — the stocks 4 and stones of savage nature.
10. The first English King who sat on this august seat in
the Abbey was the unworthy Edward II.5 He and Isabella his
coronation w^e were crowned .together by Woodlock, Bishop of
ii.,KKeb.rd Winchester, one of =a commission of three, named ac-
Tuesctej-r cording to Lanfranc's arrangement, by Winchelsea,
Archbishop of Canterbury,6 who was absent and ill at
Rome. The selection of Woodlock from among the three was
a special insult to the memory of Edward I.,7 against whom
Woodlock had conspired.8 The like unfeeling insolence was
1 Citizen of the World (Letter xiii.) 4 So the venerable ' Stone of Fevers,'
'•* ' Peter Abbott slept in this chair evidently an old Druidical relic, at the
' July 5, 1800.' It is part of the same entrance of the Cathedral of Le Puy',
adventure in which the said Peter in Auvergne ; so the ' golden stone ' of
Abbott engaged for a wager, by hiding Clogher long preserved in the Cathedral
in the tombs, that he would write his of Clogher. (Todd's St. Patrick, 129.)
name at night on PurcelPs monument
(Malcolm's London, p. 191) ; where, * His is the first Coronation Eoll.
however, it does not appear. (Rymer, p. 33 ; Pauli, ii. 205.)
3 A base foul stone, made precious 6 Taylor, p. 390.
by the foil
Of England's Chair.— (Shak- 7 See Chapter in.
peare's RicJiard III. Act v.
Sc. iii.) » Hook, iii. 438.
CHAP. it. THE PLANT AGENETS. 57
shown in the fact that the most conspicuous personage in the
whole ceremony, who carried the crown before any of the
magnates of the realm, was Piers Gaveston, the favourite whom
his father's dying wish had excluded from his court.1 There
was one incident which the clergy of the Abbey marked with
peculiar satisfaction. In the enormous throng an old enemy of
the convent, Sir John Bakewell, was trodden to death.2
11. Edward III.'s accession, taking place, not after the
death but the deposition of his father, was marked by a solemn
coronation election. In a General Assembly convened in the
in. Abbey, January 20, 1327, Archbishop Reynolds
preached on the dubious text, Vox populi vox Dei.3 The Prince
would not accept the election till it had been confirmed by
Peb>1)« his father, and then within ten days was crowned.
Isabella his mother, ' the shewolf of France,' affected
to weep through the whole ceremony. The medal represented
the childish modesty of the Prince : a sceptre on a heap of
The swoni hearts, with the motto, Populi dat jura voluntas: and
and Shield • ««
of state. a hand stretched out to save a falling crown, Non
coronation rapit sed ctccipit.5 The sword of state and shield of
Feb. 2, 1328. state, still kept in the Abbey, were then first carried
before the sovereign.0 Queen Philippa was crowned in the
following year, on Quinquagesima Sunday.
12. If Edward III.'s coronation is but scantily known, that
of his grandson, Richard II., is recorded in the utmost detail.
coronation The ' Liber Reqalis' which prescribed its order and
of Richard •• i • • . » t_ -11
ii., July IB, has been the basis of all subsequent ceremonials, has
been in the custody of the Abbots and Deans of
Ke'gaiis!' er Westminster from the time that it was drawn up, on
this occasion, by Abbot Littlington. The magnificence of the
dresses and of the procession is also described at length in
the contemporary chronicles.7 Archbishop Sudbury officiated.
Three historical peculiarities marked the event. It is the first
known instance of a custom, which prevailed from the time of
The Pro- Charles II.— the cavalcade from the Tower. The King
BMTower.™ remained there for a week, in order to indicate that he
1 Coronation Roll of Edward II., s Chapters, p. 156. I cannot find
m. 3d (Eymer, p. 33). Close Roll of the .authority for these statements.
1 Edward II., m. lOd (Eymer, p. 36). 6 See the Ironmongers' Exhibition,
* Neale, i. 71. pp. 142, 144. See also Chapter III.
8 Chron. Lanerc. 258. ' Walsingham, i. 331,332. It is also
4 Close Eoll of 1 Edward III., m. well given in Eidgway, pp. 126-160 ;
24d (Eymer, p. 684). Gent. Mag. 1831 (part ii.), p. 113.
58 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
was master of the turbulent city; and then rode bareheaded,
amidst every variety of pageant, through Cheapside, Fleet
The Street, and the Strand, to Westminster. He was ac-
tKath.?f companied by a body of knights, created for the
occasion, who, after having been duly washed in a bath,
assumed their knightly dresses, and escorted their young com-
panion to his palace. This was the first beginning of the
' Knights of the Bath,' who from this time forward formed part
of the coronation ceremony till the close of the seventeenth
century. A third peculiarity is the first appearance of the
Champion — certainly of the first Dymoke. When the service
was over, and the boy-King, exhausted with the long effort,
was carried out fainting, the great nobles, headed by Henry
Percy, Lord Marshal, mounted their chargers at the door of
the Abbey, and proceeded to clear the way for the procession,
The when they were met by Sir John Dymoke, the Cham-
champion. pion. The unexpected encounter of this apparition,
and the ignorance of the Champion as to where he should place
himself, seem to indicate that either the office or the person
was new. Dymoke had, in fact, contested the right with
Baldwin de Freville, who, like him, claimed to be descended
from the Kilpecs and the Marmions. He won his cause, and
appeared at the gates of the monastery on a magnificently-
caparisoned charger, ' the best but one,' which, according to
fixed usage, he had taken from the royal stable. Before him
rode his spear-bearer and shield-bearer, and they sate at the
gates waiting for the end of Mass. His motto, in allusion to
his name, was Dimico pro rege. The Earl Marshal ' bade him
' wait for his perquisites until the King was sate down to
' dinner, and in the meantime he had better unarm himself,
' take his rest and ease awhile.' So he retired, discomfited, to
wait outside the Hall, the proper scene of his challenge.1 His
appearance at that juncture probably belonged to the same
revival of chivalric usages that had just produced the Order of
the Garter and the Bound Table at Windsor. It lingered down
to our own time, with the right of wager of battle, which was
asserted only a few years before the last appearance of the
Champion at the coronation of George IV.
The profusion of the banquet accorded with the extravagant
character of the youthful Prince. The golden eagle in the
1 Holinshed, p. 417 ; Walsingham, ii. 337. See also Arcli&ologia, xx. 207 ;
Maskell, iii. p. xxxiii.
CHAP. ii. THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 59
Palace Yard spouted wine. The expense was so vast as to be
made an excuse for the immense demands on Parliament after-
wards. The Bishop of Rochester, in his coronation sermon, as
if with a prescience of Wat Tyler, uttered a warning against
excessive taxation : l
Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows :
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm,
Kegardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Fill high the sparkling bowl,
The rich repast prepare ......
Close by the royal chair
Fell thirst and famine scowl
A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.2
13. The breach in the direct line of the Plantagenets, which
is marked by the interruption of their Westminster tombs, is
coronation a^so indicated by the unusual precautions added at the
of Henry rv. coronation of Henry IV. to supply the defects of his
tion^pnt title. The election had been in Westminster Hall.
lion, • ('pi.
30, 1399. rpkg ^exts of the three inauguration sermons were all
significant : ' Jacob ' (a supplanter indeed) ' received the bless-
' ing ; ' ' This man ' (in contrast to the unfortunate youth)
' shall rule over us ; ' ' We ' (the Parliament) ' must take care
' that our kingdom be quiet.' 3 The day of his coronation was
Wednesday, the great festival of the Abbey, October 13, the anni-
im.« ' versary of his own exile. He came to the Abbey with
an ostentatious unpunctuality, having heard three Masses, and
spent long hours with his confessor on the morning of that day,
in accordance with the real or affected piety, which was to
compensate, in the eyes of his subjects, for his usurpation.
His bath and the bath of his knights is brought out more
prominently than before. In his coronation the use of the
Scottish stone 5 is first expressly mentioned ; and, yet more
The Am- suspiciously, a vase of holy oil, corresponding to the
puiia. ampulla of Eeims, first makes its appearance. The
Virgin Mary had given (so the report ran) a golden eagle filled
1 Turner's Middle Ages, ii. 245. * Kriyghton, cc. 2745, 2756. (Eich-
'2 Gray's Bard.— See the description ard II. par M. Wallon, ii. 307-312.)
of the King's portrait in Chapter III. 4 Arch. xx. 206.
Queen Anne was crowned in the Abbey s Annales Ric. II. et Hen. IV., S.
by Archbishop Courtenay, 1382. (Sand- Allan's Chronicles (Biley),pp. 294, 297.
ford, p. 193.)
60 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
with hoh- oil to St. Thomas of Canterbury, during his exile,
with the promise that any Kings of England anointed with it
would be merciful rulers and champions of the church.1 It
was revealed by a hermit, through the first Duke of Lancaster,
to the Black Prince, by him laid up in the Tower for his
son's coronation, unaccountably overlooked by Richard II., but
discovered by him in the last year of his reign, and taken to
Ireland, with the request to Courtenay, Archbishop of Canter-
bury, to anoint him with it. The Archbishop refused, on the
ground that the regal unction, being of the nature of a sacra-
ment, could not be repeated. The King accordingly, on his
return from Ireland, delivered the ampulla to the Archbishop
at Chester, with the melancholy presage that it was meant for
some more fortunate King.2 A less questionable relic, the
' Lancaster ' sword, was now first introduced, being that which
Henry had worn at Eavenspur.3 The pall over his head was
carried by the four Dukes of York, Surrey, Aumale, and
Gloucester, more or less willingly, according to their politics.4
Both Archbishops joined in the coronation of this orthodox
Queen Joan, ' Jacob.' 5 His wife Joan was crowned alone, three
Feb. 26, ,
1403. months after her marriage.6
14. The coronation of Henry V. is the only one represented
in the structure of the Abbey itself. The ceremony is sculp-
coronation tured on each side of his Chantry : and assuredly, if ever
Aprii^ v" there was a coronation which carried with it a trans-
siJnday, forming virtue, it was his.7 The chief incident, how-
ever, connected with it at the time was the terrible
thunderstorm, which was supposed to predict the conflagration
of Norwich, Gloucester, and other cities during the ensuing
summer, the heavy snow 8 and rain during the ensuing
, winter, and the wars 9 and tumults of the rest of his
reign. His Queen, Catherine, was crowned when they
returned from France.10
15. The coronation of Henry VI. was the first of a mere
coronation cnild. He was but nine years old, and sate on the
vif eNov. 6, platform in the Abbey, « beholding all the people about
'sadly and wisely.'11 It was on the 6th of Novem-
1 Maskell, iii. p. xvii. 7 See Chapter V.
2 Walsingham, ii. 240. • Bedman, p. 62.
' Arch. xx. 206. • Capgrave, p. 125.
4 Ibid. 207. '10 For the feast see Holinshed p.
* Pauli, iii. 3. 579.
• Strickland, iii. 78. » Taylor, p. 163.
CHAP. ii. THE HOUSE OF YORK. 61
ber, corresponding, as was fancifully thought, to the 6th of
December,1 his birthday, and to the perfection of the number
6 in the Sixth Henry. Perhaps, in consideration of his tender
Dec i- years, was omitted, at the request of the Pope, the
glfeen prayer that the King should have Peter's keys and
Margaret, paurs doctrine.2 Then succeeded his coronation at
April ovj
Paris. Years afterwards his French Queen, Margaret,
was crowned in the Abbey.
16. Of the Coronation of Edward IV. there is nothing to
record except the difficulty about the day.3 It was to have
coronation- been early in March 1461. It was then, in consequence
ivfjaS?' of the siege of Carlisle, put off till the 28th of June,4
' the Sunday after Midsummer,' — the day of one other
and happier coronation, hereafter to be noticed. But it was
June 29, again deferred till the 29th,5 in consequence of the
singular superstition which regarded the 28th of any
month to be a repetition of Childermas Day, always considered
as unlucky.6
17. All was prepared for the coronation of Edward V. —
wildfowl for the banquet, and dresses for the guests.7 But he,
Edward v alone of our English sovereigns, passed to his grave
* uncrowned, without sceptre or ball.' 8 His connec-
tion with the Abbey is through his birth 9 and burial.10
18. As Henry IV. compensated for the defect of his title by
the superior sanctity of his coronation, so the like defect in
coronation that °^ Richard III. was supplied by its superior mag-
of Richard nincence. ' Never,' it was said, ' had such an one been
III., Jul\ o,
' seen.' n On the 26th of June he rode in state from
Baynard's Castle, accompanied by 6,000 gentlemen from the
North, to "Westminster Hall ; and ' there sate in the seat royal,
' and called before him the judges to execute the laws, with
' many good exhortations, of which he followed not one.' 12 He
then went to make his offerings at the shrine of the Confessor.
The Abbot met him at the door with St. Edward's sceptre.
' The monks sang Te Deum with a faint courage.' He then
1 Capgrave, p. 146 ; Hook, v. 78. the Cinque Ports (Sussex Arch. Coll.,
2 D'Israeli's Charles I., i. 276. xv. 180), ic was on the 28th.
3 The story of his coronation at York ' Arch. i. 387.
is a mistake, founded on another inci- 8 Speed, p. 909.
dent, (Holinshed, iii. 616.) 9 See Chapter V.
« Hall, p. 257. ° See Chapter III.
5 Speed, p. 853; Sandford, p. 404. " Speed, p. 933 ; Hall; Grafton.
« See Pastan Letters, i. 230, 235. 1: Strickland, iii. 375.
But, according to the White Book of
62 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. it.
returned to the Palace, whence, on the 6th of July, he went
with the usual procession to the Abbey. The lofty platform,
high above the altar ; the strange appearance of King and
Queen, as they sate stripped from the waist upwards, to be
anointed — the dukes around the King, the bishops and ladies
around the Queen — the train of the Queen borne by Margaret
of Richmond ' — were incidents long remembered.
19. With all her prescience, Margaret could hardly have
foreseen that within three years her own son would be in the
coronation 8ame place ', nor Bourchier, Cardinal Archbishop, that
vi?eoct ke would be dragged out, in his extreme old age,2 a
so, 1485. third time to consecrate the doubtful claims of a new
dynasty. The coronation of Henry VII. was, however, by its
mean appearance, a striking contrast to that of his predecessor.3
This may, in part, have been caused by Henry VII. 's well-known
parsimony. But it probably also arose from the fact that his
real title to the throne rested elsewhere. ' His marriage,' says
Lord Bacon, ' was with greater triumph than either his entry or
' his coronation.' 4 His true coronation he felt to have been
when, on the field of Bosworth, the crown of Eichard was
brought by Sir Reginald Bray from the hawthorn-bush to Lord
Stanley, who placed it on Henry's head, on the height still
called, from the incident, Crown Hill.5 As such it appears in
the stained glass of the chapel built for him in the Abbey, by
the very same Sir Reginald. And in his will he enjoined that
his image on his tomb should be represented as holding the
crown, ' which it pleased God to give us with the victory of our
corona- ' enemy at our first field.' 6 Elizabeth of York, from
Eiteablth the same feeling, was not crowned till two years after-
NoT°25,' "wards.7 Two ceremonies, however, were noticed in
1487- this truncated inauguration. Now first, in the archers
ranoTuTe needed to guard the King's dubious claims, appear the
Guard.- 'Yeomen of the Guard.'8 The Bishops of Durham
and of Bath and Wells, who had both been officers under the
York dynasty, were superseded in their proper functions of
supporters by the Bishops of Exeter and Ely.9
1 Hall, p. 376 ; Heralds' College ' Leland, iv. 224 ; Jesse, p. 299.
(Excerpta Historic), p. 379. » Koberts' York and Lancaster p
* Hook, v. 383. 472.
s Hall, p. 423. 9 This appears from ' the Device
4 Bacon, Henry VII., p. 26. for the Coronation of Henry VII.' (p.
5 Button's Bosworth, p. 132. 12), published by the Camden Society
• Jesse's Eichard III., p. 297. (No. XXI. 1842).
CHAP. ii. THE HOUSE OF TUDOR. 63
20. The splendour of the coronation of Henry VIII. and
Catherine of Arragon was such as might have been anticipated
coronation fr°m their position and character. Then for the last
o^Henry time, in the person of Warham, the sanction of the
sSnda4' see °^ R°me was len-t to the ministration of the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury.1 During its rejoicings Mar-
garet of Kichmond, the foundress of the Tudor dynasty, passed
away to a more tranquil world.2
coronation ®ne °^ner female coronation took place in this
BoiVT reign» that of Anne Boleyn. It must be told at
length :—
It was resolved that such spots and blemishes as hung about the
marriage should be forgotten in tbe splendour of the coronation.
If there was scandal in the condition of tbe Queen, yet under another
aspect that condition was matter of congratulation to a people so
eager for an heir ; and Henry may bave tbougbt that tbe sight for
tbe first time in public of so beautiful a creature, surrounded by
tbe most magnificent pageant which London bad witnessed since tbe
unknown day on wbicb tbe first stone of it was laid, and bearing in
ber bosom tbe long-hoped-for inheritor of the English crown, migbt
induce a chivalrous nation to forget what it was the interest of no
loyal subject to remember longer, and to offer ber an English welcome
to tbe throne.
In anticipation of tbe timely close of tbe proceedings at Dunstable,
notice bad been given in tbe city early in May, tbat preparations
should be made for the coronation on tbe first of tbe following month.
Queen Anne was at Greenwich, but, according to custom, tbe few
preceding days were to be spent at tbe Tower ; and on tbe 19th of
May, sbe was conducted thither in state by tbe Lord Mayor and tbe
city companies, with one of those splendid exhibitions upon tbe water
wbicb, in tbe days when tbe silver Thames deserved its name, and tbe
sun could shine down upon it out of tbe blue summer sky, were spec-
tacles scarcely rivalled in gorgeousness by tbe world-famous wedding
of the Adriatic.
On tbe morning of tbe 31st of May, tbe families of tbe London citizens
May si, were stirring early in all bouses. From Temple Bar to tbe
Tower, tbe streets were fresh-strewed witb gravel, tbe foot
paths were railed off along tbe whole distance, and occupied on one side
by tbe guilds, tbeir workmen and apprentices, on tbe other by the city
constables and officials in their gaudy uniforms, ' witb tbeir staves in
' band for to cause tbe people to keep good room and order.' Cornbill
and Gracechurch Street bad dressed tbeir fronts in scarlet and crimson,
in arras and tapestry, and tbe ricb carpet-work from Persia and tbe
1 Hall, p. 509. 2 See Chapter in.
64 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
East. Cheapside, to outshine her rivals, was draped even more splen-
didly in cloth of gold and tissue and velvet. The sheriffs were pacing
up and down on their great Flemish horses, hung with liveries, and all
the windows were thronged with ladies crowding to see the procession
pass. At length the Tower guns opened, the grim gates rolled back,
and under the archway, in the bright May sunshine, the long column
began slowly to defile. All these rode on in pairs It is
no easy matter to picture to ourselves the blazing trail of splendour
which in such a pageant must have drawn along the London streets
— those streets which now we know so black and smoke-grimed,
themselves then radiant with masses of colour, gold and crimson and
violet. Yet there it was, and there the sun could shine upon it, and
tens of thousands of eyes were gazing on the scene out of the crowded
lattices.
Glorious as the spectacle was, perhaps, however, it passed unheeded.
Those eyes were watching all for another object, which now drew near.
In an open space behind the constable, there was seen approaching ' a
' white chariot,' drawn by two palfreys in white damask which swept the
ground, a golden canopy borne above it making music with silver bells ;
and in the chariot sat the observed of all observers, the beautiful occa-
sion of all this glittering homage — Fortune's plaything of the hour, the
Queen of England — Queen at last— borne along upon the waves of this
sea of glory, breathing the perfumed incense of greatness which she
had risked her fair name, her delicacy, her honour, her self-respect, to
win : and she had won it.
There she sate, dressed in white tissue robes, her fair hair flowing
loose over her shoulders, and her temples circled with a light coronet
of gold and diamonds — most beautiful — loveliest — most favoured, per-
haps, as she seemed at that hour, of all England's daughters
Fatal gift of greatness ! so dangerous ever ! so more than dangerous in
those tremendous times when the fountains are broken loose of the
great deeps of thought, and nations are in the throes of revolution —
when ancient order and law and tradition are splitting in the social
earthquake ; and as the opposing forces wrestle to and fro, those un-
happy ones who stand out above the crowd become the symbols of the
struggle, and fall the victims of its alternating fortunes ! And what if
into an unsteady heart and brain, intoxicated with splendour, the out-
ward chaos should find its way, converting the poor silly soul into an
image of the same confusion — if conscience should be deposed from her
high place, and the Pandora-box be broken loose of passions and sensu-
alities and follies ; and at length there be nothing left of all which man
or woman ought to value, save hope of God's forgiveness !
Three short years have yet to pass, and again, on a summer
morning, Queen Anne Boleyn will leave the Tower of London —
not radiant then with beauty on a gay errand of coronation, but a
poor wandering ghost, on a sad tragic errand, from which she will
CHAP. ii. THE TUDORS. 65
never more return, passing away out of an earth where she may stay
no longer, into a Presence where, nevertheless, we know that all is well
— for all of us — and therefore for her
With such ' pretty conceits,' at that time the honest tokens of an
English welcome, the new Queen was received by the citizens of
London. The King was not with her throughout the day, nor did he
intend being with her in any part of the ceremony. She was to reign
without a rival, the undisputed sovereign of the hour.
Saturday being passed in showing herself to the people, she retired
for the night to ' the King's manor-house at Westminster,' where she
Sunday. slept. On the following morning, between eight and nine
June i, 1553. O'ciock> sne returned to the Hall, where the Lord Mayor, the
City Council, and the Peers were again assembled, and took her place
on the high dais at the top of the stairs under the cloth of state ; while
the Bishops, the Abbots, and the monks of the Abbey formed in the
area. A railed way had been laid with carpets across Palace Yard
and the Sanctuary to the Abbey gates ; and when all was ready, pre-
ceded by the Peers in their robes of Parliament, the Knights of the
Garter in the dress of the Order, she swept out under her canopy, the
Bishops and the monks ' solemnly singing.' The train was borne by
the old Duchess of Norfolk, her aunt, the Bishops of London and Win-
chester on either side ' bearing up the lappets of her robe.' The Earl
of Oxford carried the crown on its cushion immediately before her.
She was dressed in purple velvet furred with ermine, her hair escaping
loose, as she usually wore it, under a wreath of diamonds.
On entering the Abbey, she was led to the coronation chair, where
she sat while the train fell into their places, and the preliminaries of
the ceremonial were despatched. Then she was conducted up to the
High Altar, and anointed Queen of England ; and she received from
the hands of Cranmer, fresh come in haste from Dunstable, with the
last words of his sentence upon Catherine scarcely silent upon his lips,
the golden sceptre and St. Edward's crown.
Did any twinge of remorse, any pang of painful recollection, pierce
at that moment the incense of glory which she was inhaling ? Did
any vision flit across her of a sad mourning figure, which once had
stood where she was standing, now desolate, neglected, sinking into
the darkening twilight of a life cut short by sorrow ? Who can tell ?
At such a time, that figure would have weighed heavily upon a noble
mind, and a wise mind would have been taught by the thought of it,
that although life be fleeting as a dream, it is long enough to experi-
ence strange vicissitudes of fortune. But Anne Boleyn was not noble
and was not wise, — too probably she felt nothing but the delicious,
all-absorbing, all-intoxicating present ; and if that plain suffering face
presented itself to her memory at all, we may fear that it was rather
as a foil to her own surpassing loveliness. Two years later she was
F
66 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
able to exult over Catherine's death ; she is not likely to have
thought of her with gentler feelings in the first glow and flush of
triumph.1
The ' three gentlemen ' who met in ' a street in West-
' minster ' in the opening of the 4th Act of Shakspeare's
' Henry VIII ' are the lively representatives, so to speak, of
the multitudes who since have 'taken their stand here,' to
behold the pageant of coronations :—
God save you, sir ! Where have you been broiling ?
3d Gent. Among the crowd i' the Abbey ....
2d Gent. You saw the ceremony ?
3d Gent. That I did.
1st Gent. How was it ?
3d Gent. Well worth the seeing.
2d Gent. Good sir, speak it to us.
3d Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen
To a prepared place in the Choir, fell off
A distance from her ; while her Grace sat down
To rest a while, some half an hour or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man. . . . Such joy
I never saw before. . . .
At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces
Came to the altar ; where she kneel'd and, saintlike,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
.... So she parted.
And with the same full state paced back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.2
After Anne Boleyn's death, none of Henry's Queens were
crowned. Jane Seymour would have been but for the plague,
which raged ' in the Abbey itself.' 3
21. The design which had been conceived by the Second
coronation Henry, for securing the succession by the coronation
v'l^kso, °* hi8 el(lest son before his death, also, for like reasons,
Tu™dLy, took possession of the mind of Henry VIII. The
preparations for Edward VI. 's inauguration were in
progress at the moment of his father's death : in fact, it
1 Froude, i. 456-58. » Henry VIII.'s State Papers (i.
2 Henry VIII., Act iv. Sc. 1. 460).
CHAP. ii. THE TUDORS. 67
took place within the next month. The incidents in the
procession from the Tower here first assume a character-
istic form.1 An Arragonese sailor capered on a tight-rope
down from the battlements of St. Paul's to a window at the
Dean's Gate, which delighted the boy-King. Logic, Arithmetic
and other sciences greeted the precocious child on his advance.
One or two vestiges of the fading past crossed his road. ' An
' old man in a chair, with crown and sceptre, represented the
' state of King Edward the Confessor. St. George would have
' spoken, but that his Grace made such speed that for lack of
' time he could not.' 2 On his arrival at the Abbey, he found
it, for the first time, transformed into a ' cathedral.' 3 He was
met not by Abbot or Dean, but by the then Bishop of West-
minster, Thirlby. The King's godfather, Archbishop Cranmer,
officiated ; and the changes of the service, which was still that
of the Mass of the Church of Home, were most significant. It
was greatly abridged, partly ' for the tedious length of the
' same,' and ' the tender age ' of the King — partly for ' that
' many points of the same were such as, by the laws of the
4 nation, were not allowable.' Instead of the ancient form of
election, the Archbishop presented the young Prince as ' right-
' ful and undoubted inheritor.'4 The consent of the people
was only asked to the ceremony of the coronation. The
unction was performed with unusual care. ' My Lord of Canter-
' bury kneeling on his knees, and the King lying prostrate
' upon the altar, anointed his back.' The coronation itself was
peculiar. ' My Lord Protector, the Duke of Somerset, held the
' crown in his hand for a certain space,' and it was set on the
King's head by those two, the Duke and the Archbishop. For the
first time the Bible was presented to the Sovereign,5 an act which
may perhaps have suggested to the young King the substitution,
which he had all but effected,6 of the Bible for St. George in the
insignia of the Order of the Garter. There was no sermon ;
but the7 short address of Cranmer, considering the punctilious-
ness with which the ceremony had been performed, and the
1 Holinshed ; Taylor, p. 285 ; Le- • Anstis's Order of the Garter, i.
land, iv. 321 ; Prynne's Signal Loyalty, 438. For the story of the King's
part ii. p. 250. re nark on the Bible, in ' Chapters '
2 Leland, iv. 324. (p. 174), I can find no authority.
3 See Chapter VI. ' Strype's Memorials of Cranmer, i.
4 Burnet, Coll. Rec., part ii. book i. 204 ; Harleian MS. 2308. Its genuine-
No. 4. ness is contested in Hook's Lives of
4 Camden's Remains, 371. the Archbishops, ii. 232.
F 2
68 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
importance of his position as the Father of the Reformed Church
of England, is perhaps the boldest and most pregnant utterance
Archbishop ever delivered in the Abbey. He warned the young
address!18 King against confounding orthodoxy with morality.
He insisted on the supremacy of the royal authority over both
the Bishops of Eome and the Bishops of Canterbury.
The wiser sort will look to their claws, and clip them.
He pointed out
in what respect the solemn rites of coronation have their ends and
utility, yet neither direct force nor necessity ; they be good admoni-
tions to put kings in mind of their duty to God, but no increasement
of their dignity : for they be God's anointed — not in respect of the
oil which the bishop useth, but in consideration of their power, which
is ordained ; of tbe sword, which is authorised ; of their persons, which
are elected of God, and endued witb tbe gifts of His Spirit, for the
better ruling and guiding of His people. Tbe oil, if added, is but a
ceremony : if it be wanting, that king is yet a perfect monarch not-
withstanding, and God's anointed, as well as if be was inoiled. Now
for tbe person or bishop tbat doth anoint a king, it is proper to be
done by tbe cbiefest. But if they cannot, or will not, any bishop may
perform this ceremony. — He described wbat God requires at tbe hands
of kings and rulers— tbat is, religion and virtue. Therefore not from
the Bishop of Rome, but as a messenger from my Saviour Jesus
Christ, I shall mostbumbly admonish your Royal Majesty wbat things
your Higbness is to perform.
He required the King,
like Josiah, to see God truly worshipped, and idolatry destroyed; to
reward virtue, to revenge sin, to justify tbe innocent, to relieve tbe
poor, to procure peace, to repress violence, and to execute justice
throughout your realms.
22. Mary's coronation was stamped with all the strange
vicissitudes of her accession. Now first rose into
view the difficulties, which in various forms have
reappeared since, respecting the Coronation Oath.
The Council proposed to bind tbe Queen, by an especial clause, to
maintain the independence of tbe English Church ; and she, on the
otber band, was meditating how she could introduce an adjective sub
silentio, and intended to swear only tbat sbe would observe tbe 'just '
laws and constitutions. But tbese grounds could not be avowed.
Tbe Queen was told tbat her passage tbrougb tbe streets would be
CHAP. ii. THE TUDORS. 69
unsafe until her accession had been sanctioned by Parliament, and the
The Pro- Act repealed by which she was illegitirnatised. With Paget's
SepT's') ^ie^P sne faced down these objections, and declared that she
would be crowned at once ; she appointed the 1st of October
for the ceremony ; on the 28ch she sent for the Council, to attempt an
appeal to their generosity. She spoke to them at length of her past
life and sufferings, of the conspiracy to set her aside, and of the
wonderful Providence which had preserved her and raised her to the
throne : her only desire, she said, was to do her duty to God and to
her subjects; and she hoped (turning, as she spoke, pointedly to
Gardiner) that they would not forget their loyalty, and would stand
by her in her extreme necessity. Observing them hesitate, she cried,
' My Lords, on my knees I implore you ! ' — and flung herself on the
ground at their feet.
The most skilful acting could not have served Mary's purpose
better than this outburst of natural emotion : the spectacle of their
kneeling sovereign overcame for a time the scheming passions of her
ministers ; they were affected, burst into tears, and withdrew their
opposition to her wishes.
On the 30th, the procession from the Tower to Westminster through
the streets was safely accomplished. The retinues of the Lords pro-
tected the Queen from insult, and London put on its usual outward
signs of rejoicing ; St. Paul's spire was rigged with yards like a ship's
mast [an adventurous Dutchman outdoing the Spaniard at Edward
VI. 's coronation, and sitting astride on the weathercock, five hundred
feet in the air].1 The Hot Gospeller, half-recovered from his gaol-
fever, got out of bed to see the spectacle, and took his station at the
west end of St. Paul's. The procession passed so close as almost to
touch him, and one of the train, seeing him muffled up, and looking
more dead than alive, said, ' There is one that loveth Her Majesty well,
' to come out in such condition.' The Queen turned her head and
looked at him. To hear that any one of her subjects loved her just
then was too welcome to be overlooked.2
On the next day the ceremony in the Abbey was performed
without fresh burdens being laid upon Mary's conscience. The
Thecoro- three chief prelates, the Archbishops of Canterbury
nation, an(j Yoik, and the Bishop of London, were prisoners
in the Tower. Gardiner, therefore, as Bishop of
Winchester, officiated, ' without any express right or precedent,'
as Archbishop Parker afterwards indignantly wrote.3 The
sermon was by Bishop Day, who had preached at her brother's
funeral.4 She had been alarmed lest Henry IV.'s holy oil
1 Taylor, p 287 ; Holinshed. s De Ant. Brit. p. 509.
- Froude, vi. 100, 101. 4 Burnet, Hist. Ref. ii. 251.
70 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. 11.
should have lost its efficacy through the interdict; and, ac-
cordingly, a fresh supply was sent through the Imperial
Ambassador, blessed by the Bishop of Arras. She had also
feared lest even St. Edward's Chair had been polluted, by
having been the seat of her Protestant brother ; and accordingly,
though it is expressly stated to have been brought out, another
chair was sent by the Pope, in which she sate, and which is
now said to be in the cathedral of Winchester.1 Anne of Cleves
was present, and also Elizabeth. The Princess complained to
the French Ambassador of the weight of her coronet. ' Have
' patience,' said Noailles, ' and before long you will exchange it
' for a crown.' 2
23. That time soon arrived. The coronation of Elizabeth,
like that of her sister, had its own special characteristics. The
day (January 15) was fixed in deference to her astrologer,
Dee, who pronounced it a day of good luck ; and it was
long observed as an anniversary hi the Abbey.3 The procession
was on the day before.
The Pro- As she passed out to her carriage under the gates of the
jaif 14' Tower, fraught to her with such stern remembrances, she stood
still, looked up to heaven, and said —
' 0 Lord, Almighty and Everlasting God, I give Thee most humble
' thanks, that Thou hast been so merciful unto me as to spare me to
' behold this joyful day ; and I acknowledge that Thou hast dealt
' wonderfully and mercifully with me. As Thou didst with Thy
' servant Daniel the prophet, whom Thou deliveredst out of the den,
' from the cruelty of the raging lions, even so was I overwhelmed,
' and only by Thee delivered. To Thee, therefore, only be thanks,
' honour, and praise for ever. Amen.'
She then took her seat, and passed on — passed on through thronged
streets and crowded balconies, amidst a people to whom her accession
was as the rising of the sun. Away in the country the Protestants
were few and the Catholics many. But the Londoners were the first-
born of the Keformation, whom the lurid fires of Smithfield had worked
only into fiercer convictions. The aldermen wept for joy as she went
by. Groups of children waited for her with their little songs at the
crosses and conduits. Poor women, though it was midwinter, flung
nosegays into her lap. In Cheapside the Corporation presented her
with an English Bible. She kissed it, ' thanking the City for their
' goodly gift,' and saying, ' she would diligently read therein.' One
1 Planche, p. 60. — A reasonable not that which served for her marriage,
doubt is expressed (in Gent. Nag. 1838, 2 Froude vi. 102.
p. 612) whether the Winchester chair is 3 See Chapter VI.
CHAP ii. THE TUDORS. 71
of the crowd, recollecting who first gave the Bible to England,
exclaimed, ' Kemember old King Harry the Eighth ! ' and a gleam of
light passed over Elizabeth's face — ' a natural child,' says Holinshed,
' who at the very remembrance of her father's name took so great a
' joy, that all men may well think that as she rejoiced at his name
' whom the realm doth still hold of so worthy memory, so in her doings
' she will resemble the same.' l
The pageants in the City were partly historical — partly
theological : her grandparents and her parents ; the eight
Beatitudes; Time with his daughter Truth— 'a seemly and
' meet personage richly apparelled in Parliament robes ' —
Deborah, ' the judge and restorer of the House of Israel.' On
Temple Bar, for once deserting their stations at Guildhall, Gog
and Magog stood, with hands joined over the gate. The Queen
thanked her citizens, and assured them that she would ' stand
' their good Queen.' It has been truly remarked that the
increased seriousness, of the time is shown in the contrast
between these grave Biblical figures and the light classical
imagery of the pageants that witnessed the passage of her
mother.2
At the ceremony in the Abbey, on the following day, the
Coronation Mass was celebrated, and the Abbot of Westminster
The coro- took his part in the service for the last time. Thus
sSmfcy, far Elizabeth's conformity to the ancient Ritual was
1559. ' complete. But the coming changes made themselves
felt. The Litany was read in English ; the Gospel and Epistle,
still more characteristically representing her double ecclesiastical
position, in Latin and English. On these grounds, and from
an unwillingness to acknowledge her disputed succession, the
whole Bench of Bishops, with one exception, were absent.3 The
see of Canterbury was vacant. The Archbishop of York de-
murred to the English Litany. The Bishop of London, the
proper representative of the Primate on these occasions, was in
prison. But his robes were borrowed ; and Oglethorpe, Bishop
of Carlisle, Dean of the Chapel Pioyal, consented to act for him,
but, it was believed, afterwards died of remorse.4 ' The oil was
' grease, and smelt ill.' Still the ceremony was completed, and
she was elected and ' proclaimed ' by the singular but expressive
1 Froude, vii. 38, 39. 15, 1559) speaks of the Bisliops, mitred
- Aikin's Elizabeth, i. 251. and in scarlet, singing Salve fasta dies.
3 Ibid. i. 252 ; Nichols' Progresses, But this must be a mistake,
i. 30 ; Taylor, p. 287. Machyn (Jan. 4 Burnet, ii. pt. i. p. 685.
72 THE COKONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
title — ' Empress from the Orcade Isles unto the Mountains
* Pyrenee.' l
24. The day of the coronation of James I. — first king of
' Great Britain ' — was chosen from his namesake the Apostle,
coronation The procession from the Tower was abandoned, in
consequence of the plague ; though Ben Jonson, who
bt. James's had been employed by the City to prepare the pageants,
25, ieos y published his account of wiiat they would have been.2
The King and Queen went straight from the Palace to the
Abbey, Anne ' with her hair down hanging.' 3 The presence of
all the Bishops, contrasted with the scanty attendance at the
inauguration of Elizabeth, indicates that this was the first coro-
nation celebrated by the Anglican Heformed Church. Andrews
was Dean ; Whitgift was Archbishop. Bilson preached the
sermon.4 When James sat on .the Stone of Scone,5 the first
King of Great Britain, the S<cotg believed the ancient prediction
to have been at last fulfilled. The only drawback in the cere-
monial was the refusal of Anne to take the sacrament : ' she
had changed her Lutheran religion once before,' for the Presby-
terian forms of Scotland, and that was enough.6
Several significant changes -were made in the Eitual, in-
dicative of the grasping tendency of the Stuart kings, which
afterwards were attributed to Laud, on the erroneous supposi-
tion that he had made the change for Charles I. For the word
'elect,' was substituted 'consecrate;' and for 'the commons,'
' the commonalty of your kingdom.'7 And to the 'lavs which the
' King promised to observe ' were added the words ' agreeable to
' the King's prerogative.'
25. The coronation of ^Charles I. was filled, both to the wise
and to the superstitious, with omens of coming disaster. As
coronation m the time °f his father, there was no procession,
of Charles i. nominaiiy because of the plague ; 8 but really, it was
suspected, because of the wish of ' Baby Charles ' to save the
money for the Spanish war, -without the need of going to
1 Planche, p. 47 ; Strickland, vL probably was her secret adherence to
165,167. .the Church of Borne. Milman's Essays,
* Aikin's James L, p. 151. They p. 230.
took place some months later. (Gent, 7 Lawson's Life of Laud, i. 297-
Mag. 1838, p. 189.) 305.
3 Nichols' Progresses, i. 377 ; Birch, 8 ' Though the infectious air of
State Papers, ii. 504 ; Strickland, v. ' London had lately been corrected with
105. ' a sharp winter, yet ... a suspicion
4 On Bom. xiii. 1. < of danger did remain.' (Fuller's
5 Speed, p. 888. See Appendix. Church Hist. A.D. 1626.)
6 Chapters, p. 103. The real reason
CHAP. n. THE STUARTS. 73
Parliament for supplies. Sir Eobert Cotton was waiting at the
Feast of the stairs leading to his house, in the neighbourhood of the
Feb1^"10"' Palace> to present him with the ancient Gospels, ' on
' which for divers hundred years together the Kings of
* England had solemnly taken their coronation oaths.' But the
royal barge ' balked those steps,' and ' was run aground at the
' Parliament stairs.' Sir Robert was glad that the inconvenient
precedent of landing at his stairs was missed ; but it was
believed that ' the Duke of Buckingham had prevented that act
' of grace being done him.' l There was a feud raging within
the Chapter of Westminster — an echo of the larger struggles
without — which was apparent as soon as the King entered the
doors of the Abbey. Williams, the Dean, was in disgrace, and
had in vain entreated Buckingham to be allowed to officiate.
But his rival, Laud, carried the day through that potent
favourite, and, as prebendary, took the place of his hated
superior.2 The coronations of the Tudor sovereigns have been
according 3 to the Roman Pontifical, and that of James I. having
been prepared in haste, Charles issued a commission, in which
Laud took the chief part, to draw up a more purely Anglican
Service. The alterations, however, rather pointed in another
direction. The unction was to be made in the form of a cross.
Laud consecrated the oil on the altar.4 The clergy were espe-
cially named as coining ' nearer to the altar than others.' The
King vouchsafed to kiss the two chief officiating Prelates. On
the altar was planted an ancient crucifix from the Regalia.
King Edward's ivory comb was brought out, and when the King
sate down in the royal chair, ' he called for the comb that he
' might see it.' At the same time the Royal Prerogative was
exalted by the introduction of the prayer (omitted since the
time of Henry VI.) that the King might have ' Peter's keys
' and Paul's doctrine.' 5 The words ' to the people ' were said
to have been left out in the oath.6 Whether by accident, or
from its being the proper colour for the day (the Feast of the
Purification), or, ' to declare the virgin purity with which he
' came to be espoused to his kingdom,' Charles changed the
1 Ellis's Collection of Original Let- plete list, and left to the King to
ters, i. 214 ; Gent. Mag. 1838, vol. ix. choose. (Fuller's Church Hist. A.I>.
p. 473. 1626.) See Chapter VI.
2 It was left to Williams's choice to 3 Heylin's Laud, p. 135.
name a prebendary. He could not 4 State Papers, Feb. 2, 1625-26. See
pass over Laud (as Bishop of St. p. 46.
David's), and he would not nominate s Heylin's Laud, p. 136.
him. He therefore presented a com- 6 Oldmixon, i. 82.
74 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. it.
usual purple velvet robe for one of white satin, which the
spectators, at the time or afterwards, regarded as ominous of
his being led out as a victim, or as having drawn upon him the
misfortunes predicted in ancient days for the ' White King.' '
' The left wing of the dove, the mark of the Confessor's halcyon
' days, was broken on the sceptre staff — by what casualty God
' himself knows. The King sent for Mr. Acton, then his gold-
1 smith, commanding him that the ring-stone should be set in
' again. The goldsmith replied that it was impossible to be
' done so fairly but that some mark would remain thereof.
' The King, hi some passion, returned, " If you will not do it,
' " another shall." Thereupon Mr. Acton returned and got
' another dove of gold to be artificially set in ; whereat his
' Majesty was well contented, as making no discovery thereof.'
It was the first infringement on the old Regalia. The text was,
as if for a funeral sermon, ' I will give thee a crown of life,' by
Senhouse, Bishop of Carlisle, who died shortly after of black
jaundice, ' a disease which hangs the face with mourning as
' against its burial.' 2 During the solemnity an earthquake was
felt, which Baxter long remembered, ' being a boy at school at
' the time, and having leave to play. It was about two o'clock
' in the afternoon, and did affright the boys and all in the
' neighbourhood.' 3
The whole ceremonial is detailed by Fuller as coming ' within
* (if not the park and pale) the purlieus of ecclesiastical history.'
But he adds, with a touching pathos : ' I have insisted the longer
' on this subject, moved thereat by this consideration — that if it
* be the last solemnity performed on an English King in this
' land, posterity will conceive my pains well bestowed, because
' on the last. But, if hereafter Divine Providence shall assign
' England another King, though the transactions herein be not
' wholly precedented, something of state may be chosen out
' grateful for imitation.' *
26. At the time when Fuller wrote these words, it did in-
deed seem as if Charles. I.'s coronation would be the last. Ail
its disastrous omens had been verified, and a new dynasty
seemed firmly established on the throne of this realm. The
1 Oldmixon, i. 82 ; Palgrave's Nor- Charles I. was crowned King of Scot-
mandy, iii. 880 ; Heylin's Laud, p. land at Edinburgh, by Spottiswood,
138. Archbishop of St. Andrew's. (See
- Fuller's Church Hist. AJ>. 1626. Ellis's Letters, iii. 283; D'Israeli's
3 Baxter's Life, p. 2. diaries I., i. 276.)
4 Fuller's Church Hist. A.D. 1626.—
CHAP. 11. THE STUAETS. 75
Regalia were gone.1 Yet even then there was a semblance
installation preserved of the ancient Ritual. Not in the Abbev
of Oliver .7 >
cromweii, but in the adjacent Hall, his Highness Oliver Crom-
1657. well was ' installed ' as Lord Protector ; and out of the
Abbey was brought, for that one and only time, ' the Chair of
' Scotland,' and on it, ' under a prince-like canopy of state,' as a
successor of Fergus and Kenneth, of Edward I. and of James L,
Oliver was solemnly enthroned. The Bible was presented as
in the time of Edward VI. : ' a book of books,' which ' doth con-
' tain both precepts and examples for good government ; ' ' the
' book of life, which, in the Old Testament, shows Christum
' velatum ; in the New, Christum revelatum.^
27. The coronation of Charles II.3 was celebrated with all
the splendour which the enthusiasm of the Restoration could
coronation provide. It is the first of which an elaborate pictorial
of Charles .
ii. representation remains. The ceremony ot the King s
' coronation was done with the greatest solemnity and glory,'
says Clarendon, ' that ever any had been seen in that kingdom.'
The utmost care was taken to examine ' the records and old
formularies,' and to ascertain the ' claims to privileges and
precedency,' in order ' to discredit and discountenance the
novelties with which the Kingdom had been so much intoxi-
cated for so many years together.' 5
es«iwi0" The Procession from the Tower was revived.
4>rii 22, Pepys, of course, was there to see :—
Up early, and made myself as fine as I could, and put on my velvet
coat, the first day that I put it on, though made half a year ago.
... It is impossible to relate the glory of this day, expressed in the
clothes of them that rid [in the procession], and their horses and horse-
cloths. Amongst others, my Lord Sandwich's diamonds and embroidery
was not ordinary among them. The knights of the Bath was a brave
sight in itself. . . . Remarkable were the two men that represent the
two Dukes of Normandy and Aquitaine. The Bishops were next after
Barons, which is the higher place ; which makes me think that the
1 See Chapters V. and VI. to carry out the Solemn League and
* Forster's Statesmen of the Com- Covenant. The crown was placed on
momccalth, v. 421, 423. his head by the Marquis of Argyle,
3 He had already been crowned King who was executed after the Eestora-
of Scotland, in the parish church of tion.
Scone, on January 1, 1651. The sermon 4 Ogilvy's Coronation of King
was preached by the Moderator of the Charles II., where every triumphal
General Assembly. The text was 2 arch is described.
Kings xi. 12-17. After the sermon 5 Clarendon's Life, April 23, 1661.
the King swore, with his usual facility,
76 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
next Parliament they will be called to the House of Lords. My Lord
Monk rode bare after the King, and led in his hand a spare horse,
being Master of the Horse. . . . The streets all gravelled, and the
houses hung with carpets upon them, made brave show, and the ladies
out of the windows. . . . Both the King and the Duke of York took
notice of us, as they saw us at the window
About four I rose and got to the Abbey, and with much ado did
get up into a scaffold across the north end, where with a great deal of
The Coro- patience I sate from past four to eleven. And a great pleasure
Across ^ was *° see ^e Abbey raised in the middle all covered with
i66i. red, and a throne, that is a chair and footstool, on the top of
it, and all the officers of all kinds, so much as the very fiddlers, in
red vests. At last comes the Dean [Dr. Earles] and Prebendaries of
Westminster.1
The ceremonial we need not follow, except in a few charac-
teristic particulars. The Eegalia were all new, though bearing
the ancient names, in the place of those that perished in the
Commonwealth, Busby carried the ampulla. Archbishop
Juxon, ' in a rich ancient cope,' ' present but much indisposed
' and weak,' 2 anointed and crowned the King. The rest of
the service was performed by Sheldon, as Bishop of London.3
Several untoward incidents marred the solemnity. The Duke
of York prevailed on the King, ' who had not high reverence
* for old customs,' that Lord Jermyn should act the part of
his Master of the Horse, as the Duke of Albemarle did to the
King.
The Lords were exceedingly surprised and troubled at this, of
which they heard nothing till they saw it ; and they liked it the worse
because they discerned that it issued from a fountain from whence
many bitter waters were like to flow — the customs of the Court of
France, whereof the King and the Duke had too much the image in
their heads, and than which there could not be a copy more universally
ingrateful and odious to the English nation.
The Earl of Northumberland and the Earl of Ossory
quarrelled as to the right of carrying the insignia, 'as they
' sate at table in Westminster Hall.' 4 The King's footmen
1 Pepys's Diary, April 22 and 23, * The sermon was preached before,
1661. The King rode, not to West- on Prov. xxviii. 2, by Morley, Bishop
minster, but to Whitehall. The ban- of Worcester; according to Pepys, on
quet, however, was at Westminster. the day before, in Henry VII.'s Chapel,
(Ogilvy, p. 177.) according to Evelyn, at the usual time
* Evelyn, April 23, 1661 ; Ogilvy, of the service.
P- 177. 4 Clarendon's Life, ibid.
CHAP. ii. THE STUAKTS. 77
and the Barons of the Cinque Ports had a desperate struggle
for the canopy.
' Strange it is to think that these two days have held up
* fair till all is done, and then it fell raining, and thundering,
' and lightning as I have not seen it so for some years; which
' people did take great notice of.' '
28. As in the case of Charles II. , so of James II., an
coronation elaborate description of the pageant is preserved.2 He
Awi" as! n' was crowned, as his brother had been, on the 23rd of
April, the Feast of St. George.
The presence of the Queen and of the Peeresses gave to the solemnity
a charm which had been wanting to the magnificent inauguration of
the late King. Yet those who remembered that inauguration pronounced
that there was a great falling-off. . . . James ordered an estimate
to be made of the cost of the procession from the Tower, and found
that it would amount to about half as much as be proposed to expend
in covering his wife with trinkets. He accordingly determined to be
profuse where he ought to have been frugal, and niggardly where be
might pardonably have been profuse. More than a hundred thousand
pounds were laid out in dressing the Queen, and the procession from
the Tower was omitted. The folly of tbis course is obvious. If
pageantry be of any use in politics, it is of use as a means of
striking the imagination of the multitude. It is surely tbe height of
absurdity to shut out the populace from a show of which the main
object is to make an impression on the populace. James would bave
shown a more judicious munificence and a more judicious parsimony,
if be had traversed London from east to west with tbe accustomed
pomp, and bad ordered tbe robes of his wife to be somewhat less
thickly set with pearls and diamonds. His example was, however,
long followed by bis successors ; and sums which, well employed,
would bave afforded exquisite gratification to a large part of tbe nation,
were squandered on an exhibition to wbicb only three or four thousand
privileged persons were admitted.
James bad ordered Bancroft to abridge tbe Eitual. Tbe reason
publicly assigned was that tbe day was too short for all tbat was to be
done. But whoever examines tbe changes which were made will see
that the real object was to remove some things highly offensive to tbe
religious feelings of a zealous Roman Catholic. Tbe Communion Ser-
vice was not read.3 . . .
Francis Turner, Bisbop of Ely, preached. He was one of those
1 Pepys, April 23, 1661.— There was 3 The Coronation Oath is said to
no coronation for the Queen-Consort in have been altered. (Oldmixon, ii. 695 )
1662. The ceremony of the presentation of
2 Sandford's History of tlie Corona the Bible was not yet a fixed part of
tion of James II the Ritual.
78 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. 11.
writers who still affected the obsolete style of Archbishop Williams
and Bishop Andrews. The sermon was made up of quaint conceits,
such as seventy years earlier might have been admired, but such as
moved the scorn of a generation accustomed to the purer eloquence
of Sprat, of South, and of Tillotson. King Solomon was King James.
Adonijah was Monmouth. Joab was a Rye-house conspirator ; Shimei,
a Whig libeller ; Abiathar, an honest but misguided old cavalier. One
phrase in the Book of Chronicles was construed to mean that the King
was above the Parliament, and another was cited to prove that he
alone ought to command the militia. Towards the close of the
discourse, the orator very timidly alluded to the new and embar-
rassing position in which the Church stood with reference to the
sovereign, and reminded his hearers that the Emperor Constantius
Chlorus, though not himself a Christian, had held in honour those
Christians who remained true to their religion, and had treated with
scorn those who sought to earn his favour by apostasy. The
service in the Abbey was followed by a stately banquet in the Hall,
the banquet by brilliant fireworks, and the fireworks by much bad
poetry.1
The crown had tottered on James's head. Henry Sidney
as Keeper of the Eobes, held it up. ' This,' he said, ' is not the
' first time our family has supported the crown/ 2
29. The same apprehensions that Fuller entertained when
he recorded the coronation of Charles I., under the feeling that
wiiiiam and it might be the last, were doubtless felt by many a
spectator of the events which succeeded the corona-
tion of James II., that this again would not be followed by
another. The legitimate line was broken : the successor was
neither an Englishman nor an Anglican. But with that
tenacity of ancient forms which distinguished the Revolution
sanction of °^ 1688, the rite of Coronation, so far from being set
nation^bT aside, was now first sanctioned by Act of Parliament.3
Parliament, ft owed this recognition, doubtless, to the Coronation
Oath, which had always been treated as the safeguard of the
liberties of the English Church and nation, and was now, for
the first time since the Reformation, altered into conformity
with the actual usages of the kingdom, to maintain ' the Pro-
1 Macaulay, i. 473, 474. Chamber, of which two of the pieces,
» Oldmixon, i. 195 ; North, ii. 126. those of the Circumcision of Isaac and
Three relics of James II.' a coronation of Goliath, can be identified in Sand-
remain :— 1. The music, then first used, ford's engravings. 3. The attendance
of Purcell and Blow. (Planche, p. 52.) of the Westminster Scholars. (Sand-
2. The tapestry, preserved in West- ford, 83.)
minster School and in the Jerusalem 3 1 William and Mary, c. 14.
•CHAP. IT. THE STUAETS. 79
' testant religion as established by law.'1 'From this time,'
said a speaker in the House of Commons, 'the English will
' date their liberty and their laws from William and Mary, not
' from St. Edward Confessor.' 2
The procession at their coronation, as in the case of James
II., took place not from the Tower, but from the Palace of
The Pro- Whitehall. It was delayed more than two hours (from
11 A.M. to 1.30 P.M.), perhaps by the press of business
consequent on the alarming intelligence, which had reached
the King and Queen not long before, of the landing of James II.
in Ireland.3
At last they appeared. There were many peculiarities in
the spectacle. The double coronation was such as had never
The GOTO- been seen before. The short King and tall Queen
satu°r'uy, walked side by side, not as king and consort, but as
1G891. joint sovereigns, with the sword between them. For
the first time a second chair of state was provided, which has
since been habitually used for the Queens-consort. Into this
chair Mary was lifted, like her husband, girt with the sword,
and invested with the symbols of sovereignty. The Princess
Anne, who stood near, said, ' Madam, I pity your fatigue.'
The Queen turned sharply, with the words, ' A crown, sister, is
* not so heavy as it seems.' 4 Behind the altar rose, for the first
time, above the Confessor's Chapel, the seats of the assembled
Commons. There was a full attendance of the lay magnates of
the realm, including even some who had voted for a Eegency.
Amongst the gifts was (revived from the coronation of Edward
VI. and the installation of Cromwell) the presentation, con-
tinued from this time henceforward, of the Bible as ' the most
' valuable thing that this world affords/ 5
The show of Bishops, indeed, was scanty. The Primate did not
make his appearance ; and his place was supplied by Compton. On
one side of Compton, the paten was carried by Lloyd, Bishop of St.
1 For the whole question of the same Act) been read previously before
alteration of the Coronation Oath, see the two Houses of Parliament.
Macaulay, iii. 114-117. 3 Clarke's James II., ii. 328, 329 ;
Dalrymple's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 15 ;
2 The Declaration against Trans- Lamberty, quoted in Strickland, xi.
substantiation, required from the 21. James II. landed at Kinsale on
sovereign by the Bill of Rights (1 W. March 12.
and M. c. 2, § 2), was made in the 4 Oldmixon's Hist, of England ;
Abbey, down to the coronation of William and Mary, p. 8.
George IV. Since that time it has (in 5 Maskell, iii. p. cxix. Coronation
pursuance with the provisions of the Service of William and Mary.
80 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
Asaph, eminent among the seven confessors of the preceding year.
On the other side Sprat, Bishop of Eochester, lately a member of the
High Commission, had charge of the chalice [as Dean of Westminster].
Burnet, the junior prelate, preached [on the last words of David the
son of Jesse '] with all his wonted ability, and more than his wonted
taste and judgment. His grave and eloquent discourse was polluted
neither by adulation nor by malignity. He is said to have been greatly
applauded ; and it may well be believed that the animated peroration,
in which he implored Heaven to bless the royal pair with long life
and mutual love, with obedient subjects, wise counsellors, and faithful
allies, with gallant fleets and armies, with victory, with peace, and
finally with crowns more glorious and more durable than those which
then glittered on the altar of the Abbey, drew forth the loudest hums
of the Commons.2
There were, of course, bad omens observed by the Jacobites.
The day was, for the first time, neither a Sunday nor a holyday.
The King had no money for the accustomed offering of twenty
guineas, and it was supplied by Danby.3 The way from the
Abbey to the Palace was lined with Dutch soldiers. The
medals had on their reverse a chariot, which was interpreted to
be that on which Tullia drove over her father's body. The
more scurrilous lampoons represented a boxing-match between
the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of London in the Abbey,
and the Champion riding up the hall on an ass which kicked
over the royal tables.4 The Champion's glove was reported to
have been carried off by an old woman upon crutches. ' I
' heard the sound of his gauntlet when he flung it on the
* ground,' says a spectator ; ' but as the light in Westminster
' Hall had utterly failed, no person could distinguish what was
' done.' 5
30. The coronation of Anne, the last Stuart sovereign, had
been fixed long before to be, as that of her father and uncle,
coronation on St. George's Day ; and so it took place, though
APrii23, William had been buried but ten days before. The
Queen was carried, owing to her gout, from St. James's
to the Abbey.6 The duties of Lord Great Chamberlain were
performed by Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. Her train was
1 Narcissus Luttrell's Diary, i. 521. ' the earth by clear shining after
2 Sam. xxiii. 3, 4 : ' He that ruleth ' rain.'
' over man must be just, ruling in the 'J Macaulay, iii. 188, 199.
' fear of God. And he shall be as the s Lamberty in Strickland, xii. 24.
' light of the morning, when the sun 4 Macaulay, iii. 120.
4 riseth, even a morning without clouds ; s Lamberty in Strickland, xi. 27.
as the tender grass springing out of 6 Taylor, p. 111.
CHAP. ii. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 81
carried by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Archbishop Tenison
crowned her.1 Sharp, Archbishop of York, preached the sermon
on Isa. xlix. 23, ' Kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their
' queens thy nursing mothers ' — doubtless in the expectation,
not altogether fruitless, of the advantages that the Church of
England would derive from ' the bounty of good Queen Anne.'
One important place was vacant. The Bishop of Bath and
Wells, who should have supported her left side, was absent.
For Ken was in his nonjuring retirement, and Kidder was in
disgrace.2 It was remembered that the high offices of the
Dukes of Normandy and Aquitaine were represented by Jonathan
Andrews and James Clark.3 The Queen received the homage
of her husband, Prince George of Denmark, in the same form
as that of the English nobles.
81. George I.'s coronation was an awkward reconciliation
between the two contending factions and nations. The cere-
coronation monies had to be explained by the ministers, who
oct2<£geL could n°t speak German, to the King, who could not
speak English, in Latin, which they must both have
spoken very imperfectly. Hence the saying, that much ' bad
' language ' passed between them.4 Bolingbroke and Oxford
endeavoured to propitiate the new dynasty by assisting at the
coronation — Atterbury, by offering to the King the perquisites
which he might have claimed as Dean.5 Bishop Talbot
preached the sermon. The day was celebrated at Oxford by
Jacobite degrees, and at Bristol by Jacobite riots.6
In this reign a permanent change was effected in one of the
accompaniments of the coronation, — namely, the new arrange-
ment of the Knights of the Bath. In the earlier coronations,
it had been the practice of the sovereigns to create a number
of knights before they started on their procession from the
The order Tower. These knights being made in time of peace,
of the Bath. were not enrolled in any existing order, and for a long
period had no special designation; but, inasmuch as one of
the most striking and characteristic parts of their admission
was the complete ablution of their persons on the vigil of their
1 It is said that she had negotiated s Oldmixon, ii. 578.
for Ken to crown her (Strickland, xii. 6 Stanhope's England, vol. i. 167.
48). But this would hardly have been The additional securities for the Church
done without expelling Tenison. of England were now added to the
2 Ibid. Coronation Oath in consequence of
3 Taylor, p. 105. those granted to the Church of Scot
4 Chapters, p. 188. land in the Act of the Union.
G
82 THE CORONATIONS OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. CHAP. IT.
knighthood, as an emblem of the cleanliness and purity of their
future profession, they were called Knights of ' the Bath.' '
The King himself bathed on the occasion with them. They
were completely undressed, placed in large baths, and then
wrapped in soft blankets.2 The distinctive name first appears
in the time of Henry V. The ceremony had always taken place
at Westminster ; the bath in the Painted or Prince's Chamber,
and the vigils either before the Confessor's Shrine, or (since the
Keformation) in Henry VII. 's Chapel. Edward II. was thus
knighted, at his father's coronation; and the crowd was so
great that two knights were suffocated.3 Evelyn saw ' the
* bathing of the knights, preparatory to the coronation of
' Charles II., in the Painted Chamber.'4 The badge which
they wore was emblematic of the sacredness of their Order —
three garlands twisted together in honour of the Holy Trinity,
and supposed to be derived from Arthur, founder of British
chivalry. The motto — with a somewhat questionable orthodoxy
— was, ' Tria numina juncta in uno.' The badge was altered
in the reign of James L, who, by a no less audacious secularisa-
tion, left out numina, in order to leave the interpretation open
for ' the junction in one ' of the three kingdoms (tria regnd) of
England, Scotland, and Ireland.5 The Shamrock was added to
the Eose and Thistle after the Union with Ireland, 1802.6
It occurred to Sir Eobert Walpole to reconstruct the Order,
by the limitation of its members to persons of merit, and by
the title, thus fitly earned, of ' the most honourable.'
It is said that his main object was to provide himself with
a means of resisting the constant applications for the Order of
the Garter. As such he offered it to Sarah, Duchess of Marl-
borough, for her grandson. ' No,' she said, ' nothing but the
' Garter.' ' Madam,' said Walpole, ' they who take the Bath
' will the sooner have the Garter.' 7
The first knight created under the new statutes was William
1 The most remarkable ' bath ' ever * Nichols, pp. 37, 38, 46.
taken by a knight, for this purpose, • Ibid. pp. 192, 194.
•was that of the Tribune Rienzi in the ' Ibid. p. 39.
porphyry font of Constantine, in the Quoth King Robin, • Our Ribbons,
Baptistry of St. John Lateran. The I see, are too few —
words ' dub a knight ' are said to be Of St. Andrew's the Green, and St.
taken from the dip, ' doob,' in the George's the Blue ;
bath. I must find out another of colour more
'-' Nichols's History of the Orders, gay,
iii- 341. That will teach all my subjects with
3 Brayley's Westminster, p. 97. pride to obey.'
« Diary, April 19, 1661. (Swift's Works, xii. 369.)
INSTALLATION OF THE KNIGHTS OF THE BATH IN 1812 IN HENRY VII.'S CHAPEL.
G 2
84 THE COEONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
Duke of Cumberland, son of the future King, George II. The
child— afterwards to grow up into the fierce champion of his
house -was but four years old, and was, 'by reason of his
' tender age,' excused from the bath. But he presented his
little sword at the altar ; and the other knights were duly
bathed in the Prince's Chamber, and kept their vigil in Henry
installations VII. 's Chapel, where also the installation took place,
T^v,t0 as has been the case ever since. The number of
jviiifsnvpS 01
the Bath, knights (36) was fixed to correspond with the number
of the stalls in the Chapel. Every 20th of October — the anni-
versary of George's I.'s coronation — a procession of the knights
was to take place to the Chapel, with a solemn service.1 On
occasion of an installation, they proceeded after the service,
in their scarlet robes and white plumes, to a banquet in the
Prince's Chamber. The royal cook stood at the door of the
Abbey, with his cleaver, threatening to strike off the spurs
from the heels of any knight who proved unworthy of his
knightly vows.2 The highest functionary was the Great Master,
an office first filled by Montagu, Earl of Halifax. In 1749
Lord Delamere asked the place for the Duke of Montagu, who
died in that year ; and from that time — to prevent the recur-
rence of such a precedence — no Great Master has been
appointed, a Prince always acting on his behalf.3 Next to him
ranks the Dean of Westminster, as Dean of the Order. The
selection of a dean rather than a bishop arose from the circum-
stance that the statutes were framed on the model of those of
the Order of the Thistle, which, being established in Scotland
during the abeyance of Episcopacy, had no place for a prelate
amongst its officers. According to this Presbyterian scheme,
the Dean of Westminster was naturally chosen, both from his
position as the chief Presbyter in the Church of England, and
also from his connection with the Abbey in which the cere-
mony was to take place. It was his duty to receive the swords
of the knights, lay them on the altar (erected for the purpose),
1 Nichols, pp. 47, 52. at the west entrance, but at the South
2 The whole scene is represented Transept door. ' Each of the knights
in a picture, painted by Canaletti for bowed to him, and touched their hats.
Bishop Wilcocks, in 1747, now in the Some of them asked whether there
Deanery. (See Chapter VI.) From were any fees to pay; to which he
this picture it would appear that on answered, he would do himself the
that occasion the procession came out honour to call upon them. We under-
by the west door. In 1803 (see Gent. stand that he receives four guineas
Mag., Ixxiii. pt. 1, p. 460), it entered for this extraordinary speech.'
and retired by Poets' Corner ; and the * Nichols, p. 82.
cook accordingly stood, not (as in 1747)
CHAP. ii. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 85
and restore them to their owners with suitable admonitions.
Under the altar were placed the banners of the deceased
knights, during which ceremony the Dead March in ' Saul ' was
played.1
The installations continued, at intervals more or less remote,
till 1812, under the Regency, since which time they have ceased.
In 1839 the Order underwent so extensive an enlargement and
alteration, that no banners have since been added to those then
hung in the Chapel.
One remarkable degradation and restitution has taken place.
Earl Dundonald's banner was, after the charges of fraud
Lord Dun- brought against him in 1814, taken from its place,
tenner." and ignominiously kicked down the steps of the
Chapel. After many vicissitudes, it was restored to the family
upon his death ; and in 1860, on the day of his funeral in the
Abbey, by order of the Queen, was restored by the Herald of
the Order to its ancient support. Underneath the vacant place
of the shield an unknown admirer has rudely carved, in Spanish,
' Cochrane — Chili y Libertad viva ! '
of°aeuoargen 32> We return to the ordinary routine of the royal
n.^ Oct. 11, inaugurations.
The coronation of George II.2 was performed with all the pomp and
magnificence that could be contrived ; the present King differing so
much from the last, that all the pageantry and splendour, badges and
trappings of royalty, were as pleasing to the son as they were irksome
to the father. The dress of the Queen on this occasion was as fine as
the accumulated riches of the city and suburbs could make it ; for
besides her own jewels (which were a great number, and very valu-
able), she had on her bead and on her shoulders, all the pearls she
could borrow of the ladies of quality at one end of the town, and on
her petticoat all the diamonds she could hire of the Jews and jewellers
at the other ; so that the appearance of her finery was a mixture of
magnificence and meanness, not unlike the tclat of royalty in many
other particulars when it comes to be really examined, and the sources
traced to wbat money hires or flattery lends.3
1 Gent. Mag. id supra. — In 1803 the this occasion, see Chapter Book, No-
Queen and Princesses sat in the Dean's vember 4, 1727. The ' Veni Creator '
Gallery, at the south-west corner of the was omitted by mistake. (Lambeth
Nave, and were afterwards entertained Coronation Service.) Bishop Potter
in the Deanery. The knights, in their preached the sermon, on 2 Chron. ix. 8.
passage round the Nave, halted and (Calamy's Life, ii. 501.)
made obeisance to them, the trumpets 3 Lord Hervey, i. 88, 89. — This was
sounding the whole time of the pro- caused by the loss of Queen Anne's
cession. jewels.
'-' For a quarrel with the Dean on
86 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. H.
33. 'The coronation of George III.1 is over,' says Horace
Walpole, —
'Tis even a more gorgeous sight than I imagined. I saw the pro-
cession and the Hall ; but the return was in the dark. In the morn-
corona in& ^ey had forgot the sword of state, the chairs for King
tion of and Queen, and their canopies. They used the Lord
sept. 22, ' Mayor's for the first, and made the last in the Hall : so
they did not set forth till noon ; and then, hy a childish
compliment to the King, reserved the illumination of the Hall till
his entry, by which means they arrived like a funeral, nothing being
discernible but the plumes of the Knights of the Bath, which
seemed the hearse. . . . My Lady Townshend said she should be
very glad to see a coronation, as she never had seen one. ' Why,'
said I, ' Madam, you walked at the last ? ' ' Yes, child,' said she,
' but I saw nothing of it : I only looked to " see who looked at me." '
The Duchess of Queensberry walked ! Her affectation that day was
to do nothing preposterous. . . . For the coronation, if a puppet-show
could be worth a million, that is. The multitudes, balconies, guards,
and processions made Palace Yard the liveliest spectacle in the
world : the Hall was the most glorious. The blaze of lights, the rich-
ness and variety of habits, the ceremonial, the benches of peers and
peeresses, frequent and full, was as awful as a pageant can be ; and
yet for the King's sake and my own, I never wish to see another ; nor
am impatient to have my Lord Effmgham's promise fulfilled. The
King complained that so few precedents were kept for their pro-
ceedings. Lord Effmgham owned, the Earl Marshal's office had been
strangely neglected ; but he had taken such care for the future, that
the next coronation would be regulated in the most exact manner
imaginable. The number of peers and peeresses present was not very
great ; some of the latter, with no excuse in the world, appeared in
Lord Lincoln's gallery, and even walked about the Hall indecently in
the intervals of the procession. My Lady Harrington, covered with all
the diamonds she could borrow, hire, or seize, and with the air of
Eoxana, was the finest figure at a distance ; she complained to George
Selwyn that she was to walk with Lady Portsmouth, who would have
a wig, and a stick. ' Pho,' said he, ' you will only look as if you were
' taken up by the constable.' She told this everywhere, thinking the
reflection was on my Lady Portsmouth. Lady Pembroke, alone at
the head of the countesses, was the picture of majestic modesty ; the
Duchess of Eichmond as pretty as nature and dress, with no pains of
1 It is noted, that whereas few gave cession cost ten guineas, and a similar
half-a-guinea for places to see George apartment three hundred and fifty.
II.'s coronation, and for an apartment (Gent. Mag. 1821, pt. ii. p. 77. 'Wai-
forty guineas, in the time of George pole's Letters, iii. 445.)
III. front seats along the line of pro-
CHAP. n. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 87
her own, could make her ; Lady Spencer, Lady Sutherland, and Lady
Northampton, very pretty figures. Lady Kildare, still beauty itself,
if not a little too large. The ancient peeresses were by no means the
worst party : Lady Westmoreland, still handsome, and with more
dignity than all ; the Duchess of Queensberry looked well, though her
locks milk white ; Lady Albemarle very genteel ; nay, the middle age
had some good representatives in Lady Holderness, Lady Kochford,
and Lady Strafford, the perfectest little figure of all. My Lady
Suffolk ordered her robes, and I dressed part of her head, as I made
some of my Lord Hertford's dress ; for you know, no profession comes
amiss to me, from a tribune of the people to a habit-maker. Don't
imagine that there were not figures as excellent on the other side : old
Exeter, who told the King he was the handsomest man she ever saw ;
old Effingham and a Lady Say and Seale, with her hair powdered and
her tresses black, were an excellent contrast to the handsome. Lord
B — put on rouge upon his wife and the Duchess of Bedford in the
Painted Chamber ; the Duchess of Queensberry told me of the latter,
that she looked like an orange-peach, half red and half yellow. The
coronets of the peers and their robes disguised them strangely ; it re-
quired all the beauty of the Dukes of Kichmond and Marlborough to
make them noticed. One there was, though of another species, the
noblest figure I ever saw, the High Constable of Scotland, Lord Errol ;
as one saw him in a space capable of containing him, one admired him.
At the wedding, dressed in tissue, he looked like one of the giants in
Guildhall, new gilt. It added to the energy of his person, that one
considered him acting so considerable a part in that very Hall, where
so few years ago one saw his father, Lord Kilmarnock, condemned to
the block. The Champion acted his part admirably, and dashed down
his gauntlet with proud defiance. His associates, Lord Effingham,
Lord Talbot, and the Duke of Bedford, were woeful ; Lord Talbot
piqued himself on backing his horse down the Hall, and not turning
its rump towards the King, but he had taken such pains to dress it to
that duty, that it entered backwards : and at his retreat the spectators
clapped, a terrible indecorum, but suitable to such Bartholomew-fair
doings. He had twenty demclds, and came out of none creditably.
He had taken away the table of the Knights of the Bath, and was
forced to admit two in their old place, and dine the others in the
Court of Bequests. Sir William Stanhope said, ' We are ill-treated,
for some of us are gentlemen.' Beckford told the Earl it was hard to
refuse a table to the City of London, whom it would cost ten thousand
pounds to banquet the King, and that his lordship would repent it, if
they had not a table in the Hall ; they had. To the barons of the
Cinque-ports, who made the same complaint, he said, ' If you come to
' me as Lord Steward, I tell you, it is impossible ; if as Lord Talbot,
' I am a match for any of you ; ' and then he said to Lord Bute, ' If I
' were a minister, thus I would talk to France, to Spain, to the Dutch
88 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. n.
' — none of your half measures.' l He had not much more dignity
than the figure of General Monk in the Abbey. . . . Well, it was all
delightful, but not half so charming as its being over.
The English representatives of the Dukes of Aquitaine and
Normandy appeared for the last time,2 and with them the last
relics of our dominion over France vanished.3 Another incident,
interpreted in a more ominous manner, was the fall of the
largest jewel from the crown, which -was afterwards believed to
have foretold the loss of America.4
When Pitt resign'd, a nation's tears will own,
Then fell the brightest jewel of the crown.
Archbishop Seeker, who officiated, had baptized, confirmed,
and married the King. Bishop Drummond preached on
1 Kings x. 9. The princely style in which the young King
seated himself after the ceremony attracted general notice.
* No actor in the character of Pyrrhus in the Distrest Mother '
(says an eye-witness5), ' not even 'Booth himself, ever ascended
* the throne with so much grace and dignity.' It was also
observed that as the King was about to receive the Holy Com-
munion, he inquired of the Archbishop whether he should not
lay aside his crown. The Archbishop asked the Dean of West-
minster (Zachary Pearce), -but neither knew, nor could say,
what was the usual form.6 The King then took it off, saying,
' There ought to be one.' He wished the Queen to do the
same, but the crown was fastened to her hair.7 It is not
clearly known what George IV. and William IV. did ; 8 but in
the coronation of Queen Victoria, the Eubric ran, and doubtless
henceforth will run, ' The Queen, taking off her crown, kneels
' down.'
But the most interesting peculiarity of George III.'s coro-
1 Walpole's Letters, iii. 437, 438, French and English. (Chapter Book,
440-445. The most ' diverting incident' July 31, 1761.)
of the day is told in iii. 440. See also 4 Hughes's England, xiv. 49 ; Amc-
the account by Bonnell Thornton in dotes of Chatham, iii. 383.
Copters, pp -185 -192 ; and Gent. Mag. , Uf ofBisl Newtm (by himself),
George II. on the battlefield of Dettin-
gen. (Ann. Reg. 1861, p. 232.) Maskell, m. pp. h and 1m.
2 Gent. Mag., 1761, p. 419.— They "' Hughes, xiv. 49.
ranked before the Archbishop of Can- * The crown was worn at that part
terbury. of the service by Henry VI. and Henry
:The claims of the Dean and Chap- VIII., hut was not worn by Charles II.
ter of Westminster were made in Old (Maskell, iii. p. liii.)
CHAP II.
THE HOUSE OF HANOVER.
89
corona-
j^rge
1821. '
nation was the unseen attendance of the rival to the throne —
Prince Charles Edward.1 ' I asked my Lord Marshal,' says
Appearance David Hume, ' the reason of this strange fact. " Ay,"
charts06 ' savs ne' " a gentleman told me so who saw him there,
' " and whispered in his ear, 'Your Eoyal Highness is
' " ' the last of all mortals whom I should expect to see here.'
' " ' It was curiosity that led me,' said the other ; ' but I assure
' " ' you,' added he, ' that the person who is the cause of all
' " ' this pomp and magnificence is the man I envy least.' " ' 2
34. The splendour of the coronation of George IV. has
been described by Sir Walter Scott 3 too fully to need repeti-
tion. Many smaller incidents still survive in the
recollection of those who were present. The heat of
the day and the fatigue ef the ceremony almost ex-
hausted the somewhat portly Prince, who was found cooling
himself, stripped of all his robes, in the Confessor's Chapel, and
at another part of the service was only revived by smelling salts
accidentally provided by the Archbishop's secretary. During
the long ceremony of the homage which he received with
visible expressions of disgust or satisfaction, as the peers of the
contending parties came up, he was perpetually wiping his
streaming face with innumerable handkerchiefs, which he handed
in rapid succession to the Primate, who stood beside him. The
form of the coronation oath, on which so many political struggles
hinged during this and the preceding reign, had been forgotten ;
and the omission could only be rectified by requesting the King
to make his signature at the foot of the oath, as printed in the
service book, which was accordingly enrolled, instead of the
usual engrossment on vellum.4
' He was in London under the name
of Mr. Brown. (Gent. Mag. 1764, p.
24.) See also the scene in Westminster
Hall, described in Redgauntlet.
2 Hume, in Gent. Mag., 1773.
3 See Gent. Mag., 1821, pt. ii. pp.
104-110. The Duke of Wellington
acted as Lord High Constable, Lord
Anglesey as Lord High Steward. The
banquet was celebrated, and the Cham-
pion then appeared, probably for the
last time. The sermon was preached
by the Archbishop of York (Vernon),
on the same text as that selected by
Burnet for William III. (See p. 80.)
The ceremony was rehearsed the week
before in the Abbey and Hall. (Ann.
Register, 1821, p. 344.) ' Amongst the
' feudal services the two falcons of the
Duke of Atholl , for the Isle of Man, were
conspicuous. Seated on the wrist of
his hawking gauntlet, the beautiful
Peregrine falcons appeared, with their
usual ornaments. The King descended
from his chair of state, and the ladies
of the court pressed round to caress
and examine the noble birds.' The
claim had been made and conceded at
the coronation of Charles II. The
coronation oath was altered to meet
the new phraseology introduced by the
union with the Church of Ireland, des-
tined to be again altered by the recent
Act for dissolving it.
4 I owe these incidents to various
eyewitnesses, chiefly to Mr. Christopher
Hodgson, then acting as secretary to
Archbishop Button.
90 THE CORONATIONS OF CHAP. ti.
But the most remarkable feature of the day was that it
furnished the materials for what was, in fact, a political battle
between the King and his Queen, almost between the King and
his people. ' Everyone went in the morning with very un-
' comfortable feelings and dread.' ' On the one side the mag-
nificence of the pageant, on the other side the failure of the
ill-advised attempt of Queen Caroline to enter the Abbey, by a
combination of feelings not altogether unusual, and not credit-
able to the judgment of the English people, produced a com-
plete reaction in favour of the successful husband against the
unsuccessful wife.2 The Queen, after vainly appealing to the
Privy Council, to the Prime Minister, and to the Earl Marshal,
Attempted rashly determined to be present. At six o'clock on the
yue?nce°f mornmg of the day, she drove from South Audley
Caroline. Street to Dean's Yard.3 Within the Precincts at that
hour there were as yet but a few of the Abbey officials on the
alert. One of them 4 was standing in the West Cloister when
he saw the Queen approach, accompanied by Lord Hood. Just
at the point where the Woodfall monument is now placed,
they encountered a gentleman, in court costume, belonging to
the opposite party, who hissed repeatedly in her face. Whilst
Lord Hood motioned him aside with a deprecating gesture, she
passed on into the North Cloister, and thence to the East
Cloister door, the only one on that side available, where she
was repulsed by two stalwart porters, who (in the absence of
our modern police) were guarding the entrance. She then
hastened back, and crossed the great platform in St. Margaret's
Churchyard, erected for the outside procession. It was observed
by those who watched her closely that her under lip quivered
incessantly, the only mark of agitation. She thus reached 5 the
regular approach by Poets' Corner. Sir Eobert Inglis, then a
young man, was charged with the duty of keeping order at that
point. He heard a cry that the Queen was coming. He flew
(such was his account), rather than ran, to the door of the
South Transept. She was leaning on Lord Hood's arm. He
had but a moment to make up his mind how to meet her. ' It
1 Life of Lard Eldon, ii. 428. 4 From this young official, for many
2 In Seeker's copy of the service of years the respected organist of the Abbey,
George III.'s coronation, used as the I derive this part of the narrative,
basis of that of George IV., the orders
for the Queen's appearance were signi- * This is taken from Mr. Almack,
licantly erased throughout. who was on the platform, and followed
3 Gent. Mag. 1824, pt. ii. p. 73; her.
Ann. Register, 1831, p. 347.
CHAP. ii. THE HOUSE OF HANOVEK. 91
' is my duty,' he said, ' to announce to your Majesty that there
' is no place in the Abbey prepared for your Majesty.' The
Queen paused, and replied, ' Am I to understand that you
' prevent me from entering the Abbey ? ' * Madam,' he an-
swered, in the same words, ' it is my duty to announce to you
' that there is no place provided for your Majesty in the Abbey.'
She turned without a word.1 This was the final repulse. She
who had come with deafening cheers retired in dead silence.2
She was seen to weep as she re-entered 3 her carriage. Her old
coachman, it is said, had for the first time that morning
harnessed the horses reluctantly, conscious that the attempt
would be a failure. On the following day she wrote to the
Archbishop of Canterbury (Manners- Button), expressing her
desire to be crowned some days after the King, and before the
arrangements were done away with, so that there might be no
additional expense. The Primate answered that he could not
act except under orders from the King.4 In a few weeks she
was dead ; and her remains — carried with difficulty through the
tumultuous streets of London, where the tide of popularity
had again turned in her favour, and greeted with funeral
welcomes at every halting-place in Germany — reposed finally,
not in Windsor or Westminster, but in her ancestral vault at
Brunswick.5
35. As George IV. had conciliated the popular favour by
the splendour of his coronation, so, in the impending tempests
coronation °^ *ne Reform agitation, William IV. endeavoured to
ofwniiam do the like by the reverse process. A question was
seTssday> even raised, both by the King in correspondence 6 with
his ministers, and by a peer in the House of Lords,
whether the coronation might not be dispensed with. There
was no procession, and the banquet, for the first time, was
omitted. Queen Adelaide was crowned with her husband.7 The
day was the anniversary of her father's wedding.
1 I have given this account as I s It is recorded that the town boys
heard it from Sir R. Inglis. A longer of Westminster School first acquired at
narrative of the dialogue between Lord George IV.'s Coronation the privilege
Hood and the doorkeepers is given in of attending, which had been before
the Gent. Mag. 1821, pt. i. p. 74. confined to the scholars.
2 Or with mingled cries of < The 'Correspondence of William IV.
'Queen -the Queen!' or 'Shame! and Earl Grey, i. 301,302.
' shame ! ' (Ibid. p. 37.)
• Life of Lord Eldon, ii. 428. ' G«nt: Mag. 1831, pp. 219-230 ;
Ann. Register. 1831.
4 Gent. Mag. 1821, pt. ii. p. 75.
92 CORONATION OF QUEEN VICTORIA. CHAP. ir.
36. The last coronation ' doubtless still lives in the recol-
lection of all who witnessed it. They will long remember the
coronation earlj summer morning, when, at break of day, the
of Queeu streets were thronged, and the whole capital awake —
Victoria,
Thursday, the £rst sight of the Abbey, crowded with the mass of
isas. gorgeous spectators, themselves a pageant — the electric
shock through the whole mass, when the first gun announced
that the Queen was on her way — and the thrill of expectation
with which the iron rails seemed to tremble in the hands of
the spectators, as the long procession closed with the entrance
of the small figure, marked out from all beside by the regal
train and attendants, floating like a crimson and silvery cloud
behind her. At the moment when she first came within the
full view of the Abbey, and paused, as if for breath, with
clasped hands, — as she moved on, to her place by the altar, —
as in the deep silence of the vast multitude, the tremulous
voice of Archbishop Howley could be faintly heard, even to the
remotest corners of the Choir, asking for the recognition, — as
she sate immovable on the throne, when the crown touched her
head, amidst shout and trumpet and the roar of cannon, there
must have been many who felt a hope that the loyalty which
had waxed cold in the preceding reigns would once more revive,
in a more serious form than it had, perhaps, ever worn before.2
Other solemnities they may have seen more beautiful, or more
strange, or more touching, but none at once so gorgeous and so
impressive, in recollections, in actual sight, and in promise of
what was to be.
With this fairy vision ends for us the series of the most
continuous succession of events that the Abbey has witnessed.
None such belongs to any other building in the world.
The coronations of the Kings of France at Reims, and
1 The coronation service was a- the ceremony, by nine loud and hearty
bridged, in consideration of the occasion. cheers after the homage of the Peers.
But it was thought unnecessary (as (Gent. Mag. 1838, pt. ii. p. 198.)
heretofore) to insert in the Rubric an 2 For the best expression which has
order that the sermon should be ' short.' perhaps ever been given of the full
The day was changed from June 26 to religious aspect of an English Corona-
June 28, to avoid the anniversary of tion, I cannot forbear to refer to the
George IV.'s death, and by so doing sermon preached on that day, in the
infringed on the Vigil of the Feast of parish church of Ambleside, by Dr.
St. Peter, which led to a characteristic Arnold. (Sermons, iv. 438.) The
sonnet from the Oxford Poet of that ' short and suitable sermon ' in the
time — Isaac Williams. The procession Abbey on the last two occasions was,
was partly revived by the cavalcade in 1831 on 1 Pet. ii. 13, in 1838 on
from Buckingham Palace. The House 2 Chron. xxxiv. 31, preached by Bishop
of Commons joined for the first time in Blomfield.
CHAP. n. CONCLUSION. 93
of the Popes in the Basilica of the Vatican, most nearly ap-
proach it. But Reims is now deserted, and the present Church of
St. Peter is by five centuries more modern than the Abbey. The
Westminster Coronations are thus the outward expression of the
grandeur of the English monarchy. They serve to mark the
various turns in the winding road along which it has passed to
its present form. They reflect the various proportions in which
its elective and its hereditary character have counterbalanced
each other. They contain, on the one hand, in the Recognition,
the Enthronisation, and the Oath, the utterances of the ' fierce
* democracy ' of the people of England. They contain, on the
other hand, in the Unction, the Crown, the Fatal Stone, in the
sanction of the prelates and the homage of the nobles, the
primitive regard for sacred places, sacred relics, consecrated
persons, and heaven-descended right, lingering on through all
the counteracting tendencies of change and time. They show
the effect produced, even on minds and circumstances least
congenial, by the combination of this sentiment with outward
display and antique magnificence. They exhibit the curious
devices, half political and half religious, by which new or un-
popular sovereigns have been propped up — the Confessor's
grave for William the Conqueror : the miraculous oil for
Henry IV. ; the Stone of Scone for Edward II., for James L,
and for Oliver Cromwell ; the unusual splendour for Richard
III., for Anne Boleyn, and George IV. ; the Oath and the Bible
for William III. They show us the struggles for precedence,
leading to outbreaks of the wildest passions, and the most
deadly feuds between magnates not only of the State but of
the clergy. The Norman Lanfranc aimed his heaviest blow at
the Anglo-Saxon Church by wresting the coronation from Aldred
of York. The supreme conflict of Becket resulted from the
infringement of his archiepiscopal rights in the coronation of
Prince Henry. The keenest insult that Laud could inflict on
his neighbour Williams was by superseding him at the coro-
nation of Charles I. Queen Caroline sank under her exclusion
from the coronation of George IV.
The Coronation Service — at once the most ancient and the
most flexible portion of the Anglican Ritual — reveals the changes
of ceremony and doctrine, and at the same time the unity of
sentiment and faith, which escape us in the stiffer forms of
the ordinary Liturgy. In its general structure it represents
the complex relations of the civil and ecclesiastical polity of
94 CONCLUSION. CHAP. ii.
England. In its varying details it exhibits the combination of
the opposite elements which have formed the peculiar tone of
the English Church.
The personal characters of the sovereigns make themselves
felt even in these merely ceremonial functions :— the iron nerves
of the Conqueror for an instant shaken ; the generosity of Coeur-
de-Lion ; the martial spirit of Edward I. ; the extravagance of
Richard II. ; the parsimony of Henry VII. ; the timidity of
James I. ; the fancifulness of Charles I. ; the decorous reverence
of George III. ; the heartlessness of George IV. The political
and religious movements of the time have likewise stamped
their mark on these transitory scenes. The struggles of the
Saxon and Norman elements, not yet united, under the Con-
queror ; the fanatical hatred against the Jews, under Richard
I. ; the jealousy of the Crown under John, and of the Court
favourites under Edward II. ; the claims of the conflicting
dynasties under Edward IV. and Henry VII. ; the heavings of
the Reformation under Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth ; the
prognostications of the Rebellion under Charles I. ; the en-
thusiasm of the Restoration under Charles II. ; the triumph of
the Constitution under William III. ; the economical spirit of
the Reform era under William IV. ; — could be noted in the
successive inaugurations of those sovereigns, even though all
other records of their reigns were lost.
Yet still the Coronations are but as the outward wave of
English history. They break over the Abbey, as they break
over the country, without leaving any permanent mark. With
the two exceptions of the Stone of Scone and the banners of
the Knights of the Bath, they left no trace in the structure of
the building, unless where the scaffolding has torn away the
feature of some honoured monument or the decoration of some
ancient column. They belong to the form of the history, and
not to its substance. The truth of the saying of Horace
Walpole at the Coronation of George III. will probably be
always felt at the time. * What is the finest sight in the
' world ? A Coronation. What do people most talk about ? A
' Coronation. What is the thing most delightful to have passed ?
' A Coronation.' l But there are scenes more moving than the
most splendid pageant, and there are incidents in the lives of
sovereigns more characteristic of themselves and of their country
even than their inaugurations. Such is the next series of
1 Walpole's Letters, in. 444.
CHAP. II.
CONCLUSION. 95
events in the Abbey, which, whilst it exhibits to us far more
clearly the personal traits of the Kings themselves, has also
entered far more deeply into the vitals of the edifice. The
close of each reign is the summary of the contents of each.
The History of the Eoyal Tombs is the History of the Abbey
itself.
CHAPTER III.
THE ROYAL TOMBS.
I HAVE left the repository of our English Kings for the contemplation
of a day when I shall find my mind disposed for so serious an amuse-
ment. (Spectator, No. 26.)
SPECIAL AUTHOKITIES.
Besides the notices in contemporary Chronicles and Histories, must be men-
tioned—
I. The architectural descriptions of the Tombs in Dart, Neale, and Scott's
Gleanings of Westminster Abbey.
II. The notices of the Interments and of the Royal Vaults in — (a) The Burial
Registers of the Abbey from 1606 to the present time ; (b) Sandford's
Genealogical History of the Kings of England, 1677 ; (c) Monumenta
Westmonasteriensia, by H. K., i.e. Keepe, 1683 ; (d) Antiquities of West-
minster Abbey, by Crull — sometimes under the name of H. S., sometimes
of J. C.,— 1711 and 1713; (e) MS. Records of the Heralds' College and
the Lord Chamberlain's Office, to which my attention has been called by
the kindness of Mr. Doyne Bell, who is engaged in a work on the ' Royal
4 Interments,' which will bring to light many curious and exact details,
not hitherto known respecting them. See also Appendix.
97
CHAPTEE III.
THE ROYAL TOMBS.
THE burialplaces of Kings are always famous. The oldest
and greatest buildings on the earth are Tombs of Kings — the
Tombs of Pyramids. The most wonderful revelation of the life
of the ancient world is that which is painted in the
rock-hewn catacombs of the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings
at Thebes. The burial of the Kings of Judah was a kind of
canonisation. In the vision of ' all the Kings of the nations,
' lying in glory, every one hi his own house,' the ancient
prophets saw the august image of the nether world.
These burialplaces, however, according to the universal
practice of antiquity, were mostly outside the precincts of the
towns. The sepulchre of the race of David within the city of
Jerusalem formed a solitary exception. The Roman Emperors
were interred first in the mausoleum of Augustus, in the Campus
Martius, beyond the walls — then in the mausoleum of Hadrian,
on the farther side of the Tiber. The burial of Geta at the
foot of the Palatine, and of Trajan at the base of his Column,
in the Forum which bears his name, were the first indications
that the sanctity of the city might be invaded by the presence
of imperial graves. It was reserved for Constantine to give the
earliest example of the interment of sovereigns, not only within
the walls of a city, but within a sacred building, wiien he and
his successors were laid in the Church of the Apostles at Con-
stantinople. This precedent was from that time followed both
in East and West, and every European nation has now its royal
consecrated cemetery.
But there are two peculiarities in Westminster which are
hardly found elsewhere. The first is that it unites the Coro-
nations with the Burials. The nearest approach to this is in
Poland and Russia. In the cathedral of Cracow, by the shrine
H
98 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. in.
of St. Stanislaus, the Becket of the Sclavonic races, the
Kings of Poland were crowned and buried from the thirteenth
Peculiarities century to the dissolution of the kingdom.1 In the
Tombs inya Kremlin at Moscow stand side by side the three cathe-
mhfster. drals of the Assumption, of the Annunciation, and
of the Archangel. In the first the Czars are crowned ; in the
second they are married ; and in the third, till the accession
of Peter, they were buried. Only three royal marriages have
taken place in the Abbey — those of Henry III., of Eichard II.,
i. com- and of Henry VII. But its first coronation, as we
bination of * .
coronations have seen,2 sprang out of its first royal grave. Its
Burials. subsequent burials are the result of both. So Waller
finely sang : —
That antique pile behold,
Where royal heads receive the sacred gold :
It gives them crowns, and does their ashes keep,
There made like gods, like mortals there they sleep ;
Making the circle of their reign complete,
These suns of empire, where they rise they set.3
So Jeremy Taylor preached :—
Where our kings have been crowned, their ancestors lie interred,
and they must walk over their grandsire's head to take bis crown.
There is an acre sown with royal seed, the copy of the greatest change,
from rich to naked, from ceiled roof to arched coffins, from living like
gods to die like men. . . . There the warlike and the peaceful, the
fortunate and the miserable, the beloved and the despised princes
mingle tbeir dust, and pay down their symbol of mortality, and tell
all tbe world that, when we die, our ashes shall be equal to kings', and
our accounts easier, and our pains or our crowns shall be less.4
So, before Waller and Jeremy Taylor, had spoken Francis
Beaumont : —
Mortality, behold and fear !
What a change of flesh is here :
Think bow many royal bones
Sleep within these heaps of stones :
Here tbey lye, bad realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir tbeir bands.
Here, from tbeir pulpits seal'd with dust,
Tbey preach, ' In greatness is no trust ! '
1 See Mr. Clark's description of it 3 On St. James's Park.
in Vacation Tourists, 1862, p. 239. 4 Rides of Holy Duina, vol. iv.
* Chapter II. p. 344.
CHAP. in. PECULIARITIES OF WESTMINSTER. 99
Here's an acre, sown indeed,
With the richest royallest seed,
That the earth did e'er drink in,
Since the first man dy'd for sin.
Here the bones of birth have cry'd,
' Though gods they were, as men they dy'd.'
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings.
Here's a world of pomp and state,
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.
The royal sepultures of Westminster were also remarkable
from their connection not only with the coronation, but with
2. com- the residence of the English Princes. The burial-
theaBu0ria°is places which, in this respect, the Abbey most re-
KJ)yaithe sembles, were those of the Kings of Spain and the
Kings of Scotland. ' In the Escurial, where the
' Spanish princes live in greatness and power, and decree war
' or peace, they have wisely placed a cemetery, where their
' ashes and their glory shall sleep till time shall be no more.' l
The like may be said of Dunfermline and of Holyrood, where
the sepulchral Abbey and the Eoyal Palace are as contiguous
as at Westminster. There has, however, been a constant ten-
dency to separate the two. The Escurial is now almost as
desolate as the stony wilderness of which it forms a part. The
vault of the House of Hapsburg, in the Capuchin Church at
Vienna, is far removed from the Imperial Palace. The royal
race of Savoy rests on the steep heights of St. Michael and of
the Superga. The early Kings of Ireland reposed in the now
deserted mounds of Clonmacnoise,2 by the lonely windings of
the Shannon, as the early Kings of Scotland on the distant and
sea-girt rock of lona. The Kings of France not only were not
crowned at St. Denys, but they never lived there — never came
there. The town was a city of convents. Louis XIV. chose
Versailles for his residence because from the terrace at St.
Germain's he could still see the hated towers of the Abbey
where he would be laid. But the Kings of England never
seem to have feared the sight of death. The Anglo-Saxon
1 Jeremy Taylor, Rules of Holy ' yard which holds the best blood of
Diji»g, vol. iv. 344. ' Ireland on the banks of the Shannon.'
2 ' How impressive the living splen- Petrie's remarks on Clonmacnoise,
' dour of the national mausoleum of quoted in his Life by Dr. Stokes (p.
' England on the banks of the Thames, 33).
' as compared with the neglected grave -
H 2
100 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. HI.
Kings had for the most part been buried at Winchester, where
they were crowned, and where they lived. The English Kings,
as soon as they became truly English, were crowned, and lived,
and died for many generations, at Westminster ; and, even
since they have been interred elsewhere, it is still under the
shadow of their grandest royal residence, in St. George's Chapel,
or in the precincts of Windsor Castle. Their graves, like their
thrones, were in the midst of their own life and of the life of
their people.1
There is also a peculiar concentration of interest attached
to the deaths and funerals of Kings in those days of our history
3. impor- with which we are here chiefly concerned. If the
the°Royai coronations of sovereigns were then far more im-
portant than they are now, so were their funeral
pageants. ' The King never dies,' is a constitutional maxim of
which, except in very rare instances, the truth is at once re-
cognised in all constitutional and in most modern monarchies.
But hi the Middle Ages, as has been truly remarked, the very
reverse was the case. ' When the King died, the State seemed
' to die also. The functions of government were suspended.
' Felons were let loose from prison ; for an offence against the
' law was also an offence against the King's person, which
' might die with him, or be wiped out in the contrite promises
' of his last agony.2 The spell of the King's peace became
' powerless. The nobles rushed to avenge their private quarrels
' in private warfare. On the royal forests, with their unpopular
' game, a universal attack was made. The highroads of com-
' merce became perilous passes, or were obstructed ; and a
' hundred vague schemes of ambition were concocted every day
' during which one could look on an empty throne and power-
' less tribunals.' In short, the funeral of the sovereign was
the eclipse of the monarchy. Twice only, perhaps, in modern
times has this feeling in any degree been reproduced, and then
not in the case of the actual sovereign : once on the death of
the queenlike Princess, Charlotte ; and again on the death of the
kinglike Prince, Albert.
1 See Chapter IV. prison in every county in England.
2 So William I. : ' Sicut opto salvari (Hoveden.) I owe these references, as
' et per misericordiam Dei a meis rea- well as the passage itself, to an unpub-
' tibus absolvi, sic omnes mox car- lished lecture of Professor Vaughau.
' ceres jubeo aperiri.' (Ordericm Vit.) Compare the description of Rome after
Henry II.'s widow, 'for the sake of a pope's decease in Mr. Cartwright's
' the soul of her Lord Henry,' had Papal Conclaves, p. 42.
offenders of all kinds discharged from
CHAP. in. BURIALS OF MEDIAEVAL KINGS. 101
In those early times of England, there was another meaning
of more sinister import attached to the royal funerals. They
4. Publicity furnished the security to the successor that the pre-
Punerais. decessor was really dead. Till the time of Henry VII.
the royal corpses lay in state, and were carried exposed on biers,
to satisfy this popular demand. More than once the body of a
King, who had died under doubtful circumstances, was laid
out in St. Paul's or the Abbey, with the face exposed, or bare
from the waist upwards, that the suspicion of violence might
be dispelled.1
There was yet beyond this a general sentiment, intensified
by the religious feeling of the Middle Ages, which brought the
5. con- funerals and tombs of princes more directly into con-
the Burials nection with the buildings where they were interred.
errices The natural grief of a sovereign, or of a people, for
church. the death of a beloved predecessor vents itself in the
grandeur of the monuments which it raises over their graves.
The sumptuous shrine on the coast of Caria, which Artemisia
built for her husband Mausolus, and which has given its name
to all similar structures — the magnificent Taj at Agra — the
splendid memorials which commemorate the loss of the lamented
Prince of our own day— are examples of the universality of this
feeling, when it has the opportunity of indulging itself, under
every form of creed and climate. But in the Middle Ages this
received an additional impulse, from the desire on the part of
the Kings, or their survivors, to establish, through their monu-
mental buildings and their funeral services, a hold, as it were,
on the other world. The supposed date of the release of the
soul of a Plantagenet King from Purgatory was recorded in
the English chronicles with the same certainty as any event in
his life.2 And to attain this end — in proportion to the de-
votional sentiment, sometimes wre must even say in proportion
to the weaknesses and vices, of the King — services were multi-
plied and churches adorned at every stage of the funeral, and
with a view to the remotest ages to which hope or fear could
look forward. The desire to catch prayers by all means, at
all times and places, for the departed soul, even led to the
dismemberment of the royal corpse ; that so, by a heart here,
1 Bichard II., Henry VI., Edward vision of the release of Richard I. de-
IV., and Richard III. (at Leicester). scribed by the Bishop of Rochester, in
(Maskell, vol. iii. p. Ixviii.) preaching at Sittingbourne). I owe
- Roger of Wendover and Matthew the reference to Professor Vaughan.
Paris, A.D. 1232 (in speaking of the
102 THE KOYAL TOMBS. CHAP. m.
entrails there, and the remainder elsewhere, the chances of
assistance beyond the grave might be doubled or trebled.1
The sepulchral character of Westminster Abbey thus be-
came the frame on which its very structure depended. In its
successive adornments and enlargements, the minds of its
royal patrons sought their permanent expression, because they
regarded it as enshrining the supreme act of their lives. The
arrangements of an ancient temple were, as has been well re-
marked, from its sacrificial purpose, those of a vast slaughter-
house ; the arrangements of a Dominican church or modern
Nonconformist chapel are those of a vast preaching-house ; the
arrangements of Westminster Abbey gradually became those of
a vast tomb-house.
The first beginning of the Eoyal Burials at Westminster is
uncertain. Sebert and Ethelgoda were believed to lie by the
entrance of the Chapter House.2 A faint tradition
speaks of the interment of Harold Harefoot in West-
Harefoot. minster.3 But his body was dug up by Hardicanute,
decapitated, and afterwards cast into the adjacent marsh or
into the Thames, and then buried by the Danes in their grave-
yard, where now stands the Church of St. Clement Danes. It
Edward the was *ne grave of Edward the Confessor which eventu-
confessor. aj]y (jrew the other royal sepulchres around it.4 Such
a result of the burial of a royal saint or hero has been almost
universal. But though his charters enumerate the royal
sepultures as amongst the privileges of Westminster, the
custom grew but slowly. In the first instance it may have
indicated no more than his personal desire to be interred in the
edifice whose building he had watched with so much anxious
care ; and his Norman successors were buried on the
Conqueror . , , . , . . ..
at caen. same principle, each in his own favourite sanctuary,
wiiiiam unless some special cause intervened. The Conqueror
Winchester, was buried at Caen, in the abbey which he had dedi-
cated to St. Stephen ; William Eufus at Winchester,5 from
1 Arch. xxix. 181. his murder at Delft drew round it the
2 See Chapter I. great Protestant House of Orange ; so
s Saxon Chron. A.D. 1040 ; Widmore, round St. Louis at St. Denys gathered
p. 11. the Kings of France ; so round St.
4 So the grave of St. Columba at Stanislaus at Cracow the Kings of
lona, and the grave of St. Margaret Poland ; so round Peter the Great at
at Dunfermline, became the centres of St. Petersburg the subsequent princes
the sepultures of the Kings of Scot- of the Romanoff dynasty.
land; so the interment of William s Ord. Vit. (A.D. 1110), x. 14, by a
the Silent by the accidental scene of confusion makes it Westminster.
CHAP. in. BURIALS OF THE NORMAN KINGS. 103
his sudden death in the neighbouring forest ; Henry I. at
Reading, in the abbey founded out of his father's treasure for
his father's soul ; Stephen in his abbey at Faversham ;
Reading! Henry II.1 in the great Angevin Abbey of Fontevrault
Faversham. (the foundation of Robert Arbrissel, by the ' fountain of
FonteVrautt. ' the robber Evrard '). His eldest son Henry was buried
•tponte- at Rouen. In that same city, because it was so hearty
and cordial to him,2 was laid the ' large 3 lion heart ' of
Richard ; whilst his bowels, as his least honoured parts, lay
among the Poitevinsr whom he least honoured, at Chaluz,
where he was killed. But his body rested at Fontevrault, at his
father's feet, in token of sorrow for his unfilial conduct, to be,
as it were, his father's footstool4 — in the robes which he had
worn at his second coronation at Westminster.5 John's wife,
Isabella, was interred at Fontevrault,6 and his own heart was
John at placed there in a golden cup ; but he himself was laid
Worcester. a^ Worcester, for a singularly characteristic reason.
With that union of superstition and profaneness so common in
the religious belief of the Middle Ages, he was anxious to elude
after death the demons whom he had so faithfully served in
life. For this purpose he not only gave orders to wrap his
body in a monk's cowl, but to bury it between two saints. The
royal cathedral of Worcester, which John had specially favoured
in life, possessed two Saxon saints, in close juxtaposition ; and
between these two, Wulfstan and Oswald, the wicked King
was laid.
But meanwhile an irresistible instinct had been drawing
the Norman princes towards the race of their English sub-
jects, and therefore towards the dust of the last Saxon King.
Along with the annual commemoration of the victory of the
Normans at Hastings, and of the Danes at Assenden, were
1 Kishanger, p. 428 ; Hoveden, p. foundation. The heart, under an effigy
654. of the King, was found in the choir
- Fuller's Church History, A.D. 1189. of Rouen Cathedral on July 31, 1838,
3 ' Grossitudine praestans.' See^rc/i. and is now in the Museum at Rouen,
xxix. 210. (Arctueologia, xxix. 203.) The body
4 In a work published at Angers in of Prince Henry was found there in
1866 (L'Abbaye de Fontevrault, Notice 1866.
Historiqiie, p. 76), by Lieut. Malifaud, s Anglia Sacra, i. 304. See Chap-
it is stated that the bones of Richard I., ter II.
gathered together by an inhabitant of 6 For a full account of the fate of
Fontevrault, on the spoliation of the the monuments at Fontevrault down
tombs in 1793, were given to England, to the present time, see M. Malifaud's
' et rcposent aujourd'hui dans I'Abbaye work, pp. 76, 77.
' de Westminster.1 This is without
104 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. m.
celebrated in the Abbey the anniversaries of Ernma,1 the
Confessor's mother, and of Ethelred his father. Edith, his
wife ' of venerable memory,' lay beside him. And now to join
Queen them came the ' good Queen Maud,' daughter of Mal-
colm Canmore and Margaret, and thus niece of Edgar
and granddaughter of Edward Atheling, who had awakened in
the heart of Henry I. a feeling towards her Anglo-Saxon kins-
folk such as no other of the Conqueror's family had known.
The importance of the marriage is indicated by the mass of
elaborate scruples that had to be set aside to accomplish it.
She, a veiled nun, had become a wedded wife for this great
object. It was supposed to be a fulfilment of the Confessor's
last prophetic apologue, in which he described the return of the
severed branch to the parent tree.2 Henry's own sepulchral
abbey at Reading was built by him chiefly to expiate his
father's sins against the English.3 His royal chapel at Windsor
bore the name of the Confessor, till it was dedicated by Edward
III. to St. George.4 He and she received from the Normans
the derisive epithets of ' Goodric ' and ' Godiva.' 5 Her own
name was Edith,6 after her grand-aunt, the Confessor's wife.
In deference to Norman prejudices she changed it to ' Matilda.'
But she devoted herself with undisguised ardour to the Abbey
where her kinsman Edward and her namesake Edith lay buried.
Often she came there, in haircloth and barefooted, to pay her
devotions.7 She increased its relics by the gift of a large part
of the hair of Mary Magdalene.8 The honour of her sepulture
was claimed by the old Anglo-Saxon sanctuary at Winchester,9
by the Abbey of Reading,10 and by the Cathedral of St.
Paul's.11 But there is no reason to doubt the tradition
that she lies on the south side of the Confessor's Shrine,12 and
1 Consuetudines of Abbot Ware (pp. 8 Dart. i. 37 ; Fordun, Scotichroni-
566, 568, 582, 583, 587, 590). These con, pp. 480, 642.
celebrations may have been instituted 9 Eudborne, p. 277.
only in the time of Henry III., but I0 Strickland's Queens, i. 187.
they are probably of earlier date. Edith n Langtoft (Wright), i. 462.
is called ' Collaterana uxor.' « Waverley Ann. ; Ord. Vit. A.D.
* See Chapters I and III. 1118.— The statement is that she was
3 Rudborne, Anglia Sacra, i. 262. first buried at the entrance of the
1 Annals of Windsor, p. 27. Chapter House, and then removed by
* See William of Malmesbury, p. Henry IH. to the side of the Con-
156. Knyghton, c. 2375, says Henry's fessor's Shrine. Fordun gives it as
nickname was ' Godrych Godefadyr.' ' post magnum altare in oratorio.' It
* Ord. Vit. A.D. 1118. Her brothers, has sometimes been alleged, in confir-
in like manner, had almost all Saxon mation of this, that at the north-west
names— Edgar, Edward, Ethelred. angle of the pavement, by Edward I.'s
7 Ibid. p. 712. See Chapter I. tomb, was read the word" Rigina, and
CHAP. in. THE TOMBS OF THE NORMANS. 105
is thus the first ro}'al personage so interred since the troubles of
the Conquest.1
Henry II. carried the veneration for Edward's remains a
step farther. At the instigation of Becket, he procured from
Pope Alexander II. the Bull of Canonisation, which Innocent II.
had refused.2 The Abbot Lawrence preached a sermon, enume-
rating the virtues and miracles of the Confessor. Osbert de
Clare, the Prior, who had already made an unsuccessful ex-
pedition to Koine for the same object, under his predecessor
Gervase, compiled the account out of which was ultimately
composed the Life of the Confessor by Ailred, Abbot of
Eievaulx, and brought back the Bull of Canonisation in triumph.
First trans- At midnight on the 13th of October, 1163, Lawrence,
Edwardthe m n^s new-born dignity of mitred Abbot, accompanied
octfi3*°r' by Becket, opened the grave before the high altar,
and saw — it was said, in complete preservation — the
body of the dead King. Even the long, white, curling beard
wras still visible. The ring of St. John was taken out and
deposited as a relic.3 The vestments (with less reverence than
we should think permissible) were turned into three splendid
copes. An Irishman and a clerk from Winchester were cured
of some malady, supposed to be demoniacal possession. The
whole ceremony ended with the confirmation of the celebrated
Gilbert Folliott as Bishop of London.4
The final step was taken by Henry III. It may be that the
idea of making the Shrine of Edward the centre of the burial-
place of his race did not occur to him till after he had already
become interested in the building. His first work — what was
called ' the new work ' — was not the church itself, but an
addition suggested by the general theological sentiment of the
time. The beginning of the thirteenth century was remarkable
for the immense development given, by the preaching of St.
that she was laid underneath the pave- of the Shrine is decisive both as to the
ment on which his tomb was after- fact and the position of the grave. See
wards raised. But the inscription is also Smith's Westminster, p. 155.
(as I have ascertained by careful ex- ' The anniversary of her daughter,
animation) a mere fragment of a slab the Empress Maude, was celebrated in
removed from elsewhere, to make the the Abbey. (Ware, p. 568.)
covering of .what is evidently the mere 2 See Akerman, i. 109.
substructure of Edward I.'s tomb ; and 3 Gleanings, p. 132.
the words upon it are MINIS. KEGINI — 4 Bidgway, p. 44. — He was trans-
a portion of a broken inscription. But lated from Hereford, the first instance
the statement of Abbot Ware (Consue- of a canonical translation of an English
tudines, p. 560), that Matilda was on bishop. (Le Neve's Fasti, ii. 282.)
the south and Edith on the north side
106 THE EOYAL TOMBS. CHAP. in.
Bernard, to the worship of the Virgin Mary.1 In architecture
it was exhibited by the simultaneous prolongation of almost
Foundation every great cathedral into an eastern sanctuary, a
new place of honour behind the altar, ' the Lady
' Chapel.' Such a chapel was dedicated at the eastern
extremity of the Abbey by the young King Henry III., on
Whitsun Eve,2 the day before his coronation. The first offering
laid upon its altar were the spurs worn by the King in that
ceremony.3 Underneath was buried Abbot Barking, who probably
claimed the merit of having been his adviser. His abbacy was
long regarded in the convent as the passage from an old world
to a new.4
Henry's long reign was a marked epoch, alike for England
and for the Abbey. It was the first which can be called pacific,5
Rei nof partly from his defects, partly from his virtues. He
Henry m. wag t^e first English King— that is to say (like
George III.) the first of his family born in England and no
longer living in a continental dependency. This great boon of
a race of Princes who could look on England as their home,
had been conferred on our Kings and on our country by the
losses of his father, John ' Lackland.'
Sterile and obscure as is that portion of our annals, it is there that
we must seek for the origin of our freedom, our prosperity, and our
glory. Then it was that the great English people was formed, that
the national character began to exhibit those peculiarities which it has
ever since retained, and that our fathers become emphatically islanders
— islanders not merely in geographical position, but in their politics,
their feelings, and their manners. Then first appeared with distinct-
ness that Constitution which has ever since, through all changes,
preserved its identity ; that Constitution of which all the other free
constitutions in the world are copies, and which, in spite of some
defects, deserves to be regarded as the best under which any great
society has ever yet existed during many ages. Then it was that the
House of Commons, the archetype of all the representative assemblies
which now meet, either in the Old or in the New World, held its first
sittings. Then it was that the Common Law rose to the dignity of a
science, and rapidly became a not unworthy rival of the imperial jur.s-
1 Montalembert's Histoire de Ste. for that purpose by Queen Philippa.
Elisabeth, p. 21.— The girdle of the (Widmore, p. 65.)
Virgin deposited in the Abbey (see 2 See Chapter II. 3 Pauli, i. 517.
Chapter I.) was, like that at Mount 4 See Chapter V.
Athos, used for averting the perils of * This is well brought out in Eogers's
childbirth, and was often employed History of Prices, i. 3.
CHAP. in. THE REBUILDING OF THE ABBEY. 107
prudence. Then it was that the courage of those sailors who manned
the rude barks of the Cinque Ports first made the flag of England
terrible on the seas. Then it was that the most ancient colleges
which still exist at both the great national seats of learning were founded.
Then was formed that language, less musical indeed than the languages
of the South, but in force, in richness, in aptitude for all the highest
purposes of the poet, the philosopher, and the orator, inferior to that
of Greece alone. Then appeared the first faint dawn of that noble
literature, the most splendid and the most durable of the many glories
of England.1
Then too arose, in its present or nearly in its present form,
the building which was destined to combine all these together,
the restored Abbey of Westminster — ' the most lovely and
English ' loveable thing in Christendom.' 2 It sprang, in the
Henry UL first instance, out of the personal sentiment, uncon-
sciously fostered by these general influences, of the young King
towards his Anglo-Saxon ancestors. Henry prided himself on
his descent from Alfred, through the good Matilda. He deter-
mined to take up his abode in Westminster, beside the Con-
fessor's tomb. In the Abbey was solemnised his own marriage
with Eleanor of Provence, as well as that of his 3 brother Richard,
Earl of Cornwall, with his second wife Sanda, sister of Eleanor,
— and of4 his second son Edward, Earl of Lancaster, to Avelina,
daughter of the Earl of Albemarle. His sons were the first of
the English Princes who were called by Anglo-Saxon names.
His first-born — the first Prince ever born at Westminster, and
therefore called, after it, Edward of Westminster 5 — received his
name from the Anglo-Saxon patron of Westminster ; and was
the first of that long series of ' Edwards,' which, though broken
now and then by the necessities of intervening dynasties, is the
one royal name that constantly reappears to assert its un-
changing hold on the affections of the English people. His
second son was in like manner named Edmund, after the other
royal Anglo-Saxon saint, in whose abbey the King himself died,
and to whom he had in life paid reverence only second to that
due to St. Edward.
1 Macaulay's History of England, * Nov. 22 or 23, 1243 ; Eot. Parl. 28
vol. i. p. 47. Hen. III.
2 So called by one well qualified to 4 April 9, 1269, Harl. MS. 530, fol. 60.
judge, Mr. Street (Essay on the Influ- s He was sometimes called Edward
ence of Foreign Art on English Archi- III., reckoning Edward the Elder and
tecture in tlie Church and the World, Edward the Confessor as the first and
p. 402). second. (Opus Chronicorum, p. 37.)
108 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. in.
The concentration of this English Edwardian passion upon
the Abbey of Westminster was encouraged by many converging
His imi- circumstances in the reign of Henry III. It is possible
sttlDents. that, as the visit of the Saxon ambassadors to Reims
may have led to the first idea of a Royal Abbey in the mind of
the Confessor, so the rebuilding and re-embellishment of the
Abbey of St. Denys by Louis IX. suggested the idea of a place
of royal sepulture to the mind of Henry III.1 Before that time
the Kings of France, like the Kings of England, had been buried
in their own private vaults ; thenceforth they were buried round
the tomb of Dagobert.
Again the erection of a new and splendid Church was the
natural product of Henry's passionate devotion to sacred ob-
ms devo- servances, strong out of all proportion to the natural
tion- feebleness of his character. Even St. Louis seemed to
him but a lukewarm Rationalist. He kept the French peers in
Paris so long waiting, by stopping to hear mass at every church
he passed, that Louis caused all the churches on the road to be
shut. When in France, he lived not in the royal palace, but
in a monastery. On Henry's declaring that he could not stay
in a place which was under an interdict, the French King com-
plained, and added, ' You ought to hear sermons, as well as
' attend mass.' 2 ' I had rather see my friend than hear him
' talked about,' 3 was the reply of the enthusiastic Henry. He
would not be content with less than three 4 masses a day, and
held fast to the priest's hand during the service.5
With this English and devotional sentiment the King com-
bined a passionate addiction to art in all its forms, which
Hisaddic- carried him far beyond the limits of his own country,
foreign art. His visits to France recalled to him the glories of
Amiens, Beauvais, and Reims.6 His marriage with Eleanor 7
of Provence opened the door for the influx of foreign princes,
ecclesiastics, and artists into London. The Savoy Palace was
their centre.
1 This rivalry with St. Denys appears 4 Four or five. (Opus Chronicorum,
in his anxiety to outdo it by the relic p. 35.)
of the Holy Blood. (Matthew Paris, * Rishanger, Chronica, p. 75.
» Rishanger, Chronica, p. 75 ; Trivet, ' Gkaningt, 20-
p. 280. (Pauli, i. 842.) 7 The arms of her father, the Earl of
3 Rishanger and Trivet, ibid. — The Provence, are sculptured in the south
author of the Opus Chronicorum (p. 36) aisle of the Nave, and were painted in
gives this as Henry's reply to a preach- the windows of the Chapter-house and
ing friar, who was angry at the King's elsewhere. (Sandford, 95.)
delay in coming to his sermon.
CHAP. in. THE REBUILDING OF THE ABBEY. 109
Of this union of religious feeling with foreign and artistic
tendencies, the whole Abbey, as rebuilt by Henry, is a monu-
ment. He determined that his new Church was to be in-
comparable for beauty, even in that great age of art.1 Its
Chapter House, its ornaments, clown to the lecterns, were to be
superlative of their kind. On it foreign painters and sculptors
were invited to spend their utmost skill. ' Peter the Roman
' citizen ' was set to work on the Shrine, where his name can
still be read. The mosaics were from Rome, brought by the
Abbot, who now by his newly-won exemption from the juris-
diction of the see of London had been forced to make his
journey to the imperial city for the sake of obtaining the Papal
confirmation.2 The pavement thus formed and the twisted
columns which stand round the Shrine, exactly resemble the
like ornaments of the same date, in the Basilicas of St. John
Lateran, St. Paul, St. Laurence, and St. Clement at Rome.
Mosaics and enamel were combined throughout in a union
found nowhere else in England. Many of the details of the
tombs of Henry III. and Edward the Confessor are strictly
classical. The architectural style of this portion of the building
is French rather than English. The radiation of the polygonal
chapels round the Choir and the bar tracery of the windows
are especially French.3 The arrangement to which the King
was driven, perhaps, from the necessity of providing space for
the new Shrine, is Spanish.4 Eleanor of Castille, his daughter-
in-law, must have recognised hi the Choir, brought far into the
Nave, the likeness of the ' Coro ' in the cathedrals of her native
country.
In the prosecution of his work another less pleasing feature
of the King's character was brought into play. He was a
Prince of almost proverbial extravagance. His motto
His extra- *
vagance. was> < Qu{ non (Jat quod habet, non accipit ille quod
' optat.' 5 Recklessly did he act on this principle always, and
never more so than in erecting the Abbey. Unlike most
cathedrals, it was built entirely at the cost of the Crown. The
Royal Abbey, as in the Confessor's time so in Henry's, is
1 Wykes, p. 84. See Chapter V. Street, On the Influence of Foreign Art
' Mirse pulchritudinis ' is the phrase in England, p. 402.
used of it in a document in the Archives 4 Street's Gothic Architecture in
of St. Paul's. Spain, p. 418.
2 See Chapter V. ; Gleanings of 5 Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting
Westminster Abbey, p. 60; and Fer- (Wornum), p. 20; Hardy, Preface to
gusson's Handbook, ii. 18. the Liberate Rolls of King John, xii.
3 See Gleanings, pp. 19-24 ; and Mr. note (1).
110 THE EOYAL TOMBS. CHAP. m.
absolutely a royal gift. The sums, in our money amounting to
half-a-million, were snatched here and there, from high quarters
or from low, with desperate avidity. There was a special office
for the receipts. The widow of a Jew furnished £2590 ; l the
vacancy of the Abbot's seat at Westminster 100 marks. A
fair was established in Tothill Fields, with a monopoly for this
sole purpose. The King himself took out of other abbeys what
he had spent on Westminster, by living on them to ease the
expenses of his own maintenance,2 and again took from the
Abbey itself the jewels which he had given to it, and pawned
them for his own necessities. The enormous exactions have
left their lasting traces on the English Constitution, in no less
a monument than the House of Commons, which rose into ex-
istence as a protest against the King's lavish expenditure on
the mighty Abbey which it confronts.3
The rise of the whole institution thus forms a new epoch at
once in English history and English architecture. With the
Demolition usual disregard which each generation, in the Middle
church°ld ^-§es ^ar more *nan m our °'VVI1' entertains towards
1245- ' the taste of those who have gone before, the massive
venerable pile, consecrated by the recollections of the Confessor
and the Conqueror, was torn down, as of no worth at all, ' nullius
' omnino valoris.'4
Ecclesiam stravit istam qui tune renovavit,
was the inscription once written on Henry's tomb, which
The New described this mediaeval vandalism. He rebuilt ex-
churcu. actly as far as the Confessor had built. A fragment
of the nave alone was left standing. But the central tower,
the choir, the transepts, the cloisters, all disappeared ; 5 and in
their place arose a building, which the first founder would as
little have recognised, as the Norman style would have been
recognised by Sebert, or the style of Wren by the Plantagenets.
It was a ' new minster,'6 of which St. Edward became the
patron saint, almost to the exclusion of St. Peter.7 For him
The shrine the Shrine was prepared, as the centre of all this
confessor, magnificence. It was erected, like all the shrines of
great local saints, at the east of the altar, by a new and strange
1 Akennan, i. 241. of Henry III.'s work can be traced im-
2 Fuller, book iii. ; Arch. xiii. 36, mediately at the west of the crossing.
37. (Gleanings, 31.)
3 See Chapter V. « Capgrave, p. 89.
4 "\Vykes, p. 89. 7 Bedman'sflenry V., p. 69; Smith's
4 Matthew Paris, p. 661. The end Westminster, p. 60.
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TOMBS IN THE CHAPEL OF THE KINGS.
112 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. m.
arrangement, as peculiar to the thirteenth century as the
numerous theological doctrines which then first assumed con-
sistency and shape. But, in order to leave standing the Lady
Chapel, which the King had already built in his youth, the
high altar was moved westward to its present central position.
A mound of earth, the last funeral ' tumulus ' in England, was
erected between this and the Lady Chapel, and on its summit
was raised the tomb in which the body of the Confessor was to
be laid.1 On each side, standing on the two twisted pillars
which now support the western end of the Shrine, were statues
of the Confessor and St. John as the mysterious pilgrim.
Bound the Choir was hung arras, representing on one side the
thief and Hugolin, on the other the royal coronations.2 The
top of the Shrine was doubtless adorned with a splendid taber-
nacle, instead of the present woodwork. The lower part was
rich with gilding and colours. The inscription, now detected
only at intervals, ran completely round it, ascribing the work-
manship to Peter of Eome, and celebrating the Confessor's
virtues. The arches underneath were ready for the patients,
who came to ensconce themselves there for the sake of receiving
from the sacred corpse within the deliverance from the ' King's
' Evil,' which the living sovereign was believed 3 to communicate
by his touch. An altar stood at its western end, of which all
trace has disappeared, but for which a substitute has ever since
existed, at the time of the Coronations, in a wooden movable
table.4 At the eastern end of the Shrine two steps still remain,
deeply hollowed out by the knees of the successive pairs of
pilgrims who knelt at that spot.5
That corpse was now to be ' translated ' from the coffin in
The «econd wnicn Henry II. had laid it, with a pomp which was
t£nsoct is Pr°bably suggested to the King by the recollection
1269. ' Of the grandest ceremony of the kind that England
had ever seen, at which he in his early boyhood had assisted —
1 Originally the Shrine was probably ' then shown Edward the Confessor's
visible all down the church. Not till ' tomb, upon which Sir Roger ac-
the time of Henry VI. was raised the ' quainted us that he was the first who
screen which now conceals it. On the ' touched for the Evil.' (Spectator,
summit of the screen stood a vast 321.)
crucifix, with the usual accompanying 4 Dart, i.*54.
figures, and those of the two Apostles, s A fragment of the Shrine, found
St. Peter and St. Paul. See Gleanings, in repairing the walls of Westminster
plates xx. and xxvii. school in 1868, was replaced in its
- Till 1644. Weever, p. 45. original position, after a separation of
s This was the one remark made three centuries,
on the Shrine by Addison— 'We were
CHAP. in. TOMB OF HENRY III. 113
the translation of the remains of St. Thomas of Canterbury.1
It was on the same day of the month that had witnessed the
former removal on the occasion of Edward's canonisation.
The King had lived to see the completion of the whole Choir
and east end of the church. He was growing old. His family
were all gathered round him, as round a Christmas hearth,2
for the last time together — Richard his brother, Edward and
Edmund his two sons, Edward with Eleanor just starting for
Palestine : ' As near a way to heaven,' she said, ' from Syria
' as from England or Spain.' They supported the coffin of the
Confessor,3 and laid him in the spot where (with the exception
of one short interval) he has remained ever since. The day was
commemorated by its selection as the usual time when the
King held his Courts and Parliaments.
Behind the Shrine, where now stands the Chantry of
Henry V., were deposited the sacred relics, presented to the
King twenty years before by his favourite Order the
Templars. Amongst them may be noticed the tooth
of St. Athanasius, the stone which was believed to show the foot-
print of the ascending Saviour,4 and (most highly prized of all)
a phial containing some drops of the Holy Blood. This was
carried in state by the King himself from St. Paul's to the
Abbey ; and it was on the occasion of its presentation, and of
Prince Edward's knighthood, that Matthew Paris, the monk of
St. Albans, was present (much as a modern photographer or
artist attends a state ceremony at royal command), to give an
exact account of what he saw, and to be rewarded afterwards by
a dinner in the newly-finished refectory.5
With the Templars, who gave these precious offerings, it
had been the King's original intention to have been buried in
the Temple Church. But his interest in the Abbey grew
during the fifty years that he had seen it in progress, and his
determination became fixed that it should be the sepulchre of
himself and of the whole Plantagenet race. The short stout
ungainly old man, with the blinking left eye,6 and the curious
craft with which he wound himself out of the many difficulties
of his long and troublesome reign, such as made his contem-
1 Memorials of Canterbury, p. 193. cension on Mount Olivet ; another is
2 Ridgvay, p. 82. in the Mosque of Omar.
3 Wykes, p. 88 ; Ridgway, p. 63. 5 , , p . _
« M. Paris, p. 768 ; Widmore, p. 64. ris' PP- 73°-9'
One of these footprints is still shown 6 Rishanger, Chronica, p. 75 ; Trivet,
in the Mosque or Church of the As- p. 281.
114 THE KOYAL TOMBS. CHAP. in.
poraries regard him on both accounts as the lynx foretold by
Merlin,1 was at last drawing to his end. ' Quiet King Henry
' III., our English Nestor (not for depth of brains but for
' length of life), who reigned fifty-six years, in which time he
' buried all his contemporary princes in Christendom twice
* over. All the months in the year may be in a manner carved
' out of an April Day : hot, cold, dry, moist, fair, foul weather
' — just the character of this King's life — certain only in uncer-
' tainty ; sorrowful, successful, in plenty, in penury, in wealth,
' in want, conquered, conqueror.' 2
Domestic calamities crowded upon him : the absence of his
son Edward, the murder of his nephew Henry at Viterbo, the
Death of death of his brother Eichard. He died at the Abbey
NOT* IB, ' of St. Edmund at Bury, on the festival of the recently
2o,ri272.°v' canonised St. Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury
(Nov. 16), and was buried on the festival of St. Edmund the
Anglo-Saxon martyr (Nov. 20), in the Abbey of Westminster,
the Templars acknowledging their former connection by supply-
ing the funeral.3 The body was laid, not where it now rests,
but in the coffin, before the high altar, vacated by the removal
of the Confessor's bones, and still, as Henry might suppose,
sanctified by their odour.4 As the corpse sank into the grave,
the Earl of Gloucester, in obedience to the King's dying com-
mands, put his bare hand upon it, and swore fealty to the
heir-apparent, absent in Palestine. Edward, in his homeward
journey, was not unmindful of his father's tomb. He had
heard of the death of his son Henry,5 but his grief for him
was swallowed up in his grief for Henry his father. ' God may
' give me more sons, but not another father.' 6 From the East,
Building of or from France, he brought the precious marbles, the
his Tomb, • ° r
slabs of porphyry, with which, ten years afterwards,
the tomb was built up, as we now see it, on the north side of
the Confessor's Shrine ; and an Italian artist, Torel,7 carved
the eifigy which lies upon it.8 Yet ten more years passed, and
ms Re- m^° the finished tomb was removed the body of the King,
interment. Henry had in his earlier years, when at his ancestral
burial-place in Anjou, promised that his heart should be
1 Bishanger, Chronica, p. 75. the Archbishop of Canterbury. (See
* Fuller's Church History, A.D. Chapter V.)
1276. 6 Widmore, p. 76.
3 Dart, ii. 34. 7 Gleanings, p. 150; ^rc/z.xxix. 191.
4 Wykes, p. 98. • See Westmacott in Old London,
s He was buried in the Abbey by p. 187.
CHAP. in. TOMBS OF THE FAMILY OF HENRY III. 115
deposited with the ashes of his kindred in the Abbey of Fonte-
vrault. The Abbess,1 one of the grandest of her rank in France,
usually of the blood-royal, with the singular privilege of ruling
Delivery of both a monastery of men and a nunnery of women,
j>i«>s \vas in England at the time of the removal of Henry's
vrauit. 1291. body to the new tomb, and claimed the promise.
It was on this occasion that, under warrant from the King, in
the presence of his brother Edmund, and the two prelates
specially connected with the Westminster coronations, the
Bishops of Durham and of Bath and Wells, the heart was de-
livered in the Abbey into her hands — the last relic of the
lingering Plantagenet affection for their foreign home.2
Such was the beginning of the line of royal sepultures in
the Abbey; and so completely was the whole work identified
with Henry III., that when, in the reigns of Richard II. and
Henry V., the Xave was completed, the earlier style — contrary
to the almost universal custom of the mediaeval builders — was
continued, as if by a process of antiquarian restoration ; and
this tribute to Henry's memory is visible even in the armorial
bearings of the benefactors of the Abbey. To mark the date,
and to connect it with the European history of the time, the
Eagle of Frederick II., the heretical Emperor of Germany, the
Lilies of Louis IX., the sainted King of France, the Lion of
Alexander III., the doomed King of Scotland,3 had been fixed
on the walls of the Choir, where they may still in part be seen.
There, too, remains the only contemporary memorial which
England possesses of Simon de Montfort, founder of the House
of Commons.4 It was these and the like shields of nobles,
coeval with the building of Henry III.,5 not those of the later
, that were still continued on the walls of the Nave when
it was completed in the following centuries.
It would seem that, with the same domestic turn which
ippears in Louis Philippe's arrangement of the Orleans
See the description of the convent out to me, particula-ly in the case of
in the Memoirs of Mdlle. de Mont- Valence Earl of Pembroke, and Ferrers
pensier, i. 49^52. The Abbess in her Earl of Derby. Even the details of
time was called ' Madame de Fonte- Henry IH.'s architecture, though modi-
' vrauit,' and was a natural daughter fied in the Nave, were continued in the
of Louis XIII. Cloisters. The shield of the Confessor
• Dugdale's Monasticon, i. 312. is *h,e earliest of the kind the martlets
3 TV,- A- A- IQOO not having yet lost their legs. Seethe
Th s disappeared m 1829. account of a Mg descript]on of these
Gules-a lion rampant— double- shields in 1598, in the Proceedings of
tailed— argent, m N. isle. the Society of Antiquaries, Jan. 25,
s Sir Gilbert Scott has pointed this 1866.
i 2
1 1 6 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. m.
cemetery at Dreux, Henry at Westminster had provided for
the burial of his whole family in all his branches round him.1
1257 Twelve years before his own interment he had already
Catherine ^a^' m a 8maH richly-carved tomb by the entrance
chi'id?eneiof °f St. Edmund's Chapel, his dumb and very beautiful
Henry in. jj^tle daughter, of five years old, Catherine.2 Mass
was said daily for her in the Hermitage of Charing. Beside
her were interred his two other children who died young, and
whose figures were painted above her tomb — Eichard and John.3
The heart The heart of Henry, son of his brother Richard,
Henr£°i27i. who was killed in the cathedral at Viterbo by the
sons of Simon de Montfort, was brought home and placed in
a gold cup, by the shrine of the Confessor. The widespread
horror of the murder had procured, through this incident, the
one single notice of the Abbey in the 'Divina Commedia' of
Dante : —
Lo cor che 'n sul Tamigi ancor si cola.4
The king's half-brother, William de Valence, lies close by,
wuiiam de within the Chapel of St. Edmund, dedicated to the
i296euce second great Anglo-Saxon saint. This chapel seems
to have been regarded as of the next degree of sanctity to the
Royal Chapel of St. Edward. William was the son of Isabel,
widow of John, by her second marriage with the Earl of Marche
and Poictiers, and the favour shown to him and his wild
Poitevin kinsman by his brother was one cause of the King's
embroilment with the English Barons.5 His whole tomb is
French : its enamels from Limoges ; his birthplace Valence on
the Rhone, represented on his coat-of-arms. His son 6 Aymer
• — so called from the father of Isabel Aymer, Count of Angou-
leme — built the tomb ; and also secured for himself a still more
splendid resting-place on the north side of the sacrariurn,
1 Gleanings, p. 146; Arch. xxix. Alfonso [and Eleanor ?]. (See Crull, p.
188 ; Annals, A.D. 1283. 28.)
« Matt. Paris, p. 949. In the Li- . ' Ante's J^mu), xii 115 ; Glean-
berate Holl, 41 Henry III., is a payment f£'nV fflT^T °f Im?\a>
for her funeral on May 16. It was fomnfntlDg on this line, says: 'In
, , • T~I A u- »T quodam monasteno monachorum vo-
made by a mason m Dorsetshire, Master
j -nr 11 i. 1,1 TIT i cato loi Giiftniistcr. (Robertson s
Simeon de Well, probably Weal, near „-• tivr.. f .-, n-, -, ••• L., *
Corfe Castle, who also furnished the ' Hutoyof tte ChurcJim4&A.)
Purbeck marble for the tomb of John, , ' ^Tffi P' v? ! if™' $
eldest son of Edward I. (Pipe Bolls ' The tomb has been much injured
Dorset 41 H III ) I owe this to Mr since 168o. (Gleanings, p. b2.)
•D A '* rr ' ^ 6 His two other children, John and
Margaret, occupy the richly-enamelled
3 The arch is said to have been con- spaces at the foot of the Shrine,
structed by Edward I. as a memorial to (Crull, p. 156.) The name of their
his four young children— John, Henry, father is still visible upon the grave.
CHAP. m. TOMBS OF THE FAMILY OF HENRY III. 117
making one range of sepulchral monuments,1 with his cousins
Ave:ine, Edmund and Aveline. Aveline, the greatest heiress
:;,r°f in the kingdom, daughter of the Earl of Albemarle,
j:~;'m.ma, had been married to Edmund, in the Abbey, in 1269,
uocaster, shortly after the translation of the relics of the Con-
fessor. She died two years after her father-in-law the
King ; and was followed to the same illustrious grave by her
husband, twenty-three years later.2 He was the second son
of Henry. It is possible that his epithet, Crouchback, if not
derived from his humped back, was a corruption of Crossback
or Crusader. Whether it be so or not, he remains the chief
monument of the Crusading period.3 He and his brother
Edward started together before their father's death, and the ten
knights painted on the north side of his tomb have been sup-
posed to represent the gallant English band who engaged in
that last struggle to recover the Holy Land. If in this respect
he represents the close of the first period of the Middle Ages,
in two other respects he contains the germs of much of the
future history of England. First Earl of Lancaster, he was the
founder of that splendid house. Henry IV., with that curious
tenacity of hereditary right which distinguished his usurpation,
tried to maintain, that Edmund was really the eldest son of his
father, excluded, from the throne only by his deformity.4 From
Provins — where he resided on his return from the Holy Land,
with his second wife, Blanche of Navarre, and which he con-
verted almost into an English town — he brought back those
famous Eed roses, wrongly named ' of Provence,' planted there
by the Crusaders, from Palestine, which may be seen carved
on his tomb, and which became in after-days the badge of
the Lancastrian dynasty. His extravagance, with that of his
father, combined to produce that reaction in the English people
which led to the foundation of the House of Commons. And
the length of time which elapsed before his tomb was com-
pleted, arose from his own dying anxiety not to be buried till
all his debts were paid. He died in the same year as his half-
uncle William, but the tomb was evidently not erected till late
in the reign of Edward II.
These are but the eddies of the royal history. The main
1 See Old London, p. 194. 3 These tombs are architecturally
connected with those of Archbishop
2 Her tomb originally was raised Peckham at Canterbury, and Bishop
upon the present basement. (See Dart, De Luda at Ely. (Gleanings, p. 62.)
ii. 7, 10.) 4 Harding (Turner, ii. 273).
118 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. m.
stream flows through the Confessor's Chapel. Prince Edward
and Eleanor have returned from the Crusades. Eleanor is the
first to depart. The remembrance of their crusading kinsman,
Eleanor of St. Louis, never leaves them; and when Eleanor died
dfed'ifoV. a^ Hardby, the crosses which were erected at all the
halting-places of his remains, from Mont Cenis to
St. Denys, seem to have furnished the model of the twelve
memorial crosses which marked the passage of the ' Queen of
' good memory,' from Lincoln to Charing — ' Mulier pia, modesta,
' misericors, Anglicorum omnium amatrix.' l Her entrails were
left at Lincoln ; her heart was deposited in the Black-
friars' monastery in London ; but her body was placed
in the Abbey, at the foot of her father-in-law, just before the
removal of his own corpse into his new tomb. A hundred wax-
lights were for ever to burn around her grave on St. Andrew's
Eve, the anniversary of her death ; and each Abbot of West-
minster was bound by oath to keep up this service, before he
entered on his office, and the charter requiring it was read
aloud in the Chapter House. The Bishop of Lincoln buried
her ; a mortal feud between the Archbishop of Canterbury and
the Abbot of Westminster kept them from meeting at the
funeral.2
Eighteen years passed away. Edward had married a second
time. He had erected splendid tombs, of which we have pre-
viously spoken, to his father, his wife, and his uncle. He had
continued the Abbey for five bays westward into the Nave.3
The Chapel of the Confessor, where he had kept his vigil
before his knighthood, he had filled with trophies of war, most
alien to the pacific reign of his father — the Stone of Fate from
Scotland, and a fragment of the Cross from some remote
Alfonso, sanctuary of Wales.4 His little son Alfonso, called
isW. ' after his grandfather Alfonso of Castille, hung up with
his own hands before the shrine the golden crown of Llewellyn,
the last Welsh Prince, slain amongst the broom at Builth ; and
was himself, almost immediately afterwards, buried between
his brothers and sisters in the Abbey, whilst his heart lies with
his mother's in the Blackfriars' convent.5
And now Edward himself is brought from the wild village
1 See Memorials of Queen Eleanor ; 3 Gleanings, p. 32.
and Arch. xxix. 170-4, 181. « See Chapters II. and V.
'-' Memorials of Queen Eleanor, pp. s Matthew of Westminster, A.D.
175, 179 ; Old London, p. 187. 1284 ; Gleanings, p. 151.
CHAP. m. OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 119
of Burgh, on the Solway sands. For sixteen weeks he lay in
Death of Waltham Abbey by the grave of Harold; and then,
Friday,1 July almost f°ur months after his death, was buried by
Anthony Beck, Bishop of Durham, between his bro-
ther's and his father's tomb.1 The monument was not
His tomb, always so rude as it now appears. There are still
remains of gilding on its black2 Purbeck sides. A massive
canopy of wood overshadowed it, which remained till it dis-
appeared in a scene of uproar, which might have startled the
sleeping King below into the belief that the Scots had invaded
the sanctity of the Abbey, when, on the occasion of a midnight
funeral, the terrified spectators defended themselves with its
rafters against the mob.3
But, even in its earliest days, the plain tomb of the greatest
of the Plantagenets, without mosaic, carving, or effigy, amongst
the splendid monuments of his kindred, cries for explanation.
Two reasons are given. The first connects it with the in-
scription, which runs along its side : — ' EdVardus Primus
inscription, ' Scotorum malleus hie est, 1308. Pactum Serva.' 4 Is
serva/111 the unfinished tomb a fulfilment of that famous ' pact,'
which the dying King required of his son, that his flesh should
be boiled, his bones carried at the head of the English army
till Scotland was subdued, and his heart sent to the Holy Land,5
which he had vainly tried in his youth to redeem from the
1 Bishanger, Gesta Edwardi Primi, later date, as appears from the allusion
A.D. 1307. (Pauli, ii. 178.) to Queen Catherine's coffin (see p. 134) ;
2 That it is of Purbeck marble, and 4. All these royal inscriptions are ex-
that its base, as well as that of Henry actly similar in style, consisting of a
III.'s tomb, is of Caen stone, I am Latin hexameter, a date (in the case
assured by Professor Ramsay. This of Henry III. and Edward I. a wrong
disposes of a tradition that the stones date), and a moral maxim. Four in-
of Edward I.'s tomb were brought from scriptions still remain, in whole or in
Jerusalem. part — that of Edward I., Henry III.,
3 See Chapter IV. Henry V., and the Confessor. (See also
4 Lord Hailes (Scotland., i. 27) evi- Neale, ii. 69-109.) That of Edward I.
dently supposes this to allude to the has attracted more attention, both from
dying compact. But there can be no its intrinsic interest and from its more
doubt that the inscription is of far later conspicuous position.
date ; and the motto ' Pactum serva ' * Walsingham, A.D. 1307. — Two
is, in all probability, a mere moral thousand pounds in silver were laid up,
maxim, ' Keep your promise.' For — and 140 knights named for the expedi-
1. The inscription is of the same cha- tion. How deeply this expedition was
racter as that which runs round the impressed on popular feeling appears
Shrine of the Confessor, which has ob- from the allusion in the Elegy in Percy's
literated the larger part of the older Reliqws (ii. 9), with the Pope's lament —
inscription ; 2. That inscription is evi- ' Jerusalem, thou last y-lore [lost],
dently of the time of Abbot Feckenham The flower of all chivalry,
(see Chapter VI.) ; 3. The like inscrip- Now King Edward liveth no more,
tion on Henry V.'s tomb is also of a Alas, that he should die ! '
120 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. HI.
Saracens ? It is true that with the death of the King the
charms of the conquest of Scotland ceased. But it may possibly
have been ' to keep the pact ' that the tomb was left in this
rude state, which would enable his successors at any moment
to take out the corpse and carry off the heart. It may also
have been with a view to this that a singular provision was left
and enforced. Once every two years the tomb was to be opened,
and the wax of the King's cerecloth renewed. This renewal
constantly took place as long as his dynasty lasted, perhaps
with a lingering hope that the time would come when a vic-
torious English army would once more sweep through Scotland
with the conqueror's skeleton, or another crusade embark for
Palestine with that true English heart. The hour never came,
and when the dynasty changed with the fall of Eichard II., the
renewal of the cerement ceased. From that time the tomb
remained unfinished, but undisturbed, till, in the middle of
the last century, it was opened in the presence of the Society
of Antiquaries,1 and the King was found in his royal robes,
opening of wrapped in a large waxed linen cloth. Then for the
1771. last time was seen that figure, lean and tall, and erect
as a palm-tree,2 whether running or riding. But the long
shanks, which gave him his surname, were concealed in the
cloth of gold ; the eyes, with the cast which he had inherited
from his father, were no longer visible; nor the hair, which
had been yellow3 or silver-bright in childhood, black in youth,
and snow-white in age, on his high broad forehead. Pitch was
poured in upon the corpse, and as Walpole comically laments
in deploring the final disappearance of the crown, robes, and
sceptre, ' They boast now of having enclosed him so effectually,
' that his ashes cannot be violated again.'4
There is yet another explanation, to -which, even under any
circumstances, we must in part resort, and which carries us
wasteful- on to the next reign. ' As Malleus Scotorum, " the
ness of
" hammer or crusher of the Scots," is written on the
' tomb of King Edward I. in Westminster, so Incus Scotorum,
' " the anvil of the Scots," might as properly be written on the
' monument (if he had any) of Edward II.'3 His monument is
at Gloucester, as William Kufus's at Winchester, the nearest
1 Arch. iii. 376, 398, 399 ; Neale, ii. - Chron. Ro/. (Pauli, ii. 178.)
172 ; D'Israeli's Curiosities of Litera- 3 Bishanger, p. 76.
ture, iii. 81. — The corpse was six feet 4 Walpole's Letters, iv. 197.
two inches long. s Fuller's Church Hist. A.D. 1314.
CHAP. in. OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 121
church to the scene of his dreadful death. But he is not
without his memorial in the Abbey. That unfinished condition
HIS tomb at of the tomb of his father is the continued witness of
i8a£ce8 the wastefulness of the unworthy son, who spent on
himself the money which his father had left for the carrying
on of his great designs,1 if not for the completion of his
monument.2
But his son, John, surnamed, from his birth in that fine
old palace of Eltham, who died at Perth at the early age of nine-
teen, was expressly ordered to be removed from the spot where
Tomb of ^e was firs^ interred, to a more suitable place ' entre
' les royals,' 3 yet ' so as to leave room for the King
1334. < an(j kjs successors.' The injunction was either dis-
regarded, or was thought to be adequately fulfilled by his
interment in the quasi-royal Chapel of St. Edmund, under a
tomb which lost its beautiful canopy4 in the general crash of
the Chapel at the time of the Duchess of Northumberland's
funeral in the last century.
The whole period of the two Edwards is well summed up
in the tomb of Aymer de Valence, cousin of Edward L, planted,
Aymerde as we have seen, in the conspicuous spot between
Earfof6' Edmund and Aveline of Lancaster, — the tall pale man,
isHs. r° nicknamed by Gaveston ' Joseph the Jew,' 5 — the ruth-
less destroyer of Nigel Bruce, of Piers Gaveston, and of Thomas
of Lancaster. If the Scots could never forgive him for the
death of Nigel, neither could the English for the death of the
almost canonised Earl of Lancaster. ' No Earl of Pembroke,'
it was believed, ' ever saw his father afterwards : ' and Aymer 's
mysterious death in France was regarded as a judgment for
' consenting to the death of St. Thomas.' 6 Pembroke College
at Cambridge was founded by his widow, to commemorate the
terrible bereavement which, according to tradition, befell her
on her wedding-day.
The northern side of the Eoyal Chapel and its area — a
1 Walsingham, A.D. 1307. and 1777), iii. 745 ; Malcolm's Lond.
• In 1866, a slight memorial of some p. 258.
festival in Edward II.'s reign was » Capgrave, p. 252.
found in fragments of paper-hangings,
bearing his arms, affixed to the pillars " Leland ; Neale, ii. 273. — For the
near the altar. narrow escape of Aymer's tomb from
3 Archives. The Prior and Convent destruction in the last century, see
received £100 fine in lieu of the horses Chapter IV. Masses were said for
and armour. (Sandford, 155.) his soul in the Chapel of St. John,
4 For the canopy, see Chapter IV. ; close behind his tomb. (Lysons's En-
Crull, p. 46 ; Nichols's Anecdotes (1760 v irons, p. 349.)
122 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
position peculiarly honourable in connection with the mediaeval
position of the priest at the Eucharist — was now filled. The
southern side carried on and completed the direct line of the
Queen House of Anjou. In the tomb of Philippa a more
]369.lppi historical spirit is beginning to supersede the ideal
representations of early times. Her face is the earliest attempt
at a portrait ; l and the surrounding figures are not merely
religious emblems, but the thirty princely personages with
whom, by birth, the Princess of Hainault was connected,'2 as
the tomb is probably by an Hainault artist. But ' she built to
' herself,' says Speed, ' a monument of more glory and durability
' by founding a college, called of her the Queen's, in Oxford.' 3
On her deathbed she said to the King, ' I ask that you will not
* choose any other sepulchre than mine, and that you lie by my
' side in the Abbey of Westminster.' 4
' King Edward's fortunes seemed to fall into eclipse when
Death of ' sne was hidden in her sepulchre.' His features are
ju^si m" sa*d ^° ^ represented, from a cast taken after death,
as he lay on his deserted deathbed : 5 —
Mighty victor, mighty lord,
Low on his funeral couch he lies ! 6
His long flowing hair and beard agree with the contemporary
accounts. The godlike grace which shone in his
countenance 7 is perhaps hardly perceptible, but it yet
bears a curious resemblance to an illustrious living poet who is
said to be descended from him.
His twelve children8 — including those famous 'seven sons,'
the springheads of all the troubles of the next hundred years —
HIS were graven round his tomb, of which now only
children. remain the Black Prince, Joan de la Tour, Lionel
Duke of Clarence, Edmund Duke of York, Mary Duchess
of Brittany, and William of Hatfield. Two infant children,
William of Windsor and Blanche de la Tour (so called from
her birth in the Tower), have their small tomb in St. Edmund's
Chapel.9
1 Gleanings, p. 170. tomb is said to be empty, the King
2 Neale, ii. 98 ; Gleanings, p. 64. being buried in Queen PhiUppa's. But
3 Speed, p. 724. this is very doubtful.
* Froissart. 7 Pauli, ii. 500 ; Gleanings, 173.
5 Gleanings, p. 173. 8 Stow (p. 24) saw them all, as well
6 In an account of these two tombs as those on Queen Philippa's tomb,
by a Flemish antiquary, Edward III.'s 9 Ibid. p. 173 ; Neale, ii. 301.
CHAP. in. OF THE PLANTAGEKETS. 123
The monument of Edward III.1 is the first that has entered
into our literature : —
The honourable tomb
That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones.2
The sword 3 and shield that went before him in France formed
His sword part of the wonders of the Abbey as far back as the
of gueen Elizabeth>4 j)r^n describes-
How some strong churl would brandishing advance
The monumental sword that conquer'd France.
Sir Eoger de Coverley ' laid his hand on Edward III.'s sword,
' and, leaning on the pommel of it, gave us the whole history
' of the Black Prince, concluding that, in Sir Richard Baker's
' opinion, Edward III. was one of the greatest princes that ever
Eeiicsfrom ' sate on ^ne English throne.' Other valued trophies
of the French wars were the vestments of St. Peter,
patron of the Abbey; and the head of St. Benedict, patron of
its Order, which was supposed to have been brought from
Monte Casino to France.5
The circle of the Confessor's Chapel was now all but filled.
The only space left was occupied by a small tomb (now removed
Tombs of to the Chapel of St. John the Baptist) of the grand-
children?11 children of Edward I. — Hugh and Mary de Bohun,
children of his daughter Elizabeth by Humphrey de Bohun. It
may be from the absence of any further open space by the side
Edward of the Royal Saint, that Edward the Black Prince had
Prince30 already fixed his tomb under the shelter of the great
mterbury ecclesiastical martyr of Canterbury Cathedral.6 But
rdii. hi8 80n Richard was not so disposed to leave the
Disaffection Abbey. His affection for it seems to have equalled
e. that of any of his predecessors. In it his coronation
had been celebrated with unusual formality and splendour.7
ins mar- In it his marriage, like that of Henry III., had been
0* solemnised.8 Here he had consulted the Hermit on
lis way to confront the rebels.9 The great northern entrance,
1 Feckenham's inscription on the 4 Eye's England (1592), pp. 10,92.
omb is the same as that under Ed- There was then a wolf upon it.
vard III.'s statue at Trinity College, s Walsingham, pp. 171, 178.
Cambridge. 6 Memorials of Canterbury, c. 3.
2 Shakspeare's Richard II. \ See Chapter II.
8 Walsingham, 11. 48 ; Sandford,
3 A similar sword is in the Chapter 230 ; Neale, ii. 114.
House at Windsor. 9 See Chapter V.
124 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
known as Solomon's Porch, was rebuilt in his time, and once
contained his well-known badge of the White Hart,1
which still remains, in colossal proportions, painted on
the fragile partition which shuts off the Muniment Room from
the southern triforium of the Nave. He affected a peculiar vene-
ration for the Confessor. He bore his arms, and when he went
over to Ireland, which ' was very pleasing to the Irish,' 2 by a
special grace granted them to his favourite, the Earl of Norfolk.3
' By St. Edward ! ' was his favourite oath.4 He had a ring,
which he confided to St. Edward's Shrine when he was not out
of England.5 His portrait6 long remained in the
Abbey, probably in the attitude and dress in which he
appeared at the feast of St. Edward, or (as has been conjectured)
when he sate ' on a lofty throne ' in Old Palace Yard, and gave a
momentary precedence to the Abbots of Westminster, over the
Abbots of St. Albans.7 It is the oldest contemporary repre-
sentation of any English sovereign, an unquestionable likeness
of the fatal and (as believed at the time) unparalleled beauty*
which turned Eichard's feeble brain. The original picture had
almost disappeared under successive attempts at restoration.
It was reserved for a distinguished artist of our own day to
recover the pristine form and features ; the brow and eyes still
to be traced in the descendants of his line ; 8 the curling masses
of auburn hair, the large heavy eyes, the long thin nose, the
short tufted hair under his smooth chin,9 the soft and melan-
1 The badge was first given at a s Inventory of Belies,
tournament in 1396, taken from his ' It hung above the pew used by
mother, Joan of Kent. According to the Lord Chancellor, on the south side
the legend, it was derived from the of the Choir, till, injured by the wigs
white stag caught at Besastine, near of successive occupants, it was removed,
Bagshot, in Windsor Forest, with the in 1775, to the Jerusalem Chamber,
collar round its neck, ' Nemo me tan- (See Chapter VI.) For the whole
' gat ; Ccesaris sum.'' From the popu- history of the portrait, and its success-
larity of Eichard II., it was adopted ful restoration by Mr. Richmond, with
by his followers with singular tena- the aid of Mr. Merrit, see the full ac-
city, and hence the difficulty which count, by Mr. George Scharf, in the
Henry IV. experienced in suppressing Fine Arts Quarterly Review, February
it. (Archteologia, xx. 106, 152; xxix. 1867.
38, 40.) Hence also its frequency as " Riley's Preface to Walsingham's
the sign of inns, Hence, in Epworth Abbots of St. Albans, vol. iii. p. Ixxv;
Church, in Lincolnshire, it has been Weever, p. 473.
recently found painted with the arms of " The Prince of Wales and the
the Mowbrays, his faithful adherents. Princess Alice may be specially men-
'- Creton. (Arch. xx. 28.) tioned.
* It was one of the articles of the • Evesham, pp. 162, 168.— In a rage
impeachment of the Earl of Surrey by his colour fled, and he became deadly
Henry VIII. pale. (Arch. xx. 43 ; Shakspeare's
4 Creton. (Arch. xx. 43.) Ricliard II., act ii. sc. 1.)
CHAP. in. OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 125
choly expression, which suits at once the Richard of history and
of Shakspeare.1
Was this face the face
That every day under his household roof
Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ?
Was this the face that faced so many follies,
And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke ? 2
Richard is thus a peculiarly Westminster King ; and it is
clear from all these indications that he must have desired for
himself and all for whom he cared,3 a burial as near as possible
to the Royal Saint of Westminster. The grandchildren of
Edward I. were removed from their place in the Confessor's
Chapel to the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, and on the vacant
Funorai of site thus secured was raised the tomb for his wife, Anne
1894. J e' of Bohemia, the patroness of the Wycliffites, the link
between Wycliffe and Huss. The King's extravagant grief for
her loss, which caused him to raze to the ground the Palace at
Sheen, in which she died, broke out also at her funeral.4 It
was celebrated at an enormous cost. Hundreds of wax candles
were brought from Flanders. On reaching the Abbey from St.
Paul's he was roused to a frenzy of rage, by finding that the
Earl of Arundel not only had come too late for the procession,
but asked to go away before the ceremony was over. He seized
a cane from the hand of one of the attendants, and struck the
Earl such a blow on the head, as to bring him to the ground at
his feet. The sacred pavement was stained with blood, and the
service was so long delayed, by the altercation and reconcilia-
tion, that night came on before it was completed.5 The King's
affection for his wife was yet further to be shown by the ar-
rangement of his own effigy by the side of hers, grasping her hand
Tomb of in his- The tomb was completed during his reign,6
^Tchard and decorated with the ostrich-feathers and lions of
Bohemia, the eagles of the Empire, the leopards of
England, the broorncods of the Plantagenets, and the sun rising
through the black clouds of Crecy.7 The rich gilding and
1 Compare also Gray's lines, Chap- 5 Trokelowe, pp. 169, 424.
ter II. For the chair in which he sits, s Neale, ii. 107-112.
see Mr. Scharf, Fine Arts Quarterly 7 For a full description of the ar-
Itcview, p. 36. morial bearings, see Arch. xxix. 43, 47,
' Richard IL, act iv. sc. 1. "• ?°fe ?V£e,m *PPe" ^ onLaTng-
ham s tomb (ibid. 53). — See Chapter V. ;
8 Gleanings, 174. See Chapter IV. also Memorials of Canterbury, pp. 153,
4 Weever, p. 477. 154, 174-182.
126 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
ornaments can still be discerned through their thick coating of
indurated dust.1 The inscription round the tomb contains the
first indication of the conflict with the rising Eeformers — in the
pride with which Richard records his beauty, his wisdom, and
his orthodoxy :—
Corpore procerus,2 animo prudens ut Homerus,
Obruit hsereticos, et eorum stravit amicos.3
But whether the King himself really reposes in the sepulchre
which he had so carefully constructed is open to grave doubt.
His Burial A corpse was brought from Pomfret to London by
im"1* Henry IV., with the face exposed, and thence con-
towelt veyed to the friars at Langley ; 4 and long afterwards,
1413! r partly as an expiation for Henry's sins, partly to show
that Richard was really dead, it was carried back by Henry V.
from Langley, and was buried in state in this tomb.5 The
features were recognised by many, and were believed to resemble
the unfortunate King ; but there were still some who maintained
that it was the body of his chaplain, Maudlin, whose likeness
to the King was well known.6 Twice the interior of the tomb
has been seen : once in the last century by an accidental open-
ing in the basement, and again more fully in 1871, on occasion
of the reparation of the monument by the Board of Works.
The skulls of the King and Queen were visible ; no mark of
violence was to be seen on either. The skeletons were nearly
perfect ; even some of the teeth were preserved. The two
copper-gilt crowns which were described on the first occasion
had disappeared ; but the staff, the sceptre, part of the ball,
the two pairs of royal gloves, the fragments of peaked shoes as
in the portrait, still remained.7 In this tomb, thus closing the
precinct of the Chapel, the direct line of the descendants of its
founder, Henry III., was brought to an end ; and with it closes
a complete period of English history.8
1 Arch. xxix. 57. the relics were carefully replaced. The
2 This contradicts the Evesham investigation is described at length in
chronicler, who says he was short the Archteologia of 1879.
(p. 169). 8 Thomas of Woodstock, youngest
* See the whole inscription in Neale, son of Edward III., murdered at the
ii. 110. instigation of Kichard II., Thomas of
4 See Pauli, iii. 60. was interred on the south Woodstock
4 Turner, ii. 380. side of the Confessor's and his wife>
6 Creton (Arch. xx. 220, 409). But Chapel, beneath the pave- Duche^-f
Maudlin had been beheaded a month ment, under a splendid Gloucester,
before. (Pauli, iii. 11.) brass (see Sandford, p. 230), 1397- 1399.
7 The bodies were in a small vault of which nothing but the indentations
beneath the monument. The bones and can now be traced. His widow lies
CHAP. in. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 127
The Lancastrian House, which begins the new transitional
epoch, reaching across the fifteenth century, had no place in
THE this immediate circle. Henry IV., although he died
LAN-CASTER, almost within the walls of the Abbey, sought his last
IV' resting-place in Canterbury Cathedral ; and it may be,
that had his son succeeded only to the affection of the great
ecclesiastical party, which the crafty and superstitious usurper
had conciliated, Westminster would have been deserted for
Canterbury.1 But Henry V. cherished a peculiar vene-
ration for the Abbey, which had been the scene of that
great transformation,2 from a wild licentious youth to a steady
determined man, to an austere champion of orthodoxy, to the
greatest soldier of the age, ' Hostium victor et sui.' Not only
did he bring back the dead Eichard — not only did he give lands
and fat bucks to the Convent, but he added to the Church
itself some of its most essential features. The Nave — which
had remained stationary since the death of Edward I., except
so far as it had been carried on by the private munificence of
Abbot Langham 3 — was, by the orders of Henry V., prolonged
July 7, HIS. nearly to its present extremity by the great architect
i4i«. ' of that age, remembered now for far other reasons —
"Whittington, Lord Mayor of London.4 It was continued, as
has been already remarked, in the same style as that which
NOT. 23, had prevailed when it was first begun, two centuries
before. The first grand ceremonial which it witnessed
was worthy of itself — the procession which assisted at the Te
Deum for the victory of Agincourt.5
It was just before the expedition which terminated in that
victory, that the King declared in his will his intention to be
buried in the Abbey, with directions so precise as to show that
he must carefully have studied the difficulties and the capa-
bilities of the locality.6
in the Chapel of St. Edmund, under a ' After Edward the Confessor's tomb,
brass representing her in her conventual Sir Roger de Coverley was shown ' Henry
dress as a nun of Barking. Philippa, ' the Fourth's ; upon which he shook
Phiiippa widow of Edward Duke of ' his head, and told us there was fine
Duchess'of York, afterwards wife of ' reading from the casualties of that
York, 1433. gjr Walter Fitzwalter, was ' reign.' (Spectator, No. 329.) This
the first to occupy the Chapel of St. was doubtless a confusion either in the
Nicholas, built probably in the time good knight, or his guide, with Henry
of Edward I., to receive the relics of III.'s tomb.
that saint, and next in dignity to those 2 See Chapter V. * Ibid.
of St. Edward and St. Edmund. Her 4 Redman, pp. 70-72 ; Gleanings,
tomb (now removed to the side) was 213 ; Rymer, Feed. ix. 78.
then in the middle of the Chapel. s Memorials of London, 621.
(Neale, ii. 170.) 6 Rymer, Feed. ix. 289.
128 THE KOYAL TOMBS CHAP. m.
The fulfilment of his intention derives additional force from
the circumstances of his death. Like his father, he had con-
ceived the fixed purpose of another crusade. He had borrowed
from the Countess of Westmoreland the ' Chronicle of Jeru-
' salem ' and the ' Voyage of Godfrey de Bouillon ; ' he had sent
out a Palestine Exploration party under Chevalier Lannoy.1
Just at this juncture his mortal illness overtook him at Yin-
cennes.2 When the Fifty-first Psalm was chanted to him, he
paused at the words, ' Build Thou the walls of Jerusalem,' and
fervently repeated them. ' As surely as I expect to die,' he
said, ' I intended, after I had established peace in France, to
* go and conquer Jerusalem, if it had been the good pleasure of
' my Creator to have let me live my due time.' A few minutes
after, as if speaking to the evil spirit of his youth, he cried out,
' Thou liest — thou liest ! my part is with my Lord Jesus Christ ; '
and then, with the words strongly uttered, ' In manus tuas,
' Domine, ipsum terminum redemisti ! ' — he expired.3
So much had passed since the time when he wrote his will,
in the third year of his reign, that it seemed open for France
and England to contest the glory of retaining him. Paris and
Rouen both offered, it is said, immense sums of money for that
purpose.4 But his known attachment to Westminster prevailed,
Funeral of an^ *ke mos^ sumptuous arrangements were made for
Henry v, fog funeral. The long procession from Paris to Calais,
November, ° *
and from Dover to London, was headed by the King
of Scots, James I., as chief mourner, followed by Henry's
widow, Catherine of Valois. At each stage between Dover and
London, at Canterbury, Ospringe, Eochester, and Dartford,
funeral services were celebrated. On the procession reaching
London, it was met by all the clergy.5 The obsequies were
performed in the presence of Parliament, first at St. Paul's and
then at the Abbey. No English king's funeral had ever been
so grand. It is this scene alone which brings the interior of
the Abbey on the stage of Shakspeare 6 —
Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night ! . . .
King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long !
England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.
1 Arch. xxi. 312 ; Kymer, x. 307 ; * Pauli, iii. 178.
Pa^™8attacked by a violent dvs- * Walsingham, p. 407.
entery from the excessively hot sum- s Ibid. p. 408.
mer,— the ' mal de S. Fiacre,' — August " Shakspeare's Henry VL, First
31 at midnight. (Pauli, iii. 173.) Part, act. i. sc. 1.
CHAP. in. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 129
On the splendid car, accompanied by torches and white-robed
priests innumerable, lay the effigy, now for the first time seen
in the royal funerals.1 Behind were led up the Nave, to the
altar steps, his three chargers. To give a worthy place to the
mighty dead a severe strain was put on the capacity of the
Abbey. Eoom for his grave was created by a summary process,
on which no previous King or Abbot had ventured. The ex-
treme eastern end of the Confessor's Chapel, hitherto devoted
to the sacred relics, was cleared out; and in their place was
deposited the body of the most splendid King that England
had down to that time produced; — second only as a warrior
to the Black Prince — second only as a sovereign to Edward I.
His tomb, accordingly, was regarded almost as that of
a saint in Paradise.2 The passing cloud of reforming
zeal, which Chichele had feared, had been, as Chichele hoped, di-
verted by the French wars. From the time of Henry's conversion
he affected and attained an austere piety unusual among his pre-
decessors. Instead of their wild oaths, he had only two words,
' Impossible,' or ' It must be done.' In his army he forbade
the luxury of feather beds. Had he conquered the whole of
France, he would have destroyed all its vines, with a view of
suppressing drunkenness.3 He wras the most determined enemy
of Wycliffe and of all heretics that Europe contained.4 He
had himself intended that the relics should be stih1 retained in
the same locality, though transferred to the chamber above his
tomb.5 The recesses still existing in that chamber seem de-
signed for this purpose. But the staunch support which the
dead King had given to the religious world of that age, if not
his brilliant achievements, seemed in the eyes of the clergy to
justify a more extensive change. The relics were altogether
removed, and placed in a chest, between the tomb of Henry
III. and the Shrine of the Confessor, and the chamber was ex-
clusively devoted to the celebration of services for his soul on
the most elaborate scale. He alone of the Kings, hitherto
buried in the Abbey, had ordered a separate Chantry to be
erected, wrhere masses might be for ever offered up.6 It was to
be raised over his tomb. It was to have an altar in honour of
1 Previously the Kings themselves 5 Rymer, ix. 289.
had been exhibited in their royal * They were specified in his will, and
attire. (Bloxham, p. 92.) See Chapter amounted to 20,000. (Rymer, ix. 290.)
IV. John Arden was clerk of the works,
* Monstrelet, pp. 325, 326. and provided the Caen stone. A similar
3 Pauli, iii. 175. Chantry was prepared by the side of his
4 Rymer, x. 291, 604 ; Pauli, iii. 177. father's tomb at Canterbury.
K
130
THE EOYAL TOMBS
CHANTRY OF HEXKY V.
OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER.
131
the Annunciation.1 For one whole year ' 30 poor persons '
were to recite there the Psalter of the Virgin, closing with
these words in the vulgar tongue — ' Mother of God, remember
' thy servant Henry who puts his whole trust in thee.' 2 It was
to be high enough for the people down in the Abbey to see the
HELMET, SHIELD, AND SADDLE OF HEXIiY V., AS SUSPENDED OVER HIS TOMB.
priests officiating there. Accordingly a new Chapel sprang up,
growing out of that of St. Edward, and almost reaching the
dignity of another Lady Chapel. It towers above the Plan-
tagenet graves beneath, as his empire towered above their
kingdom. As ruthlessly as any improvement of modern times,
it defaced and in part concealed the beautiful monuments of
1 This is sculptured over the door. : Rymer, ix-289.
x 2
132 . THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
Eleanor and Philippa. Its structure is formed out of the first
letter of his name — H. Its statues represent not only the
glories of Westminster, in the persons of its two founders,1 but
the glories of the two kingdoms which he had united — St.
George the patron of England ; St. Denys, the patron of
France. The sculptures round the Chapel break out into a
vein altogether new in the Abbey. They describe the personal
peculiarities of the man and his history — the scenes of his
coronation, with all the grandees of his Court around him, and
his battles in France. Amongst the heraldic emblems — the
swans and antelopes derived from the De Bohuns2 — is the
flaming beacon or cresset light which he took for his badge,
' showing thereby that, although his virtues and good parts
4 had been formerly obscured, and lay as a dead coal, waiting
' light to kindle it, by reason of tender years and evil company,
' notwithstanding, he being now come to his perfecter years
' and riper understanding had shaken off his evil counsellors,
' and being now on his high imperial throne, that his virtues
' should now shine as the light of a cresset, which is no ordinary
' light.' 3 Aloft were hung his large emblazoned shield, his
saddle, and his helmet, after the example of the like personal
accoutrements of the Black Prince at Canterbury.
The shield has lost its splendour, but is still there.4
The saddle is that on which he
Vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To witch the world with noble horsemanship. 5
The helmet — which, from its elevated position, has almost be-
come a part of the architectural outline of the Abbey,
and on which many a Westminster boy has wonderingly
gazed from his place in the Choir — is in all probability ' that very
' casque that did affright the air at Agincourt,'6 which twice
saved his life on that eventful day — ' the bruised helmet ' which
he refused to have borne in state before him on his triumphal
1 Unless the figure on the south side 4 Its ornaments still appear in Sand-
is King Arthur, in accordance with the ford, 280.
seal of Henry V., which has the Con- 5 Shakspeare's Henry IV., First
fessor on one side and Arthur on the Part, act iv. sc. 1.
other. • It is lined with leather, and must
* See Koberts's House* of York and hlave *"een "^ gilde? outside. I fear
Lancaster, ii. 254, 255. ^ th/ marks upon it are merely the
holes for attaching the crest, &c., and
» MS. history, quoted in Gough's not the marks of the ponderous sword
Sepulchral Monuments, ii. 69. of the Duke of Alencon.
CHAP. in. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 133
entry into London, ' for that he would have the praise chiefly
* given to God.' l
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride ;
Giving full trophy, signal and ostent
Quite from himself to God.2
Below is his tomb, which still bears some marks of the in-
scription which makes him the Hector of his age. Upon it lay
his effigy stretched out, cut from the solid heart of an
English oak, plated with silver-gilt, with a head of solid
silver. It has suffered more than any other monument in the
Abbey. Two teeth of gold were plundered in .Edward IV.'s
reign.3 The whole of the silver was carried off by some robbers,
who had ' broken in the night-season into the Church of West-
' minster,' at the time of the Dissolution.4 But, even in its
mutilated form, the tomb has always excited the keen interest
of Englishmen. The robbery ' of the image of King Henry
' of Monmouth ' was immediately investigated by the Privy
Council. Sir Philip Sydney felt, that ' who goes but to West-
' minster, in the church may see Harry the Fifth ; ' 5 and Sir
Eoger de Coverley's anger was roused at the sight of ' the
' figure of one of our English Kings without a head, which had
' been stolen away several years since.' ' Some Whig, I'll
* warrant you. You ought to lock up your kings better ; they'll
' carry off the body too, if you don't take care.' 6
If the splendour of Henry V.'s tomb marks the culmination
of the Lancastrian dynasty, the story of its fall is no less told
in the singular traces left in the Abbey by the history of his
widow and his son. They, no doubt, raised the sumptuous
structure over the dead King's grave ; and they also clung,
though with far different fates, to the neighbourhood of the
sepulchre for which they had done so much.
Queen Catherine, after her second marriage with Owen
Tudor, sank into almost total oblivion. On her death her
remains were placed in the Abbey,7 but only in a rude tomb
in the Lady Chapel beyond, in a ' badly apparelled 8 state.'
There the coffin lay for many years. It was, on the destruction
1 Account of the helmet by the added by Henry VI. (Rymer, x. 490.)
Ironmongers' Company, pp. 145, 146. 5 Defence of the Earl of Leicester.
2 Shakspeare's Henry V., act v., (P. Cunningham.)
Chorus. • Spectator, No. 329. It would seem
3 Inventory of Relics. (Archives.) that the name was not given.
4 Jan. 30, 1546. Archceol. xviii. 27. 7 Strickland's Queens, iii. 183, 209.
See Keepe, p. 155. The grates were 8 Archives.
134 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. HI.
of that Chapel by her grandson, placed on the right side of
her royal husband,1 wrapt in a sheet of lead taken from the
roof ; and in it from the waist .upwards was exposed
1 n:iiji •>) ~ .
Catherine fa the visitors of the Abbev ; and. so it * continued to
of Vuloi*. "
, .
ke seen' tlje bones bemg firmly .united, and thinly
' clothed with flesh, like scrapings of fine leather.' 2
Pepys, on his birthday visit to the Abbey, ' kissed a Queen.' 3
This strange neglect was probably the result of the disfavour
into which her memory had fallen from her ill-assorted marriage.
But in the legends of the Abbey it was ' by her own appoint-
' ment (as he that showeth the tombs will tell you by tradition),
' in regard of her disobedience to her husband, for being de-
' livered of her son, Henry VI., at Windsor, the place which he
' forbade.'4 This desecration was brought to an end by the
interment of the remains in a vault under the Villiers monu-
ment, in the Chapel of St. Nicholas, at the time of the making
of the adjacent Percy vault in 1778. A hundred years later, in
1878, they were finally, with the sanction of Queen Victoria,
deposited in the chantry of Henry V. under the ancient altar-
slab of the chapel.
Henry VI. was not willing, any more than his father, to
abandon his hold on the Confessor's Shrine. He, first of his
house, revived the traditional name of Edward in the person of
visits of his first-born son, who was born on St. Edward's Day.5
14M-1460.' A long recollection lived hi the memory of the old
officers and workmen of the Abbey, how they had, in the disas-
trous period between the Battle of St. Albans and the Battle
of Wakefield, seen the King visit the Abbey, at all hours of
the day and night, to fix the' place of his sepulture.6 On
one occasion, between 7 and 8 P.M., he came from the Palace,
attended by his confessor, Thomas Manning, afterwards Dean
of Windsor. The abbot (Kirkton) received him by torchlight
at the postern, and they went round the Chapel of the Confessor
together. It was proposed to him, with the reckless disregard
of antiquity, which marked those ages, to move the tomb of
Eleanor. The King, with a better feeling, said, 'that might
' not be well in that place,' and that ' he could in nowise do it ; '
1 As specified in Feckenham's in- 4 Weever, p. 475 ; Fuller, book iv.
scription, added in the next century. art. xv. § 48.
z Dart, ii. 39. — The position is seen
in Sandford, 289. * Ridgway, p. 178.
_ " Pepys's Diary (Feb. 24, 1668), iv.
253. « Archives.
CHAP. in. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER 135
and, on being still pressed, fell into one of his silent fits, and
gave them no answer. He then was led into the Lady Chapel,
saw his mother's neglected coffin, and heard the proposal that it
should be more ' honourably apparelled,' and that he should
be laid between it and the altar of that Chapel. He was again
mute. On another occasion he visited the Chapel of the Con-
fessor with Flete, the Prior and historian of the Abbey. Henry
asked him, with a strange ignorance, the names of the Kings
amongst whose tombs he stood, till he came to his father's
grave, where he made his prayer. He then went up into the
Chantry, and remained for more than an hour surveying the
whole Chapel. It was suggested to him that the tomb of
Henry V. should be pushed a little on one side, and his own
placed beside it. With more regal spirit than was usual in
him, he replied, ' Nay, let him alone ; he lieth like a noble
' prince. I would not trouble him.' Finally, the Abbot pro-
posed that the great Reliquary should be moved from the
position which it now occupied close beside the Shrine, so as
to leave a vacant space for a new tomb. The devout King
anxiously asked whether there was any spot where the Relics,
thus a second time moved, could be deposited, and was told
that they might stand ' at the back side of the altar.' He then
' marked with his foot seven feet,' and turned to the nobles who
were with him. ' Lend me your staff,' he said to the Lord
Cromwell ; ' is it not fitting I should have a place here, where
' my father and my ancestors lie, near St. Edward ? ' And then,
pointing with a white staff to the spot indicated, said, ' Here
' methinketh is a convenient place ; ' and again, still more empha-
tically, and with the peculiar asseveration which, in his pious
and simple lips, took the place of the savage oaths of the Plan-
tagenets, ' Forsooth, forsooth, here will we lie ! Here is a good
' place for us.' The master-mason of the Abbey, Thirsk by
name, took an iron instrument, and traced the circuit of the
Death of grave on the pavement. Within three days the Relics
M?u-r4VI'' were removed, and the tomb was ordered. The
' marbler ' (as we should 'now say, the statuary) and
the coppersmith received forty groats for their instalment, and
gave one groat to the workmen, who long remembered the con-
versation of their masters at supper by this token. But ' the
' great trouble ' came on, and nothing was done. Henry died in
the Tower, and thence his corpse was taken first to the Abbey
of Chertsey, and then (in consequence, it was said, of the miracles
136 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
which attracted pilgrims to it) was removed by Richard III. to
St. George's Chapel at Windsor— perhaps to lie near the scene
of his birth, perhaps to be more closely under the vigilant eye
of the new dynasty.
For now it was that the attachment which so many Princes
had shown to Windsor became definitely fixed. Edward IV.,
withdrawal though he died at Westminster, though his obsequies
dfvna«Jtok were celebrated in St. Stephen's Chapel and in the
Windsor. Abbey, and though to his reign we probably owe the
screen which divides the Shrine from the High Altar, was buried
in St. George's Chapel, over against his unfortunate rival.
This severance of the York dynasty from the Confessor's Shrine
marks the first beginning of the sentiment which has eventually
caused the Eoyal Sepultures at Westminster to be superseded
by Windsor. The obligations of Edward to the Sanctuary
which had sheltered his wife and children compelled him indeed
to contribute towards the completion of the Abbey. Here, as
at the Basilica of Bethlehem, fourscore oaks were granted by
Edward iv., him for the repairs of the roof.1 But, whilst Edward
' lay at Windsor, George at Tewkesbury, Richard at
wind**, Leicester, Edward V. and his brother in the Tower,
MS". the younger George and his sister Mary at Windsor,2
Cecilia at Quarre 3 in the Isle of Wight, Anne at Thetford (now
at Framlingham), Catherine at Tiverton, Bridget at Dartford,4
Margaret one smaU tomb alone — that of Margaret, a child of
£e£°r£ nme m<>nths old — found its way into the Abbey. It
now stands by Richard II. 's monument, apparently
moved from ' the altar end, afore St. Edward's Shrine.' Anne
Anne of Neville, the Queen of Richard III., and daughter of
Warwick, ^e garj 0£ \yarwiciij is belie ved to be buried on the
Mowbray south side of the altar ; 5 Anne Mowbray, the betrothed
of York. w^fe Of y0ung Richard of York, in the Islip Chapel.6
But the passion for the House of Lancaster still ran under-
ground ; and when the Civil Wars were closed, its revival
caused the Abbey to leap again into new life. In every im-
1 Neale, i. 92 ; Tobler's Bethlelwm, Lincolnshire gentleman, with whom she
p. 112. See Chapter V. lived at East Standen.
2 Green's Princesses, iii. 402. 4 Ibid ••• 43? . . ,, ,„ S8 4?
i TI • ^ * Af\f* TT /• i i i 1UH.I. All. *±O I • IV* J.JL* -L— . OO. Jtf*
3 Ibid. iv. 436. — Her first husband,
Lord Wells, was buried in the Abbey s CruU, p. 23.— A leaden coffin was
1498, in the Lady Chapel, not yet de- found there in 1866. The stone is sup-
stroyed. (Ibid. iii. 428.) Her connec- posed to be preserved in the pavement
tion with the Isle of Wight was through of the S. Transept.
her second husband, Thomas Kyme, a 6 Keepe, 133.
CHAP. in. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 137
portant church an image of the sainted Henry had been erected.
Even in York Minster pilgrimages were made to his figure in
Devotion to ^ne roo& screen, which it required the whole autho-
Heuryvi. rjty Of the Northern Primate to suppress.1 This
general sentiment could not be neglected by the Tudor King.
He had from the first bound up his fortunes with those of
Henry of Lancaster, amongst whose miracles was conspicuous
the prediction that Henry Tudor would succeed him.2 Accord-
nlgly» ne determined to reconstruct at Windsor the-
Chapel at the east end of St. George's, originally
founded by Henry III. and rebuilt by Edward III., in
Order to become the receptacle of the sacred remains,
with which he intended that his own dust should mingle.
Then it was that the two Abbeys of Chertsey and of West-
minster put in their claims for the body — Chertsey on the
ground that Kichard III. had taken it thence by violence to
Windsor; Westminster on the ground that the King, as we
have seen, had in his lifetime determined there to be buried.
Old vergers, servants, and workmen, who remembered the dates
only by the imperfect sign that they were before or after ' the
' field of York, or of St. Alban's,' had yet a perfect recollection
of the very words which Henry had used ; and the Council,
which was held at Greenwich, to adjudicate the triangular
Decision in contest, decided in favour of Westminster.3 Windsor
favour of
West- made a stout resistance, and continued its endeavours
minster.
to reverse the decree by legal processes. But the King
and Council persevered in carrying out what were believed
to have been Henry's intentions ; and, accordingly, the un-
finished chapel at Windsor was left to the singular fate
which was to befall it in after-times — the sepulchre designed
for Cardinal Wrolsey, the Eoman Catholic chapel of James II.,
the burial-place of the family of George III., and finally the
splendid monument of the virtues of the Saxon Prince, whose
funeral rites it in part witnessed.
At Westminster every preparation was made to receive the
=aintly corpse. Henry VII. characteristically stated the great
expenses to which he was subjected, and insisted on the Convent
)f Westminster contributing its quota of 500/. (equal to 5000L
)f our money) for transference of ' the holy body.' 4 This sum
s duly paid by Abbot Fascet. The King determined to found
1 Order of Archbishop Booth, Octo- 2 Pauli, iii. 634.
er 27, 1479. s Archives. 4 Ibid.
138 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
at Westminster a Chapel yet more magnificent than that which
he had designed at Windsor, a greater than the Confessor's
Shrine, in order ' right shortly to translate into the same the
' body and reliques of his uncle of blissful memory, King Henry
confirmed 'VI.'1 Pope Julius II. granted the licence for the
p^e6 removal, declaring that the obscurity in which the
1504- enemies of Henry had combined to envelope his mira-
cles, first at Chertsey and then at Windsor, was at last to be
dispersed.2
This was the last cry of ' the aspiring blood of Lancaster.'
Suddenly, imperceptibly, it 'sank into the ground.' The
of language of the Westminster records certainly implies
that the body was removed (according to a faint tra-
*** dition, of which no distinct trace remains) to some
' place undistinguished ' in the Abbey.3 But the language of
the wills both of Henry VII.4 and of Henry VIII. no less clearly
indicates that it remains, according to the Windsor tradition,
in the south aisle of St. George's Chapel. Unquestionably, no
changed solemn ' translation ' ever took place. The ' canonisa-
cimp^of * tion,' which the Pope had promised, was never carried
Henry vii. ou^ rpke (^pe} a^ Westminster was still pushed
forward, but it became the Chapel, not of Henry VI., but of
Henry VII.
It may be that this change of purpose represents the
penurious spirit of the King, whose features, even in his monu-
mental effigy, were thought by an observant antiquary to indi-
cate ' a strong reluctance to quit the possessions of this world ; ' 5
and that the failure of canonisation was occasioned by his
unwillingness, parsimonious even beyond the rest of his race,
to part with the sum requisite for so costly an undertaking.
But it may be that, as he became more firmly seated on his
throne, the consciousness of his own importance increased, and
the remembrance of his succession to Henry of Lancaster was
gradually merged in the proud thought that, as the founders of
a new dynasty he and his Queen would take the chief place ' in
' the common sepulchre of the kings of this realm ' with ' his
' noble progenitors.' 6
1 Will of Henry VII. (Neale, i. pt. « Neale (part ii.), i. 7. Will of
"• P- 7-) Henry VIII. (Fuller's Church Hist.
* Rymer, xiii. 103, 104 ; Dugdale, i. A.D. 1546.)
315.
s Malcolm, pp. 218, 225 ; Speed, s Pennant, p. 29.
P.- 869. « Will of Henry VII.
CHAP. in. OF THE TUDOES. 139
The Chapel of Henry VII. is indeed \vell called by his name,
for it breathes of himself through every part. It is the most
signal example of the contrast between his closeness in life, and
his ' magnificence in the structures he had left to posterity ' l
—King's College Chapel, the Savoy, Westminster. Its very
style was believed to have been a reminiscence of his exile, being
' learned in France,' by himself and his companion Fox.2 His
pride in its grandeur was commemorated by the ship, vast for
those times, which he built, ' of equal cost with his Chapel,'
' which afterwards, in the reign of Mary, sank in the sea and
vanished in a moment.' 3
It was to be his chantry as well as his tomb, for he was
determined not to be behind the Lancastrian princes in devo-
The tion ; and this unusual anxiety for the sake of a soul
ctiautiy. not £oo heavenward in its affections expended itself in
the immense apparatus of services which he provided. Almost
a second Abbey was needed to contain the new establishment
of monks, who were to sing in their stalls 4 ' as long as the world
' shall endure.' 5 Almost a second Shrine, surrounded by its
blazing tapers, and shining like gold with its glittering bronze,
was to contain his remains.
To the Virgin Mary, to whom the chapel was dedicated, he had
a special devotion.6 Her ' in all his necessities he had made his
' continual refuge ; ' and her figure, accordingly, looks
down upon his grave from the east end, between the
apostolic patrons of the Abbey, Peter and Paul, with ' the holy
' company of heaven — that is to say, angels, archangels, patri-
archs, prophets, apostles, evangelists, martyrs, confessors, and
' virgins,' to ' whose singular mediation and prayers he also
trusted,' including the royal saints of Britain, St. Edward, St.
Minund, St. Oswald, St. Margaret of Scotland, who stand, as
le directed, sculptured, tier above tier, on every side of the
Chapel ; 7 some retained from the ancient Lady Chapel ; the
reater part the work of his own age. Eound his tomb stand
' accustomed Avours or guardian saints ' (as round the chapel
Fuller's Worthies, iii. 555. used on the occasion of the royal fune-
2 Speed, p. 757. This, however, is rals in those aisles. See MS. Heralds'
mistake. It is partly English. College in the funeral of Charles II.
3 Fuller's Worthies, iii. 553. s Malcolm, pp. 226, 227. For the
4 The stalls at that time, and till the cost (£30,000, for purchasing lands for
arrangements for the Knights of the his chapel), see Pauli, v. 644.
Bath, left free entrance from the main * Will of Henry VII. (Neale, ii. 6, 7.)
Chapel into the north and south aisle ' For the enumeration of these see
on each side. These entrances were Neale, ii. 39.
140 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. 111.
probably were their altars), to whom ' he calls and cries ' — St.
'Michael, St. John the Baptist, St. John the Evangelist, St.
' George, St. Anthony, St. Edward, St. Vincent, St. Anne, St.
'Mary Magdalene, and St. Barbara,' each with their peculiar
emblems, — ' so to aid, succour, and defend him, that the ancient
' and ghostly enemy, nor none other evil or damnable spirit,
' have no power to invade him, nor with their wickedness to
' annoy him, but with holy prayers to be intercessors for him to
' his Maker and Kedeemer.' l These were the adjurations of the
last mediaeval King, as the Chapel was the climax of the latest
mediaeval architecture. In the very urgency of the King's
anxiety for the perpetuity of those funeral ceremonies, we seem
to discern an unconscious presentiment of terror lest their days
were numbered.
But, although in this sense the Chapel hangs on tenaciously
to the skirts of the ancient Abbey and the ancient Church, yet
that solemn architectural pause at its entrance — which arrests
the most careless observer, and renders it a -separate structure,
a foundation 'adjoining the Abbey,' rather than forming part
of it 2 — corresponds with marvellous fidelity to the pause and
break in English history of which Henry VII.'s reign is the
The dose of expression. It is the close of the Middle Ages : the
Ages. apple of Granada in its ornaments shows that the last
Crusade was over ; its flowing draperies and classical attitudes
The close indicate that the Eenaissance had already begun. It
of the Civil . J °
wars. is the end of the Wars of the Roses, combining Henry's
right of conquest with his fragile claim of hereditary descent.
On the one hand, it is the glorification of the victory of Bos-
worth. The angels, at the four' corners of the tomb, held or
hold the likeness of the crown which he won on that famous
day. In the stained glass we see the same crown hanging on
the green bush in the fields of Leicestershire. On the other
hand, like the Chapel of King's College at Cambridge, it asserts
everywhere the memory of the ' holy Henry's shade ; ' the Bed
Rose of Lancaster appears in every pane of glass : and in every
corner is the Portcullis—the 'Altera securitas,'3 as he termed
it, with an allusion to its own meaning, and the double safe-
guard of his succession— which he derived through John of
Gaunt from the Beaufort Castle in Anjou, inherited from Blanche
' Will of Henry VII. (Neale, ii. 6, to the Chapel, see Dugdale, i. 316-320.
7«) . * Neale (part ii.), i. 28 ; Biog. Brit.
2 Neale, i. 18. For the Bulls relating ii. 669 ; Roberts, ii. 257.
CHAP. in. OF THE TUDOES. 141
of Navarre by Edmund Crouchback ; l whilst Edward IV. and
Elizabeth of York are commemorated by intertwining these
Lancastrian symbols with the Greyhound of Cecilia Neville, wife
of Richard Duke of York, with the Rose in the Sun, which
scattered the mists at Barnet, and the Falcon on the Fetter-
lock,2 by which the first Duke of York expressed to his de-
scendants that ' he was locked up from the hope of the kingdom,
' but advising them to be quiet and silent, as God knoweth
' what may come to pass.'
It is also the revival of the ancient, Celtic, British element
in the English monarchy, after centuries of eclipse. It is a
The revival strange and striking thought, as we mount the steps
?aces? e ° of Henry VII. 's Chapel, that we enter there a mauso-
leum of princes, whose boast it was to be descended, not from
the Confessor or the Conqueror, but from Arthur and Llewellyn ; 3
and that round about the tomb, side by side with the emblems
of the great English Houses, is to be seen the Red Dragon4 of
the last British king, Cadwallader — ' the dragon of the great
' Pendragonship ' of Wales, thrust forward by the Tudor king
in every direction, to supplant the hated White Boar 5 of his
departed enemy — the fulfilment, in another sense than the old
Welsh bards had dreamt, of their prediction that the progeny
of Cadwallader should reign again : —
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,
Ye unborn ages, crjowd not on my soul !
No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail : —
All hail, ye genuine kings ! Britannia's issue, hail ! 6
These noble lines well introduce us to the great Chapel
which, as far as the Royal Tombs of the Abbey are concerned,
The begin- contains within itself the whole future history of
modern England. The Tudor sovereigns, uniting the quick
England. understanding and fiery temper of their ancient Celtic
lineage with the iron will of the • Plantagenets, were the fit
1 Stow, p. 11. mund, who was monk in the Abbey,
2 He built his castle of Fotheringay was buried in the Chapel of St. Blaise.
in the form of a Fetterlock, and gave (Crull, p. 233.)
to his sons, who asked the Latin for 4 Grafton, ii. 158. — The banner of
' fetterlock,' the expressive answer, the Bed Dragon of Cadwallader, on
Hie h&c hoc taceatis. (Dallaway's white and green silk, was carried at
Heraldic Inquiries, 384, 385.) Edward Bosworth. Hence the Eouge Dragon
IV. built the so-called Horse-shoe Herald.
Cloister also in the form of a fetter- 5 Roberts's York and Lancaster, ii.
lock. 461, 463.
* Owen Tudor, the brother of Ed- ' Gray's Bard.
THE TOMBS OF THE ABBEY AS THEY APPEARED IK 15
1509.
CHAPEL OF HENRY VII.
[44 THE ROYAL TOilBS CHAP. in.
inaugurators of the new birth of England at that critical season
— for guiding and stimulating the Church and nation to the
performance of new duties, the fulfilment of new hopes, the
apprehension of new truths.
In the eighteenth year of his reign, ' on the 24th day of
* January, at a quarter of an hour before three of the clock at
' afternoon of the same day,' l the first stone of the
new Chapel was laid by Abbot Islip, Sir Reginald Bray
Building of .
the chapei. the architect, and others. In this work, as usual, the
old generation was at once set aside. Not only the venerable
"White Rose Inn of Chaucer's garden, but the old Chapels of
St. Mary and of St. Erasmus,2 were swept away as ruthlessly
as the Norman Church had been by Henry III. ' His grand-
' dame of right noble memory, Queen Catherine, wife to King
' Henry V., and daughter of Charles King of France ' (for
whose sake, amongst others, he had wished to be interred here),
was thrust carelessly into the vacant space beneath her husband's
Chantry. One last look had been cast backwards to the Plan-
Tombof tagenet sepulchres. His infant daughter Elizabeth,
luzTbeth aged three years and two months, was buried, with
sept. 1495. great 3 pomp, in a small tomb at the feet of Henry
III. His infant son Edward, who died four years afterwards,
(1499), was also buried in the Abbey. The first grave in the
Elizabeth of new Chapel was that of his wife, Elizabeth of York.
latolriS? She died in giving birth to a child, who survived but
baried ' a short time : —
Feb. 25,
1503.
Adieu, sweetheart ! my little daughter late,
Thou shalt, sweet babe, such is thy destiny,
Thy mother never know ; for here I lie.
.... At Westminster, that costly work of yours,
Mine own dear lord, I now shall never see.4
The first stone of the splendid edifice in which she now lies
had been laid but a month before, and she was meanwhile
buried in one of the side 5 chapels. The sumptuousness of her
obsequies, in spite of Henry's jealousy of the House of York,
and of his parsimonious habits, was justly regarded as a proof
1 Neale, ii. 6 ; Holinshed, iii. 529. * Green's Princesses, iv.507 ; Stow's
1 Probably in compensation for this Survey, ii. 600 ; Sandford, p. 478.
the small chapel at the entrance of that 4 More's Elegy on Elizabeth of York.
of St. John the Baptist was dedicated * From a record communicated by
to St. Erasmus, Mr. Doyne Bell.
CHAP. in. OF THE TUDORS. 145
of his affection.1 At the entrance of the city she was met by
twenty-seven maidens all in white with tapers, to commemorate
Death of her untimely death in her twenty- seventh year. Six
satuniay, " years afterwards he died at the splendid palace which
isog1.1 21 he had called by his own name of Eichmond, at the
ancient Sheen. His vehement protestations of amendment —
bestowing promotions, if he lived, only on virtuous, able, and
learned men, executing justice indifferently to all men ; his
expressions of penitence, passionately grasping the crucifix, and
beating his breast, were in accordance with that dread of his
last hour, out of which his sepulchre had arisen. The funeral
Burial of corresponded to the grandeur of the mausoleum, which
Mayr"M509. was now gradually advancing to its completion. From
Richmond the procession came to St. Paul's, where elaborate
obsequies were closed by a sermon from Fisher, Bishop of
Rochester. At Westminster, after like obsequies, and a sermon
from Fitz-james, Bishop of London, who had already preached
on the death of the Queen and of Prince Arthur (on Job xix.
21), 'the black velvet coffin, marked by a white satin cross
' from end to end,' was deposited, not, as in the burials of pre-
vious Kings, in the raised tomb, but in the cavernous vault
beneath, by the side of his Queen. The Archbishops, Bishops,
and Abbots stood round, and struck their croziers on the coffin,
with the word Absolvimus. The Archbishop of Canterbury
(Warham) then cast in the earth. The vault was closed. The
Heralds stripped off their tabards, and hung them on the rails
of the hearse, exclaiming in French, ' The noble King Henry
' VII. is dead ! ' and then immediately put them on again, and
cried ' Vive le noble Roy Henry VIII. ! > 2
So he ' lieth buried at Westminster, in one of the stateliest
' and daintiest monuments of Europe, both for the chapel and
' the sepulchre. So that he dwelleth more richly dead, in the
' monument of his tomb, than he did alive in Richmond or any
' of his palaces. I could wish,' adds his magnificent historian,
' that he did the like in this monument of his fame.' 3
His effigy represents him still to us, as he was known by tra-
dition to the next generation, ' a comely personage, a
' little above just stature,4 well and straight-limbed, but
1 Antiq. £epos.,p.654; Sandford,pp. 2 Leland, Collect, (part ii.) iv. 309.
469-471 ; Strickland, iv. 60-62.— He * Bacon's Henry VII. iii. 417.
spent £2832 6s. 8d. upon the funeral. 4 ' Frontis honos, facies augusta,
(Heralds' College, Privy Purse MS.) ' heroica forma.' (Epitaph.)
146 THE EOYAL TOMBS CHAP. rn.
' slender,' with his scanty hair and keen grey eyes,1 ' his coun-
< tenance reverend and a little like a churchman ; ' and ' as it
« was not strange or dark, so neither was it winning or pleasing,
' but as the face of one well disposed.' 2 It was completed,
within twenty years from his death, by the Florentine sculptor
Torregiano, the fierce rival of Michael Angelo, who ' broke
' the cartilage of his enemy's nose, as if it had been paste.'
He lived for most of that time within the precincts of the
Abbey, and there performed the feats of pugilism against the
' bears of Englishmen,' of which he afterwards boasted at
Florence.
"Within three months another funeral followed. In the
south aisle of the Chapel, graven by the same skilful hand, lies
Tomb of the most beautiful and venerable figure that the Abbey
contains. It is Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Eich-
mond and Derby, mother of Henry VII., who died,
and was buried, in the midst of the rejoicings of her
grandson's marriage and coronation ; her chaplain (Fisher)
preaching again, with a far deeper earnestness, the funeral
sermon, on the loss which, to him at least, could never be re-
placed. ' Everyone that knew her,' he said, ' loved her, and
' everything that she said or did became her.' 3 . . . More
noble and more refined than in any of her numerous portraits,
her effigy well lies in that Chapel, for to her the King, her son,
owed everything. For him she lived. To end the Civil Wars
by his marriage with Elizabeth of York she counted as a holy
duty.4 Her tomb bears the heraldic5 emblems of her third
husband, the Earl of Derby. But she still remained faithful to
the memory of her first youthful love, the father of Henry YIL
She was always * Margaret Eichmond.'
Her outward existence belonged to the mediaeval past. She
lived almost the life, in death she almost wears the garb, of an
Effigy oi Abbess. Even her marriage with Edmund Tudor was
RfJSii the result of a vision of St. Nicholas. The last Eng-
lish sigh for the Crusades went up from those lips. She would
often say, that if the Princes of Christendom would combine
themselves, and march against the common enemy, the Turk,
she would most willingly attend them, and be their laundress
1 Grafton, ii. 232. 5 The antelope at her feet is the
J Bacon, p. 416. supporter of the arms of Lancaster.
* Grafton, ii. 237. The daisies on the chapel gates repre-
* Hallstead's Margaret Richmond, sent her name.
p. 225.
CHAP. in. OF THE TUDORS. 147
in the camp.1 The bread and meat doled out to the poor of
Westminster in the College Hall is the remnant of the old
monastic charity which she founded in the Almonry.2
But in her monumental effigy is first seen, in a direct form,
the indication of the coming changes, of which her son and his
tomb are so tragically unconscious.
Foremost and bending from her golden cloud,
The venerable Margaret see !
So the Cambridge poet 3 greets the Foundress of St. John's and
Christ's Colleges, as of the two first Divinity Chairs in either
University. She, who was the instructress-general of all the
Princes of the Eoyal House,4 might by her own impulse have
founded those great educational endowments. But her charity,
like that of her contemporary, Bishop Fox, the founder of
Corpus Christi College at Oxford, was turned into academical
channels by the warning which Fisher gave her of the ap-
proaching changes, in which any merely conventual foundations
would perish, and any collegiate institutions would as certainly
survive.5 Caxton, as he worked at his printing-press, in the
Almonry which she had founded, was under her special pro-
tection ; 6 and ' the worst thing she ever did ' was trying to
draw Erasmus from his studies to train her untoward stepson,
James Stanley, to be Bishop of Ely.7 Strikingly are the old
and the new combined, as, round the monument of that last
mediaeval Princess, we trace the letters of the inscription 8
written by that first and most universal of the Beformers.
We feel, as we stand by her tomb, that we are approaching
the great catastrophe. Yet in the Abbey, as in history, there
is a momentary smoothness in the torrent ere it dashes below
Death of i*1 ^ne cataract of the Reformation. It was Prince
Arthur's death9 — that silent prelude of the rupture
Arthur, x
April 2, 1502. w^}1 ^e gee of Rome — which intercepted the magni-
Marriage *
window. ficent window 10 sent by the magistrates of Dort from
Gouda as a present to Henry VII. for his Chapel, as a
1 Camden's Remains, i. 357 ; Ful- 8 Erasmus for this received twenty
ler's Worthies, i. 167. shillings.
2 Stow, p. 476. See Chapter V. 9 £58 17s. 6d. was paid to the Abbot
3 Gray's Installation Ode. of Winchester for a hearse, possibly for
4 Jesse's Richard III., p. 263. Prince Arthur. (Excerpta Historica, p.
s Hallstead, p. 226. 129.)
6 See Chapter V. lo Now in St. Margaret's Church.
7 Coleridge's Northern Worthies, ii. See its curious history in Walcott's
184. Memorials of Westminster, pp. 103, 136.
L 2
148 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
wedding-gift for Prince Arthur and Catherine of Arragon.
The first of the series of losses which caused Henry VIII. to
doubt the lawfulness of his marriage with Catherine is marked
bv the grave of the infant Prince Henry, who lies at
Death of -> , , . „,, . . . , ,
Prince the entrance either of this Chapel, or that of the
n,uw. ' Confessor.1 He in that exulting youth, when all
seemed so bright before him, had, it would seem, contemplated
a yet further enlargement of the Abbey. Another Chapel 2 was
intended to rise for the tomb of himself and Catherine of
Btauyvm. Arragon. 'Peter Torrisany, of the city of Florence,
* graver,' was still to prolong his stay to make their effigies.
Their sepulchre was to be one-fourth more grand than that of
Henry VII. His father's tomb was the subject of his own
special care. The first draft of it was altered because
' misliked by him ; ' and it forms the climax of Henry VII. 's
virtues, as recorded in his epitaph, that to him and his Queen
England owed a Henry VIII. : —
Henricum quibus Octavum, terra Anglia, debes.
To his determination that his father should be honoured almost
as a canonised saint, was probably owing the circumstance that
besides the humbler .altar at the foot of the tomb, for which
the vacant steps still remain, was erected by the same sculptor
' the matchless altar'' 3 at its head, as for the shrine of another
Confessor.
Nothing shows more clearly the force of the shock that
followed, than the upheaving even of the solid rock of the
Abbey as it came on. Nothing shows more clearly the hold
which the Abbey .had laid on. the affections of the English
people, than that it stood the shock as firmly as it did.
Not all the prestige of Eoyalty could save the treasures of
the Confessor's Chapel. Then, doubtless, disappeared not only
^e.Refor- the questionable relics of the elder faith, but also the
i538Abbey' coronet °f Llewelyn, and the banners and statues
August. round the Shrine. Then even the bones of the Eoyal
Saint were moved out of their place, and buried apart, till
me. Mary brought them back to the Shrine which so long
had guarded them. Then broke in the robbers who
1 Crull, p. 218.— If so, perhaps in a of The Chapel of Henry VIII.' for the
small leaden coffin found in 1866 before Revestry. (Dart, i. 64.) See also Chapter
the High Altar. HI.
1 Archaohgia, xvi. 80.— A reminis- » Ryves's Mercurius Rusticus, p.
cence of this may be found in the name 155.
CHAP. in. OF THE TUDOES. 149
carried off the brazen plates and silver head from the monu-
ment of Henry V.1 Then all thought of enlarging or adorning
the Abbey was extinguished in the mind of Henry, who turned
away, perhaps with aversion, from the spot connected in his
mind with the hated marriage of his youth, and determined
that his bones should be laid at Windsor, beside his best
beloved wife, Jane Seymour.2 Then, as the tide of change in
the reign of his son rose higher and- higher, the monastic
buildings became, in great part, the property of private in-
dividuals ; the Chapter House was turned into a Eecord Office ; 3
and the Protector Somerset was believed to have meditated the
demolition of the ehurch itself.
The Abbey, however, still stands. It was saved, probably
in Henry's time by the Eoyal Tombs, especially by that of his
father — just as Peterborough Cathedral was spared for the
grave of his wife, Catherine of Arragon, and St. David's (ac-
cording to the local tradition) for the tomb of his grandfather,
Edmund Tudor. It was saved, it is said, under the more piti-
less Edward, either by the rising of the inhabitants of West-
minster in its behalf, or by the sacrifice of seventeen manors to
satisfy the needs of the Protector. The Shrine too, although
despoiled of its treasures within and without alone of all the
tombs in England which had held the remains of a canonised
saint, was allowed to remain.4
It was natural that under Queen Mary so great a monu-
ment of the past should partake of the reaction of her reign.
Not only was Westminster, almost alone of the monastic
bodies, restored to something of its original splendour, but
the link with Royalty was carefully renewed.5 Mary's first
anxiety was for her brother's fitting interment. For a whole
EDWARD month he lay unburied, during the long negotiations
between Mary and her ministers as to the mode of the
8,ui553/ u ' funeral rites.6 But they ended in his burial, not, as
he himself probably would have designed, beside his father and
mother at Windsor, but at Westminster. ' The greatest moan
' was made for him as ever was heard or seen.' He was brought
from Whitehall the night before ' without cross or light.' 7
The procession from the Palace to the Abbey was a mass of
1 See Chapter VI. 4 See Chapter VI.
2 A splendid tomb was prepared 5 Ibid.
for him in St. George's Chapel. (See 6 Froude, vi. 38, 42, 49, 58.
Sandford, p. 494.) ' Grey Friars' Chronicle, p. 82.
8 See Chapter V.
1 50 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. m.
black velvet. Side by side with the banner of his own mother
Jane Seymour waved the banner of his sister's mother,1 Cathe-
rine of Arragon. He was the first King that had been buried
in the Abbey since his grandfather had built his gorgeous
receptacle for the Tudor dynasty. Not in the vault itself of
Henry VII., fully occupied as it was by Henry himself and
Elizabeth of York, but in the passage by which it is ap-
proached, underneath the sumptuous ' touchstone altar, all of
'one piece,' with its 'excellent workmanship of brass,'2 'the
' last male child of the Tudor line ' was laid. Mary herself
was absent, at the requiem sung in the Tower under the
auspices of Gardiner. But, by a hard-won concession, the
funeral service was that of the Eeformed Church of England,
the first ever used over an English sovereign ; and ' the last
' and saddest function of his public ministry that Archbishop
' Cranmer was destined to perform,' was this interment of the
Prince whom he had baptized and crowned.3 On his coffin had
been fastened a leaden plate bearing an inscription, doubtless
immediately after his death, unique in the tombs of English
sovereigns, reciting that he was ' on earth, under Christ, of
' the Church of England and Ireland the supreme head ; ' and
proceeding to record with a pathetic and singular earnestness
the precise hour ' in the evening,' when in the close of that
long and stormy day of the 6th of July he ' departed from this
'life.'4
It is one of our many paradoxes, that the first Protestant
Prince should have thus received his burial from the bitterest
Tomb ot enemy of the Protestant cause, and that the tomb
award vi. un(jer wm'ch he reposed should have been the altar
built for the chanting of masses which he himself had been the
chief means of abolishing. It is a still greater paradox, that
' he, who deserved the best, should have no monument erected
' to his memory,' 5 and that the only royal memorial destroyed 6
1 Machyn's Diary, Aug. 8, 1553. 3 Froude, vi. 58.— Day, Bishop of
2 Ryves's Mercurius Rusticus, p. Chichester, ' preached a good sermon,'
155 ; Fuller's Worthies, ii. 37. — An and Cranmer administered the Com-
engraving is to be seen in Sandford (p. munion, ' and that poorly.' (Strype's
498.) It resembled Elizabeth's tomb E. M. vol. ii. part ii. p. 122; 'Grey
in style. There was an altarpiece of Friars' Chronicle, p. 82.)
the Resurrection, surmounted by angels, 4 See Appendix,
in terra cotta, at the top holding the 5 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 37.
emblems of the Passion, and a dead * In 1643. (Ryves's Mercitrius
Christ beneath. These were the work Rusticus, p. 155. See Chapter VI.)
of Torregiano. (See the Indenture quo- The name on the grave was first in-
ted in Neale, vol. i. pt. ii. 58.) scribed in 1866. See Appendix.
CHIP. HI. OF THE TUDORS. 151
by the Puritans should have been that of the only Puritan
Prince who ever sate on the English throne.
The broken chain of royal sepulchres, which Mary thus
pieced anew in her brother's grave, was carried on. Anne of
Anne of Cleves, a friend both to Mary and Elizabeth — whose
strange vicissitudes had conducted her from her quiet
4, 1557. ' Lutheran birthplace in the Castle of Cleves, to a quiet
death as a Roman Catholic convert, at Chelsea — was interred,
by Mary's restored monks, on the south side of the altar. She
was carried l past St. James's Palace and Charing Cross.
Bonner, as Bishop of London, and Feckenham, as Abbot of
Westminster, rode together. The scholars, the almsmen, and
the monks went before. Bonner sang mass, and Feckenham
preached.2 An artist was brought from Cleves to construct the
tomb. But it was left to be finished by Dean Neale in the
reign of James I.3
Mary soon followed. With ' Calais on her heart ' she was
borne from St. James's Palace to Henry VII. 's Chapel, and
QUEEN thus became the first occupant of the north aisle, here
NOV. iV, as in Edward's Chapel, the favoured side. Bishop
i3,ri558. ' White preached on the text 'A living dog is better
' than a dead lion.' Heath, Archbishop of York, closed the
service. The black cloth in which the Abbey was draped was
torn down by the people before the ceremony 4 was well over.
obsequies of ^er obsequies were, with one exception, the last
djl v., funeral solemnity of the Roman Church celebrated
in the Abbey : that exception was the dirge and
requiem ordered by Elizabeth, a few days later, for Charles V.,
' Emperor of Rome.' 5
The grave of Mary bore witness to the change that suc-
ceeded on her death. The altars which she had re-erected,
or which had survived the devastation of her brother's reign,
April i6 were destroyed by her sister. The fragments of those
:i56i. which stood in Henry VII. 's Chapel were removed,
and carried to ' where Mary was buried, perhaps toward the
1 Machyn's Diary, Aug. 3, 1557. Eoman Catholic, but probably one of
- Excerpta Historica, 295. The a later date. The tomb seems to have
funeral ceremony is given, 303. been apparently built on the site of an
3 Neale, ii. 283. — It is marked by older tomb— probably of an Abbot. See
initials A. C. A bas-relief, by some Chapter VI.
supposed to have been intended for it, 4 Machyn's Diary, Dec. 13, 1558.
was found in 1865 packed in the Ee- 5 Stirling's Cloister Life of Charles
vestry. It was evidently made for a 7., p. 251 ; Machyn, Dec. 23, 1558.
152 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. IH.
' making of her monument with those religious stones.' l It
was, however, forty-five years before the memory of her un-
happy reign would allow a word to indicate her sepulchre.
QUEEN At ^as^ the hour of reconciliation came. Queen
Elizabeth, the third foundress of the institution, and
w^° clung to it with peculiar affection, had breathed
jjer iast on the cushioned floor in Richmond Palace.
The body was brought by the Thames to Westminster :—
The Queen did come by water to Whitehall,
The oars at every stroke did tears let fall.2
With these and other like exaggerations, which, however, indi-
cate the excess of the national mourning, she was laid in the
Abbey. ' The City of Westminster was surcharged with multi-
' tudes of all sorts of people, in their streets, houses, windows,
' leads, and gutters, that came to see the obsequy ; and when
' they beheld her statue or picture lying upon the coffin, set forth
' in royal robes, having a crown upon the head thereof, and a
' ball and sceptre in either hand, there was such a general
' sighing, groaning, and weeping, as the like has not been seen
' or known in the memory of man ; neither doth any history
' mention any people, time, or state, to make like lamentation
' for the death of their sovereign.' 3 In the twelve banners
which were carried before her, her descent from the House of
York was carefully emblazoned, to the exclusion of the Lancas-
trian line.4 On the oaken covering of the leaden coffin was
carefully engraved the double rose with the simple august
initials 'E. E., 1603.' Dean Andrews preached the funeral
sermon. Ealeigh was present as- captain of the guard. It was
his last public act. She was carried, doubtless by her own
desire, to the North Aisle of Henry VII. 's Chapel, to the un-
marked grave of her unfortunate predecessor. At the head of
the monument raised by her successor over the narrow vault 5 are
to be read two lines full of a far deeper feeling than we should
naturally have ascribed to him — ' Regno consortes et urna, liic
1 Strype's Annuls, i. pt. i. p. 400 ; the tract called England's Mourning
Machyn, April 16, 1561. Garment, and Vetusta Monumenta, vol.
* Camden's Eemains, p. 524. See ii. plate 18, where there is also an en-
Chapter VI. graving of a sketch of it (now in the
btow, p. 815. The effect was in- British Museum) supposed to have been
creased by the fact that so many were drawn by Camden.
there in mourning for the plague. (St. s See Appendix. Compare Wash-
John's Raleigh, ii. 73.) ington Irving's Sketch Book, p. 221.
* Programme of the funeral, in
CHAP. in. OF THE TUDORS. 153
' obdormimus Elizaletha ct Maria sorores, in spe resurrectionis.'
The long war of the English Reformation is closed in those
words. In that contracted sepulchre, admitting of none other
but those two, the stately coffin of Elizabeth rests on the coffin
of Mary. The sisters are at one : the daughter of Catherine of
Arragon and the daughter of Anne Boleyn repose in peace at
last.
Her own monument is itself a landmark of English history
and of the Abbey. There had been a prediction, which the
Tomb of
Elizabeth, justified, that ' no child of Henry VIII. should ever be
' buried with any memory.' This ' blind prophecy ' it was now
determined to frustrate. ' Eather than fail in payment l for
' Queen Elizabeth's tomb, neither the Exchequer nor London
'shall have a penny left.' Considering the little love between
the two, its splendour is a tribute to the necessity which com-
pelled the King to recognise the universal feeling of the nation.
Disfigured as it is, it represents the great Queen as she was
best known to her contemporaries ; and of ah1 the monuments
in the Abbey, it was the one for many years the widest known
throughout the whole kingdom. Far into the next century,
Fuller could still speak of ' the lively draught of it, pictured in
' every London and in most country churches, every parish being
' proud of the shade of her tomb ; and no wonder, when each
' loyal subject created a mournful monument for her in his
' heart.' 2 It is probable that this thought was suggested by one
such copy, amongst many, at St. Saviour's, Southwark, with the
lines : —
St. Peter's Church at Westminster,
Her sacred body doth inter ;
Her glorious soul with angels sings,
Her deeds have patterns been for kings,
Her love in every heart hath room ;
This only shadows forth her tomb.3
So ended the Tudor tombs in the Chapel of their Founder.
But the Stuarts were not slow in vindicating their right to be
1 Letter of Viscount Cranbourne to (ibid.), reached £965, ' besides stone-
Sir Thomas Lake. (State Papers, ' work.' It was erected by Maximilian
1609.) It was made of white marble Poutram. (MS. in the possession of
and touchstone from the Royal store Baroness North.) For the wax effigy,
at Whitehall. Warrant of James I. See Chapter IV.
to Viscount Cranbourne. (Ibid.) The - Church History, book x. § 12.
cost, which was not to exceed £JGOO 3 Londiniana, i. 243.
154 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
considered as Kings of England, by regarding Westminster
THE Abbey as their new Dunfermline or Holyrood. The
STCARTO. Scottish dynasty lies side by side with the Welsh. Al-
ready there had been laid in the western end of the South Aisle,
of which the eastern end was occupied by Margaret Countess of
Richmond, another Margaret, far less eminent in character,
but claiming her place here as the link between the English
Margaret and the Scottish thrones. Margaret Lennox, daughter
i577n°x> of Margaret Tudor by her second husband, and wife of
Stuart Earl of Lennox,1 after a series of family disasters, died
in poverty at what was then the suburban village of Hackney ;
and was, in consideration of her kinship with no less than
twelve sovereigns (as her epitaph records), buried here at the
expense of Queen Elizabeth. The monument, ' bargained for '
and * appointed to be made ' by herself in her will,2 was partly
erected by her grandson, James I. Round it kneel her children
—Henry Darnley, marked, by the fragments of the crown
Charles above his head, as the unfortunate King of Scot-
land;3 and Charles Stuart, 'father to the Ladie
* Arbell,' who at his mother's request, as stated in her will, was
removed from Hackney, where he had been buried, to the vault
beneath.4
Next to this tomb — by a double proximity, as remarkable as
that which has laid Mary Tudor with Elizabeth — is the grave
Mary Queen °^ Mary Stuart. We need not follow her obsequies
from Fotheringay Castle to the neighbouring Cathedral
T of Peterborough. But the first Stuart king of England
trough, wno r^ised the monument to his predecessor was not
Oct. 4, 1612. 1^^ to overlook his mother. The letter is still ex-
tant, and now hangs above the site of her grave at Peterborough,
in which James I. ordered the removal of her body to the spot
where he had commanded a memorial of her to be made in
the Church of Westminster, ' in the place where the kings and
' queens of this realm are commonly interred,' that the ' like
' honour might be done to the body of his dearest mother, and
' the like monument be extant of her, that had been done to his
1 For her character, see Froude's (p. 95). But he probably remains at
History, xi. 72. Holyrood.
4 Epitaph. Through the leaden
2 The will is printed in the Darnley coffin the parched skin could be seen
Jewel, p. 63. It was made in the year in 1711. (Crull, p. 119.) In 1624
of her death. was laid in the same vault his cousin
Henry Esme Duke of Lennox. (See
1 ' He is here entombed,' says Crull Chapter IV. and Appendix.)
CHAP. in. OF THE STUARTS. 155
' dear sister, the late Queen Elizabeth.' l A vault was made in
the South Aisle, close to that of the mother of Darnley. In the
centre of the north wall of that new vault, hereafter to be
thronged by her unfortunate descendants, the leaden coffin was
placed.2 Over it was raised a monument 'like to that of
' Elizabeth,' but on a grander scale, as if to indicate the
superiority of the mother to the predecessor, of the victim to
the vanquisher. Her elaborate epitaph is closed by the words
from St. Peter,3 recommending the Saviour's example of patient
suffering. Her tomb was revered by devout Scots as the shrine
of a canonised saint. 'I hear,' says Demster, thirteen years
after the removal of the remains from Peterborough, ' that her
' bones, lately translated to the burial-place of the Kings of
' England at Westminster, are resplendent with miracles.' 4
This probably is the latest instance of a miracle-working tomb
in England, and it invests the question of Queen Mary's cha-
racter with a theological as well as an historical interest.
In the tombs of the two rival Queens, the series of Boyal
Monuments is brought to an end.5 Elizabeth and Mary are the
End of the last sovereigns in whom the gratitude of a successor
HoyalMonu- & ° . .
meuts. or the affection of a nation have combined to insist
on so august a memorial. It may have been the result of the
circumstances or the character of the succeeding sovereigns.
Charles I. was indifferent to the memory of James I. Charles
II. wasted on himself the money which Parliament granted to
him for the monument to Charles I. James II., even if he had
cared sufficiently, reigned too short a time to erect a monument
to his brother. William. III. and Mary were not likely to be
honoured by Anne, nor Anne by George L, nor George I. by
George II., nor George II. by George III. But, in fact, a
deeper than any personal feeling was behind. Even in France
the practice was dying out. At St. Denys the royal tombs
ceased after that of Henri II. Princes were no longer, as they
1 See Appendix. ' names of Henry the Fifth and of
- Ibid. ' Queen Elizabeth gave the knight
3 1 Pet. i. 21, 22. ' great opportunities of shining and of
4 Demster, Hist. Eccl. Ant. Scot. ' doing justice to Sir Richard Baker,
ed. Bannatyne Club, 1829. — It was pub- ' who, as our knight observed with
lished at Bologna in 1627, but writ- ' some surprise, had a great many
ten before 1626, as the author died ' kings in him, whose monuments he
in 1625. Communicated by the late ' had not seen in the Abbey.' (Spec-
Joseph Robertson, of the Register tator, No. 329.) The context seems
House, Edinburgh. to show some confusion between Henry
5 This blank appears to have struck V. and Henry VII.
Sir Roger de Coverley. ' The glorious
156 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
had been, the only rulers of the nation. With Elizabeth began
the tombs of Poets' Corner ; with Cromwell a new impetus was
given to the tombs of warriors and statesmen ; with William III.
began the tombs of the leaders of Parliament.1 Other figures
than those of Kings began to occupy the public eye. Yet even
as the monarchy, though shrunk, yet continued, so also the
graves, though not the monuments, of sovereigns— the tombs, if
not of sovereigns, yet of royal personages — still keep up the
shadow of the ancient practice.
Two infant children of James I., Mary and Sophia, lie in
the north aisle of Henry VII. 's Chapel, under the urn, which,
probably from their neighbourhood, Charles II. erected, in what
may thus be called the Innocents' Coiner, to receive the remains
of the two murdered York princes which he brought from the
Process Tower.2 Of Mary — the first of his children born in
c"yi6?ed England, and therefore the first 'Princess of Great
' Britain,' — James used ' pleasantly to say,' with his
usual mixture of theology and misplaced wit, ' that he would not
'pray to the Virgin Mary, but would pray for the Virgin
' Mary.' 3 She was, according to her father, ' a most beautiful
' infant ; ' and her death, at the age of two years and a half, is
described as peculiarly touching. The little creature kept re-
peating, ' I go, I go ' — ' Away I go ; ' and again a third time, ' I
' go, I go.' 4 Her coffin was brought in a coach to the Deanery,
Princess an(^ thence through the cloisters to the Abbey.5 In
bSri^jml5 the same Jear na(i died Sophia,6 rosula regia pnepropero
23, leo/. j-ato decerpta, who lived but a day. The King ' took
' her death as a wise prince should, and wished her to be buried
'in Westminster Abbey, as cheaply as possible, without any
' solemnity or funeral ; ' 7 ' sleeping in her cradle [the cradle is
' itself the tomb], wherewith vulgar eyes, especially of the weaker
' sex, are more affected (as level to their cognisance, more capable
' of what is pretty than what is pompous) than with all the
' magnificent monuments in Westminster.' 8
1 See Chapter IV. « The first Sophia of English history,
2 The bones of the York Princes herself called after her grandmother,
were placed hi ' Monk's vault,' 1678 Sophia of Denmark, and bequeathing
(Dart, i. 167), but only till the urn was her name to her niece, the Electress
ready. It was made by Wren. See of Hanover. (Strickland's Queens of
Appendix. Scotland, viii. 286 ; Life of Arabella
3 Fuller's Worthies, i. 490. Stuart, ii. 89.)
4 Green's Princesses, ii. 91-95.— 7 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 129. It cost
Margaret Lennox was chief mourner. £140. (Lodge's Illustrations, iii. 309.)
(Sandford, p. 537.) » Fuller's Worthies, i. 490.
4 Dart, i. 167.
CHAP. m. OF THE STUARTS. 157
Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, in -whose grave were
buried the hopes of the Puritan party, was laid in the South
Prince Aisle of the Chapel, under his grandmother's monu-
Henry, died .
NOV. e, * ment,' ' in the vault which had been just made for her
buried Dec.
He died ' on a day of triumph 2 for a former memorable
' deliverance (Nov. 5), and in the heat of preparation for his
' sister's marriage. So we are all turned to black, and exceed-
' ing much mournfulness.' 3 His funeral was attended by 2,000
mourners. Nine banners went before, each preceded by ' two
' trumpeters that sounded wofully.' His effigy was clothed
with the richest garments he had, which ' did so lively represent
' his person, as that it did not only draw tears from the severest
' beholders, but caused a fearful outcry among the people, as if
' they felt their own ruin in that loss.' 4 His friend, Arch-
bishop Abbott, who had attended his last hours, preached the
sermon on Psalm Ixxxii. 6, 7.5 The absence of any special
monument for one so deeply lamented, caused much comment
Arabella ^ *^e time. Three years later Arabella Stuart,
bS'sept. daughter of Charles Lennox, and cousin of James I.,
27, 1615. aft.er jjer troubled life, ' was brought at midnight by
' the dark river from the Tower,' and laid ' with no solemnity '
upon the coffin of Mary Stuart — her coffin without a plate, and
so frail, that the skull and bones were seen as far back as the
record of visitors extends, visible through its shattered frame.
' To have had a great funeral for one dying out of the King's
' favour would have reflected on the King's honour.' 6
Anne of Denmark next followed. She died at Somerset
House, called, from her, Denmark House, after making a dying
Anne of profession of her faith, ' free from Popery.' The King,
i detained by illness at Newmarket, was unable to be
present at her funeral. It was postponed again and
again till more than two months from her death.
' There was no money to put the King's servants in mourning.'
It was intended to have been three times more costly than
1 So the Burial Register. For whoso learns, strait melts in
2 State Papers, Nov. 11, 1612. tears and dies.'
3 Giles Fletcher, and others in Pet- 4 State Papers, Dec. 19, 1612.
tigrew's Epitaphs, p. 314. * Birch's Life of Henry Prince of
' If wise, amaz'd, depart this holy Wales, pp. 363, 522.
grave, ' Register; Keepe, p. 105; Life of
Nor these new ashes ask what name Arabella Stuart, ii. 246, 298. For the
they have: tomb of Lewis Stuart, Duke of Bich-
The graver in concealing them was mond, see Chapter IV.
wise,
158 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. in.
Queen Elizabeth's, but the public expectation was disappointed
with the general effect. There was a long procession of two
hundred and fifty ladies in black — ' a drawling dolorous sight—
' lagging, tired with the length of the way.' The Dean of
Westminster (Tounson) was charged to find ' a convenient place
' for her,' and she was laid — at least she now lies — alone in a
spacious vault ' in the north-easternmost recess of Henry VII.'s
Chapel. Archbishop Abbott preached on Psalm cxlvi. 3.2
In five years followed King James himself. Abbott, now so
aged as to need a supporter, performed the service. The French
JAMES i ambassadors would be content with no place 3 short of
P^ity with the chief mourner, Charles I., even though
less. foey bad occasionally to walk in the kennel to keep
their places. The Venetian ambassador insisted on wearing the
same mourning as the French. Not with his predecessor, nor
with his mother, nor with his wife, nor with his children, but
in the august tomb of Henry VII., founder of the Chapel and
of the dynasty through which the Stuarts claimed their throne,
was laid the founder of the new race of kings. Edward VI.
must for the moment have been disturbed, and Elizabeth of
York displaced, to receive the unwieldy coffin. But the entrance
was effected, and with his great grandparents the Scottish
King reposes as in a patriarchal sepulchre.4 His funeral
sermon was preached by Dean Williams, who, with an in-
genuity worthy of James himself, compared the dead King in
eight particulars to Solomon. His hearse was of unusual
splendour, a masterpiece, as it was thought, of Inigo Jones.5
A scheme for a monument in the classical style was devised but
never executed.6
Charles I.'s two infant children were the first to follow.
Theirs were the first of that vast crowd of small coffins that
P^^ thronged their grandmother's vault. One was his
bS Vy eldest-born, Charles, over whose short life the Eoman
i3ine?died Catholic priests of his mother and the Anglican
'• chaplains of the father fought for the privilege of
baptizing him.7 The other was the Princess Anne, who, on her
1 Heralds' College and Lord Cham- s From Sir J. Finet, the Master of
berlain's Office. State Papers, March the Ceremonies. (Philoxenus, p. 150.)
27, April 16, 1619. See Appendix. « See Appendix.
2 The Prince Palatine sate in the 5 See note at end of Chapter IV.
Dean's stall; the Lord Chancellor • Walpole's Anecdotes, 223.
(Bacon) in the scholars' pew. (Harl. ' Fuller's Worthies, i 490
MS. 5176.)
CHAP. in. THE COMMONWEALTH. 159
deathbed at four years old, 'was not able to say her long
' prayer (meaning the Lord's Prayer), but said she would say
'her short one, — "Lighten mine eyes, Lord, lest I sleep the
' " sleep of death," and so the little 1 lamb gave up the ghost.'
Two years after the death of this ' little innocent,' the Eoyal
Abbey passed into the hands of the Commonwealth and the
THE Protector. The changes of its constitution will appear
WKALTH as we proceed. But its outward fabric was hardly
TECTOIIATE. injured. The Eoyal Monuments, which cruelly
suffered under Henry VIII., received, so far as we know, no
harm 2 under Cromwell ; and the Abbey, so far from losing its
attractions, drew into it not only, as we shall see,3 the lesser
magnates of the Commonwealth, but also the Protector himself.
Nothing shows more completely how entirely he regarded him-
self as the founder of a royal dynasty than his determination
cromweii's that he and his whole family should lie amongst the
family. Kings of England. Already at the time of Essex's
funeral, in 1646, the public mind was prepared for his burial in
Henry VII. 's Chapel, ' with the immortal turf of Naseby under
' his head.' 4 Three members of his family were interred there
jane vis- before his death — his sister Jane,5 who married Gene-
ral Disbrowe ; his venerable mother, Elizabeth Stuart,
cromweii, through whom his descent was traced to the brother
i8!i654,v' of the founder of the Stuarts ; and Elizabeth Claypole,
aged 96. •, • f •, a li.fi
Elizabeth his favourite daughter."
diedpAug. e, 'At three o'clock in the afternoon' of the 3rd of
icu658tug' September, ' a day of triumph and thanksgivings for
CROMWELL, ' the memorable victories of Dunbar and Worcester,
i658.Sert'3' ' his most serene and renowned highness Oliver Lord
Protector was taken to his rest.' 7 The arrangements of the
1 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 108; Sand- 6 She died at Hampton Court
ford, p. 608 ; Fisher, p. 288. August 6, and was laid in state in the
2 Dart speaks of injuries to the Con- Painted Chamber, and thence was
fessor's Shrine ; but these must have buried on August 10 in a vault made
been chiefly confined to the altar at on purpose. Her aunt, the wife of
its west end. (See Chapter VI.) Dr. Wilkins, afterwards Bishop of
3 See Chapters IV. and VI. • Chester, was chief mourner. (Mer-
4 Vines's Sermon on Essex's Fune- curius Politicus.) She is the ' Betty '
ral. See Chapter IV. of Oliver's earlier letters, ' who be-
5 Nichols's Col. Top. viii. 153. ' longs to the sect rather of seekers
Amongst the family must be reckoned ' than of finders. Happy are they who
'Anne Fleetwood,' mentioned in the 'find— most happy are they who
warrant for disinterment (see Ap- ' seek ! ' (Carlyle's Cromwell, i. 295.)
pendix), who may be a daughter of See Appendix.
the General Fleetwood, and grand- J Commonwealth Mercury, Sept. 2-9,
daughter of Cromwell. 1658.
](50 THE ROYAL TOMBS. CHAP. ni.
funeral were left to Mr. Kinnersley, Master of the Wardrobe,
who, * being suspected to be inclined to Popery, recommended
' the solemnities used at the like occasion for Philip the Second,
' who had been represented to be in Purgatory for about two
< months. In the like manner was the body of this great re-
' former laid in Somerset House, the apartment hung with black,
' the daylight excluded, and no other but that of wax tapers
'to be seen. This scene of Purgatory continued till the 1st of
'November, which being the day preceding that commonly
' called " All Souls," he was removed into the great hall of the
'said House, and represented in effigy standing on a bed of
' crimson velvet, covered with a gown of the like coloured
' velvet, a sceptre in his hand, and a crown on his head. . . .
' Four or five hundred candles set in flat shining candlesticks,
' so placed round near the roof of the Hall, that the light they
' gave seemed like the rays of the sun, by all which he was
' represented to be in a state of glory.' l The profusion of the
ceremony, it is said, so far provoked the people that they
threw dirt, in the night, on his escutcheon, placed over the
great gate.
At the east end of Henry VII.'s Chapel, a vault had been
prepared, which many years afterwards was still called ' Oliver's,'
Burial of or ' Oliver Cromwell's vault.' 2 Its massive walls,
CROMWELL abutting immediately on the royal vault of Henry
sept. 26; ' YIL, are the only addition to the structure of the
NoTss, Abbey dating from the Commonwealth. Here ' the
' last ceremony of honour was paid to the memory of
' him, to whom (so thought his adherents 3 ) posterity will
' pay (when envy is laid asleep by time) more honour than
' they were able to express.' Two Eoyalists who stood by,
and saw the procession pass, have also recorded their feelings.4
' It was,' says Cowley, ' the funeral day of the man late who made
'himself to be called Protector. ... I found there had been
1 Ludlow, pp. 259, 260. I cannot by one-half than ever was used for
find that Philip II.'s funeral was so royal funerals. (Heath's Chron., p.
conducted. In fact, the Protector's 411 ; Winstanley's Worthies, p. 605 ;
corpse was removed from Whitehall to Noble's Cromwell, Appendix B.) The
Somerset House on Sept. 20, and the hearse was of the same form as, only
state show began on Oct. 18. (Com- more stately than, that of James I.
monwealth Mercury, Nov. 18-25, 1658.) (Heath's Chron., p. 413.)
The expenses were paid by Parlia- "• Register, May 25, 1691 ; August
ment to Richard Cromwell. The 29, 1701.
Royalist interpretation was that it was 3 Commonwealth Mercury, Nov. 23,
designed to bring Richard in debt, and 1B58.
so ruin him, which in effect it did. 4 For the like feelings inside the
The sum expended was £60,000, more Abbey, see Chapter VI.
CHAP. in. THE COMMONWEALTH. 161
' much more cost bestowed than either the dead man, or even
' death itself, could deserve. There was a mighty train of
' black assistants ; the hearse was magnificent, the idol crowned ;
' and (not to mention all other ceremonies which are practised
' at royal interments, and therefore could be by no means
' omitted here) the vast multitude of spectators made up, as
' it uses to do, no small part of the spectacle itself. But yet,
' I know not how, the whole was so managed, that methought
' it somewhat represented the life of him for whom it was
' made : much noise, much tumult, much expense, much rnag-
' nificence, much vain glory : briefly, a great show and yet,
' after all this, but an ill sight.' ' It was,' says Evelyn, ' the
' joy fullest funeral that ever I saw, for there were none that
' cried but dogs, which the soldiers hooted away with as bar-
* barous noise, drinking and taking tobacco in the streets
' as they went.' It is said that the actual interment, from
the state of the corpse, had taken place two months before
in private ; ' and this mystery probably fostered the fables
which, according to the fancies of the narrators, described
the body as thrown into the Thames,2 or laid in the field of
Naseby,3 or in the coffin of Charles I. at Windsor,4 or in the
vault of the Claypoles in the parish church of Northampton,5
or ' carried away in the tempest the night before.' 6
The fact, however, of his interment at Westminster is
proved beyond doubt by the savage ceremonial which followed
Disinter- the Restoration. Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw
cromwlii's were dug up on the eve of the 30th of January, 1661 ;
jlT^f' and on the following day dragged to Tyburn, hanged
(with their faces turned towards Whitehall),7 decapi-
tated, and buried under the gallows.8 The plate found on the
breast of the corpse, with the inscription, passed into the pos-
session of the sergeant who took up the body, from whom it
descended, through his daughter, Mrs. Giffard, into the hands
of the Hobarts, and from them to the present Marquis of Eipon.9
The head was planted on the top of Westminster Hall, on one
1 Elenchus mortuorum, pt. ii. p. 231. to be her father. It is disproved by the
2 Oldmixon's Stuarts, i. 426. discovery of her grave in the Abbey.
3 Barkstead's Complete History, iii. (See Appendix.)
228 ; Biocj. Brit. iii. 1573. 6 Heath's Flagellum, p. 187.
4 Pepys's Diary, Oct. 14, 1664. ' Pepys's Diary, Jan. 30, 1660-1 ;
5 This tradition is based on two Heath's Flagellum, p. 192.
gravestones over the Claypole vault 8 i.e. near Connaught Square.
at Northampton, one with the letters 9 Barkstead, iii. 229 ; Noble's Crom-
E. C., supposed to be Elizabeth Clay- well ; and Gent. Mag. May 1867.
pole ; one without inscription, supposed
M
162 THE KOYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
side, as Ireton's on the other side, of Bradshaw's, which was
set up in the centre,1 as over the place in which he had passed
judgment, ' to be the becoming spectacle of his treason, where,
' on that pinnacle and legal advancement, it is fit to leave this
' ambitious wretch.' 2
No mark was left to indicate the spot where Oliver, with
his kindred, lay beneath his stately hearse. Nor yet where his
favourite daughter still continued to repose, in her separate
grave.3
With the Eestoration the burials of the legitimate Princes
recommenced, in a gloom — it may be added, a privacy — sin-
THK RE- gularly contrasting with the joyous solemnity of the
intended" return. Charles I. himself, who had been buried at
curies i. Windsor, was to have been transported to Henry VII.'s
Chapel at Westminster, and reinterred, under a splendid tomb,
to be executed by Wren.4 'And many good people thought
' this so necessary, that they were much troubled that it was
' not done.' The ' reasons given were not liked/ — the appre-
hension of a disturbance, the length of time that had passed,
but chiefly the difficulty of finding the grave. Since the dis-
covery of the body at Windsor, in 1813, exactly where it was
said to have been interred, we know that this reason was fic-
titious, and we can hardly avoid the conclusion that the King
had appropriated to himself the money (£70,000) granted for
this purpose. The Abbey, no doubt, was fortunate to escape
the intrusion of what would have been, architecturally, the only
thoroughly incongruous of all the regal monuments.5
The other members of the House, of Stuart followed fast
even amidst the rejoicings of the Eestoration, to the royal
sepulchre, and were all laid in the vault of their ancestress
Henry Mary. First came Henry of Oatlands, Duke of Glou-
Gioucester, cester, the child who said he would be torn in pieces
<l:'''i S^Dt
is, buried before he should be made King in his elder brother's
Scot **1
ifitio.' " place. He died of the small-pox,6 at Whitehall, ' the
' mirth and entertainments of that time had raised his blood
1 Pepys's Diary, Jan. 5, 1661-2. — 4 The plan is in All Souls' College
They seem then to have been inside Library,
the Hall. 5 Clarendon's Life, ii. 15 ; History,
1 Heath's Flagellum, p. 192.— The vol. iii. pt. i. p. 393 ; Wood's Atli. Ox.
traditions of the fate of Cromwell's ii. 703 ; Sir Henry Halford's Essays,
skull are too intricate to be here de- pp. 157-192.
scribed. ° Burnet's Own Time, i. 172, 292.
» See Chapter IV.
CHAP. in. OF THE STUAETS. 163
' so high.' l Nothing ever affected his heartless royal brother
.Mary of so deeply.2 Next came Mary of Orange, mother of
burieTbec. William III., laid, by her own desire, close to the
29,1660. Duke Of Gloucester, 'honourably though privately
' buried in Henry VII. 's Chapel.' 3 She had visited England
' to congratulate the happiness of her brother's miraculous
' restoration.' 4 And within the next year, ' after all her sor-
Eiizabetu < rows and afflictions,' Elizabeth Queen of Bohemia,5
buried Feb.' eldest daughter of James I., and mother of the Elect-
ress Sophia, who died at Leicester House. * The night
NOV. 25, ' of her burial fell such a storm of hail, thunder, and
buried Dec. ,. , , . ., ,., , ,. TT
e, 1682. ' lightning, as was never seen the like. 6 Her son,.
Prince Eupert, who had usually been brought out as chief
mourner to all the lesser royal funerals, followed in 1682,7 dying
in embarrassed circumstances, and buried without the usual
pomp, close to the coffin of his mother.
Apart from these, but within the same august Chapel, were
laid child after child of the illegitimate progeny- of , Charles II.
Eari of Charles Earl of Doncaster,8 son of the Duke of Mon-
Feb.cio*er' mouth and of the heiress of the House of Buccleuch ;
DatoHrf Charles Fitzroy, Duke of Cleveland and Southampton ;
Cleveland, charles Fitz-Charles, Earl of Plymouth 9 (transported
ihriof here from Tangiers), lie in the- vault which had been
burSdjM. built for Cromwell.10 Charles himself, after that last
~81' scene of his life, which none can repeat after Macau-
n^died8 lay, was ' very obscurely buried at night, without any
buried Feb. ' manner of pomp, and soon forgotten, after all his
4"5' ' vanity.' All the great officers broke ' their staves
' over the grave according to form.' u A new vault had been
made12 immediately after his death, at the east end of the
South Aisle, which, from that time till it was superseded, as
we shall see, by the Hanoverian dynasty, was known as ' the
1 Pepys's Diary, Sept. 5, 13, 15, 17, 8 Kegister.
and 21 (1660). 9 Of the other natural sons of
2 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 204. Charles II., the Duke of St. Albans
3 Ashmole apparently was present, was buried in St. Andrew's Duke of St.
(Green's Princesses, vi. 331.) Dean Chapel, attracted thither by Albans.
Earles preached on Luke ii. 12-14 on his wife, Diana de Vere (Register,
Christmas Day. He alluded to the 1726 ; see Chapter IV.) ; and Duke of
public sorrow. (Evelyn, ii. 161.) the Duke of Richmond in Richmond.
4 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 117. the Lennox vault. (Ibid.)
5 Green's Princesses, vi. 84. 10 Crull, p. 111.
6 Evelyn, ii. 189. n Evelyn's Diary, iii. 138; Register.
7 Crull, p. 119. (Register.) MS. 12 Feb. 8, Heralds' College.
Heralds' College.
M 2
1(34 THE BOYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
' Koyal Vault.' l Thus reposes 2 one of the most popular and
the least deserving of monarchs, over whose unmarked grave
Rochester's words rise to our minds :—
Here lies our sovereign lord the King,
Whose word no man relies on ;
Who never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one.
In the same narrow vault, equally unmarked by any praise
or blame, and buried with a plainness arising either from the
WILLIAM indifference natural on the accession of a rival House, or
March's? from the simplicity of his own character,3 reposes one
Aprifis, of the least popular, but by his public acts, one of the
most deserving of monarchs — William III. His grave
endeared the Abbey to the Nonconformist poet : 4—
Preserve, 0 venerable pile,
Inviolate thy sacred trust,
To thy cold arms the British Isle
Weeping commits her richest dust.
' The remains of James II. had but a short time before been
' escorted in the dusk of the evening, by a slender retinue,
James ii ' *° *^e Chapel of the English Benedictines at Paris,
i6edi7oipt' ' an(^ deposited there in the vain hope that, at some
future time, they would be laid with kingly pomp at
stmoerd *° ' Westminster, among the graves of the Plantagenets
mains. « an(j Tudors.' 5 The actual result was still less within
the ken of the mourners, that over their ultimate resting-
place in the church of St. Germain, -a monument should be
erected to his memory by a descendant of the dynasty that had
taken his throne — ' Regio Cineri Pietas Regia.' His first wife,
Anne Hyde,6 daughter of Lord Clarendon, and mother of the two
1 Archives of the Lord Chamber- by the extreme brevity of the enumera-
lain's Office. Communicated by the tion of his titles, which are given with
kindness of Mr. Doyne Bell. the barest initials.
2 It is stated in Clarke's Life of 4 Watts's Works, iv. 490.
James II. (ii. 6) that the rites of the s Macaulay, v. 295 ; Clarke's Life of
Church of England were not used. James II., ii. 599-603. The remains,
The account preserved in Heralds' which had been distributed amongst no
College proves that they were. The less than three convents in Paris, were
Scottish Covenanters rejoiced that finally collected in 1814, and placed in
their oppressor had been buried with the parish church of St. Germain-en-
the burial of an ass ; but the London Laye, where the present monument
housemaids all wore a fragment of was erected by George IV. in 1826.
black crape. (Macaulay, i. 444.) (Pettigrew's Epitaphs, pp. 258, 259.)
3 His coffin - plate is distinguished « Keepe, pp. 106-110.
from all the others on the royal coffins
CHAP. in. OF THE STUARTS. 165
Stuart Queens, lies in the vault of Mary Queen of Scots, be-
Anne Hyde, neath the coffin of Elizabeth of Bohemia, ancestress of
York.Tuded tne ^ne which was to supplant her father's house.1
^j" 5> Above and around, in every direction, crushing by the
children of accumulated weight of their small coffins the recepta-
cles of the illustrious dust beneath, lie the numerous
DStenrf ime' children of James II. who died in infancy — six 2 sons and
duS'juVy*' fiye daughters — and the eighteen children of Queen
Aug"led Anne, dying in infancy or still-born,3 ending with
"William Duke of Gloucester, the last hope of the race
— thus withered, as it must have seemed, by the doom of Pro-
vidence.4
The two last sovereigns of that race close the series of the
MABY ii., unfortunate dynasty in the Southern Aisle, over which
1694. e< ' the figure of their ancestress presides with such tragical
solemnity.
The funeral of Mary was long remembered as the saddest and most
august that Westminster had ever seen.5 While the Queen's remains
Her funeral ^ m s^e a^ Whitehall, the neighbouring streets were filled
March 5, ' every day, from sunrise to sunset, by crowds which made all
traffic impossible. The two Houses with their maces followed
the hearse — the Lords robed in scarlet and ermine, the Commons in long
black mantles. No preceding Sovereign bad ever been attended to the
grave by a Parliament : for, till then, the Parb'ament had always expired
with the Sovereign. . . . The whole Magistracy of the City swelled the
procession. The banners of England and France, Scotland and
Ireland, were carried by great nobles before the corpse. The pall was
borne by the chiefs of the illustrious houses of Howard, Seymour,
Grey, and Stanley. On the gorgeous coffin of purple and gold were
laid the crown and sceptre of the realm. The day was well suited to
such a ceremony. The sky was dark and troubled, and a few ghastly
flakes of snow fell on the black plumes of the funeral car. Within
the Abbey, nave, choir, and transept were in a blaze with innumerable
waxligbts. The body was deposited under a sumptuous canopy in the
1 The last interment in this vault - Including a natural son, James
vras that of the infant Prince George Darnley, probably the son of Catherine
William, second son of George IL, Sedley. See Appendix,
when Prince of Wales who was care- , Dart u 52 53 Thig wag called
fully embalmed by Dr. Mead, Sir Hans sometimes . the Eoyai,. but more often
Sloane and other eminent physicians, <the E &l Famil ' VauU , && distinct
and placed there on Feb. Ib, 1/17. from the . Eoyai Vault ' at the east
This was probably the occasion when end_ (Mg> Heralds, College.)
Dart saw the vault (11. o3). The child 4 - .
was removed to its mother's side on .Register,
her death in 1737, in George II.'s vault, s Macaulay, iv. 534, 535.
where it now is.
166 THE KOYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
centre of the church while the Primate (Tenison) preached.1 The
earlier part of his discourse was deformed hy pedantic divisions
and subdivisions : but towards the close he told what he had himself
seen and heard with a simplicity and earnestness more affecting than
the most skilful rhetoric. Through the whole ceremony the distant
booming of cannon was heard every minute from the batteries of the
Tower.2
A robin redbreast,3 which had taken refuge in the Abbey, was
seen constantly on her hearse, and was looked upon with
QUEEN tender affection for its seeming love to the lamented
AXXE, (lied ^
Queen.
Anne was buried in the vault beside her sister
Ge^geof Mary and her husband Prince George of Denmark.
dieToirt.'ss, Her unwieldly frame filled a coffin larger even than
i8,iroa.°T' that of her gigantic spouse.4 An inquisitive anti-
quary went to see the vault before it was bricked up.5 It
was full from side to side, and was then closed, amidst
the indignant lamentations of the adherents of the extinct
dynasty : —
Where Anna rests, with kindred ashes laid,
What funeral honours grace her injur'd shade ?
A few faint tapers glimmer'd through the night,
And scanty sable shock'd the loyal sight.
Though millions wail'd her, none compos'd her train, —
Compell'd to grieve, forbidden to complain.6
It was not to be expected that George I., as much a foreigner
in England as had been the first Norman Princes who lie at
THK Caen and Fontevrault, should be buried elsewhere
than amongst his ancestors at Hanover. But George
George i., II. and his Queen Caroline are again genuine person-
ii! 1727? ages of English History and of the English Abbey.
HUanovear. In the centre of the Chapel of Henry VII., which
under the auspices of his great minister had been animated
with a new life by the banners of the remodelled Order of the
Bath,7 were deposited the royal pair. Queen Caroline, the
most discriminating patroness of learning and philosophy that
1 On Eccles. vii. 14. The Dean five coffins are described in the Eegis-
performed the service. ter for August 24, 1714. The names
- Macaulay's account is taken from on the five Eoyal graves were first in-
the Heralds' College. scribed in 1866.
s Sketch in the Library of the So- «. Samuel Wesley, in Atterbury's
ciety of Antiquaries. Letters, ii. 426.
4 Strickland, xii. 459. ' See Chapter II.
s Thoresby's Diary, ii. 252.— The
CHAP. in. OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 167
down to that time had ever graced the throne of England —
Queen endeared to every reader of the master-works of his-
uiepach, torical fiction by her appearance in the ' Heart of Mid-
' lothian ' — was buried in that newly-opened vault,1 with
the sublime music, then first composed, of Handel's
Anthem — ' When the ear heard her, then it blessed her ; and
' when the eye saw her, it gave witness to her. How are the
' mighty fallen ! She that was great among the nations, and
' Princess among the provinces.' 2 Her husband, as a last
proof of his attachment, gave directions that his remains and
those of his wife should be mingled together. Accordingly,
the two coffins were placed in a large black marble sarcophagus
inscribed with their joint names, with their sceptres crossed,
and one side of each of the wooden coverings withdrawn. In
that vast tomb they still repose, and the two planks still lean
against the eastern wall.3
More than twenty years passed before the King followed.
It is probably the last direct royal reminiscence of Edward the
GEORGE IT, Confessor, that in the extravagant eulogies published
died Oct. 25, . °
on George II. 's death, his devotion was compared
to that of St. Edward.4 His funeral must be left to Horace
Walpole to describe : —
Do you know, I had the curiosity to go to the burying t'other
night ; I had never seen a royal funeral ; nay, I walked as a rag of
m* funeral °luahty, which I found would be, and so it was, the easiest
NOV. 11, ' -way of seeing it. It is absolutely a noble sight. The Prince's
Chamber, hung with purple, and a quantity of silver lamps,
the coffin under a canopy of purple velvet, and six vast chandeliers of
silver on high stands, had a very good effect. The Ambassador from
Tripoli and his son were carried to see that chamber. The procession,
through a line of foot-guards, every seventh man bearing a torch, the
horse-guards lining the outside, their officers with drawn sabres and
crape sashes on horseback, the drums muffled, the fifes, bells tolling, and
minute-guns — all this was very solemn. But the charm was the entrance
of the Abbey, where we were received by the Dean and Chapter in rich
robes, the choir and almsmen bearing torches ; the whole Abbey so illu-
minated, that one saw it to greater advantage than by day; the tombs,
1 There was much confusion at the tails, see Gent. Mag. (1760), p. 539.
funeral. (Chapter Book, 1737.) The The heart had been previously de-
Psalms vrere not sung, and the Lesson posited in the vault (on Sunday, Octo-
•was omitted. (Precentor's Book, 1737.) her 9) by the Lord Chamberlain. The
2 Gent. Mag. 1737, pp. 763-7. procession entered by the north door.
3 So they were seen at an accidental The service was read by the Dean of
opening of the vault in 1871. Westminster (Bishop Pearce), though
4 Smollett, vi. 372. — For the de- the two Archbishops were present.
168 THE KOYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
long aisles, and fretted roof, all appearing distinctly, and with the
happiest chiaroscuro. There wanted nothing but incense, and little
chapels here and there, with priests saying mass for the repose of the
defunct ; yet one could not complain of its not being Catholic enough.
I had been in dread of being coupled with some boy of ten years old ;
but the heralds were not very accurate, and I walked with George
Grenville, taller and older, to keep me in countenance. When we
came to the Chapel of Henry VII., all solemnity and decorum ceased ;
no order was observed, people sat or stood where they could or would ;
the yeomen of the guard were crying out for help, oppressed by the
immense weight of the coffin ; the Bishop read sadly, and blundered in
the prayers; the fine chapter, 'Man that is born of a woman,' was
chaunted, not read; and the anthem, besides being immeasurably
tedious, would have served as well for a nuptial. The real serious
part was the figure of the Duke of Cumberland, heightened by a
thousand melancholy circumstances. He had a dark-brown adonis,
and a cloak of black cloth, with a train of five yards. Attending the
funeral of a father could not be pleasant : his leg extremely bad, yet
forced to stand upon it near two hours ; his face bloated and distorted
with his late paralytic stroke, which has affected too one of his eyes,
and placed over the mouth of the vault, in which, in all probability, he
must himself so soon descend : think how unpleasant a situation ! He
bore it all with a firm and unaffected countenance. This grave scene
was fully contrasted by the burlesque Duke of Newcastle. He fell into
a fit of crying the moment he came into the chapel, and flung himself
back in a stall, the Archbishop hovering over him with a smelling-
bottle ; but in two minutes his curiosity got the better of his hypocrisy,
and he ran about the chapel with his glass to spy who was or was not
there — spying with one hand, and mopping his eyes with the other.
Then returned the fear of catching cold ; and the Duke of Cumber-
land, who was sinking with heat, felt hirnself weighed down, and
turning round, found it was the Duke, of Newcastle standing upon his
train, to avoid the chill of the marble. It was very theatric to look
down into the vault, where the coffin lay, attended by mourners with
lights. Clavering, the groom of the bedchamber, refused to sit up with
the body, and was dismissed by the King's order.1
Into that vault, as Walpole anticipated, soon descended
the sad figure of the Duke of Cumberland, the last apparition
wiiiiam of the Prince who, as a little child of four years old,
Augustus, • J
c^umbe°rfiand, received in that same chapel his knightly sword,2
bueric°dCNo3T an<* wno grew UP to ^e tne ablest and the fiercest of
Famuy5of ' ^ family. Frederick Prince of Wales was already
George u. there. His wife Augusta followed, after seeing her
i Walpole's Letters, iv. 361-362. 2 See Chapter II.
CHAP. in. OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 169
son, George III., mount the throne. His sisters, Caroline
Duke of and Amelia,1 and his younger children, are all in the
sept,.' i7? same vault ; ending with Edward Augustus, the Albino
s.Tzer^ ° ' Duke of York, who was transported hither in state
from Monaco, where he died, and (last of the family) Henry
Duke of Frederick, Duke of Cumberland, the subject of so much
dre™sept.nd> real scandal and fictitious romance. No monument
sept.U28*d commemorates any of these Princes, and till within
the last few years their graves were unmarked by any
name.2
It was the close of George III.'s reign that witnessed the
final separation of the royal interments from Westminster
Abbey. His two youngest children, Alfred and Octavius,
had been laid on each side of George II. and Queen Caroline;
but their remains were removed to the vault constructed by
Georgein.'s their father under the Wolsey Chapel at Windsor,
Windsor. where he and his numerous progeny were with a few
exceptions interred; thus, by a singular rebound of feeling,
restoring to that Chapel the honour of royal sepulture, which
had been originally intended for it by its founder, Henry
VII. It is an almost exact copy of his grandfather's vault at
Westminster — he himself and Queen Charlotte reposing at the
east end, and the Princes and Princesses in chambers on each
side, leaving the central aisle for sovereigns.3 And, though
another mausoleum has arisen within the bounds of the royal
domain of Windsor, the renewed splendour of the Chapel
which contains the last remains of the House of Hanover well
1 A touching account of her funeral Much better than another ;
is given by Carter. (Gent. Mag. Ixix. Had it been his sister [Princess
pt. ii. p. 942.) Prince George William, Amelia]
who died in 1718, was transferred No one would have missed her ;
thither from the Stuart vault. Had it been the whole generation
2 The names were added (from the So much better for the nation ;
engraving of the vault in Neale) in 1866. But as it's only Fred,
George IV., it is said, had the intention Who was alive and is dead,
of erecting a monument to Frederick There's no more to be said.'
Prince of Wales in St. Paul's, ' West- 3 The last removal from the Abbey
' minster being overcrowded.' Letter was that of a stillborn child of the King
of W. in the Times, April 4, 1832. A of Hanover, buried in 1817, and trans-
contemporary epitaph, somewhat irre- ported to St. George's Chapel on the
verently composed on these Princes, night of William IV.'s funeral, in 1837.
corresponds to this neglect of their The King of Hanover, the Queen of
graves : — Wurtemberg, the Princess Elizabeth of
' Here lies Fred, Hesse Homburg, were buried in their
Who was alive and is dead ; own vaults in Germany ; the Duke of
I had much rather Sussex and the Princess Sophia in
Had it been his father [George II.] ; Kensal Green, and the Duchess of
Had it been his brother [the Duke of Gloucester in the south aisle in
Cumberland] Windsor.
170 THE EOYAL TOMBS CHAP. in.
continues the transition to ' the Father of our Kings to be,'-
the coming dynasty of Saxe-Coburg.
This is the close of the history of the Abbey in its con-
nection with the tombs of the Kings and Queens of England.
One more royal tomb, however, has been added, which, though
not of English lineage, combines so much of European interest,
so much of the generosity of the English Church and nation,
so much of the best characteristics of the Abbey, as fitly to
terminate the whole series.
In the side-chapel on the south of Henry VII. 's tomb is
the only modern monument of the Abbey which follows the
ROYAL mediaeval style of architecture, and which thus marks
the revival of the Gothic taste. It is the recumbent
effigy of Antony, Duke of Montpensier, younger brother of
Antony, Louis Philippe, King of the French. His end took
Duke of rr ' &
Mont- place during his exile in England, at Salthill. Dying
pansier, died r ° .
Hay is, as ne did in the Church of his fathers, and attended
buried May
26,1807. in his obsequies by the solemn funeral rites of that
Church, he was received from the Eoman Catholic chapel l into
Westminster Abbey, and laid there, ' at half-past four in the
' evening,' — first in a vault by the side of a member of the
Eochefoucault family, the Marquis de Montandre, who with
his wife, the daughter of Ezekiel Spanheim,2 was buried be-
neath the entrance of Henry VII. 's Chapel ; and then removed
to a new vault, opened for the purpose, on the south-east corner
of the Chapel, over wThich the tomb was afterwards erected
The in- by Westmacott. The Latin inscription wras written
scription. by the old Eevolutionary general, Dumouriez,3 then
living in exile in England, with a. grace and accuracy of diction
worthy of the scholarship for which the exiled chief (who had
been educated at La Bastie) was renowned ; and it records
how, after his many vicissitudes, the amiable Prince at last
had ' found his repose in this asylum of Kings — hoc demum in
' Regum asylo requiescit.' 4
1 From the French Chapel, King 4 In the correspondence on the sub-
Street, Portman Square. The body lay ject between Dean Vincent and the
there in state. High mass was per- Government, preserved in the Receiver's
formed in the presence of the Duke of Office, the Dean proposes some altera-
Bourbon, and a requiem sung there tions ' unless the inscription is sacred ;
afterwards. (Gent. Mag. 1807, pt. i. ' that is, so approved by the Duke of
p. 584.) The account, which is in ' Orleans that it may not be touched.'
some detail, has mistaken the time, It does not appear whether his sugges-
making it June 6, at half-past three. tions were accepted. In the same cor-
2 Appendix to Crull, p. 39. respondence, Louis Philippe, then Duke
s This information I owe to the kind- of Orleans (through his secretary, M.
ness of H.E.H. the Duke of Aumale. de Brovel), communicates his grati-
CHAP. III.
OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVEE.
171
He remains apart from that most pathetic of royal ceme-
teries, the burial-place of the House of Orleans, beside the
ancient tower of Dreux. But the Princes of that illustrious race
will not grudge to Westminster Abbey this one link, uniting
the glories of the insular Protestant sanctuary of England to
the continental Catholic glories of France, by that invisible
chain of hospitality and charity which stretches across the
widest gulf of race, and time, and creed, and country ; uniting
those whom all the efforts of all the kings and all the eccle-
siastics who lie in Westminster or St. Denys have not been
able to part asunder.1 In the corresponding Chapel on the
northern side was to have been erected a corresponding monu-
ment to the unfortunate heir of the great rival dynasty of the
Napoleons. The universal burst of sympathy at his untimely
death in the South African war, the close of a great historic
race, the stainless character and gallant bearing of the youth,
the tragical and romantic incident of the representative of the
great Napoleon falling under the British flag, the sense of
reparation due for a signal misfortune — all combined to render
such a commemoration singularly in accordance with the tra-
ditions of the Abbey, which has always embraced within its
walls these landmarks of human life and history : —
Sunt lacrymas renim, et mentem mortalia tangunt.
A majority of the House of Commons, however, a year
after the monument had been proposed and accepted, adopted
a resolution declaring it inconsistent with the national charac-
ter of the Abbey. The proposal to erect the monument was
in consequence withdrawn, and by command of the Queen was
tude to ' the Most Reverend the Dean '
and the Receiver, for their ' very safe
' and humane care,' and to ' the vener-
' able prelate ' his full approbation of
the spot chosen. A difficulty was
raised as to whether any one not be-
longing to the Royal Family could be
laid there. The correspondence on
this point is doubly curious — first, as
showing how rigidly the limitation of
the title of ' Royal ' to the elder branch
of the Bourbons was observed by the
English Court ; secondly, how little was
known of the many non-regal interments
in Henry VII.'s Chapel. Even the
Dean seems to have been ignorant of
the burial of any person of inferior
rank, except the Duchess of Richmond
and the two Dukes of Buckingham.
There are, in fact, not less than se-
venty.
1 In the same vault as the Duke of
Montpensier, was interred (with the
burial-place marked) Louise nueen
de Savoy, the Queen of Louise de
Louis XVIII., who died at Savoy, Nov.
Hartwell. Her remains were 26> 1810'
removed to Sardinia on March 5, 1811
(Burial Register) ; and at the same
time the coffins of two Spanish ambas-
sadors— one, that of Don Pedro Ron-
quillo (see Evelyn's Memoirs, iii. 41),
which had lain in the Lennox Chapel
since the time of William III. (Crull,
p. 107) ; the other, which had been de-
posited in the Ormond vault, March 2,
1811 — were sent back to Spain.
172 THE EOYAL TOMBS. CHAP. in.
placed in St. George's Chapel at Windsor. There has been but
one precedent for such interference with memorials of the dead
in the Abbey — that of the Parliamentarian magnates, under
pressure of the strong outburst of party feeling that followed
the Kestoration. Posterity will judge how far the ungenerous
spirit which governed the Parliament of 1661 survived, in an
altered form, in the Parliament of 1880.
Close beside the tomb of the Duke of Montpensier,1 by the
gracious desire of the Queen, and with the kindly approval of
Lady the gifted chief of the Orleans family, have been laid
B££IOT* the last remains of one whose name will be ever dear
f b!iriedCh to Westminster, — mourned in France hardly less than
i876?h 9> in England — followed to her grave by the tears of all
ranks, from her Eoyal Mistress down to her humblest and
poorest neighbours, whom she had alike faithfully served, —
by the representatives of the various Churches, and of the science
and literature, both of England and America, whom she de-
lighted to gather round her, — enshrined in the Abbey which
she had so dearly loved, and of which for twelve bright years
she had been the glory and the charm.
1 This notice belongs more properly to the following chapter, but its insertion
here will be forgiven.
[And there, on Monday, July 25, 1881, was laid to rest her husband,
Arthur Penrhyn Stanley (the author of this volume), who had been Dean of
Westminster from 1863 to his death in the deanery on July 18,
Penrhyn 1881. He was followed by the Prince of Wales, as representative
J^y'f8,>died °f tne Sovereign, by other members of the Eoyal Family, by repre-
buried July sentativesof the three Estates of the Kealm, of the Cabinet Ministers,
the literature, arts, science, and religion of the country, and by a
large concourse of the working-men of Westminster — the majority mourning
for one who had been their personal friend. The coffin was covered with
memorials and expressions of regret from high and low in England, Scotland,
France. Germany, and America, and from the members of the Armenian
Church. He rests in the same grave with his beloved wife, in the Abbey
which he loved so dearly, which he cherished as ' the likeness of the whole
English Constitution,' for the care and illustration of which he laboiired
unceasingly, and with which his name will always be associated.]
CHAPTER IV.
THE MONUMENTS.
Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone,
Sad luxury ! to vulgar minds unknown,
Along the walls where speaking marbles show
What worthies form the hallow'd mould below ;
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held ;
In arms who triumph 'd ; or in arts excelled ;
Chiefs grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood ;
Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood ;
Just men, by whom impartial laws were given ;
And saints who taught, and led, the way to heaven.
TickelPs Lines on the Death of Addison. (See p. 311.)
Some would imagine that all these monuments were so many monuments of
folly. I don't think so ; what useful lessons of morality and sound philosophy
do they not exhibit ! — ' Burke's First Visit to the Abbey ' (Prior's Life of Burke,
i. 39).
SPECIAL AUTHORITIES.
Besides the ample details of Keepe, Crull, Dart, and Neale, there are for the
ensuing Chapter the following authorities : —
I. The earlier Burial Register l of the Abbey, contained in one volume folio,
from 1606 to 1706.2
II. The later Burial Registers, from 1706 to the present day, are contained —
(1) in another folio volume, and (2) (from 1711) more fully in six
volumes octavo, more properly called the ' Funeral Books.'
III. MS. Heralds' College.
1 The first part of this is a compilation of Philip Tynchare, the Precentor who
was buried ' near the door of Lord Norris's monument, May 12, 1673.'
2 These, as far as the year 1705, are published, with notes, in Nichols's
Collectanea Topographica et Genealogica, vol. vii. 355-57, viii. 1-13, to which are
added, in vol. vii. 163-74, the Marriages from 1655 to 1705, and in vol. vii. 243-48,
the Baptisms from 1605 to 1655, and 1661 to 1702, from the same source. But
these transcripts have been found so full of errors, that a new and corrected
version was absolutely needed. Under these circumstances the Dean and Chapter
have been fortunate in obtaining the valuable aid of a learned and laborious
antiquarian — Colonel Joseph Lemuel Chester, of the United States of America —
who has undertaken a complete edition of the whole Register, with references and
annotations wherever necessary, with a zeal which must be as gratifying to our
country as it is creditable to his own.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MONUMENTS.
OF all the characteristics of Westminster Abbey, that which
most endears it to the nation, and gives most force to its name
Peculiarity — which has, more than anything else, made it the
Tombs at home of the people of England, and the most vene-
Sster. rated fabric of the English Church — is not so much
its glory as the seat of the coronations, or as the sepulchre of
the kings ; not so much its school, or its monastery, or its
chapter, or its sanctuary, as the fact that it is the resting-place
of famous Englishmen, from every rank and creed, and every
form of mind and genius. It is not only Reims Cathedral
and St. Denys both in one ; but it is also what the Pantheon
was intended to be to France, what the Valhalla is to Germany,
what Santa Croce is to Italy. It is this aspect which, more
than any other, won for it the delightful visits of Addison in
the ' Spectator,' of Steele in the ' Tatler,' of Goldsmith in
* The Citizen of the World,' of Charles Lamb in ' Essays of
' Elia,' of Washington Irving in the ' Sketch Book.' It is this
which inspired the saying of Nelson, 'Victory or Westminster
' Abbey ! ' l and which has intertwined it with so many elo-
quent passages of Macaulay. It is this which gives point to
the allusions of recent Nonconforming statesmen least inclined
to draw illustrations from ecclesiastical buildings. It is this
which gives most promise of vitality to the whole institution.
Kings are no longer buried within its walls ; even the splendour
of pageants has ceased to attract ; but the desire to be interred
in Westminster Abbey is still as strong as ever.
And yet it is this which has exposed the Abbey to the
severest criticism. ' To clear away the monuments ' has be-
come the ardent wish of not a few of its most ardent admirers.
1 See Note at end of this Chapter.
CHAP. iv. THE MONUMENTS. 175
The incongruity of their construction, the caprice of their
erection, the false taste or false feeling of their inscriptions
and their sculptures, have provoked the attacks of each suc-
ceeding generation. It will be the object of this Chapter to
unravel this conflict of sentiments, to find the clue through this
labyrinth of monumental stumblingblocks and stones of offence.
Although this branch of the Abbey be a parasitical growth, it
has struck its fibres so deep that, if rudely torn out, both per-
chance will come down together. If sooner or later it must
be pruned, we must first well consider the relation of the en-
grafted mistletoe to the parent tree.
This peculiarity of Westminster Abbey is of comparatively
recent origin. No theory of the kind existed when the Con-
fessor procured its first privileges, nor yet when Henry III.
planned the burial-place of the Plantagenets. No cemetery
in the world had as yet been based on this principle. The
great men of Eome were indeed buried along the side of the
Appian Way, but they had no exclusive right to it ; it was
by virtue rather of their family connections than of their in-
dividual merit. The appropriation of the Church of Ste. Gene-
vieve at Paris, under the name of the Pantheon, to the ashes
of celebrated Frenchmen, was almost confined to the times of
the Eevolution and to the tombs of Voltaire and Eousseau.
The adaptation of the Pantheon at Eome to the reception of
the busts of famous Italians dates from the same epoch, and it
comparison ceased to be so employed after the restoration of Pius
£w>eat "VII. The nearest approach to Westminster Abbey
Florence. ^ tllig aspect js the Church of Santa Croce at Flo-
rence. There, as here, the present destination of the building
was no part of the original design, but was the result of various
converging causes. As the church of one of the two great
preaching orders it had a nave large beyond all proportion to
its choir. That order being the Franciscan, bound by vows
of poverty, the simplicity of the worship preserved the whole
space clear from any adventitious ornaments. The popularity
of the Franciscans, especially in a convent hallowed by a visit
from St. Francis himself, drew to it not only the chief civic
festivals, but also the numerous families who gave alms to the
friars, and whose connection with their church was, for this
reason, in turn encouraged by them. In those graves, piled
with the standards and achievements of the noble families of
Florence, were successively interred — not because of their
176 THE ROYAL TOMBS CHAP. iv.
eminence, but as members or friends of those families — some
of the most illustrious personages of the fifteenth century.
Thus it came to pass, as if by accident, that in the vault of the
Buonarroti was laid Michael Angelo ; in the vault of the
Viviani the preceptor of one of their house, Galileo. From
those two burials the church gradually became the recognised
shrine of Italian genius.1
The growth of our English Santa Croce, though different, was
analogous. It sprang in the first instance as a natural offshoot
Eesuitof from the coronations and interments of the Kings.
Tomb°fal Had they been buried far away, in some conventual
or secluded spot, or had the English nation stood aloof from
the English monarchy, it might have been otherwise. The
sepulchral chapels built by Henry III. and Henry VII. might
have stood alone in their glory : no meaner dust need ever
have mingled with the dust of the Plantagenets, Tudors,
Stuarts, and Guelphs. The Kings of France rest almost alone
at St. Denys. The Kings of Spain, the Emperors of Austria,
the Czars of Kussia, rest absolutely alone in the vaults of the
Escurial, of Vienna, of Moscow, and St. Petersburg. But it
has been the peculiar privilege of the Kings of England, that
neither in life nor in death have they been parted from their
people. As the Council of the nation and the Courts of Law
have pressed into the Palace of Westminster, and engirdled
the very Throne itself, so the ashes of the great citizens of
England have pressed into the sepulchre of the Kings, and
surrounded them as with a guard of honour, after their death.
On the tomb designed for Maximilian at Innspruck, the Em-
peror's effigy lies encircled by the mailed figures of ancient
chivalry — of Arthur and Clovis, of Eudolph and Cunegunda,
of Ferdinand and Isabella. A like thought, but yet nobler,
is that which is realised in fact by the structure of West-
minster Abbey, as it is by the structure of the English Con-
stitution. We are sometimes inclined bitterly to contrast the
placid dignity of our recumbent Kings, with Chatham gesticu-
lating from the Northern Transept, or Pitt from the western
door, or Shakspeare leaning on his column in Poets' Corner,
or Wolfe expiring by the Chapel of St. John. But, in fact, they
are, in their different ways, keeping guard over the shrine of
1 I owe this account of Santa Croce See also T. A. Trollope's novel of Giulio
to the kindness of Signer Bonaini, Malate&ta, vol. iii.
Keeper of the Archives at Florence.
CHAP. iv. THE MONUMENTS. 177
our monarchy and our laws ; and their very incongruity and
variety become symbols of the harmonious diversity in unity
which pervades our whole commonwealth.
Had the Abbey of St. Denys admitted within its walls the
poets and warriors and statesmen of France, the Kings might
yet have remained inviolate in their graves. Had the monarchy
of France connected itself with the surrounding institutions
of Church and State, assuredly it would not have fallen as it
did in its imperial isolation. Let us accept the omen for the
Abbey of Westminster — let us accept it also for the Throne and
State of England.
1. We have now to trace the slow gradual formation of
this side of the story of Westminster — a counterpart of the
irregular uncertain course of the history of England itself.
Eeserving for future consideration the graves of those con-
nected with the Convent,1 it was natural that, in the first
instance, the Cloisters, which contained the little monastic
cemetery, should also admit the immediate families and re-
tainers of the Court. It was the burial-place of the adjacent
Palace of Westminster, just as now the precincts of St.
George's Chapel contain the burial-place of the immediate
dependants of the Castle of Windsor. The earliest of these
humbler intruders, who heads, as it were, the long series of
private monuments — was Hugolin, the chamberlain of
the Confessor, buried (with a fitness, perhaps, hardly
appreciated at the time) within or hard by the Eoyal Trea-
sury, which he had kept so well.2 Not far off (we know not
wnere) was Geoffrey of Mandeville, with his wife
Adelaide, who followed the Conqueror to Hastings,
and who, in return for his burial here, gave to the Abbey the
manor of Eye, then a waste morass, which gave its name to the
Eye Brook, and under the names of Hyde, Eye-bury (or Ebury),
and Neate, contained Hyde Park, Belgravia, and Chelsea.3
We dimly trace a few interments within the Church.
Amongst these were Egelric, Bishop of Durham, imprisoned
Egeiric, at Westminster, where, by prayer and fasting, he ac-
cie7castrolk quired the fame of an anchorite — buried in the Porch
NO™, 1247. of St. Nicholas;4 Sir Fulk de Castro Novo, cousin of
Henry III., and attended to his grave by the King;5 Richard
1 See Chapter V. 3 Widmore, p. 21; Arch. xxvi. 23.
2 See Chapters I. and V. 4 See Chapter V.
s Matthew Paris, 724.
178 THE MONUMENTS. CHAP. iv.
of Wendover, Bishop of Eochester, who had the reputation of
a Baint > l Ford' Abbot of Glastonbury ; 2 Trussel,
Speaker of the House of Commons in the reigns of
Edward II. and Edward III., buried in St. Michael's
1364- Chapel ; 3 Walter Leycester (1391), buried in the
North Transept, at the foot of the Great Crucifix.4
But the first distinct impulse given to the tombs of famous
citizens was from Bichard II. It was the result of his pas-
couR-rrciw eionate attachment to Westminster, combined with
iT B D his unbounded favouritism. His courtiers and officers
were the first magnates not of royal blood who reached the
John of heart of the Abbey. John of Waltham, Bishop of
i395!ham' Salisbury, Treasurer, Keeper of the Privy Seal, and
Master of the Rolls, was, by the King's orders, buried not only
in the church, but in the Chapel of the Confessor, amongst the
Kings.5 It was not without a general murmur of indignation 6
that this intrusion was effected; but the disturbance of the
mosaic pavement by the brass effigy marks the unusual honour,
the pledge of the ever-increasing magnitude of the succession
of English statesmen, whose statues from the adjoining transept
may claim John of Waltham as their venerable precursor.
Other favourites of the same sovereign lie in graves only less dis-
tinguished. Sir John Golofre, who was his ambassa-
1396. dor in France, was, by the King's express command,
transferred from the Grey Friars' Church at Wallingford,
where he himself had desired to be buried, and was laid close
beneath his master's tomb.7 The father-in-law of Golofre,8
1 Anglia Sacra, i. 348-350. Weever, Chapel of St. Mary the Virgin, in the
p. 338. Church of St. Margaret, Westminster
2 Domerham, 525. — afterwards altered thus in the
* In connection both with the House codicil, April 5, 1391 : —
of Commons in the Chapter House, and ' Volo et lego quod corpus meum
the interment of eminent commoners in ' sepeliatur in ecclesia Sancti Petri
the Abbey, must be mentioned that of ' Monasterii Westm' coram magna
William Trussel, Speaker of the House ' cruce in parte boriali ecclesie ejus-
of Commons, in St. Michael's Chapel. ' dem.' He had a house at Westmin-
(Crull, 290.) Mr. F. S. Haydon has ster. Amongst his executors was
assisted me in the probable identifica- ' Magister Arnold Brokas.'
tion of this ' Mons. William Trussel,' 5 Godwin, p. 359.
who was Speaker in 1366 (Eolls of Parl. 6 Inter reges,multis murmur antibus.
1369), with a procurator for Parliament (Walsingham, ii. 218.) A like intru-
and an escheator south of Trent in 1327. sion of one of Richard's favourites into
If so, his death was on July 20, 1364. a royal and sacred place occurs in the
(Frag. p. m. 37 E. III. No. 69.) Foss's interment of Archbishop Courtney close
Judges, iii. 307-309. to Becket's shrine at Canterbury.
4 Will of Walter Leycester, Serjeant- 7 Dart, ii. 21.
at-arms, dated at Westminster, Sep- 8 Crull, App. p. 20.
tember 3, 1389.— To be buried in the
CHAP. iv. THE MONUMENTS. 179
Sir Bernard Brocas, who was chamberlain to Eichard's Queen,
and was beheaded on Tower Hill, in consequence of
Brocas, 1400. ,. ..,. . • j. . i • i •
having joined in a conspiracy to reinstate him, lies m
the almost regal Chapel of St. Edmund.1 He was famous for
his ancient descent, his Spanish connection (as was supposed)
with Brozas near Alcantara, above all, his wars with the Moors,
where he won the crest, on which his helmet rests, of the
crowned head of a Moor, and which was either the result or
the cause of the ' account ' to which Sir Eoger de Coverley was
so ' very attentive,' of ' the lord who cut off the King of
, ' Morocco's head.' 2 Close to him rests Eobert Waldeby,
the accomplished companion of the Black Prince,
then the tutor of Eicjiard himself, and through his influence
raised to the sees successively of Aire in Gascony, Dublin,
Chichester, and York, who, renowned as at once physician and
divine, is in the Abbey the first representative of literature, as
Waltham is of statesmanship.
Next come the chiefs of the court and camp of Henry V.
One, like John of Waltham, lies in the Confessor's Chapel3 —
COURTIEBS Eichard Courtney, Bishop of Norwich, who during
coi^fneRYV' n^8 ilmess a^ Harfleur was tenderly nursed by the
i4i5SeRob-' King himself, and died immediately before the battle
sart, 1431. Of Agincourt.4 Lewis Eobsart, who from his exploits
on that great day was made the King's standard-bearer, was
a few years afterwards interred in St. Paul's Chapel ; and on
the same side in the northern aisle, at the entrance of the
Windsor, Chapels of the two St. Johns, were laid under brass
pedo'n, 1457. effigies, which can still be faintly traced, Sir John
Windsor and Sir John Harpedon.
The fashion slowly grew. Though Edward IV. himself,
with his best-beloved companion in arms, lies at Windsor, four
COURTIERS of his nobles were brought to Westminster. Hum-
iyEDBour? phrey Bourchier, who died at the field of B#rnet, was
LorTcarew, buried in St. Edmund's Chapel. In St. Nicholas's
H7U3U! ley, (-j^pgj jje Lorcl Carew, who died in the same year ;
and Dudley — who, being the first Dean of Edward's new
Chapel of Windsor, was elevated to the see of Durham— uncle
of Henry VII. 's notorious financier, and founder of the great
1 See Chapter III. 3 On the north side of the Shrine—
2 Spectator, No. 329. An inscrip- ' in ipsius ostii ingressu.' (Godwin,
tion was composed by the family in p. 438.)
1838. See Neale, ii. 156, and Gough's 4 Tyler's Henry V. ii. 148.
Sepulchral Monuments, 1399.
K 2
180 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
house which bore his name. The first layman in the Chapel of
St. John the Baptist is Sir Thomas Vaughan, trea-
gurer to Edward jy an(j chamberlain to Edward V.
The renewed affection for the Abbey in the person of
Henry VII.1 reflects itself in the tombs of three of his courtiers.
COURTIERS In the Chapel of St. Nicholas is interred Sir Humphrey
VIIHEN Stanley, who with his relatives had in the Battle
i505.ley> of Bosworth fought on the victorious side.2 In the
Chapel of St. Paul is the King's chamberlain and cousin,
Sir Charles Daubeney, Lord-Lieutenant of Calais ;
and in that of St. John the Baptist his favourite
Ruthell,
secretary Kuthell,3 Bishop of Durham, victim of his
own fatal mistake in sending to his second master, Henry VIII.,
the inventory of his private wealth, instead of a state-paper on
the affairs of the nation.
The statesmen and divines who died under Henry VIII. ,
Edward VI., and Mary, have left hardly any trace in the
Abbey. Wolsey had wavered, as it would seem, between
Windsor and Westminster. But, whilst the Chapel long called
after his name remains at Windsor, and his sarcophagus has
been appropriated to another use at St. Paul's, no indication
can be found at the ' West-Monastery ' of the tomb which
Skelton ' saw a making at a sumptuous cost, more pertaining
' for an Emperor or maxymyous King than for such a man as
' he was, altho' Cardinals will compare with Kings.' 4 Sir
Thomas Clifford, Governor of Berwick, and his wife lie under
the pavement of the Choir,5 with two or three other persons
of obscure name.6 Tower Hill, Smithfield, and the ditch
beneath the walls of Oxford, in • that fierce struggle, contain
1 A curious record of Henry VII.'s 4 Merye Tales of Skelton (ed. Hazlitt,
adventures in crossing by the Channel p. 18).
Islands is preserved on Sir Thomas 5 Dart, ii. 23. Machyn's .Diary, Nov.
Hardy's monument in the Nave, 26, 1557.
erected in 1732. 6 ' Master Wentworth,' cofferer to
* Hence the burial of other members Queen Mary. (Machyn, Oct. 23, 1558.)
of the Derby family in this chapel. 'Master Gennings ' (ibid.), servant of
(Register, 1603, 1620, 1631.) Philip and Mary, who left considerable
* Godwin, p. 755. — He died at Dur- sums to the abbot and monks, and
ham Place, in the Strand ; hence, per- desired to be buried under a brass,
haps, his burial at Westminster. His Nov. 26, 1557. Diego or Didacus
tomb seems originally to have been in Sanchez, a Spanish noble, was buried
the centre, and the place which it now in the last year of Mary (1557) in the
occupies was originally the entrance to North Transept. (These particulars I
the Chapel. The present entrance was learn from his will, communicated by
effected at a later time— probably when Colonel Chester.) Sir Thomas Parry,
Hunsdon's monument was erected — treasurer of Elizabeth's household, with
through the little Chapel of St. Eras- a monument (1560), is in the Islip
mus. Chapel.
CHAP. iv. OF THE LADIES OF THE TUDOR COURT. 181
ashes more illustrious than any interred in consecrated pre-
cincts.
It is characteristic of the middle of the sixteenth century,
when the destinies of Europe were woven by the hands of
LADIES OF the extraordinary Queens who ruled the fortunes of
THE TUDOR ' "
COURT. France, England, and Scotland, and when the royal
tombs in the Abbey are occupied by Elizabeth, the two Marys,
and the two Margarets,1 that the more private history of the
time should also be traced, more than at any other period, by
Frances the sepulchres of illustrious ladies. Frances Grey,
Duchess oi Duchess of Suffolk, granddaughter2 of Henry VII.,
buried bee. by Charles Brandon and Mary Queen of France, and
mother of Lady Jane Grey, reposes in the Chapel of
St. Edmund, under a stately monument erected by her second
husband, Adrian Stokes,3 Esquire. ' What ! ' exclaimed Eliza-
beth, ' hath she married her horsekeeper ? ' ' Yes, Madam,' was
the reply, ' and she saith that your Majesty would fain do the
' same ; ' alluding to Leicester, the Master of the Horse. She
lived just long enough to see the betrothal of her daughter,
Catherine Grey, to the Earl of Hertford,4 and to enjoy the turn
of fortune which restored Elizabeth to the throne, and thus
allowed her own sepulture beside her royal ancestors.5 The
service was probably the first celebrated in English in the
Abbey since Elizabeth's accession ; and it was followed by the
Communion Service,6 in which the Dean (Dr. Bill) officiated,
and Jewel preached the sermon. Could her Puritanical spirit
have known the site of her tomb, she would have re-
Her tomb.
joiced in the thought that it was to take the place of
St. Edmund's altar, and thus be the first to efface the memory
of one of the venerated shrines of the old Catholic saints.
The same lot befell the altar of St. Nicholas, which sank
under the still more splendid pile of a stih1 grander patroness
A*116 of the Eeformation — Anne Seymour, descended by
Seymour, . . *
Duchess of the Stanhopes and Bourchiers from Anne, sole heir of
Somerset,
Thomas of Woodstock, herself widow of the Protector
Somerset, and sister-in-law of Queen Jane Seymour — ' a man-
' nish or rather a devilish woman, for any imperfectibilities
1 See Chapter III. * Cooper's Life of Arabella Stuart,
i. 172.
2 Machyn's Diary, Dec. 5, 1559. 4 Compare Edward VI.'s funeral,
Chapter in.
3 Xupta Duci prius est, uxor post d Strype's Aniials, i. 292. — The mo-
Armiqeri Stokes. (Epitaph.) nument was not erected till 1563.
182 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
' intolerable, but for pride monstrous, exceeding subtle and
' violent.' * She lived far into the reign of Elizabeth, and died,
at the age of 90, on Easter Day, leaving behind a noble race,
which in later days was to transfer the chapel where she lies
to another family not less noble, and make it the joint burial-
place of the Seymours and the Percys.2
To these we must add one, who, though she herself belongs
to the next generation, yet by her title and lineage is connected
directly with the earlier period. Not in the royal chapels, but
first of any secular grandee in the ecclesiastical Chapel of St.
Frances Benedict, is the monument of Frances Howard, sister
coontoM of of the Lord High Admiral who repulsed the Armada,
but, by her marriage with the Earl of Hertford,
daughter-in-law of the Duchess of Somerset, from whom we
have just parted. Like those other two ladies, she in her tomb
destroyed the vestiges of the ancient altar of the chapel, as if
the spirit of the Seymours still lived again in each succeeding
generation. Both monuments were erected by the Earl of
Hertford, son to the one and husband to the other.
Frances Sidney occupies the place of the altar in the Chapel
of St. Paul. She claims remembrance as the aunt of Sir
Philip Sidney,3 and the wife of Eatcliffe Earl of Sussex,
known to all readers of ' Kenilworth ' as the rival of Leicester.
Sidney,8 ^-er more splendid monument is the college in Cam-
of°su£% bridge, called after her double name, Sidney Sussex,
which, with her descendants of the Houses of Pem-
broke, Carnarvon, and Sidney, undertook the restoration of her
tomb.
But the reign of Elizabeth also brings with it the first dis-
tinct recognition of the Abbey as a Temple of Fame. It was
BE™!* ^e natural consequence of the fact that amongst her
MAGNATES, favourites so many were heroes and heroines. Their
tombs literally verify Gray's description of her court : —
Girt with many a baron bold,
Sublime their starry fronts they rear ;
1 Sir J. Hayward. See Life of in the same place for the last three
Arabella Stuart, i. 170. generations. Lady Jane Lady Jaue
The marriage of Charles Seymour Clifford, whose grave and Clifford,
(1726), the 'proud Duke ' of Somerset, monument are also here 1629-
to Elizabeth Percy, caused the inter- (1629), was a great-granddaughter of
ment and monument of her grand- the Protector Somerset.
daughter, the first Duchess of Northum- * The porcupines of the Sidneys are
berland, in St. Nicholas's Chapel ; conspicuous on her tomb,
hence the interment of the Percy family
CHAP. iv. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 183
And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
In bearded majesty, appear.
What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
What strains of vocal transport round her play !
Not only does Poets' Corner now leap into new life, but the
councillors and warriors, who in the long preceding reigns had
dropped in here and there, according to the uncertain light of
court-favour, suddenly close round upon us, and the vacant
chapels are thronged, as if with the first burst of national life
and independence. Now also that life and independence are
seen in forms peculiar to the age, when the old traditions of
Christendom gave way before that epoch of revolution. The
royal monuments, though changed in architectural decoration,
still preserved the antique attitude and position, and hardly
interfered with the outline of the sacred edifice. But the taste
of private individuals at once claimed its new liberty, and
opened the way to that extravagant latitude of monumental
innovation which prevailed throughout Europe, and in our own
day has roused a reaction against the whole sepulchral fame of
the Abbey.
The ' gorgeous dames ' are for the most part recumbent.
But, as we have seen, they have trampled on the ancient altars
in their respective chapels. The Duchess of Suffolk still faces
the east; but the Duchess of Somerset and the Countess of
Hertford, . dying thirty and forty years later, lie north and
south. Two mural tablets, first of their kind, commemorate
in the Chapel of St. Edmund the cousin of Edward VI., Jane
Lady jane Seymour,1 daughter of the Protector Somerset (erected
i56inour> by her brother, the same Earl of Hertford whom we
have twice met already) ; and the cousin of Elizabeth, Cathe-
Lady rine Knollys, sister of Lord Hunsdon, who had at-
Knoiiys,8 tended her aunt, Anne Boleyn, to the scaffold. Then
1 *»fm ^ir
E. p'ecksaii, follow, in the same chapel, Sir B. Pecksall, with his
1571. ° ' two wives, drawn hither by the attraction of the con-
tiguous grave of Sir Bernard Brocas, from whom, through his
mother,2 he inherited the post of Master of the Buckhounds
to the Queen, and through whom the Brocas family were
continued. They have risen from their couches, and are on
their knees.
1 Intended as the wife of Edward Stuart, i. 185.)
VI. — afterwards friend of Catherine 2 Neale, ii. 156.— His funeral fees
Grey, daughter of the Duchess of Suf- went to buy hangings for the reredos.
folk. (Cooper's Life of Arabella (Chapter Book, 1571.)
184 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
The Eussell family, already great with the spoils of monas-
teries, are hard by. John Baron Eussell, second son of the
John Lord second earl,1 after a long tour abroad, died at High-
?584S.eI ' gate,2 and lies here recumbent, but with his face turned
towards the spectator ; whilst his daughter, first of all the
sepulchral effigies, is seated erect, ' not dead but sleeping,' 3
in her osier-chair — the prototype of those easy postures which
Htsmonu- have so grievously scandalised our more reverential
ment. age> f jjg monument to the father 4 is erected by his
widow, the accomplished daughter of Sir Antony Cook, who
has commemorated her husband's virtues in Latin, Greek, and
English — an ostentation of learning characteristic of the age
of Lady Jane Grey, but provoking the censure of the simpler
Elizabeth taste of Addison.5 The monument to their daughter
Busseii. Elizabeth is erected by her sister Anne. She is a
complete child of Westminster. Her mother, in consequence of
the plague, was allowed by the Dean (Goodman) to await her
Her chris- delivery in a house within the Precincts.6 The infant
i575?g> was christened in the Abbey. The procession started
from the Deanery. The Queen, from whom she derived her
name, was godmother, but acted by her ' deputy,' the Countess
of Warwick, who appeared accordingly in royal state — Lady
Burleigh, the child's aunt, carrying the train. The other
godmother was Frances Countess of Sussex. These distin-
guished sponsors drew to the ceremony two of the most notable
statesmen of the time, the Earl of Leicester and Sir Philip
Sidney, who emerged from the Confessor's Chapel, after the
conclusion of the service, with towels and basins. The pro-
cession returned, through the Cloisters, to a stately, costly,
and delicate banquet within the Precincts. Thus ushered
into the Abbey by such a host of worthies, four of whom are
themselves interred in it, Elizabeth Eussell became maid
of honour to her royal godmother, and finally was herself
Her death, buried within its walls. She died of consumption,
a few days after the marriage of her sister Anne at
Blackfriars, at which the Queen attended, as represented in
the celebrated Sherborne Castle picture.7 Such was her real
1 Wiffin's House of Eussell, i. 493, s Spectator, No. 329.
6 Lord Eussell's letter to the Queen
2 Lord Eussell had a house within announcing the birth, is dated at West-
the Precincts. (Chapter Book, 1581.) minster College, October 22, 1575.
1 Dormit, non mortua est (Epitaph). (Wiffin's House of Eussell, i. 502.)
Eestored by the Duke of Bedford ' See ' The Visit of Queen Elizabeth
in 186?- ' to Blackfriars, in 1600,' by George
CHAP. iv. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 185
end. But the form of her monument has bred one of ' the
Her monu- ' vu^gar errors ' of Westminster mythology. Her finger
ment- pointing to the skull, the emblem of mortality at her
feet, had already,1 within seventy years from her death, led
to the legend that she had ' died of the prick of a needle,' 2
sometimes magnified into a judgment on her for working on
Sunday. Sir Roger de Coverley was conducted to ' that martyr
4 to good housewifery.' Upon the interpreter telling him
that she was maid of honour to Queen Elizabeth, the knight
was very inquisitive into her name and family ; and after
having regarded her finger for some time, ' I wonder,' says
he, * that Sir Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his
' Chronicle.' 3
In the Chapel of St. Nicholas lies Winyfred Brydges, Mar-
chioness of Winchester, who was, by her first husband, Sir
winyfred ^« Sackville, cousin of Anne Boleyn, and mother of
Marchioness Thomas Lord Buckhurst, the poet, and of Lady Dacre,
cheTter foundress of Emmanuel Hospital, close by the Abbey.
1586. jjer secon(i husband was the Marquis of Winchester,
who boasted that he had prospered through Elizabeth's reign,
by having ' the pliancy of the willow rather than the stubborn-
' ness of the oak.'
Sir Thomas Bromley (in the Chapel of St. Paul) succeeded
Sir Nicholas Bacon as Lord Chancellor, and in that capacity
sir Thomas Presided at the trial of Mary Queen of Scots, and
?587mley> di6^ immediately afterwards. Sir John Puckering
f^ckerin (^n ^ne Chapel of St. Nicholas) prosecuted both Mary
15961 and the unfortunate Secretary Davison, and suc-
ceeded Sir Christopher Hatton as Lord Keeper — his ' lawyer-
' like and ungenteel ' appearance presenting so forcible a
contrast to his predecessor, that the Queen could with diffi-
culty overcome her repugnance to his appointment. It was
he who defined to Speaker Coke the liberty allowed to the
Commons : ' Liberty of speech is granted you ; but you must
' know what privilege you have, not to speak every one what
* he listeth, or what cometh hi his brain to utter ; but your
Scharf, in Arch. Journal, xxiii. 131. ously from it that ' in ill habits of
The picture contains also the portraits ' body small wounds are mortal.'
of John Lord Eussell (p. 218) and of * Spectator, No. 329. — Compare
Lady Catherine Knollys (ibid.). Goldsmith's Citizen of the World.
1 Keepe, i. 1680. " ' He told, without blushing, a hundred
2 Wiseman, Chirurgical Treatises, ' lies. He talked of a lady who died
1st ed. p. 278, 167G, who argues seri- ' by pricking her finger.'
186 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
' privilege is Aye or No.' l To Sir Thomas Owen of Cundover,
sir Thomas Justice of the Common Pleas, friend of Sir Nicholas
?598n> Bacon, a fine effigy, resembling the portrait of him
still preserved at Cundover, was erected by his son Eoger, in
the south aisle of the Choir. The tomb bears the
motto, given to him by the Queen, in allusion to his
humble origin, ' Memorare novissima ; ' and his own quaint epi-
taph, ' Spes, vermis, et ego.'
But the most conspicuous monuments of this era are those
of Lord Hunsdon and of the Cecils. Henry Gary, Baron
Lord Huns- Hunsdon, the rough honest chamberlain to Queen
don, 1526. Elizabeth, brother of Lady Catherine Knollys, has a
place and memorial worthy of his confidential relations with
the Queen, who was his first-cousin. Like his two princely
kinswomen in the Chapels of St. Edmund and St. Nicholas,
his interment was signalised by displacing the altar of the
Chapel of St. John the Baptist. The monument was
remarkable, even in the last century, as ' most mag-
* nificent,' 2 and is, in fact, the loftiest in the Abbey. It would
almost seem as if his son,3 who erected it, laboured to make
up to the old statesman for the long-expected honours of the
earldom — three times granted, and three times revoked. The
Queen at last came to see him, and laid the patent and the
robes on his bed. ' Madam,' he, answered, ' seeing you counted
' me not worthy of this honour whilst I was living, I count
' myself unworthy of it now I am dying.' 4 He, like Sir E.
Sackville, ' belonged,' as Leicester said, ' to the tribe of Dan,
' and was Noli me tangere.' 5 ' I doubt much, my Harry,' wrote
Elizabeth to him after his suppression of the Northern Re-
bellion, 'whether that the victory given me more joyed me,
' or that you were by God appointed the instrument of my
' glory.' 6 And with the bitterness of a true patriot, as well
as a true kinsman, he was at times so affected as to be ' almost
' senseless, considering the time, the necessity Her Majesty
* hath of assured friends, the needfulness of good and sound
' counsel, and the small care it seems she hath of either.
' Either she is bewitched,' or doomed to destruction.7
1 Campbell's Lives of the Chan- 4 Fuller's Worthies, i. 433.
cellars, ii. 175.
2 Fuller's Worthies, i. 433. 5 Aikin's Elizabeth, i. 243.
* Lady Hunsdon was buried with ,. TU.-J
him (1606-7), also the widow of his
son (1617-18). (Burial Register.) ' Froude, is. 557.
CHAP. IT. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 187
Lord Burleigh was attached to Westminster by many ties.
He was the intimate friend of the Dean, Gabriel Goodman ;
The Cecils, and this, combined with his High Stewardship, led to
Lord Bar- i • i • 11 -i- i n-r~> «• ...
ieigh,i598. his being called, in play, 'the Dean of Westminster,' l
and he had in his earlier days lived hi the Precincts.2 Al-
though he was buried at Stamford, his funeral was
celebrated in the Abbey, over the graves of his wife3
and daughter, where already stood the towering monument,4
erected to them before his death, in the Chapel of St. Nicholas.
It expresses the great grief of his life, which, but for the
earnest entreaties of the Queen, would have driven him from
his public duties altogether. ' If anyone ask,' says his epitaph,
' who is that aged man, on bended knees, venerable from his
' hoary hairs, in his robes of state, and with the order of the
' Garter ? ' — the answer is, that we see the great minister of
Elizabeth, 'his eyes dim with tears for the loss of those who
' were dearer to him beyond the whole race of womankind.' 5
It shows the degree of superhuman majesty which he had
attained in English history, that ' Sir Eoger de Coverley was
' very well pleased to see the 'statesman Cecil on his knees.'
The collar of St. George marks the special favour by which, to
him alone of humble birth, Elizabeth granted the Garter. ' If
' any ask, who are those noble women, splendidly attired, and
' who are they at their head and feet ? ' — the answer is that
Mildred the one *s Mildred, his second wife, daughter of Sir
Buriefeh?y Antony Cook, and sister of the learned lady who
wrote the epitaphs of Lord Eussell in the adjacent
chapel, ' partner of her husband's fortunes, through good and
' evil, during the reigns of Henry, Edward, Mary, and Eliza-
' beth ' — ' versed in all sacred literature, especially Basil, Chry-
Anne vere, ' sostom, and Gregory Nazianzen ; ' the other ' Anne,
oSS?0* ' hi8 daughter, wedded to the Earl of Oxford ; ' at her
feet, his second son, Eobert Cecil, first Earl of Salis-
bury, and at her head her three daughters, Elizabeth, Bridget,
and Susan Yere. But ' neither they,' nor his elder son Thomas,
nor ' all his grandsons and granddaughters,' will efface the
grief ' with which the old man clings to the sad monument of
1 Strype's Memorials of Parker. restored by the present Marquis of
2 Chapter Book, 1551. Salisbury, who is directly descended
1 She too had made Dean Goodman from this marriage.
one of her chief advisers. (Strype's s The inscription is very differently
Annals, iii. 2, 127.) given in Winstanley's Worthies, p.
4 The monument has been recently 204.
188
THE MONUMENTS
"Sir G. Fane
°Lord Carew
"Burleigh's wife
and daughter.
°Bp. Dudley
"Anna Harley
S« °N. Bagenall °W. Brydges
"Sir G. Villiers
t •"
1! QUEEN CATHERINE
a o
"Duchess of
f10 °8ir H. Stanley
Northumberland
°Lady Jane
llPercy Family
Clifford
"PHILIPPA
°E. Cecil
DUCHESS OF YORK
w
;; Sir H. Spelman
CHAPEL OF ST. NICHOLAS.
"Mary Kendall
°Abbot Fatcet
°Abbot Mining
Bp, Ruthall
i STRODE
CHAPEL OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.
OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES.
189
"Sir T.
Bromley
"Dudley
Carleton
"Sir J. Fullertou
°Abp. Oaher
Sir Giles Daubeney
"COL. M'LEOD °Sir H. Belasyse
"Frances Sidney
J. Watt
L. ROBSART
CHAPEL OF ST. PAUL.
° EDWARD ITI.'S
CHILDREN
"JOHN OF ELTHAM
"Sir R. Pecksall
°Abp. Waldeby
°E. DE BOHUN
"Lady Stafford
"WILLIAM DE VALENCE
CHAPEL OF ST. EDJTCND.
190
THE MONUMENTS
CHAP. IV.
N.
(Saint
Andrew)
(Saint
Michael)
W.
(Saint John
the
Evangelist)
°Dr. Young
°Sarah Siddons
°J. Kemblo
° Abbot Kyrton
'Lord and Lady Norris
"Theodore Paleologus
°Sm FRANCIS VERB
0 WOLFE
°Abbot Esttney
S.
CHAPELS OF ST. JOHN, ST. MICHAEL, AND ST. ANDREW.
CHAP. iv. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 191
' his lost wife and daughter.' Robert, on whom his father
Elizabeth invokes a long life, lies at Hatfield ; but his wife
countess of Elizabeth has a tomb in this chapel, and also
Salisbury,
(removed from its place for the monument of the
countess of Duchess of Northumberland) his niece Elizabeth, wife
Exeter
May, 1591. of the second Earl of Exeter. The first Earl, Thomas,
Cecil, Bari after a life full of years and honours, lies * on the
IMS,' other, side of the Abbey, in the Chapel of St. John
Dorothy the Baptist. This tomb was built for himself and
his ' two most dear wives ' — Dorothy Neville, who was
Brydges, interred there before him, and Frances Brydges, who,
aged ss. living till the Restoration, proudly refused to let her
effigy fill the vacancy on the left side, and is buried at
Windsor.
The tombs by this time had occupied all the chief positions
in the chapels round the Confessor's shrine. There remained
a group of smaller chapels, abutting on the North Transept,
hitherto only occupied by the Abbots : 2 Islip, who built the
small chapel in which he lies, and which bears his name ;
Esteney, who lives in St. John's, and Kirton in St. Andrew's
Chapel. But this comparative solitude was now invaded by
the sudden demand of the Flemish wars.3 The one unfor-
gotten hero of those now forgotten battles, Sir Philip Sidney,
lies under the pavement of St. Paul's Cathedral, the precursor,
by a long interval, of Nelson and Wellington. But to Sir
sir Francis Francis Vere, who commanded the forces in the
vere, 1609. Netherlands, his widow erected a tomb, which she
must have copied from the scene 4 of his exploits — in a direct
imitation of the tomb of Engelbert 5 Count of Nassau, in the
church at Breda, where, as here, four kneeling
knights support the arms of the dead man who lies
underneath. This retention of an older taste has always
drawn a tender feeling towards the tomb.6 ' Hush ! hush !
' he vill speak presently,' softly whispered Roubiliac to a
1 The funeral sermon (in the illness When Vere sought death, arm'd with his sword
of Archbishop Abbott) was preached Dea£h ^fafraul to meet him in the field ;
by Joseph Hall. (State Papers, March But when his weapons he had laid aside,
8 1623 ) Death, like a coward, struck him, and he died.
' » See Chapter V.
* This part of the Abbey, during 5 Compare the arrangement of the
the two next centuries, was known tomb of the Emperor Lewis at Munich,
as 'The Tombs.' (Register; and see * The tomb was injured by the work-
Fuller's Church History, 1621.) men engaged on Wolfe's monument.
4 The following epitaph, not on his (Gent. Mag.)
tomb, records his end : —
192
THE MONUMENTS
question thrice repeated by one who found him standing with
folded arms and eyes riveted on the fourth knight, whose lips
seem just opening to address the bystander.1 By a natural
The verea affinity, the tomb of Sir Francis Vere drew after it,
ofercSos. a century later, the last of his descendants into the
same vault — Aubrey de Vere, the last Earl of Oxford, and
MONUMENT TO SIR FRANCIS VERE.
afterwards the Beauclerk family, through the marriage of the
Duke of St. Albans with his daughter and heiress, Diana de
sir George Vere.2 Close beside is Sir George Holies, his kinsman
Holies, 1626. an(j comra(je m arms — on a monument as far removed
1 Cunningham's Handbook, p. 42.
This same story is told of the figure on
the N.W. corner of the Norris tomb.
(Life of Nollekens, ii. p. 86.)
2 See Chapter III.
CHAP. iv. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 193
from mediaeval times as that of Sir Francis Vere draws near
to them. The tall statue stands, not, like that of Vere, modestly
apart from the wall, but on the site of the altar once dedicated
to the Confessor's favourite saint — the first in the Abbey that
stands erect ; the first that wears, not the costume of the time,
but that of a Eoman general; the first monument which, in
its sculpture, reproduces the events in which the hero was
engaged — the Battle of Nieuport. He, like Vere, attracted to
the spot his later descendants ; and for the sake of the neigh-
bourhood of his own and his wife's ancestors a hundred years
later, rose the gigantic monument of John Holies, Duke of
Newcastle,1 who lies at the feet of his illustrious namesake.2
Deeper yet into these chapels the Flemish trophies penetrate.
Against the wall, which must have held the altar of the Chapel
De Burgh, °^ St. Andrew, is the mural tablet of John de Burgh,
who fell in boarding a Spanish ship ; and in front of
it rises a monument, if less beautiful than that of Vere, yet of
more stirring interest, and equally connected with the wars
in that old 'cockpit of Europe.' We have seen that on the
other side of the Abbey was interred Catherine Knollys, the
faithful attendant of Anne Boleyn. We now come to a con-
tinuation of the same mark of respect on the part of Elizabeth
— not often shown, it is said — for those who had been steadfast
to her mother's cause, and, curiously enough, to a house with
which the family of Knollys was in constant strife. Sir Francis
Knollys, the husband of Catherine Carey, and Treasurer of the
Queen's Household,3 perhaps from their neighbourhood in
Thexorris Oxfordshire, was a deadly rival to Henry Norris.
family. < Queen Elizabeth loved the Knollyses for themselves ;
' the Norrises for themselves and herself. The Norrises got
' more honour abroad ; the Knollyses more profit at home, con-
' tinuing constantly at court ; and no wonder, if they were the
' warmest who sate next the fire.' Henry Norris was the son
of that unhappy man who, alone of all those who perished
1 Dart, ii. 2. Russell (see p. 184). The like sentiment
2 Another Holies — Francis, son of the of a premature death probably caused
Earl of Clare, who died at the age of this twin-like companionship. The
Francis eighteen, on his return from close of his epitaph deserves notice :
Holies, 1622. the Flemish war a few years Man's life is measured by his work, not days,
later— sits, like his namesake, in Roman No aged sloth, but active youth, hath praise,
costume in St. Edmund's Chapel, ' a For the Holies monuments the sculptor,
' figure of most antique simplicity and Stone, received respectively £100 and
'beauty.' (Horace Walpole.) His pedes- £50 from Lord Clare. (Walpole's
tal was copied from that on which, in a Anecdotes of Painting, ii. 59.)
similar attitude, close by, sits Elizabeth 3 jg^ 'Britannica.
194 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
on the scaffold with Anne Boleyn, denied or was silent as to
her guilt. Elizabeth, it is believed, expressed her gratitude
for the chivalry of the father by her favour to the son. He
was further endeared to her by the affection she had for his
wife, Margaret, daughter of Lord William of Thame, whom,
from her swarthy complexion, the Queen called ' her own
Henry Lord ' crow.' * By his marriage with Margaret, Henry
lecS™' Norris inherited Kycote in Oxfordshire, where, ac-
cording to his expressed intention, the local tradition main-
tains that he is buried.2 The monument in the Abbey, how-
ever, is a tribute, ' by their kindred, not only to himself, but
' to the noble acts, the valour, and high worth of that right
' valiant and warlike progeny of his — a brood of martial -
4 spirited men, as the Netherlands, Portugal, Little Bretagne,
' and Ireland can testify.' 3 William, John, Thomas, Henry,
Maximilian, and Edward, are all represented on the tomb, pro-
bably actual likenesses. All, except John 4 and Edward, fell
John Norris in Da^le. John died of vexation at losing the Lord
1598. ' Lieutenancy of Ireland, and the Queen, to whose
hardness he owed his neglect, repaired the wrong too late, by
one of those stately letters, which she only could write, consol-
ing ' my own crow ' for the loss of her son.5 ' Though nothing
' more consolatory and pathetical could be written from a
' Prince, yet the death of the son went so near the heart of the
' Earl, his ancient father, that he died soon after.' Edward
Edward alone survived his father and brothers; and, accord-
Noms, 1604. ingly, he alone is represented, not, as the others, in
an attitude of prayer, but looking cheerfully upwards. ' They
' were men of haughty courage, and of great experience in the
' conduct of military affairs ; and, to speak in the character
' of their merit, they were persons of such renown and worth,
' as future time must, out of duty, owe them the debt of hon-
' ourable memory.' 6 That honourable memory has long ago
perished from the minds of men; but still, as preserved in
this monument,7 it well closes the glories of the Elizabethan
court and camp in the Abbey.8
1 Fuller's Worthies, iii. 16, 17. But s Fuller's Worthies, iii. 8, who gives
rather from the Norris crest, a raven. the letter.
2 Dart, ii. 7.— Neale (ii. 198) says 6 Camden, in Neale, ii. 199.
that he was interred here. His daugh- 7 From this monument the Chapel
ter and sole heiress, Elizabeth, is buried was called, in the next century (see
in St. Nicholas's Chapel. (Register, Register, Aug. 16, 1722; Aug. 8, Oct.
November 28, 1645.) 24, 1725), ' Norm's Chapel ; ' as now,
' Camden, in Neale, ii. 195. 'Chanel?6 reaS°n> ^ ' Nightingale
4 See Froude, xi. 108, 128, 184. « Here also lie Sir John Burrough,
CHAP. iv. OF THE COUKT OF JAMES I. 195
One other monument of the wars of those times, though
of a comparatively unknown warrior, and located in what must
then have been an obscure and solitary place in the South
Aisle of the Choir, carries us to a wider field. ' To the glory
' of the Lord of Hosts,1 here resteth Sir Eichard Bingham,
' Knight, who fought not only in Scotland and Ireland, but in
sir Richard ' ^ne ^e °^ Candy under the Venetians, at Cabo
^98?aa™d ' Chrio, and the famous Battaile of Lepanto against
' the Turks ; in the civil wars of Trance ; in the
' Netherlands, and at Smerwich,2 where the Romans and Irish
' were vanquished.'
Not far off is the monument of William Thynne, coeval
with the rise of the great house of which his brother was the
wir.iam founder ; and by his long life covering the whole
aie<inMarch Tudor dynasty, from the reign of Henry VII., when
he travelled over the yet united Europe, through the
wars of Henry VIII. , when he fought against the Scots at
Musselburgh, to the middle of Elizabeth's reign, when he
' gently fell asleep in the Lord.'
The descent from the Court of Elizabeth to that of James
I. is well indicated by the change of interest in the monu-
COUBT OP ments. They are not deficient in a certain grandeur,
but it is derived rather from the fame of the families
than of the individuals. Such are the monuments of Lady
Lady Catherine St. John (once in St. Michael's, now in St.
C'ltliorinG
st. John. Nicholas's Chapel), of the Fanes, of the Talbots, and
r'abots, ' of the Hattons, in the Chapels of St. Nicholas, St.
Hattons, Edmund, and St. Erasmus ; of Dudley Carleton,3 the
leton', 1631. ambassador in Spain, in St. Paul's Chapel. He it
was who, on his return from Spain, ' found the King at Theo-
' bald's, hunting in a very careless and unguarded manner,
' and upon that, in order to be putting him on a more careful
' looking to himself, he told the King he must either give over
' that way of hunting, or stop another hunting that he was
' engaged in, which was priest-hunting ; for he had intelligence
Governor of the Netherlands under ' Battle of Ivry ' commences with the
Lord Essex; and Henry Noel (1596), like strain? Compare Froude, xi.
gentleman pensioner to the Queen, and 237. Vere's motto is also Deo ex-
buried here by her particular directions, ercitum.
for ' his gentile address and skill in 2 For Bingham's exploits at Smer-
' music.' (Dart, ii. 7.) wich in Dingle Bay, see Froude, xi.
1 Is it an accidental coincidence, or 233-235.
an indication of Macaulay's exact know- 3 Stone received for this monument
ledge, that the Lay of the contemporary £200. (Walpole's Anecdotes, ii. 62.)
o 2
196 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
' in Spain that . . . Queen Elizabeth was a woman of power,
' and was always so well attended that all their plots against her
' failed ; but a Prince who was always in woods and forests could
' be easily overtaken. The advice, however, wrought otherwise
' than he had intended, for the King continued to hunt, and gave
' up hunting the priests.' l The two greatest men who passed
away in James I.'s reign rest far off— Bacon in his own Veru-
lam, Shakspeare in his own Stratford. One inferior to these,
yet the last relic of the age of Elizabethan adventure, has left
his traces close by. The Gatehouse of Westminster was the
prison, St. Margaret's Church the last resting-place, of Sir
Walter Ralegh.2 A companion of his daring expedition to
Fayal rests, without a memorial, in St. Edmund's Chapel—
LordHervey Lord Hervey, who had greatly distinguished himself
at the .time of the Spanish Armada, and afterwards
in Ireland.3
One stately monument of this epoch is remarkable from its
position. In the southern side of the central aisle of Henry
Lewis stuart VII.'s Chapel was buried Ludovic Stuart, Duke of
Richmond, Richmond and Lennox, cousin to James I. (who had
1623-46; ' '' been his one confidential companion in the expedition
i7.npuchess to Gowrie House), Lord Chamberlain, and Lord High
mond, \~639. Admiral of Scotland.4 The funeral ceremony took
Lennox, «m place two months after his burial, perhaps from his
Duchess of having died of the 'spotted ague.'5 His widow,6 who
died May 87, raised the monument, and, with the exception of his
7,um3. UI ' brother Esme,7 all the Lennox family, were laid beside
1 Burnet's Own Time, i. 12. and Dugdale are communicated by the
2 See Chapter V. -kindness of Lord Arthur Hervey.
3 Register. The facts from Camden 4 Epitaph, 2 Sam. iii. 38 : —
CHEONOO" AN iGNORATis I (jVlA PRlNCEPS ET VlK MAGN'Vs OBllT HoDlE.
The elongated letters are all the Roman numerals. If they are extracted, and
placed according to their value, they give (as pointed out to me by Mr. Poole, the
master-mason of the Abbey) the date of the year : —
M. DC. VVV. UIUIU.,i.e. 1000 + 600 + 15 + 8 = 1623.
For other like chronograms see Pettigrew's Epitaphs, 163, 164.
4 State Paper Office, 1624. ' of that Chapel,' and therefore referred
8 She requested Charles I.'s inter- the matter to the Dean and Chapter,
vention for the removal of the stone and they apparently objected, as the
partition of the Chapel ' wherein is a partition still remains. (State Paper
door and corridors, and for the erec- Office, 1628.) The tomb has been
tion of an iron grate in lieu thereof.' splendidly restored at the cost of the
The King, 'though ready to do any- present representative of the family, the
thing that may add to the honour of Earl of Darnley.
the duke, was careful not to command ' He, in 1624, with much pomp,
anything that may give an injury and equal to that of the funeral of Anne of
blemish to the strength and security Denmark, was buried in the vault of
CHAP. iv. OF THE COUKT OF CHARLES I. 197
him, including the natural son of Charles II., to whom his father
transferred the name and titles of the great family then just
Esme Leu- extinct. The heart of Esme, its last lineal descendant,
rtaehewoi was placed in an urn at the feet of his ancestors, after
bun>Tort. the Restoration ; and in the vault lies the beautiful
Duchess of Eichmond, widow of the last of the race,
ancestress of the Stuarts of Blantyre, whose effigy was, by her
own special request, placed close by after her death, ' as well
' done in wax as could be,' ' under crown-glass and none
' other,' ' in the robes she wore at the coronation of Queen
Anne, and with a parrot which had ' lived with her Grace for
' forty years, and survived her only a few days.' The parrot
confirms the allusion of Pope to 'the famous Duchess, who
' would
' Die, and endow a college or a cat.' 2
The shadows of the reign of Charles I. rested heavily on
the tombs of the next generation. First come those which
(OII.IUF gather round the great favourite of the two first
CHAULES I.
The vimers Stuart reigns — George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham,
family. < Steenie.' ' Never any man in any age, nor, I believe,
' in any country or nation, rose in so short a time to so much
' greatness of honour, fame, and fortune, upon no other advan-
' tage or recommendation than the beauty and gracefulness of
' his person.' 3 This tragical rise we trace both in the tombs
of his parents and of himself. In the Chapel of St. Nicholas
sir George ^es ^ie Leicestershire squire, Sir George Villiers, with
viiiiers.1605. fag second wife, Mary Beaumont, to whom, at his own
early death, he left the handsome boy, and by whose ' singular
' care and affection the youth was trained in those accomplish-
' ments which befitted his natural grace.' 4 Each of the two
stately figures which lie on that tomb, carved by the hand of the
famous sculptor, Nicholas Stone,5 lives in the pages of Clarendon,
as he follows the fortunes of their son. That stiff burly knight,
his grandmother, Lady Margaret. (See buried a dog in Tothill Fields in ridi-
Chapter III.) cule of the ceremony, saying, ' the soul
1 See Note at the end of the Chapter. ' of a dog was as good as that of a Scot.'
2 Pope's Moral Essays, Epistle iii. On that occasion the communion cloth,
96, with his own note and Wharton's two copes, and Prince Henry's robes,
comment (vol. iii. p. 245). were stolen from the Abbey. (State
3 Clarendon, i. 16. Westminster Papers, Domestic, James I., vol. Ixxxvi.
witnessed a singular proof of the Court No. 132.) Grimes's grave is unknown,
affection and the popular hatred for Vil- 4 Clarendon, i. 17.
liers. One of his favourites, Sir John 3 He received i'oCOfor it. Walpole's
Grimes, had a pompous funeral in the Anecdotes, ii. 61.
Abbey. The butchers of King Street
198
THE MONUMENTS
CHAP. IV.
in his plated armour and trunk breeches, is ' the man, of a very
' venerable aspect,' who (more than twenty years after his
death) drew the bed- curtains of the officer of the King's
wardrobe, at midnight, ' and, fixing his eyes upon him, asked
PLAN OF THE BUCKINGHAM (VILLIEBS) VAULT IN HENBY VII. 's CHAPEL.
No. 1. is the shaped leaden coffin of
Lord Francis Villiers (1648).
Under it are two other leaden
coffins of the common shape.
The wooden cases are wholly
absent. Over the legs of these
is a small leaden coffin of a
child, Lord Charles Villiers
(1626).
No. 2. Mary, Duchess of Buckingham,
(1704).
No. 3. Charles Hamilton, Earl of Sel-
kirk (1739).
No. 4. Catherine, Countess Grandison,
(1725-6).
No. 5. General William Steuart
(1726).
No. 6. A shaped leaden coffin of a
child (no inscription).
[Doubtless (from the Register)
Philip Feilding, third son to
William, Earl of Denbigh,
buried Jan. 19, 1627-8.]
No. 7. A cubical chest, plated with an
Earl's coronet and monogram.
No. 10. A stone under the floor, re-
movable to enter the vault.
No. 11. The steps under the stone.
' him if he knew him ; ' and when ' the poor man, half dead
' with fear and apprehension,' having at last ' called to his
' memory the presence of Sir George Villiers, and the very
' clothes he used to wear, in which at that time he seemed to
CHAP. iv. OF THE COURT OF CHARLES I. 199
* be habited,' answered ' that he thought him to be that
' person ' — then ensued the warning, thrice repeated, and con-
veyed with difficulty, to the Duke his son, whose colour changed
as he heard it ; and he swore that that knowledge could come
' only by the Devil, for that those particulars were known only to
' himself and to one person more, who he was sure would never
' speak of it.' l And that lady, with broad full face and flow-
countess of ing ermine mantle, created Countess of Buckingham in
ham, buried her own right, and professing to be ' descended from
April 21
1632. ' five of the most powerful kings of Europe by so many
' direct descents,' 2 is the mother towards whom the Duke
' had ever a most profound reverence,' — in whose behalf, when
he thought that she had suffered a neglect from Henrietta
Maria, he came into the Queen's ' chamber in much passion,'
and told her ' she should repent of it,' * and that there had been
' Queens in England who had lost their heads.' 3 She it was
who warned the Lord-Keeper (Williams) 'that St. David's
* (Laud) was the man that did undermine him with her son,
* and would undermine any man, that himself might rise.' 4
She too it was with whom, after the Duke had received the
fatal warning, he * was shut up for the space of two or three
' hours, the noise of their discourse frequently reaching the
* ears of those who attended in the next rooms : and when the
* Duke left her, his countenance appeared full of trouble, with
' a mixture of anger, never before observed in him, in any con-
' versation with her ; ' and she, * at the Duke's leaving her,
' was found overwhelmed in tears, and in the highest agony
' imaginable.' 5
Within six months she received the news of the Duke's
1 Clarendon, i. 74, 78. IPSIS CALENDIS MAII, SED DIES ILLI
* Epitaph. MAGIS PKOPKIE NATALIS BEAT IDEM
3 Clarendon, i. 69. QUI SANCTIS DEI, DIE SCILICET IN
4 Bacon's Life, xvi. 368. QUO HAS SUAS TEBKENAS SUPER.
s Clarendon, i. 78, 79. — In her grave INDUVIAS FELICITER POSUIT, ANNO
were interred two granddaughters and JET : SUM LXII. — xrx. APRIL. — FERIA
two great-grandsons of the Feilding QUINTA A.D. MDCXXXTI. HAEC A ME.
family. William, Earl of Denbigh, had EDOCTUS ABI INSTRUCTIOK ET AVE
married her daughter. (Burial Regis- MARIA DICAS UNUM. It seems to
ter, 1638, 1640, 1641.) On opening imply the Roman Catholic belief
the vault in 1878 there was found on either of the Countess or her sur-
the plate of her coffin the following vivors, and is curious in connection
inscription : — * I. H. S. REPERTOR with Laud. Possibly it even hints at
QUISQUIS ES, LAMINA Huic LOCULO the Abbey falling into the hands of the
INFIXA QUAM HospiTEM LIGNEUS Roman Catholics. An imperfect copy
HABEAT FAUCIS TE EDocxuM voLo. of this inscription was made in the
[Then follows a description of her, Burial Register, on opening the vault
resembling her epitaph.] NATA EBAT in 1719.
200 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
murder, and ' seemed not in the least degree surprised ; ' but
oeorge heard it as if she had foreseen it, ' nor did afterwards
Duke"?" ' express such a degree of sorrow as was expected
Bucking- < from guch a mother for the loss of such a son.' l
ham, died
Aug. 23, £u£ the thrill of that fall, at least in the royal circle,
tmrted bept. ^ •
is, 1628. < the lively regret, such as never Prince had expressed
' for the loss of a servant,' after his first cold reception of the
news had passed away, are well represented in his tomb 2 in the
north side of the central aisle of Henry VII. 's Chapel
His tomb. */.
— the first intrusion of any person not of royal lineage
into that mausoleum of Princes. No higher place could well
be given ; and though the popular distrust was so strong as to
curtail the funeral itself within the smallest possible dimensions,3
the deep sensation in his own circle is shown by the inscription
on his coffin, which records how he had been the ' singular
' favourite of two Kings, and was cut off by a nefarious
Hismonn- ' parricide,' 4 and yet more by the elaborate monument
mentis, erected by his widow, and completed in 1633. We
seem to be present in the Court of Charles as we look at its
fantastic ornaments (' Fame even bursting herself, and trumpets
' to tell the news of his so sudden fall ') and its pompous in-
scriptions, calling each State in Europe severally to attest the
several virtues of this ' Enigma of the World.' It corresponds
to the blasphemous comparison in which the grave Sir Edward
Coke likened him to Our Saviour, and to Clarendon's more
measured verdict on that ' ascent so quick, that it seemed
' rather a flight than a growth ; ' ' such a darling of fortune,
' that he was at the top before he was well seen at the bottom :
' his ambition rather found at last' than brought there, as if a
' garment necessary for that air ; no more in his power to be
' without promotion, and titles, and wealth, than for a healthy
' man to sit in the sun in the brightest dogdays, and remain
' without any warmth.' 5
There is a lesser interest attaching to the tomb, as indi-
1 Clarendon, i. 79. See Appendix. His wife, Lady Cathe-
2 He had already designed the place rine Manners, whose effigy lies by his
for his family. His son Charles side, is not buried here :
Marquis Buckingham, Earl of Coven- ' When Manners' name with Yilliers'
try, was buried March 17, 1626-7, ' in a joined I see,
' little chapel on the north side of King How do I reverence your nobility.' —
' Henry VII.'s monument ; ' and on Jan. (Cowley.)
19, 1627-8, his nephew, Philip Feilding, 3 Keepe, p. 101.
the third son to William Earl of Den- 4 See Appendix.
bigh, by the Duke's sister. (Register.) s Clarendon, i. 61, 62.
CHAP. iv. OF THE COURT OF CHARLES I. 201
eating the ecclesiastical tastes and sentiments of that age. He,
the friend of Laud, the pillar of the High Church party,
nevertheless from his tomb asserts and reasserts his claim to
the name — in our own time by their followers so vehemently
repudiated — of ' Protestant ; ' and the allegorical figures are
the first wanton intruders into the imagery (now so dear to the
school of Laud) which adorns that ancient Chapel.
Within the same vault (if we may thus far anticipate the
course of history) repose in two coffins, placed upon and beneath
that of the murdered Duke, his two sons, George and Francis,
who appear as blooming boys side by side on their father's
monument above, as they do in Vandyke's famous picture at
Lora Francis Windsor. Francis, born after his father's death, was
Vilhers, died
Jmy r, the first to follow, ' a youth of rare beauty and come-
buned July . • »
' liness l of person,' who fell at the battle of Kingston,
which had been precipitated by his own and his brother's
rashness. His body was ' brought from thence by water to
' York Place, in the Strand, and deposited in his father's vault
' in the Abbey, with an inscription, which it is pity should
* be buried with him.' 2 The coffin of Francis, with that of his
brother Charles, is placed above his father's remains. Beneath
them lies the last surviving successor in the dukedom, George
George Villiers, the profligate courtier of Charles II. — the
sTconTouke ' zimri ' °f Dryden, the rival of ' Peveril of the Peak ; '
hL^atod*" where Pope's famous though fictitious description of
buried June ^s miserable deathbed is recalled to us, as on the
decayed coffin-plate we dimly trace the record of his
George and Garter — ' Periscelidis eques.' 3
Two other magnates of that age rest in the Abbey, who
must have regarded the fall of Buckingham with feelings some-
what different from those of Charles and Laud. In the Chapel
of St. Benedict, second of the secular monuments which fill
its narrow space, and similar to that of Buckingham's parents,
is the tomb of Lord Middlesex, erected to him by his wife, who
rests by his side, in ' the calm haven which he has reached
' after the stormy voyage of his long life.'4 Lionel Cranfield,
' though extracted from a gentleman's family, had been bred
' in the City, and, being a man of great wit and understanding
1 Clarendon, vi. 96. the same as that found on the coffin in
- Bryan Fairfax's Life of the Duke 1866 ; and records his extraordinary
of BuckingJuim, p. 24. The inscription beauty and his nine wounds.
which Fairfax gives is almost exactly a See Appendix. 4 Epitaph.
202
THE MONUMENTS
N.
"Countess of
Hertford
VAbbot
° Curtlinyton
1
1
0
T ><
o fc
?
! I
3 s §
1 1
O tx^
OS
i
lAbp. Spot ti sir code
w.
CHAPEL OF ST. BEKEDICT.
CHAP. iv. OF THE COUET OF CHARLES I. 203
' in all the mysteries of trade, had found means to work him-
cranfieid, ' 8e^ m*° tne favour of the Duke of Buckingham ; ' l
MiliduLex, anc^ was accordingly, ' with wonderful expedition,'
iti45. through various lesser offices, raised to the highest
financial post of Lord High Treasurer. As by his business-
like habits he rose to power, so by them he was led to thwart
his patron's extravagance ; and hence the celebrated impeach-
ment by which he fell, and which called forth the prophetic
remonstrance of King James, in a scene which must have sug-
gested many a page in the ' Fortunes of Nigel ' : —
' By God, Stenny ' [the King said to the Duke in much choler]
4 you are a fool, and will shortly repent this folly, and will find that,
' in this fit of popularity, you are making a rod, with which you will
' be scourged yourself ! ' And turning in some anger to the Prince,
told him, ' That he would live to have his belly full of Parliament
' impeachments : and when I shall be dead, you will have too much
1 cause to remember how much you have contributed to the weakening
' of the crown.' 2
On the other side of the Abbey, in St. Paul's Chapel, is
Sir Francis (afterwards Lord) Cottington.3 Look at his face, as
Lord cot- ne lift8 himself up on his elbow ; and read Clarendon's
tiugtou,i652. description of his interview's with Buckingham, with
James I., with Laud, and with Charles II., and think of the
quaint caustic humour which he must have diffused through
those three strange English reigns, and of the Spanish Court,
in which he spent his early youth and his extreme age : —
A very wise man, by the great and long experience he had in
business of all kinds ; and by his natural temper, which was not liable
tp any transport of anger, or any other passion, but could bear con-
tradiction, and even reproach, without being moved, or put out of bis
way ; for he was very steady in pursuing what he proposed to himself,
and bad a courage not to be frighted with any opposition. . . . He
was of an excellent humour and very easy to live with : and, under a
grave countenance, covered the most of mirth, and caused more than
any man of the most pleasant disposition. He never used anybody ill,
but used many very well for whom be had no regard : bis greatest
fault was, that he could dissemble, and make men believe that lie
loved them very well, when he cared not for them. He had not very
1 Clarendon, i. 39. — He was owner memory of his wife (1633), whose bust
of Knole, where his portrait still exists. is the work of Hubert le Sueur. The
2 Ibid. i. 41. lower part is by ' the one-eyed Italian
3 The upper part of the tornb was ' Fanelli.'— Calendars of State Papers
erected, during his lifetime, to the (Domestic), 1634, Preface, p. xlii.
204 THE 3IOXUMEXTS CHAP. iv.
tender affections, nor bowels apt to yearn at all objects which deserved
compassion ; he was heartily weary of the world, and no man was
more willing to die ; which is an argument that he had peace of con-
science. He left behind him a greater esteem of his parts than love
to his person.1
When Charles I. wished to employ torture after the death
of Buckingham, the answer that it was unlawful was conveyed
sirThos. to him by Sir Thomas Eichardson, who was known
less. ' as the ' jeering Lord Chief Justice.' 2 "When, on one
occasion, he came out from being reprimanded by Laud, he
declared that ' the lawn sleeves had almost choked him.'
When, on another occasion, he condemned Prynne, he said,
' Let him have the Book of Martyrs to amuse him.' 3 He is
buried in the north aisle of the Choir, under his monument.
The dragon's teeth which had been sown in the lives of
the statesmen on whose graves we have just trodden, bore
their natural harvest in the lives of those whose graves we
have to tread immediately afterwards. Close by the tomb of
his ancestor, Lord Hunsdon, in the Chapel of St. John, is the
Thomas tablet to Thomas Gary — the one memorial in the
cary, lesi. Abbey which speaks of the death of Charles I., whose
attendant he was, and whose monument represents him as
dying a second death fourteen years afterwards, in the year
in which the execution of his master took place.4
Then comes the period, which, more than any other, indi-
cates the strong hold which the Abbey had laid on the mind
THE u^e. of the whole nation ; when not even the excess of
THE C-UM- ' Puritan zeal, or the sternness of Republican princi-
•TH- pies, could extinguish in the statesmen of the Com-
monwealth the longing to be buried in the Royal Monastery.5
Pym, the chief of the Parliamentary leaders, was the first.
He died at Derby House, close by, in Canon Row, an official
pym, died residence of members of Parliament. Whilst at
buried Dec. Oxford there was a 'great feast, and great prepara-
io, 1643. t tions made for bonfires that night, for that they
1 Clarendon, vi. 465, 467. — His 3 See Toss's Judges, vi. 359-362.
body was brought from Valladolid, 4 This appears by comparing the
and, though he died a Roman Catholic, date of the plate on the coSin (dis-
\vas interred in the Abbey. The epi- covered in 1879), with the inflated
taph by his son is twice inaccurate. It inscription on the monument,
was not under Charles but James, that * Here, as elsewhere, the graves of
his career began in Spain ; and he died, the men of letters are reserved for the
not at the age of 74, but at 77. consideration of Poets' Corner.
* See Evelyn's Memoirs, ii. 10.
CHAP. iv. OF THE COMMONWEALTH. 205
' heard that Master Pym was dead,' the House of Commons,
by a respect hitherto without precedent, ordered that his body
should be ' interred in Westminster Abbey, without any charge
' for breaking open the ground there, and a monument be
' prepared for him at the charge of the Commonwealth.'
rr. The funeral of ' King Pym,' as he was called, was
His funeral. B *
celebrated, worthily of such a name, with ' wonderful
' pomp and magnificence, in that place where the bones of our
' English kings and princes are committed to their rest.' 1
The body, followed by his two sons, was carried from Derby
House on . the shoulders of the ten chief gentlemen of the
House of Commons, and was accompanied by both Houses of
Parliament, and by the Assembly of Divines, then sitting in
the Jerusalem Chamber.2 He was laid at the entrance of the
Chapel of St. John the Baptist, under the gravestone of John
Windsor. The funeral sermon was preached by Stephen
Marshall, on the words (Micah vii. 1, 2) ' Woe is me ! for the
' good man is perished out of the earth.' The grand stickler
for Parliamentary usage was buried in a grand Parliamentary
fashion —
None can completely Pym lament,
But something like a Parliament,
The public sorrow of a State
Is but a brief commensurate ;
We must enacted passions have,
And laws for weeping at his grave.3
Pym's grave became the point of attraction for the next few
years. Close beside him was laid Sir William Strode, with
sir wiiiiam him one of the 'Five members,' and ' from his fury'
Robert known as ' the Parliament driver.' Within the chapel
KarZt'iSex, lies Eobert Devereux, Earl of Essex, the Parliamen-
aTieiG00*' tary general. The critical moment of his death, and
his position as a possible mediator between the contending
parties, gave a peculiar importance to his funeral. It was
made by the Independents ' a golden bridge for a departing
' enemy.' The dead heroes of the Abbey were called to greet
his approach-
How the ghosts throng to see tlieir great new guest—
Talbot, Vere, Norris, Williams and the rest !
1 Clarendon, iv. 436. Forster's Statesmen, ii. 299, from which
2 See Chapter VI. the above details are taken.
3 Mercurius Britannicus, quoted in
206 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
The sermon was preached by the Presbyterian minister, Dr.
Vines, who compared him to Abner. Its title was taken from
'the hearse,' which was unusually splendid, and was placed
' where the Communion Table stood.' But in the night, by
some ' rude vindictive fellows who got into the church,'
variously suspected to be Cavaliers, or Independents, the
head of the effigy was broken, the buff coat which he had
worn at Edgehill was slit, the scarlet breeches were cut, the
white boots slashed, and the sword taken away.1 The same
rough hands, in passing, defaced the monument of Camden.
In consequence the hearse was removed, and, as the peculiar
feeling of the moment passed,2 there was no fulfilment of the
intention of moving the body to a grander situation, in Henry
VII.'s Chapel, where (said the preacher) there ' should be such
* a squadron-monument, as will have no brother in England,
' till the time do come (and I wish it may be long first) that
' the renowned and most excellent champion that now governs
' the sword of England shall lay his bones by him.' 3
This wish, thus early expressed for Cromwell, was, as we
have seen, realised ; and to that royal burial-place, as if in pre-
paration, the Parliamentary funerals henceforth converged.
In St. John's Chapel,4 indeed, with Strode and Essex, was
laid the fierce Independent, Edward Popham, dis-
i65i. ' tinguished both by sea and land. But in Henry
VII.'s Chapel, at the head of Elizabeth's tomb, was magnifi-
cently buried the learned Isaac Dorislaus, advocate
s, ^ the King's trial. Under the Commonwealth he
buried June
was ambassador at the Hague, where he was assassi-
nated * one evening, by certain highflying Royalist cut-throats,
' Scotch most of them ; a man of heavy, deep-wrinkled,
' elephantine countenance, pressed down with the labours of
' life and law. The good ugly man here found his quietus.' 5
In the same vault probably which contained the Protector
1 In Dulwich Gallery there was long crozier was still there. (Camden.)
possessed a portrait of ' the old man This disposes of the various conjectures
' who demolished with an axe the in Neale, ii. 185. (See Chapter V.)
' monument of the Earl of Essex, in 3 These particulars are taken from
' Westminster Abbey.' the Funeral Sermon, the Elegy, the
2 His grave was in St. John's Chapel, Programme of the Funeral, the Perfect
by the right side of the Earl of Exeter's Relation, and the Life of Essex, all
monument (Register), in a vault occu- published at the time. See also Heath's
pied by an Abbot, whose crozier was Chronicle, p. 125, who mistakes the
still perfect. (Perfect Relation of position of the hearse.
Essex's Funeral.) In 1879, after a long * Dart, ii. 145 ; Kennett, p. 537.
search, the coffin of Essex was discovered s Carlyle's Cromwell, i. 311; Ken-
as indicated. The fragment of the nett's Register, p. 536.
CHAP. iv. OF THE COMMONWEALTH. 207
and his family was deposited Ireton, his son-in-law, with an
ireton, died honour the more remarkable, from the circumstance
ac5o'; buried that his death took place at a distance. His body
March 6, 1J(- T • • t i it
i(i5o-i. was brought trom Limerick, where he had died of the
plague in the camp, and lay in state at Somerset House,1 with
the hatchment bearing the motto, Dulce et decorum est pro patria
mori, which the Cavaliers interpreted, ' It is good for his coun-
' try that he should die.' 2 Evelyn watched the procession
pass ' in a very solemn manner.' Cromwell was chief mourner.3
His obsequies were honoured by a sermon from the celebrated
Puritan Dean of Christchurch, John Owen, on the ' Labouring
' Saint's Dismission to rest.' 4 He must have been no common
man to have evoked so grave and pathetic an eulogy : ' The
' name of God was as land in every storm, in the discovery
' whereof he had as happy an eye, at the greatest seeming
' distance, when the clouds were blackest and the waves were
' highest, as any.' 5
Next followed Colonel Deane, the companion of Popham
Deane,june au& Blake ; Colonel Mackworth, one of Cromwell's
Mackworth, Council ; Sir William Constable, and near to him
io54.secon-' General Worsley,6 ' Oliver's great and rising favour-
2i?bi655June ite,' who had charge of the Speaker's mace when
JSJSf ' that bauble ' was taken from the table of the Long
1656. Parliament.
After that, ' in a vault built for the purpose,' 7 was laid the
Blake first of our naval heroes, whose name has been thought
buried 1657.- worthy, in the most stirring of our maritime war-
songs,9 to be placed by the side of Nelson.
Blake [says a great but unwilling witness10] was the first man that
declined the old track, and made it manifest that the science might be
1 Noble, i. 63. — A magniloquent rial in the Eegister. He died in St.
epitaph, printed at the expense of James's Palace (Thurloe State Papers,
Hugh Peters, was found amongst the v. p. 122), where, in the Chapel Royal,
papers of a descendant of Ireton's, in two of his children were buried,
which his victories are described as 7 Campbell's Lives of the Admirals,
so wonderful, ' ut dixisses Deum pro p. 128.
' Iretono militasse, Iretonum pro Deo.' 8 His death is variously reported
(Crull, Appendix, p. 28.) Aug. 14, 17, 27, but his will was
2 Dart, ii. 143. proved Aug. 20. His funeral was ar-
3 Evelyn, ii. 48. ranged on the model of that of Colonel
4 Owen's Works, xv. 452. Deane.
• Ibid. xv. 458. • Where Blake and mighty Nelson
6 Heath's Chronicle, p. 381. His- fell
tory of Birch Chapel in Manchester Your manl heartg ^
Parish, pp. 39-51, by the Rev. J.
Booker There is no entry of his bu- 10 Clarendon, vii. 213, 215-217.
208 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
attained in less time than was imagined ; and despised those rules
which had been long in practice, to keep his ship and his men out of
danger ; which had been held in former times a point of great ability
and circumspection, as if the principal art requisite in the captain of
a ship had been to be sure to come home safe again. He was the first
man who brought the ships to contemn castles on shore, which had
been thought ever very formidable, and were discovered by him to
make a noise only, and to fright those who could rarely be hurt by
them. He was the first that infused that proportion of courage into
the seamen, by making them see by experience what mighty things
they could do if they were resolved ; and taught them to fight in fire
as well as upon water ; and, though he hath been very well imitated
and followed, he was the first that gave the example of that kind of
naval courage and bold and resolute achievements.
It was after his last action with the Spaniards — ' which^ with
' all its circumstances, was very wonderful, and will never be
' forgotten in Spain and the Canaries ' — that Blake on his re-
turn ' sickened, and in the very entrance of the fleet into the
' Sound of Plymouth, expired.'
He wanted no pomp of funeral when he was dead, Cromwell caus-
ing him to be brought up by land to London in all the state that could
Blake's be ; an^ t° encourage his officers to venture their lives, that
funeral. they might be pompously buried, he was, with all the
solemnity possible, and at the charge of the public, interred in Harry
the Seventh's Chapel, among the monuments of the Kings.1
This is the first distinct claim of a burial in Westminster
Abbey as an incentive to heroic achievements, and it came
well through the ruler from whose reign ' the maritime glory
' of the Empire may first be traced in a track of continuous
' light.' 2
Four days before Cromwell, died Denis Bond, of the Council,
in the beginning of that terrific storm which caused the report
that the Devil was coming, and that Cromwell, not being pre-
pared, had given bond for his appearance,3 and he was probably
interred in Henry VII.'s Chapel.4
1 Clarendon, vii. 215.— His dear (1645) ; close to Lord Norris's tomb,
friend, General Lambert, rode in the Colonel Meldrum (1644) ; on the
procession from the landing place, north side of the Confessor's Chapel,
(Campbell's Admirals, ii. 126.) Humphrey Salwey (December 20,
• Hallam's Const. Hist. ii. 356. 1652) ; on its south side, Thomas
9 To these may be added— from the Haselrig (October 30, 1651) ; the poet
Eegister, and from the warrant in May, and the preachers Twiss, Strong,
Nichols's Collect, viii. 153 — ( under and Marshall (1646-55). See Chapter
the Choristers' seats in the Choir) III.
Colonel Boscawen and Colonel Carter 4 Kennctt's licgister, p. 536.
CHAP. IY. OF THE COMMONWEALTH. 209
Last of all came Bradshaw, who died in the short interval
of Eichard Cromwell's Protectorate, and was interred from the
Bnvuhaw, Deanery, which had been assigned to him as Lord-
NOY. 8,1659. President Of the High Court of Justice.1 He was
laid, doubtless, in the same vault as his wife,2 ' in a superb
' tomb amongst the kings.' 3 The funeral sermon was preached
by his favourite Independent pastor, Eowe, on Isaiah Ivii. 1.
All these were disinterred at the Eestoration. The fate
of Cromwell's remains, which was shared equally by those of
Bradshaw and Ireton, we have already seen.4 For the rest, the
Disinter. King sent an order to the Dean of Westminster, to
magnates of take up the bodies of all such persons as had been
nionwoalth, unwarrantably buried in Henry VII.'s Chapel or the
iee'i! ' Abbey, since the year 1641, and to bury them in some
place in the churchyard adjacent.5 The order was carried out
two days afterwards. All who were thus designated — in num-
ber twenty-one — were exhumed, and reinterred in a pit dug
at the back-door of one of the two prebendal houses6 in St.
Margaret's Churchyard, which then blocked up the north side
of the Abbey, between the North Transept and the west end.
Isaac Dorislaus — perhaps from compunction at the manner of
his death — was laid in a grave somewhat apart.
Seven only of those who had been laid in the Abbey by the
seven ex- rulers of the Commonwealth escaped what Dr. John-
ceptions. gon cajjg ^n-g < mean revenge.'
Popham was indeed removed, but his body was conveyed to
some family burial-place ; and his monument, by the inter-
cession of his wife's friends (who had interest at
monument. Court), was left in St. John's Chapel, on condition
either of erasing the inscription, or turning it inwards.7
Archbishop Ussher had been buried in state, at Cromwell's
express desire, and at the cost of £200, paid by him.8 When
1 Heath, p. 430. is now the green between the church -
2 See Nichols's Collect, viii. 153. yard and the Abbey. According to
* Evelyn, January 30, 1660-61. Jeale (Hist, of the Puritans, iv
* ' 319), this ' work drew such a general
bee Chapter 111. 'odium on the government, that a
5 The warrant is given verbatim in « stop was put to any further proceed-
Nichols's Collect, viii. 153. < ings.' The warrant, however, confines
6 Kennett's Register, p. 534. — The the outrage to those who have been
houses stood till February 17, 1738-39 named.
(Chapter Book; see Chap. VI.), and 7 Dart, ii. 145; Crull, p. 140. It
are to be seen in an old plan of the would seem from the state of the
Precincts, and in Sandford's plan of monument that the inscription was
the Procession at the Coronation of erased.
James II. The back-yard was in what 8 Winstanley's Worthies, p. 476. —
P
210 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
the corpse approached London, it was met by the carriages
Archbishop of all the persons of rank then in town. The clergy
of London and its vicinity attended the hearse from
Somerset House to the Abbey, where the concourse
i",ri656April of people was so great that a guard of soldiers was
rendered necessary. This funeral was the only occasion on
which the Liturgical Service was heard within the Abbey
during the Commonwealth. The sermon was preached by Dr.
Nicolas Bernard (formerly his chaplain, and then preacher
at Gray's Inn), on the appropriate text, ' And Samuel died, and
' all Israel were gathered together ; ' l and the body was then
deposited in St. Paul's Chapel, next to the monument of Sir
James Fullerton,2 his only instructor, whose quaint epitaph
still attracts attention. The toleration of Cromwell in this
instance was the more remarkable, because, in consequence
of the Eoyalist plots, he had just issued a severe ordinance
against all Episcopal ministers. The statesmen of Charles II.
allowed the Archbishop to rest by his friend, but erected no
memorial to mark the spot.
Elizabeth Claypole escaped the general warrant, probably
from her husband's favour with the Court ;3 the Earl of Essex,
Elizabeth perhaps from his rank ; Grace Scot,4 wife of the
regicide Colonel Scot, perhaps from her obscurity;
George Wild, the brother of John Wild, M.P., Lord
scot, 1645-e. Chief Baron of the Exchequer under the pariiament
(' the first judge that hanged a man for treason for adhering to
' his Prince ') ; 5 and General Worsley.
With this violent extirpation of the illustrious dead the
period of the Kestoration forces its way into the Abbey. But
its traces are not merely destructive.
The funerals of the great chiefs of the Eestoration— George
Monk, Duke of Albemarle ; Edward Montague, Earl of6 Sand-
wich ; James Butler, Duke of Ormond — followed the precedent
He erroneously states that Ussher was band was executed in 1660. She lies
buried in Henry VII.'s Chapel. close by in the vault of her own family,
1 Elrington's Life of Ussher, p. the Mauleverers. (See Register 1652-
279. 53, 1675, 1687, 1689, 1713.)
2 Sir James Fullerton was buried S He died Jan- 15' and was buried
near the steps ascending to King Henry near St- Paul's Chapel door, Jan. 21,
VII.'s Chapel, Jan. 3, 1630-31. (Be- 1649-50. (Register.) The inscription
gister \ can still be read.
' 3 See Chapter III. -. ' The E*rl of Sandwich in Pepys's
Diary, as his chief, is always ' My
4 Her touching monument is in the ' lord.' For the programme of his fu-
North Transept, 1645-46. Her hus- neral see Pepys's Correspondence, v.
OF THE KESTOEATION.
211
29, 1670.
Montague,
Earl of
Sandwich,
July 3, 1672.
set by the interment of the Duke of Buckingham in the reign
THE CHIEFS °f Charles I., and of the Parliamentary leaders under
sTouTno^-?" the Commonwealth. They were all buried amongst
Monk, cuke tne Kings in the Chapel of Henry VII. At the
marie^di-d nea^ °^ Queen Elizabeth's tomb, in a small vault,
buried April probably that from which Dorislaus had been ejected,
Monk was laid with Montague, ' it being thought
' reasonable that those two great personages should
< no^ ^e separated after death.' l Monk, who died at
his lodgings in "Whitehall, lay in state at Somerset House,
and then, ' by the King's orders, with all respect imaginable,
1670. A 1. Duke of Albemarle, General
Monk.
A 2. Duchess of Albemarle.
1719. A 3. Joseph Addison.
1720. A 4. James Craggs.
1716. B 1. George Fitzroy, Duke of
Northumberland.
B 2. (The plate is absent.)
Catherine, Duchess of
Northumberland, his first
wife.
1708. c 1. Elizabeth, Lady Stanhope.
1715. c 2. Earl of Halifax.
D 1. (Not examined.)
1743. D 2. Frances, Lady Carteret.
1763. D 3. John, Earl of Granville.
1738. E 1. Mary, second Duchess of
Northumberland.
1744. E 2. Grace, Countess Granville.
1734. F 1. Elizabeth, second Duchess
of Albemarle.
1745. F 2. Sophia, Countess of Gran-
ville.
PLAN OF THE VAULT OF GENERAL MONK, IN THE NORTH AISLE OF
HENRY VII.'S CHAPEL. (Examined Sept. 27, 1867.)
' was brought in a long procession to the Abbey.' The ' last
' person named in the Gazette ' as attending was ' Ensign
' Churchill,' who, after a yet more glorious career, was to be
484. Evelyn was present. (Memoirs,
ii. 372.)
1 Crull, p. 107.— In the interval be-
tween Monk's death and funeral his
wife died, and was buriad in the same
vault, February 28, 1669-70. 'This
' twain were loving in their lives, and
4 in their deaths they were not divided,'
(Ward's Sermon, 29.)
p 2
212 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
laid there himself.1 Dolben (as Dean) officiated.2 The next
day a sermon was preached by Bishop Seth Ward, who had
' assisted in his last Christian offices, heard his last words and
' dying groan.'3 Ormond, with his whole race, was deposited
THK in the more august burial-place at the foot of Henry
VAL^T? VII. which had but a few years before held Oliver
Cromwell, which then received the offspring of Charles II. 's
unlawful passions, and which henceforth became the general
receptacle of most of the great nobles who died in London, and
who lie there unmarked by any outward memorial. The first
Eari of who was so interred was Ormond's own son, the Earl
sotiesb. y of Ossory,4 over whom he made the famous lament :
' Nothing else in the world could affect me so much ; but since
' I could bear the death of my great and good master, King
' Charles I., I can bear anything ; and though I am very
' sensible of the loss of such a son as Ossory was, yet I thank
Duche?s of ' God my case is not quite so deplorable as he who
juT^s*!' ' condoles with me, for I had much rather have my
jame's ' dead son than his living one.' There his wife was
ofuorao^e buried, on a yet sadder day ; and there his own body,
Aug. 4, less. <ky jong gicknesg utterly wasted and decayed,'5 was
laid quite privately, just before the fall of the House of Stuart,
which he had so long upheld in vain.
It is highly characteristic of Charles II., who took to him-
self the grant given him for his father's monument,6 that not
one of these illustrious persons was honoured by any public
memorial.7 Sandwich and Ormond still remain undistinguished.
Monk, for fifty years, was only commemorated in the Abbey by
his effigy in armour (the same that was carried on his hearse)
in the south aisle of Henry VII.'s Chapel — a standing testimony
of the popular favour, and of the regal weight of the general
and statesman on whom, during the calamities of the Great
1 Campbell's Admirals, ii. 272. 499.) There is now no trace of this
2 See the whole account in Sand- coffin in that vault. When opened in
ford's Funeral of Monk. The Dean 1864 it contained many bones, but
and Prebendaries wore copes. Offer- only one leaden coffin, and that of a
ings were made at the altar. female. I owe this to the Eev. James
3 Ward's Sermon, p. 32. ' I saw Graves of Kilkenny.
' him die erect in his chair, uti impera- s Keepe, ii. 506, 550.
' totem decuit.' e See Chapter III.
* Keepe, p. 109. His body is said 7 The banners, pennons, and guidons
to have been removed to the family of Monk and Sandwich, and other in-
vault in Kilkenny Cathedral, but not signia of honour, were hanging over
till after his father's burial. (Ormond's their graves in 1711. (Crull, p. 110.)
will.) (Carte's Life of Ormond, ii. The names were inscribed in 1867.
CHAP. IT. OF THE RESTORATION. 213
Civil War, of the Great Plague, and the Great Fire,1 the King
and nation had leaned for counsel and support. His ducal cap°
till almost within our own time, was the favourite receptacle of
the fees for the showmen of the tombs, as well as the constant
butt of cynical visitors.2 At length, in pursuance of the will
of his son Christopher, who lies by his side, the present
Momnnent monument was erected by the family, still without the
slightest indication of the hero in whose honour it
was raised. Charles II. used to say of him, that ' the Duke of
'Albemarle never overvalued the services of George Monk;'3
the King himself did not overvalue the services of the Duke of
Albemarle.
Much the same fortune has attended the memorials of the
inferior luminaries of the Eestoration who rest in the Abbey.4
Ear! of Clarendon, its great historian, was brought from his
jaTT,don> exile at Rouen, and laid in his family vault, but
without a stone or name to mark the spot, at the foot
of the steps to Henry YII.'s Chapel.5 In St. Edmund's Chapel
Bi«hoP lies Nicholas Monk, 'the honest clergyman' who
Monhk0lDec undertook the journey to Scotland to broach the first
design of the Eestoration to his brother the General,
for whom he had always had ' a brotherly affection,' but who
was sent back with such ' infinite reproaches and many oaths,
' that the poor man was glad when he was gone, and never had
' the courage after to undertake the like employment.' 6 His
services, however, were not forgotten, and he was raised to the
see of Hereford, and dying immediately afterwards was buried
in the Abbey. The Duke, his brother, and all the Bishops
followed. Evelyn was present.7 But he also was left for sixty
years to wait for a monument, which ultimately was erected by
his last descendant, Christopher Eawlinson, in 1723. Two
other prelates, like him, died immediately after the Eestoration.
1 ' If the general had been here, the Here was laid his mother (1661) and
'city had not been burned.' (Ward's his third son (1664-65), and afterwards
Sermon, p. 30.) his grandson, Lord Cornbury (1723)
2 See Note on the Waxworks. (who ' represented ' Queen Anne, as
3 Campbell's Admirals, ii. 273. Governor of New York, by appearing
4 Thomas Blagg, who defended the at a levee in woman's robes). His
Castle of Wallingford, and died Novem- niece, Anne Hyde, wife of Sir Ross
ber 14, 1660, was buried on the 'north Carey, was buried on July 23, 1660, in
' side of the church.' Sir Thomas In- the centre of the Choir, with a quaint
gram, Privy Councillor to Charles II., epitaph, commemorating this memor-
\vho died Feb. 13, 1671-72, has a monu- able date.
ment at the entrance of St. Nicholas's * Clarendon, vii. 383, 384. State
Chapel. Papers, 1662.
5 The name was added in 1867. • Evelyn, ii. 184.
214 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
Close to Nicholas Monk, under a simple slab, lies Feme, Bishop
Bishop °f Chester, and Master of Trinity, who had attended
March 25, Charles I., during his imprisonments, almost to the
last, and ' whose only fault it was that he could not be
Bishop ' angry.' Brian Duppa, Bishop, first of Salisbury, and
ApAi 24, then of Winchester — who had been with Charles I. at
the same period, and had been tutor to Charles II.
and James II. — lies in the North Ambulatory, with a small
Hismonu- monument, which recalls some of the chief points of
mem. interest in his chequered life : — how he had learned
Hebrew, when at Westminster, from Lancelot Andrewes, then
Dean ; how affectionately he had clung to Richmond, the spot
where his education of Charles II. had been carried on ; how,
RKI(;yoF after the Restoration,1 he had there built the hospital,
CHAKLES ii. whicn ne had vowed during his pupil's exile ; how
there he died, almost in the arms of that same pupil, who came
to see him a few hours before his death, and received his final
blessing — one hand on the King's head, the other raised to
heaven.2
In the wake of the mighty chiefs who lie in Henry VII. 's
Chapel, are monuments to some of the lesser soldiers of that
Eari of Mari- time. In the North Transept and its neighbourhood
jnrn°euig4;' are nve victims of the Dutch war of 1665— viz.,
M^kerry, William Earl of Marlborough, Viscount Muskerry,
Lord19:' Charles Lord Falmouth, Sir Edward Broughton, and
sir William Berkeley. Of these, all fell in battle
except Broughton, who 'received his death-wound at
Berkeley, ' sea' an(^ ^ied here at home.' Berkeley, brother of
Aug. wee. Lord Falmouth, was 'embalmed by the Hollanders,
' who had taken the ship when he was slain,' and ' there in
•'Holland he lay dead in a sugar-chest for everybody to see,
Hamilton, ' w^n n^8 ^ag standing up by him.' He was then
K^ve/lu^ ' sent over by them, at the request and charge of his re-
Iptsp2~gge' Cations.'3 From the Dutch war of 1672 were brought,
to the same North Aisle, Colonel Hamilton, Captain Le
Neve,4 and Sir Edward Spragge,5 the naval favourite of James II.,
1 Kennett, p. 650. Pepys's Diary, that of Lord Ligonier now is. A monu-
July 29, 1660.—' To Whitehall Chapel. ment of his namesake, Sir Thos. Duppa,
' Heard a cold sermon of the Bishop who outlived the dynasty he had served
' of Salisbury (Duppa), and the Com- (1694), is in the North Aisle.
1 munion did not please me ; they do 3 Register ; Pepys, June 16, 1666.
' so overdo that.' < Under the organ-loft. (Ibid.)
2 The monument originally was-where • Campbell's Admirals, ii. 338.
CHAP. iv. OF CHARLES II. 'S REIGN. 215
and the rival of Van Tromp,1 whose untimely loss his enemy
mourned with a chivalrous regret — ' the love and delight of all
* men, as well for his noble courage as for the gentle sweetness
' of his temper.' In the Nave, beside Le Neve's tablet, is the
Harbordand joint monument to Sir Charles Harbord2 and Clement
1672. ' Cottrell, ' to preserve and unite the memory of two
' faithful friends, who lost their lives at sea together, in the
' terrible fight off the Suffolk coast,'3 'in which their Admiral,
' (Lord Sandwich) also perished.' Not far off is the monument
Fairbome, of Sir Palmes Fairborne,4 who fell as Governor of
Tangiers, October 24, 1680 — remarkable partly as a
trace of that outpost of the British Empire, first cradle of our
standing army — partly from the inscription written by Dryden,
containing, amongst specimens of his worst taste, some worthy
of his best moods, describing the mysterious harmony which
often pervades a remarkable career : —
His youth and age, his life and death combine
As in some great and regular design,
All of a piece throughout, and all divine :
Still nearer lieav'n his virtues shone more bright,
Like rising flames, expanding in their height.
Others are curious, as showing the sense of instability which,
in that inglorious reign, beset the mind of the nation, even in
the heart of the metropolis : —
Ye sacred reliques ! which your marble keep,
Here, undisturb'd by wars, in quiet sleep ;
Discharge the trust which (when it was below)
Fairborne 's undaunted soul did undergo,
And be the town's Balladium 5 from the foe.
Alive and dead these walls he will defend :
Great actions great examples must attend.
Three memorials remain of the calamitous vices of the
1 Campbell's Admirals, ii. 349, 350. ' whole and undefaced, in Westminster
2 There is a touching allusion in Sir ' Abbey Church, on the 28th day of
Charles Harbord's will ' to the death of ' May, for ever, by the advice and
1 his dear son Sir Charles Harbord, ' direction of the Dean then for the
' which happened the 28th of May, ' time being.' (Communicated by
' 1672, being Whitson Tuesday, to Colonel Chester.)
' his great grief and sorrow, never to 3 Epitaph.
' be laid aside ; ' and he directed forty 4 His wife was buried here, 1694 ;
shillings to be given to the poor (and an infant son had also been buried in
himself, if he died in or near West- the Cloisters, 1678-79. (Register.)
minster, to be buried) near to the monu- 5 So in the epitaph.
ment, ' as long as it shall continue
216 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
period. Thomas Thynne, 'Torn of Ten Thousand,'1 'the
Thomas ' Western Issachar ' of Dryden's poems, lies not far
buned6' fr°m hi8 ancestor William, of happier fame. His
i68i-2. monument, like the nearly contemporary one of Arch-
bishop Sharpe at St. Andrews, represents his murder, in his
coach in Pall Mall, by the three ruffians of Count Konigsmark.2
The coachman is that Welshman of whom his son, the Welsh
farmer, boasted that his father's monument was thus to be seen
in Westminster Abbey. The absence of the long inscription
which was intended to have recorded the event3 is part of the
same political feeling which protected the murderer from his
just due. It was erected (such was the London gossip) by his
wife, ' in order to get her a second husband, the comforts of a
' second marriage being the surest to a widow for the loss of a
' first husband.'
In the Cloisters is the tablet to Sir Edmond4 Berry Godfrey,
the supposed victim of the Popish Plot, restored by his brother
. B. Benjamin in 1695, with an epitaph remarkable for
1678, 1695. the singular moderation with which he refers to
History for the solution of the mystery of Sir Edmond's death.
In the centre of the South Transept lies * Tom Chiffinch,5
' the King's closet-keeper. He was as well last night as ever,
T. Chiffinch, ' playing at tables in the house, and not being ill this
April 10, . r J . ° , , . . ' . .
ices. morning at six o clock, yet dead before seven. . . .
' It works fearfully among people nowadays, the plague, as we
' hear, increasing rapidly again.'6
We pass to a monument of this epoch, erected not by
public gratitude, but by private affection, which commemorates
a husband and wife, both remarkable in the whole
h' of the period which they cover. In the solitude
ie, of the North Transept, hitherto almost entirely free
from monuments, the romantic William Cavendish,
' the loyal Duke of Newcastle,' built his own tomb.
He was a very fine gentleman, active, and full of courage ; and
most accomplished in those arts of horsemanship, dancing, and fencing
which accompany a good breeding. He loved monarchy, as it was
the foundation and support of his own greatness ; and the Church, as
1 Tom Brown, iii. 127. He was called « Berry ' after a family
2 See an account by Hornbeck and to which he was related. He is buried
Burnet of the last confession of two of at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. (Lon-
the assassins (1682). diniana, iii. 199.)
3 It is given in Crull (Appendix, * He was the brother of the more
P- 26). notorious William Chiffinch.
4 So it is written on his monument. 6 Pepys's Diary, April 4, 1666.
CHAP. iv. OF CHARLES II.'S REIGN. 217
it was well constituted for the splendour and security of the Crown ;
and religion, as it cherished and maintained that order and obedience
that was necessary to both ; without any other passion for the par-
ticular opinions which were grown up in it, and distinguished it into
parties, than as he detested whatsoever was like to disturb the public
peace.1
With him is buried his second wife, herself as remarkable
as her husband — the most prolific of female writers, as is in-
Margaret dicated by her book and inkstand on the tomb. She
Duchess of was surrounded night and day with young ladies, who
jaenV7astie' were to wake up at a moment's notice ' to take down
' her Grace's conceptions ; ' authoress of thirteen
folios, written each without corrections, lest her coming fancies
should be disturbed by them ; of whom her husband said, in
answer to a compliment on her wisdom, ' Sir, a very wise woman
' is a very foolish thing ; ' but of whom, in her epitaph, with
more unmixed admiration, he wrote that ' she was a very wise,
' witty, and learned lady, as her many books do testify ; ' and,
in words with which Addison was ' very much pleased ' — ' Her
' name was Margaret Lucas, youngest sister of Lord Lucas of
' Colchester— a noble family, for all the brothers were valiant,
* and all the sisters virtuous.' 2 ' Of all the riders on Pegasus,
* there have not been a more fantastic couple than his Grace
'and his faithful Duchess, who was never off her pillion.'3
' There is as much expectation of her coming,' said Pepys,
' as if it were the Queen of Sweden.' He describes her ap-
pearance at the Pioyal Society : ' She hath been a good and
' seemly woman, but her dress so antick, and her deport-
' ment so ordinary, that I do not like her at all ; nor did I hear
' her say anything that was worth hearing, but that she was full
' of admiration, all admiration ! '4 In reply to her question to
Bishop Wilkins, author of the work on the possibility of a
passage to the Moon — ' Doctor, where am I to find a place for
4 waiting in the way up to that planet ? ' — Wilkins answered,
* Madam, of all the people in the world, I never expected that
' question from you, who have built so many castles in the air,
* that you may lie every night at one of your own ! '
1 Clarendon, iv. 517. ' ville, on n'a jamais vu de coquette ; et
2 Spectator, No. 99. It has been ' la bravoure n'y est pas plus hereditaire
suggested to me that this may have ' aux males que la chasteteaux femelles.'
been inspired by a passage in Moliere's 3 Walpoie (Londiniana, i. 127).
Georges Dandin, acted in 1668, act i. 4 Pepys's Diary, April and May
scene 4 — 'Dans la maison de Soten- 1607.
218
THE MONUMENTS
John Holies,
By a slight anticipation of the chronological order, we may here
notice the monument which stands next to this in the Transept,
and which with it long guarded the open space.1 It was at-
tracted to its position by a triple affinity to this particular spot.
J°nn Holies was descendant both of the families of
, George Holies and Sir Francis Vere, who lie immedi-
Aug. 9, i7ii. ate]y behind ; and after his marriage with the grand-
daughter of William Cavendish, who lies immediately by
his side, he was created Duke of Newcastle.2 By all these
united titles he became ' the richest subject that had been in
and his monument is
*ne kingdom for some ages ;
' 3
THE REVO-
i688.°x °P
cuke' of k>
f7°0r9tland>
His menu-
ment, 1723. proportion ably magnificent, according to the style
which then prevailed. On it the sculptor Gibbs staked his
immortality ; and by the figures of ' Prudence ' and ' Sincerity,'4
which stand on either side, set the example of the allegorical
figures which, from that time, begin to fill up the space equally
precious to the living and the dead.5
The statesmen and warriors of the Eevolution have but
slight record in the history of the Abbey. Bentinck, the Earl
°^ Portland, with his first descendants, favourite and
friend of William III., lies in the Orrnond vault, just
'under the great east window.'6 When Marshal
Schomberg fell in the passage of the Boyne, it was felt
that ' the onty cemetery in which so illustrious a warrior,
<slam in arms for the liberties and religion of Eng-
' land, could properly be laid,'7 was Westminster
Abbey. His corpse was embalmed and deposited for
that PurP°se in a leaden coffin on the field. But, in
fact> ne was never carried further than Dublin, where
he now lies in St- Patrick's Cathedral.8 His family,
however, are interred in the Ormond vault at West-
niinster — brother, son, and daughter. In the vault of
the Duke of Bichinond,9 with whose family he was
1 The houses of these two Dukes of vault, formerly called the ' Holies
Newcastle can still be traced ; that of
Cavendish in Newcastle Place in Clerk-
enwell, that of Holies in the neigh-
bourhood of Lincoln's Inn and of New-
castle Street in the Strand.
2 See p. 216.
3 Burnet's Oivn Time, vi. 62 (or ii.
580) ; and see his epitaph.
4 ' Sincerity ' lost her left hand in
the scaffolding of George IV. 's corona-
tion.
5 The Chapel behind was, from his
sir Joseph
i4,ri7oucfc'
i694.plesir
Feb*i,mple>
Chapel ; ' and in it a new vault was,
in 1766, made for Lord and Lady
Mountrath, who before that had been
buried in the Argyll vault. (Register.)
6 Eegister.
* Macaulay, iii. 638.
8 Beside the monument inscribed
with the famous epitaph by Swift.
(Pettigrew's Epitaphs, 186.)
• Eegister. — This seems hardly com -
patible with the statement in Crull (p.
120), that he was buried in the same
CHAP. iv. OF THE REVOLUTION. 2 1 9
connected by marriage,1 is Sir Joseph Williamson, the English
plenipotentiary at Ryswick.2 In the south aisle of the Nave
lies, by the side of his daughter Diana and wife Dorothy
(former love of Henry Cromwell), Sir William Temple,3 beneath
a monument which combines their names with that of his
favourite sister Lady Gifford, who long survived him.
One monument alone represents the political aspect of this
era — that of George Saville, Marquis of Halifax, who, with his
George w^e an^ daughter, lies in the vault of Monk close by.
Maquis of But its position marks his importance. It is the first
ApruTi visible memorial of any subject that has gained a place
in the aisle which holds the tomb of Queen Elizabeth.
Its classical style, with its medallion portrait, marks the
entrance into the eighteenth century, which with its Augustan
age of literature, and its not unworthy line of ministers and
warriors, compensates by magnificence of historic fame for its
increasing degradation of art and taste.
REIGN- OF Close beside George Saville is the monument of the
second Halifax, who lies with him4 in General Monk's
charies vault — Charles Montague, his successor in the foremost
Ean of ranks of the state, his more than successor as a patron
Ha'ifas.May
se, 1715. of letters : —
When sixteen barren centuries had past,
This second great Maecenas came at last.5
He had an additional connection with Westminster from his
education in the School, and in his will he ' desired to be
' buried privately in Westminster Abbey, and to have a hand-
' some plain monument.' 6 The yet more famous ashes of his
friend Addison were attracted, as we shall see, to that spot, by
the contiguity of him who ' from a poet had become the chief
' patron of poets.' On Addison's coffin rests the coffin of James
James Craggs, Secretary of State, and, hi spite of their
dle'f let. is divergent politics, the friend both of Addison and
Ma^chs Pope. The narrow aisle, where he was buried, could
1720-1. ' not affor(i space for more monuments ; and in the
erection of his memorial, at the western extremity of the
small vault that contained Elizabeth s Kegister. See Macaulay's Essay
Claypole, which is on the other side of on Sir W. Temple.
the Chapel. 4 He lies on Lady Stanhope's coffin
' Nichols's Collect.™. 12. (Register), i.e. the daughter of George
baviiie.
2 In St. Paul's Chapel is the monu- s Dr. Sewell to Addison. (British
ment of Sir Henry Bellasyze, governor Poets.)
of Gahvay, 1717. 6 Biog. Brit. v. 306.
220 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
church, we have at once the earliest example of a complete
dissociation of the grave and tomb, and also the first monu-
Hismonu nient of imposing appearance erected in the hitherto
ment- almost vacant Nave.1 His premature end at the age of
thirty-five, by the smallpox, then making its first great ravages
in England, no doubt added to the sympathy excited by his
death.2 The statue was much thought of at the time. ' It
' will make the finest figure, I think, in the place ; and it is the
' least part of the honour due to the memory of a man who
' made the best of his station.' 3 So Pope wrote, and the interest
which he expressed in the work during its execution never
flagged : ' the marble on which the Italian is now at work ; '
' the cautions about the forehead, the hair, and the feet ; '
the visits to the Abbey, where he ' saw the statue up,'
though ' the statuary was down ' with illness ; the inscription
on the urn, which he saw ' scored over in the Abbey.' The
epitaph remains. ' The Latin inscription,' he says,
His epitaph, t. r * ii j u T
' I have made as full and yet as short as I possibly
' could. It vexes me to reflect how little I must say, and how
' far short all I can say is of what I believe and feel on that
' subject : like true lovers' expressions, that vex the heart from
' whence they come, to find how cold and faint they must seem
' to others, in comparison of what inspires them invariably in
' themselves. The heart glows while the tongue falters.' 4 It
exhibits the conflict in public opinion between Latin and
English in the writing of epitaphs. It also furnishes the first
materials for Dr. Johnson's criticism :—
Statesman, yet friend to truth ! of soul sincere,
In action faithful, and in honour clear !
Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end,
Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend ;
Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd,
Prais'd, wept, and honour'd by the Muse he lov'd.
JACOBUS CRAGGS, REGI MAGN^ BRITA.NNLS A SECRETIS ET CONSILIIS
SASCTIORIBUS, PRINCIPIS PARLTER AC POPULI AMOR ET DELICLE : VIXIT
1ITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR, ANNOS HEU PAUCOS, XXXV.
The lines on Craggs [so writes Dr. Johnson] were not originally
intended for an epitaph ; and therefore some faults are to be imputed
' It stood originally at the east end 4 Pope> ix 427j 428) 442._For the
,ne_Dap istery character of Craggs, see his Epistle
Johnson a Poets, u. 63. (ibi(L iiL 2% 2% W^ for th J &l
bee Popes }\orUS> m. 368; vi. Ascription, ibid. h-. 290).
CHAP. iv. OF QUEEN ANNE'S EEIGN. 221
to the violence with which they are torn from the poem that first con-
tained them. We may, however, observe some defects. There is a
Criticism redundancy of words in the first couplet : it is superfluous
of Dr. to tell of him, who was sincere, true, and faithful, that he was
Johnson. . , _,. ,
in honour clear. There seems to be an opposition intended
in the fourth line, which is not very obvious : where is the relation
between the two positions, that he gained no title and lost no friend ?
It may be proper here to remark the absurdity of joining, in the same
inscription, Latin and English, or verse and prose. If either language
be preferable to the other, let that only be used ; for no reason can
be given why part of the information should be given in one tongue,
and part in another, on a tomb more than in any other place, or any
other occasion ; and to tell all that can be conveniently told in verse,
and then to call in the help of prose, has always the appearance of a
very artless expedient, or of an attempt unaccomplished. Such an
epitaph resembles the conversation of a foreigner, who tells part of
his meaning by words, and conveys part by signs.1
The situation of the monument has been slightly changed,
but the care which was expended upon it was not in vain, if
the youthful minister and faithful lover of the Muses becomes
the centre of the memorials of greater statesmen than himself,
and of poets not unworthy of Pope— Pitt and Fox, Wordsworth
and Keble.
In the Nave is a slight record of an earlier statesman of
this age — Sidney, Earl Godolphin, ' chief minister of Queen
Lord ' Anne during the nine first glorious years of her
dtedliept?' ' reign,' buried in the south aisle — ' a man of the
detains, 'clearest head, the calmest temper, and the most
' incorrupt of all the ministers of states ' that Burnet had ever
known2 — 'the silentest and modestest man that was, perhaps,
' ever bred in a court ; ' 3 and who maintained to his life's end
the short character which Charles II. gave him when he was
page, — « He was never in the way, and never out of the way.'4
Henrietta, The bust was erected to him by Henrietta (his
Mar!-es daughter-in-law), daughter and heiress of the great
i733Ugb> Duke of Marlborough, who was buried beside him and
his brother. Her mother Sarah was standing by Lord Godol-
phin's deathbed, with Sir Kobert Walpole, then in his early
youth. The dying Earl took Walpole by the hand, and turn-
ing to the Duchess, said : ' Madam, should you ever desert this
« Johnson's Poets, iii. 205, 206. 3 Ibid. ii. 240 (or i. 479).
2 Own Time, vi. 135 (or ii. 614). * See Pope, v. 256.
222
THE MONUMENTS
"Newton
"Stanhope
'HerscheL
"FAIRBORXE
"TOWNSHEND
°GODOLPHIN
°HARGRAVE
Sir W. Temple
°Dr. Mead
°SPENCER PERCEVAL
"Lonn
DUKDOXAI.U
Pollock.
"Kennell
°l:Telford
"Banks "Livingstone.
°Graham
"Ben Jonson
"Wilson "Tompion
"Hunter
"Dr. Woodward
°LyalL
°HAHVZY and HCTT
"CLYDE
"OUTRAM
"HERRIES
"WADE
°Sprat
°ADM. TYRRELL
°Dr. Freind
"Congreve
0 WJtarten
"Mackintosh
Utterbuty
°LORD "MONTAGU
HOLLAND
°TIERNEY °Z. Macaulay
"Eennell " Co n dn i tt "PITT "HARDY ^ [worth S'°Keb1e
3.
(Daptiatrti)
W.
PLAX OF THE NAVE.
CHAT-, iv. OF QUEEN ANNE'S EEIGN. 223
' young man, and there should be a possibility of returning
' from the grave, I shall certainly appear to you.' l
Before passing to Walpole and the ministers of the Hano-
verian dynasty, we must pause on the War of the Succession
WAR OP in Germany and Spain, as before we were involved
OBMTOH. in the Flemish wars of Elizabeth and the Dutch wars
of Charles II. ; and again the funerals of Blake and Monk are
renewed, and the funerals of Nelson and Wellington, in our
own day, anticipated. When the ' Spectator,' ' in his serious
' humour, walked by himself in Westminster Abbey,' he
observed that ' the present war had filled the church with many
* uninhabited monuments,2 which had been erected to the
' memory of persons whose bodies were perhaps buried on the
' plains of Blenheim, or in the bosom of the ocean.'3 These
monuments were chiefly in the northern aisle of the Nave — to
Kiiii^rew General Ivilligrew, killed in the battle of Almanza ; to
ft^f14- ' Colonel Bingfield,4 aide-de-camp to the Duke of Marl-
jKfld> borough, killed at the battle of Ramillies, whilst
1706. ( remounting the Duke on a fresh horse, his former
' " fayling"5 under him, and interred at Bavechem, in Bra-
Heneage ' bant, a principal part of the English generals at-
KITOT. ' tiding his obsequies ; ' to Lieutenant Heneage
ixTsden, Twysden, killed at the battle of Blaregnies, and his
°^22> ' two brothers, John and Josiah, of whom the first
Twj*den was lieutenant under Sir Cloudesley Shovel, and
iros. perished with him, and the second was killed at the
siege of Agremont in Flanders.
In the southern aisle was the cenotaph to Major Creed,
who fell in his third charge at Blenheim, and was buried on
creed, ^e SP°^ ' ^ was erec*e(l by his mother,' ' near
1-04. < another which her son, while living, used to look up
' to with pleasure, for the worthy mention it makes of that
1 Walpole's Letters, vol. i. p. cxxiii. 24, 11 A.M.) There is a similar ex-
2 One such monument was placed pression in the formal despatch: 'You
there long after Addison's time. Old ' may depend that Her Majesty will
Lord Ligonier, after having fought all ' not fail to take care of poor Bing-
through the wars of Anne, died at the ' field's widow.' (Coxe's Life of Marl-
age of 92 (1770), in the middle of the borough, ii. 354, 357.) He is called
reign of George III. on the monument Bringfield. His
3 Spectator, No. 26 (1711). head was struck off by a cannon-ball.
4 ' Poor Bingfield, holding my stir- The monument records that he had
' rup for me, and lifting me on horse- often been seen at the services in the
' back, was killed. I am told that he Abbey.
' leaves his wife and mother in a poor * The horse did not 'fayl,' but the
' condition.' (Letter to the Duchess of Duke was thrown in leaping a ditch.
Marlborough on the next day, March (Coxe, ii. 354.)
224 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
' great man the Earl of Sandwich, to whom he had the honour
' to be related, and whose heroic virtues he was ambitious to
' emulate.' l
To the trophies on ' one of these new monuments,' perhaps
this very one, as Sir Eoger de Coverley went up the body of the
church he pointed, and cried out, ' A brave man I warrant
' him ! ' As the two friends advanced through the church,
they passed, on the south side of the Choir, a more imposing
structure, on which Sir Eoger flung his hand that way, and
sir ciomies- cried, ' Sir Cloudesley Shovel, a very gallant man ! '
dtedSoct.e22, The ' Spectator ' had passed there before, and ' it had
22*1707. e°' « often given him very great offence. Instead of the
' brave rough English Admiral, which was the distinguishing
' character of that plain gallant man, he is represented by the
' figure of a beau, dressed in a long periwig, and reposing him-
' self on velvet cushions, under a canopy of state. The in-
' scription is answerable to the monument, for, instead of
' celebrating the many remarkable actions he had performed
' in the service of his country, it acquaints us only with the
* manner of his death, in which it was impossible for him to
* reap any honour.'2 The Admiral was returning with his
fleet from Gibraltar. It was believed that the crew had got
drunk for joy that they were within sight of England. The
ship was wrecked, and Sir Cloudesley's body was thrown ashore
on one of the islands of Scilly, where some fishermen took him
up, and, having stolen a valuable emerald ring from his finger,
stripped and buried him. This ring being shown about made
a great noise all over the island. The body was accordingly
discovered by Lieutenant Paxton, purser of the ' Arundell,'
who took it up, and transported it in his own ship to Plymouth,
where it was embalmed in the Citadel, and thence conveyed by
land to London, and buried, from his house in Soho Square, in
the Abbey with great solemnity.3
At the time when the ' Spectator ' surveyed the Abbey the
great commander of the age was still living. The precincts
1 Epitaph. — It originally stood Admiral Delaval, long the companion
where Andre's monument now is, and of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who died
therefore nearer to Harbord's monu- in the North, and was buried in the
ment, to which it alludes. Abbey on January 23, 1706-7 (ibid.
* Spectator, No. 139. iii. 8; Charnock's Naval Biography,
* Campbell's Admirals, iii. 28-30. ii. 1), at the upper end of the West
Plymouth Memoirs, by James Yonge, Aisle. (Eegister.)
p. 40. — There is no monument to
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 225
had already witnessed a scene of mourning, in connection with
his house, more touching than any monument, more impressive
The Duke than any funeral. At King's College, Cambridge,
of Marl- . ^ ° °
borough. is a stately monument, under which lies the Duke's
only son, cut off there in the flower of his promise. The Duke
himself had been obliged to start immediately for his great
campaign. But a young noble1 amongst the Westminster
boys, as he played in the cloisters, recognised a strange figure,
which he must have known in the great houses of London. It
Mourning of was Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, who 'used, by
nuThessof ' wav °f mortification and as a mark of affection, to
borough, for ' dress herself like a beggar, and sit with some
Feb^o' ' miserable wretches 2 in the cloisters of Westminster
' Abbey.' At last on that proud head descended the
severest blow of all ; and we are once more admitted to the
Abbey by the correspondence between Pope and Atterbury.
* At the time of the Duke of Maryborough's funeral,' writes
Pope, ' I intend to lie at the Deanery, and moralise one
' evening with you on the vanity of human glory ; ' 3 and Atter-
bury writes in return —
I go to-morrow to the Deanery, and, I believe, shall stay there till
I have said ' Dust to dust,' and shut up that last scene of pompous
vanity. It is a great while for me to stay there at this time of the
year, and I know I shall often say to myself, whilst expecting the
funeral :
0 rus, quando ego te aspiciam, quandoque licebit
Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitas ?
In that case I shall fancy I hear the ghost of the dead thus entreat-
ing me :
At tu sacratae ne parce malignus arenaa
Ossibus et capiti inhumato
Particulam dare ....
Quamquam festinas, non est mora longa : licebit
Injecto ter pulvere curras.
There is an answer for me somewhere in Hamlet to this request, which
1 The Duchess of Portland said ' the 2 A Chapter order, May 6, 1710,
Duke (her husband) had often seen mentions the 'Appointment of a con-
Tier, during this mourning of hers,
when he was a boy at Westminster
School.' She used to say that ' she was
very certain she should go to heaven ;
and as her ambition went now beyond
the grave, that she knew she should
have one of the highest seats.' (Mrs.
stable to restrain divers disorderly
beggars daily walking and begging in
the Abbey and Cloisters, and many
idle boys daily coming into the
Cloisters, who there play at cards and
other plays for money, and are often
heard to curse and swear.'
Delany's Autobiography, iii. 167.) s Letters, iv. 6.
226 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
you remember though I do not : ' Poor ghost, tlwu sJialt be satisfied ! '
or something like it. However that be, take care that you do not fail
in your appointment, that the company of the living may make me
some amends for my attendance on the dead.
Sed me
Imperiosa trahit Proserpina, vive valeque.'
Death of The Tory prelate and the Tory poet waited, no
doubt, long and impatiently for the slow cavalcade of
the funeral of the Great Duke, whose Whiggery they
ferais could not pardon even at that moment—
Aug. 9,
By unlamenting veterans borne on high —
Dry obsequies, and pomps without a sigh.
His remains had been removed from Windsor Lodge, where he
died, to Marlborough House. From thence the procession was opened
by bands of military, accompanied by a detachment of artillery, in
the rear of which followed Lord Cadogan, Commander-in-Chief, and
several general officers, who had been devoted to the person of the
Duke, and had suffered in his cause. Amidst long files of heralds,
officers at arms, mourners, and assistants, the eye was caught by the
banners and guidons emblazoned with his armorial achievements,
among which was displayed, on a lance, the standard of Woodstock,
exhibiting the arms of France on the Cross of St. George.
In the centre of the cavalcade was an open car, bearing the coffin,
which contained his mortal remains, surmounted with a suit of
complete armour, and lying under a gorgeous canopy, adorned
with plumes, military trophies, and heraldic achievements. To the
sides shields were affixed, exhibiting emblematic representations of
the battles he had gained, and the towns he had conquered, with
the motto, ' Bello hcec et plura.' On either side were five captains
in military mourning, bearing aloft a series of bannerols, charged
with the different quarterings of the Churchill and Jennings families.
The Duke of Montagu, who acted as chief mourner, was supported
by the Earls of Sunderland and Godolphin, and assisted by eight
dukes and two earls. Four earls were also selected to bear the pall.
The procession was closed by a numerous train of carriages belonging
to the nobility and gentry, headed by those of the King and the
Prince of Wales.
The cavalcade moved along St. James's Park to Hyde Park Corner,
and from thence, through Piccadilly and Pall Mall, by Charing Cross
to Westminster Abbey. At the west door it was received by the digni-
taries and members of the Church, in their splendid habiliments ; l
1 See note in Atterbury's Letters, altar at the head of Henry VII.'s tomb
iv. 6, 7. — The Dean and Canons ap- (ibid. iv. 11), as in Monk's funeral,
pear in copes. The Dean set up an
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 227
and the venerable pile blazed with tapers and torches innumerable.
. . . The procession then moved through the Nave and Choir to the
Chapel of Henry VII.1
—to the vault 2 which contained the ashes of Ormond, and
which had once contained the ashes of Cromwell. The ex-
penses were defrayed by Sarah herself.
Twenty-four years afterwards the body was removed to a
mausoleum, erected under her superintendence, in the Chapel at
Blenheim, and there, a few weeks later, she was laid by his side.3
Admiral The Duke's brother, Admiral Churchill, who pre-
buriedllMay ce^ed him by a few years, rests in the south aisle of
12' mo'- the Choir.
Whilst Atterbury and Pope were complaining of the hard
fate of having to assist at the funeral of the Duke of Marl-
sheffie'd, borough, they were also corresponding about another
Bucking- tomb, preparing in Henry VII. 's Chapel, over the
cu*eTFeb%4 grave °^ one wnose claims to so exalted a place were
iterch 25 made up of heterogeneous materials, each questionable
im- of itself, yet, together with the story of its erection,
giving a composite value to the monument of a kind equalled
by few in the Abbey. John Sheffield, first Marquis of Normanby,
and then Duke of Buckinghamshire or of Buckingham,4 by
some of his humble cotemporaries regarded as a poet, has won
a place in Johnson's ' Lives of the Poets,' and has left one
celebrated line.5 He has achieved for his name 6 a more legi-
timate place in Poets' Corner than his verses could have given
him, by uniting it with the name of Dryden,7 on the monument
which he there erected to his favourite author.
It was, however, his political and military career, and still
more his rank, which won for him a grave and monument in
Henry VII. 's Chapel. He must have been no despicable cha-
racter, who at twelve years undertook to educate himself; who
1 Coxe's Marlbormigh, vi. 385. of Buckingham. His full title was ' the
2 Register. ' Duke of the County of Buckingham.'
8 It appears from the Duchess's will, 5A faultless monster which the
dated August 11, 1744, that the Duke's world ne'er saw.
body was then still in the Abbey, and (Johnson, ii. 155.)
from the account of her funeral in Oc- ' ' Muse, 'tis enough— at length thy
tober 1744, that it had by that time labour ends,
been removed. (Thomson's Memoirs And thou shalt live— for BucTt-
of the Duchess of Marlbormtgh, pp. ingham commends,
502, 562.) Sheffield approves, consenting Phce-
* Johnson's Lives, ii. 153.— The bus bends.' (Pope. iii. 331.)
ambiguity of the title was to guard ' See pp. 260.
against confusion with Villiers, Duke
Q 2
228 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
maintained the presence of mind ascribed to him in the extra-
ordinary peril at sea to which he was exposed by the perfidy of
Sheffield's Charles II. ; who, by his dexterous answers, evaded the
monument, proselytism of James II. and the suspicions of William
III. But probably his family connections carried the day over
all his other qualifications. He who had in his youth been the
accepted lover of his future sovereign, Anne, the legitimate
daughter, and who afterwards married the natural daughter of
James II., almost fulfilled the claims of royal lineage. His
elevation to the historic name of Buckingham — which, perhaps,
procured for his monument the Chapel next to that filled, in the
reign of Charles I., by his powerful namesake — left his mark
on the stately mansion which, even when transformed into a
royal palace, is still 'Buckingham House,' created by his skill
out of the old mulberry garden in St. James's Park, with the
inscription Rus in urbe, 'as you see from the garden nothing
' but country.' l As he lay there in state, the crowd was so
great, that the father of the antiquary Carter, who was present,
was nearly drowned in the basin in the courtyard.2 The
Duchess, ' Princess Buckingham,' as Walpole calls her, was so
proud of her 'illegitimate parentage as to go and weep over
' the grave of her father, James II., at St. Germains, and have
' a great mind to be buried by him.' 3 ' On the martyrdom of
' her grandfather, Charles L, she received Lord Hervey in the
' great drawing-room of Buckingham House, seated in a chair
' of state, attended by her women in like weeds, in memory of
' the Eoyal Martyr.' 4 Yet she did full honour to her adopted
race ; and to express her gratitude for the contrast between the
happiness of her second marriage and the misery of her first,
her husband's funeral was to be as magnificent as that of the
Sheffield's great Duke of Marlborough ; and his monument to be
M^fss as splendid as the Italian taste of that pedantic age
im- could make it. Pope was in eager communication
with her and the artist Belluchi, to see that the likenesses were
faithful.5 Three children, two sons and a daughter,
were transferred at the same time to their father's vault,
from the neighbouring Church of St. Margaret.6 One son
1 Defoe's Journey through England, the pall was, but she would not buy a
i. 194. new one.
2 Gent. Mag., vol. lxxxiv.pt. ii. p. 548. 4 Walpole's Reminiscences.
» Walpole, i. 234.- One of the monks * Pope, viii. 336 ; ix. 228.
tried to make her observe how ragged 6 Eegister.
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 229
alone l remained, the last of the house, from whom his mother
Edmund was inseparable ; and when he died in early youth at
Rome, a few years later, she revived the pageant once
more. Priding herself on being ' a Tory Duchess
' of Marlborough,' she wrote to Sarah, to borrow the
triumphal car that had transported the remains of the
5"6' famous Duke. 'It carried my Lord Marlborough/
replied the other, * and shall never be profaned by any other
' corpse.' ' I have consulted the undertaker,' retorted her proud
rival, ' and he tells me that I may have a finer for twenty
' pounds.' 2 The waxen effigies of herself and of her son,
which were prepared for this solemnity, are still preserved in
the Abbey.3 That of her son, as it lay in state, she invited
his friends to visit, with a message that, if they had a mind to
see him, she could carry them in conveniently by a» back-door.4
The Duchess settled her own funeral with the Garter King-
at-Arms, on her deathbed, and * feared dying before the pomp
Catherine, ' should come home.' ' Why don't they send the
Bucking- « canopy for me to see ? Let them send it, though all
April s, 1743. ' the tassels are not finished.' She made her ladies
vow to her that, if she should lie senseless, they would not sit
down in the room before she was dead.
Both mother and son were laid in the same tomb with the
Duke. Atterbury's letters are filled with affection for them,5
and Pope wrote a touching epitaph for her 6 (which was, how-
ever, never inscribed), and corrected an elaborate description
in prose of her character and person, written by herself.7 She
quarrelled with the poet, but accepted the corrections, and
showed the charaeter as his composition in her praise.
Sheffield's epitaph on himself is an instructive memorial at
Sheffield's once- of his own history and of the strange turns of
epitaph. human thought and character.8 ' Pro Rege s&pe, pro
' Republicd semper,' well sums up his political career under
the last three Stuarts. Then comes the expression of his
belief : —
1 On the monument Time is repre- Duke, ibid. iv. 149, 155.
sented bearing away the four children. • Johnson's Lives of the Poets, iii.
2 Walpole's Reminiscences. 216.
3 See Note on the Waxworks, p. 321. • Pope, vii. 323, 325.
4 Walpole's Reminiscences, i. 234. 8 The sensation produced by theepi-
5 For the Duchess, see Atterbury's taph at the time is evident from the long
Letters, iv. 135, 153, 161, 163, 253, defence of it 'by Dr. Richard Fiddes,
268, 310, 317; and for the young ' in. answer to a Freethinker ' (1721).
230 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
Dubius sed non improbus vixi ;
Jncertus morior, non perturbatus.
Humanwm est nescire et errare.
Deo confido
Omnipotenti benevolentissimo ;
Ens entium,. miserere
Many a reader has paused before this inscription. Many a
one has been touched by the sincerity through which a profound
and mournful scepticism is combined with a no less profound
and philosophic faith in the power and goodness of God. In
spite of the seeming claim to a purer life ' than Sheffield, un-
happily, could assert, there is im the final expression a pathos,
amounting almost to true penitence. ' If any heathen could
' be found/ says even the austere John Newton, ' who sees the
' vanity of the world, and says from his heart, Ens entium,
' miserere meir I believe he would be heard/ He adds, ' But I
' never found such, though I have known many heathens.' 2
Perhaps he had never seen this monument, but quoted the
words from hearsay. The expression is supposed to have been
suggested by the traditional last prayer of Aristotle, who
earnestly implored ' the mercy of the Great First Cause.' 3 But
many readers also have been pained by the omission of any
directly Christian sentiment, and have wondered how an in-
scription breathing a spirit so exclusively drawn from natural
religion found its way, unrebuked and unconnected, into a
Christian church. Their wonder will be increased when they
hear that it once contained that very expression of awestruck
affection for the Redeemer, which would fill up the void ; that
it originally stood 'Christum advenerorr Deo- confido.'4 The
wonder will be heightened yet more when they learn that this
expression was erased, not by any too liberal or philosophic
layman, but by the episcopal champion of the High Church
party — Atterbury, to whom, as Dean of Westminster,, the in-
scription was submitted. And this marvel takes the form of a
significant lesson in ecclesiastical history, when we are told the
1 Unless ' non improbus ' refers to ' tuam colliget.' (Ibid. torn. ii. lib. 18,
his opinions, ' not hardened.' c. 31.)
2 Scott's Eclectic Notes, p. 265. 4 The original inscription is given
8 Fiddes (p. 40), who quotes from at length in Crull, ii. 49 (1722) ; and
Callus Rhodigenius (torn. ii. lib. 17, also in Fiddes's Letter (1721), who
c. 34), and adds the prayer of the argues at length on the force of the
friends who are supposed to be stand- expression (p. 38). It was in this form
ing by the philosopher's deathbed — that it received the approval of Erasmus
' Qui philosophorum animas excipit et Darwin. (Life, by Charles Darwin, p. 15.)
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 231
grounds of the objection — that the word adveneror 'was not
' full enough as applied to Christ.' 1 How like is this criticism
to the worldly theologian who made it, but how like also to the
main current of theological sentiment for many ages, which,
rather than tolerate a shade of suspected heresy, will admit
absolute negation of Christianity — which refuses to take the
half unless it can have the whole. And, finally, how useless
was this caution to the character of the prelate who erased the
questionable words. The man of the world always remains
unconvinced, and in this case was represented by the scoffing
Matthew Prior, who, in the short interval that elapsed between
the Duke of Buckingham's funeral and his own, wrote the
well-known lines, which, though professedly founded on a
perverse interpretation of the charitable hope of the Burial
Service, evidently point in reality to the deep-seated suspicion
of Atterbury's own sincerity :
Of these two learned peers, I prythee say, man>
Who is the lying knave, the priest or layman ?
The Duke — he stands an infidel confess'd,
' He's our dear brother,' quoth the lordly priest.2
Three statesmen stretch across the first half of the eighteenth
century. John Campbell, Duke of Argyll and Greenwich —
1678-1/43. soldier and statesman alike, of the first order in neither
A^yiumd service, but conspicuous in both as the representative
buri^ioct.' °f the northern kingdom, which through his influence
io, 1/43. more than that of any single person was united to
England — was buried in a vault3 in Henry VII. 's Chapel, made
for himself and his family, far away from his ancestral resting-
place at Kilmun. His monument, erected by Eoubiliac at the
cost of an admiring friend, stands almost alone of his class
amongst the poets in the Southern Transept — a situation4
which may well be accorded by our generation to one with
whose charming character and address our age has become
familiar chiefly through the greatest of Novelists. In the
1 The opposite party, in. the pub- who, in the Heart of Midlothian,
lished copies of the inscription, inserted, banters her father after the interview
solo after Deo. (Fiddes, p. 3&) with Jeannie Deans.
2 Pope's Works, ix. 209. 4 The monument displaced the ancient
3 This new vault was made in 1T43. staircase leading from the Dormitory.
His widow was interred there April 17q,_1R1o (Gleanings, p. 48.) Close
23, 1767; his daughters, Caroline, to it were characteristically
Countess of Dalkeith, in 1791,. and pressed the monuments of two lesser
Mary (Lady Mary Coke) in 1811 members of the Campbell clan.
(Kegister) , ' the lively little lady '
232 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
sculptured emblems, History pauses at the title of ' Green-
' wich,' which was to die with him. ' Eloquence,' with out-
stretched hand, in an attitude which won Canova's special
praise,1 represents the ' thunder ' 2 and ' persuasion ' 3 described
by the poets of his age. The inscription which History is record-
ing, and which was supplied by the poet Paul Whitehead,4 and
the volumes of ' Demosthenes ' and Caesar's ' Commentaries,'
which lie at the foot of Eloquence, commemorate his union of
military and oratorical fame; whilst his Whig principles are
represented in the sculptured Temple of Liberty and a cherub
holding up Magna Charta.
Walpole died at Houghton, and was interred in the parish
church without monument or inscription :
So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name
Which once had honour, titles, wealth, and fame.5
But he is commemorated in the Abbey by the monument of his
first wife, Catherine Shorter, whose beauty, with the good looks
Lady Wai- of his own youth, caused them to be known as ' the
Aug. 20^ ' handsome couple.' The position of her statue, in the
south aisle of Henry VII.'s Chapel, is one to which
nothing less than her husband's fame would have entitled her.
It was erected by Horace Walpole, her youngest son, and
remains a striking proof both of his affection for her and his
love of art. The statue itself was copied in Rome
from the famous figure of ' Modesty,' and the in-
scription, written by himself, perpetuates the memory of her
excellence : ' An ornament to courts, untainted by them.' If
the story be true, that Horace was really the son of Lord Hervey,
it is remarkable as showing his unconsciousness of the suspicion
of his mother's honour. He murmured a good deal at having
to pay forty pounds for the ground of the statue,6 but ' at last,'
he says, ' the monument for my mother is erected : it puts me
' in mind of the manner of interring the Kings of France —
' when the reigning one dies, the last before him is buried.
' Will you believe that I have not yet seen the tomb ? None
' of my acquaintance were in town, and I literally had not
1 Life of Nollekens, ii. 161. 3 ' From his rich tongue
2 ' Argyll, the state's whole thunder Persuasion flows, and wins the
born to wield, high debate.' — (Thomson.)
And shake alike the senate and 4 Neale, ii. 258.
the field.'— (Pope.) * Coxe's Walpole,ch&p. Ixii. and Ixiii.
6 Walpole' s Letters, ii. 277.
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUKY. 233
* courage to venture alone among the Westminster boys ;
' they are as formidable to me as the ship-carpenters at
' Portsmouth.' l
Pulteney, after his long struggles, determined, when he had
reached his peerage, to be buried in the Abbey, which he had
puiteney, known from his childhood as a Westminster boy. A
Bandied vault was constructed for himself and his family in the
buried juiy ^-snP Chapel,2 and there, in his eightieth year, his
i7,i764. obsequies were performed by his favourite Bishop
His funeral. Zachary Pearce.3 In the pressure to see his funeral
(which, as usual, took place at night), a throng of spectators
stood on the tomb of Edward L, opposite the vault.4 A mob
broke in, and, in the alarm created by the confusion, the
gentlemen tore down the canopy of the royal tomb, and
defended the pass of the steps leading into the Confessor's
Chapel with their drawn swords and the broken rafters of the
canopy. Pelham's career is celebrated by the monument to
Eoberts, n^s ' verv faithful ' secretary, Eoberts, in the South
Ieeiheam7°f Transept. His brother the Duke of Newcastle is
faintly recalled by the monument on the opposite side
to Eobinson, who was distinguished by the name of ' Long Sir
' Thomas Eobinson.' 5 ' He was a man of the world, or rather
' of the town, and a great pest to persons of high rank, or in
' office. He was very troublesome to the late Duke of New-
' castle, and when in his visits to him he was told that His
' Grace had gone out, would desire to be admitted to look at
' the clock or to play with a monkey that was kept in the hall,
* in hopes of being sent for in to the Duke. This he had so
1 Walpole's Letters, i. 352. boy : ' I stood, with many others, on
2 Probably attracted by the grave of ' the top of the tomb. ... A dreadful
Jane Crewe, heiress of the Pulteneys in ' conflict ensued. Darkness soon closed
1639, whose pretty monument is over ' the scene.' (Ibid. 1799, part ii. p.
the chapel door. 859.)
3 The most conspicuous monument s Hawkins' Johnson, p. 192, which
in the Cloisters is that of David Pul- erroneously states that he ' rests in the
teney, who died September 7, 1731, ' Abbey.' He was called ' Long ' from
buried May 17, 1732. (Register.) He his stature, to distinguish him from
was M.P. for Preston, and in 1722 a the ' German ' Sir Thomas Eobinson of
Lord of the Admiralty. It seems that the same date, who was a diplomatist,
the independence which is so lauded in ' Long Sir Thomas Eobinson is dying by
this epitaph showed itself in his opposi- ' inches,' said some one to Chesterfield,
tion to Walpole, and his defence of free ' Then it will be some time before he
trade and of the interests of the British ' dies.' The appointment to the go-
merchants abroad. (See Parliamentary vernorship of Barbadoes, mentioned on
History, viii. 1, 608, 647). his monument, was given to him be-
4 Gent. Mag. 1817, part i. p. 33 — cause Lord Lincoln wanted his house.
The antiquary Carter was present, as a (Walpole's Letters, i. 22 ; vi. 247.)
234 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
' frequently done, that all in the house were tired of him.
' At length it was concocted among the servants that he should
' receive a summary answer to his usual questions, and ac-
' cordingly, at his next coming, the porter, as soon as he had
' opened the gate, and without waiting for what he had to say,
' dismissed him in these words : Sir, his Grace has gone out,
' the clock stands, and the monkey is dead/ His epitaph
commemorates his successful eareer in Barbadoes, and ' the
' accomplished woman, agreeable companion, and sincere friend '
he found in his wife.
The rebellion of 1745 has left its trace in the tablet erected
in the North Transept to General Guest, ' who closed
buried oct ' a service °f sixty years by faithfully defending
ttk]hrtto ' Edinburgh Castle against the rebels ' in 1745 ; ' and
in the elaborate monument of Roubiliac, in the Nave,
Mrahb2irled to Marshal Wade, whose military roads, famous in
the well-known Scottish proverb,, achieved the sub-
choir gate, jugation of the Highlands. A cenotaph in the East
Cloister celebrates 'two affectionate brothers, valiant soldiers
The ' and sincere Christians,' Scipio and Alexander
moires. Duroure,. of whom the first fell at Fontenoy in 1745 ;
and the second was buried here in 1765, after fifty-seven years
of faithful service.
Following the line of the eye,, and erected by the great sculptor
just named — who seems for these few years to have attained a
sway over the Abbey more complete than any of those whose
trophies he raised — are the memorials of two friends, ' re-
' rnarkable for their monuments in "Westminster Abbey,' but
pSX. f°r ^tle beside. That to General Fleming was
March so, erected by Sir John Fleming,, who also lies there, ' to
Ha"61!1™ ' ^e memory of bis uncle,, and his best of friends.' 2
That to General Hargrave appears to have provoked
ne>Mtheried a burst of general indignation at the time. It was
choir gate, believed to have been raised to him merely on account
of his wealth.3 At the time it was thought that ' Europe could
' not show a parallel to it.' 4 Now, the significance of the
1 'My old commander General Guest,1 Citizen of the World, p. 46.) It was
says Colonel Talbot in Waverley, voL iii. said that a wag had written under the
chap. iii. figure struggling from the tomb, ' Lie
- Epitaph. — The whole Fleming ' still if you're wise ; you'll be damned
family are congregated under these ' if you rise.' (Button's London Tour.)
monuments. (Register.) * Malcolm, p. 169.
8 ' Some rich man.' (Goldsmith's
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 235
falling pyramids has been so lost, that they have even been
brought forward as a complaint against the Dean and Chapter
for allowing the monuments to go to ruin.
It was at this time that Goldsmith uttered his complaint:
' I find in Westminster Abbey several new monuments erected
Rouwiiac's ' ^° the memory of several great men. The names of
monuments. < the great men I absolutely forget, but I well re-
' member that Eoubiliac was the statuary who carved them.
' . . . Alas ! alas ! cried Ir such monuments as these confer
' honour not on the great men, but on little Eoubiliac.' l But
the sculptor himself was never satisfied. He constantly visited
Dr. Johnson to get from him epitaphs worthy of his works.2
He used to come and stand before ' his best work/ the monu-
ment of Wade, and weep to think that it was put too high to
be appreciated.3 The Nightingale tomb was probably admitted
more for his sake than for that of the mourners. Yet when he
came back from Rome, and once more saw his own sculptures
in the Abbey, he had the magnanimity to> exclaim, with the
true candour of genius, ' By God ! my own works looked to
' me as meagre and starved as if they had been made of tobacco
' pipes.'
The successors of Marlborough. by land and sea still carry
on the line of warriors, now chiefly in the Nave. At the west
wiiiiam en^ is ^e tablet of Captain William Horneck, the
ApriTa?' earliest of English engineers, who learned his mili-
tary science under the Duke of Marlborough, and
is buried in his father's grave in the South Transept. There
also is told the story of Sir Thomas Hardy — descendant
Hardy, j£«. of the protector of Henry VII. on his voyage from
itiV Hardy, Brittany to England, and ancestor of the companion
y 3, 1,20. Q£ -j^ejson — wuo> for ^ services under Sir George
Eooke, lies buried (with his wife) near the west end of the
Choir. There, too, is the first monument erected by Parlia-
ment to naval heroism — the gigantic memorial of the noble
co-newa'i but now forgotten death of Captain Cornewall, in
TjreKita tlie battle off Toulon; and, close upon it, the yet
June 6,'i766. more prodigious mass of rocks, clouds, sea, and
ship, to commemorate the peaceful death of Admiral Tyrrell.4
1 Goldsmith. be to represent the Resurrection under
2 Life of Reynolds, i. 119. difficulties. Tyrrell, though he died
3 Akermann, ii. 37. on land, was buried in the sea, and is
4 The idea of the monument seems to sculptured as rising out of it. Com-
236
THE MONUMENTS
Balchen,
1744.
Temple
West, 1757.
Vernon,
1751.
Beanclerk,
1740.
Warren,
1752.
Wager,
buried in
North
Transept,
1743.
Holmes,
1761.
In the North Transept and the north aisle of the Choir
follow the cenotaphs of a host of seamen — Baker, who died at
Baker, died Portmahon ; Saumarez, who fought from his sixteenth *>
^- •* to his thirty-seventh year under Anson and Hawke ;
^^2, tne ' good but unfortunate ' Balchen, lost at sea ;
1747 buried Temple West, his son-in-law: Vernon, celebrated for
at Plymouth.
his ' fleet near Portobello lying ' ; Lord Aubrey Beau-
clerk, the gallant son of the first Duke of St. Albans,
who fell under Yernon at Carthagena, and whose
epitaph is ascribed to Young ; and Warren, represented
by Eoubiliac with the marks of the small-pox on his
face. Wager, celebrated for his ' fair character,' who
in his youth had fought in the service of the American
Quaker, Captain Hull, is buried in the North Transept,1
and Admiral Holmes is near St. Paul's Chapel.
The narrow circle of these names takes a wider sweep as,
with the advance of the century, the Colonial Empire starts
up under the mighty reign of Chatham. Now for the first
time India on one side, and North America on the other, leap
into the Abbey. The palm-trees and Oriental chiefs on the
monument of Admiral Watson recall his achievements
at the Black Hole of Calcutta, and at Chandernagore ; 2
as the elephant and Mahratta captive on that of Sir
Eyre Coote, and the hill of Trichinopoly on that of
General Lawrence, recall, a few years later, the glories
of Coromandel and the Carnatic. George Montague,
Earl of Halifax, ' Father of the Colonies,' from whom
the capital of Nova Scotia takes its name, is com-
memorated in the North Transept ; Massachusetts 3
and Ticonderoga,4 not yet divided from us, appear on the
1 and has left the fairest character.'
(Walpole, i. 248.)
Admiral
Watson,
buried at
Calcutta,
1757.
atRockburn
1783.
Lawrence,
1775.
George
Montague,
Earl of
Halifax,
1771.
pare the like thought in the bequest of
William Glanville in the churchyard
at Wotton, who, when his father was
buried in the Goodwin Sands, and he
six yards deep in the earth, left an in-
junction, still observed, that the ap-
prentices of the parish should, over his
grave, on the anniversary of his death,
recite the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and
the Ten Commandments, and read 1
Cor. xv.
1 ' There was never any man that
' behaved himself in the Straits (of
' Gibraltar) like poor Charles Wager,
' whom the very Moors do mention with
' tears sometimes.' (Pepys, iv. 1668.)
' Old Sir Charles Wager is dead at last,
2 Gideon Loten, governor of Batavia,
with Ps. xv. 1-4 for his character, has
a tablet in the North Aisle (1789).
3 Massachusetts is the female figure
on the top of the monument. It was
executed by Schumberg.
4 Ticonderoga appears also on the
monument, not far off, of Colonel
Townsend, Townsend, executed by T.
killed July Carter. ' Here,' says the
2o, i/a7. sculptor's antiquarian son,
' I recall my juvenile years. ... I then
' loved the hand that gave form to the
' yielding marble. I now revere his
' memory, deeper engraved on my
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 237
monument in the south aisle of the Nave, erected to Viscount
Lord Howe, Howe, the unsuccessful elder brother of the famous
me5nt;e™ecnted admiral. But the one conspicuous memorial of that
im. u' period is that of his brother's friend — ' friends to
wo?ffkiiied ' each other as cannon to gunpowder ' l — General
!e$ui3ec> Wolfe. He was buried in his father's grave at Green-
<£eeenwich wich, at the special request of his mother ; but the
1759' 2His grief excited by his premature death in the moment
monument. Of victory is manifested by the unusual proportions of
the monument, containing the most elaborate delineation of
the circumstances of his death — the Heights of Abraham, the
Eiver St. Lawrence,2 the faithful Highland sergeant, the
wounded warrior, the oak with its tomahawks. ' Nothing
' could express my rapture,' wrote the gentle Cowper, ' when
' Wolfe made the conquest of Quebec.' So deep was the
enthusiasm for the ' little red-haired corporal,' 3 that the Dean
had actually consented to erect the monument in the place of
the beautiful tomb of the Plantagenet prince, Aymer de
Valence — a proposal averted by the better taste of Horace
Walpole, but carried out in another direction by destroying
the screen of the Chapel of St. John the Evangelist, and dis-
lodging the monument of Abbot Esteney. It marks, in fact,
the critical moment of the culmination and decline of the
classical costume and undraped figures of the early part of
the century. Already, in West's picture of the Death of
Wolfe, we find the first example of the realities of modern
dress in art.4
Earl Howe — great not only by his hundred fights, but by
' heart than on that part of the monu- would give something for the posses-
' ment allotted to perpetuate the name sion of the name of the artist who
' of the sculptor.' (Gent. Mag. 1799, executed the sculptural parts of this
pt. ii. p. 669.) Yet it was not en- monument, which he considered as
tirely Carter's : ' Pray, Mr. Nollekens,' one of the finest productions of art in
asked his biographer, ' can you tell the Abbey.' (Smith's Life of Nolle-
me who executed the basso-relievo of kens, ii. 308.)
Townsend's monument ? ... I am ' Walpole's Memoirs of George II.
sorry to find that some evil-minded 2 The bronze bas-relief is by Capit-
persons have stolen one of the heads.' soldi. It is exact down to the minutest
Nollekens : ' That's what I say. details of Wolfe's cove, the Chateau de
Dean Horsley should look after his St. Louis, &c. This monument is by
monuments himself. Hang his wax- Wilton, who ' carved Wolfe's figure
works ! Yes, I can tell you who ' without clothes to display his anato-
didit. Tom Carter had the job, and ' mical knowledge.' (Life of Nollekens,
employed another man of the name of ii. 173.)
Eckstein to model the fillet. It's very ' Notes and Queries, xii. 398.
clever. Flaxrnan used to say he 4 Life of Reynolds, ii. 206.
238 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
his character, ' undaunted and silent as a rock, who never
' made a friendship but at the cannon's mouth ' l — first of the
naval heroes, received his public monument in St. Paul's
instead of the Abbey. It was felt to be a marked deviation
from the rule, and the Secretary of State, Lord Dundas, in
proposing it to Parliament, emphatically gave the reason.
It was that, ' on a late solemn occasion, the colours which
'Lord Howe had taken from the enemy on the first of June
* had been placed in the metropolitan Cathedral.' But that
great day of June is not left without its mark in Westminster.
LORD The two enormous monuments of Captains Harvey
and Hutt, and of Captain Montagu, who fell in the
same fight, originally stood side by side between the
pillars of the Nave,* the first beginning of an intended
series of memorials of a like kind. Corresponding to
tnese three captains of the Nave, but of a slightly
earlier date, are the three -captains of the North
M^nere, Transept — Bayne, Blair, and Lord Eobert Manners,
April 12, , . i i • i-i T> j >
1782. who perished in like manner in Rodney s crowning
victory, and whose colossal monument 3 so cried for room as to
expel from its place the font of the «hurch, which has since
taken refuge in the western end of the Nave.4
The tablet of Kempenfelt in the Chapel of St. Michael com-
memorates the loss of the ' Royal George.' 5 Admiral Harrison
is buried at the entrance into the Cloisters, with the
ITS/."' two appropriate texts, Dew portu-s meus et refugium,
oc™26,i-9i. and Deus monstravit miracitla sua in profundis ; and
Eari Dun- the funeral of Lord Dundonald, in the Nave — thus at
o°t.asi',(Jl£ the close of his long life reinstated in the public
wjSao.0*' favour — terminates the series of naval heroes which
begins with Blake. Nelson,6 who at Cape St. Vincent looked
forward only to victory or Westminster Abbey, found his
grave in St. Paul's.
The military line still runs on. The unfortunate General
1 Campbell's Admirals, vii. 240. * Near this are the monuments of
2 (Neale, ii. 228.) They were trans- Admirals Storr (1783), Pocock (1793),
posed by Dean Vincent, Montagu to and Totty (1800), and of Captain
the west end, and Harvey and Hutt, Cook, who fell in the sea-fight in the
greatly reduced, to one of the windows. Bay of Bengal (1799), and the hand-
* It was shut up for seven years some medallion of Captain Stewart
after its erection, from the delay of the (1811).
inscription. (Gent. Mag. vol. Ixiii. pt. 6 See a humorous allusion to this in
ii. p. 782.) Lusus West, ii. 210. See note on the
* Neale, ii. 208. Waxworks.
CHAP. iv. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 239
Burgoyne, whose surrender at Saratoga lost America to
Burgoyne, England, lies, without a name, in the North Cloister.
13, 1792. But of that great struggle ' the most conspicuous
trace is left on the southern wall of the Nave by the memorial
Andr^, died of the ill-fated Major Andre,2 whose remains, brought
burieVxov' home after a lapse of forty years, lie close beneath.
When,3 at the request of the Duke of York, the body
was removed from the spot where it had been buried, under
the gallows on the banks of the Hudson, a few locks of his
beautiful hair still remained, and were sent to his sisters. The
string which tied his hair was sent also, and is now in the
possession of the Dean of Westminster. A withered tree and
a heap of stones now mark the spot, where the plough never
enters. When the remains were removed, a peach tree,4 of
which the roots had pierced the coffin and twisted themselves
round the skull, was taken up, and replanted in the King's
garden, behind Carlton House. The courtesy and good feeling
of the Americans were remarkable. The bier was decorated
with garlands and flowers, as it was transported to the ship.
On its arrival in England, it was first deposited in the Islip
Chapel, and then buried, with the funeral service, in the Nave,
by Dean Ireland, Sir Herbert Taylor appearing for the Duke
of York, and Mr. Locker, Secretary of Greenwich Hospital, for
the sisters of Andre. The chest in which the remains were
enclosed is still preserved in the Bevestry. On the monument,
in bas-relief,5 by Van Gelder, is to be seen the likeness of
Washington receiving the flag of truce and the letter either of
Andre or of Clinton. Many a citizen of the great Western
Republic has paused before the sight of the sad story.6 Often
has the head of Washington or Andre been carried off, perhaps
by republican or royalist indignation, but more probably by the
pranks of Westminster boys : ' the wanton mischief,' says
Charles Lamb, ' of some school-boy, fired perhaps with some
' raw notions of Transatlantic freedom. The mischief was
1 The only other mark of the Ame- ter. Annual Register, 1821, p. 333.
Wrn^g, dieil rican war, showing the tra- ' In 1868 died an old American lady
Sept. 3, 1777. gic interest it excited, is who had as a girl given him a peach on
the monument to William Wragg, ship- that occasion.
wrecked in his escape from South 5 The monument was deemed of
Carolina. sufficient importance to displace that
* The bas-relief appears to represent of Major Creed.
Andre as intended to be shot; not, as 6 Amongst them Benedict Arnold
was the case, to be hanged. (through whose act Andre had suffered).
3 Life of Major Andre, by Winthrop Peter von Schenck, p. 147.
Sargeant, pp. 409-411. Burial Eegis-
240 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
' done,' he adds, addressing Southey, ' about the time that you
« were a scholar there. Do you know anything about the un-
' fortunate relic ? ' l Southey, always susceptible at allusions
to his early political principles, not till years after could for-
give this passage at arms. The wreath of autumnal leaves from
the banks of the Hudson which is placed over the tomb was
brought by the Dean from America.
Here and there a few warriors of the Peninsular "War are
to be found in the Aisles. Colonel Herries's funeral, in the
south aisle of the Nave, was remarkable for the attendance of
the whole of his corps, the Light Horse Volunteers, of which
he was described as the Father.2 Sir Kobert Wilson,
s^n. MayVs, like Lord Dundonald, after many vicissitudes, has
sir James found a place in the north aisle of the Nave.3 There
atupaT>died also the late Indian campaigns are represented by the
buried ' two chiefs, Outram and Clyde, united in the close
isea? proximity of their graves, after the long rivalry of
died Aug. 14, their lives, followed by Sir George Pollock, whose
22,ri863Auj ' earlier exploits preserved Afghanistan. The Crimean
Idiock**6 War, the Indian Mutiny, and the loss of the ' Captain,'
will be long recalled by the stained glass of the North
Transept. The granite column which stands in front of the
Abbey also records, in a touching inscription — from its public
situation more frequently read perhaps than any other in
London — the Westminster scholars who fell in those campaigns,
and whose names acquire an additional glory from the most
illustrious of their number, Lord Raglan.4 A monument not
Monument ^ar fr°m Kempenfelt, in the Chapel of St. John, was
pJ-a^kiin111 erected to the memory of Sir John Franklin by his
hardly less famous widow, a few weeks before her own
death in her 83rd year. Its ornaments are copied from the
Arctic vegetation, and from the armorial bearings which served
to identify the relics found on his icy grave, and the lines
which indicate his tragic fate are by his kinsman, the Poet-
Laureate Tennyson.
Down to this point we have followed the general stream of
history, as it has wound, at its own sweet will, in and out of
Chapel, Aisle, and Nave, without distinction of class or order.
1 Lamb's Elia. and Ciudad Kodrigo (1812), have
- Lord Teignmouth's Life, i. 268. monuments in the North Aisle.
4 The erection of the column (1861)
Two young officers, Bryan and is commemorated, and the inscription
Beresford, who fell at Talavera (1809), given in Ltisus West. ii. 282-85.
CHAP. iv. OF THE STATESMEN. 241
But there are channels which may be kept apart, by the
separation both of locality and of interests.
The first to be noticed is the last in chronological order,
but flows more immediately out of the general arrangement of
THE the tombs. The statesmen of previous ages had, as
MODERN- . r
STATE.SME.V. we have seen, found their resting-places and me-
morials, according to their greater or less importance, in
almost every part of the Abbey. But in the middle of the last
century a marked change took place. Down to that time one
exception presented itself to the general influx. The Northern
Transept, like the north side of a country churchyard —
like the Pelasgicum under the dark shadow of the north wall
of the Acropolis of Athens — had remained a comparative
solitude. But, like the Pelasgicum under the pressure of the
Peloponnesian War, this gradually began to be occupied. At
first it seemed destined to become the Admirals' Corner. They,
more than any other class, had filled its walls and vacant
niches. One great name, however, determined its future fate
for ever. The growth of the naval empire which those nautical
monuments symbolised had taken place under one command-
j^ ing genius. William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, was the
tod M^' 11 ^rs^ English politician who, without other accom-
paniments of military or literary glory, or court-
favour, won his way to the chief place of statesmanship.
Whatever fame had gathered round his life, was raised to the
highest pitch by the grand scene at his last appearance in
the House of Lords. The two great metropolitan cemeteries
contended for his body — a contention the more remarkable if,
as was partly believed at the time, he had meanwhile been
privately interred in his own churchyard at Hayes. It was
urgently entreated by the City of London, as ' a mark of
' gratitude and veneration from the first commercial city of the
' empire towards the statesman whose vigour and counsels had
' so much contributed to the protection and extension of its
' commerce,' that he should be buried ' in the cathedral church
' of St. Paul, in the City of London.' Parliament, however,
had already decided in favour of Westminster, on the ground
HIS funeral, that he ought to be brought ' near to the dust of
June 9, i/ 78. < jj^gg . ' i an(j accordingly, with almost regal pomp,
the body was brought from the Painted Chamber, and interred
1 Anecdotes of Lord Chatham, pp. 332, 335 ; Malcolm, p. 254.
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NORTH TP.AXSEPT.
CHAP iv. THE MONUMENTS OF THE STATESMEN. 243
in the centre of the North Transept, in a vault which eventually
received his whole family.
Though men of all parties had concurred in decreeing posthumous
honours to Chatham, his corpse was attended to the grave almost
exclusively by opponents of the Government. The banner of the
lordship of Chatham was borne by Colonel Barre, attended by the
Duke of Richmond and Lord Rockingham. Burke, Saville, and
Dunning upheld the pall. Lord Camden was conspicuous in the
procession. The chief mourner was young William Pitt.1
Such honours Ilium to her hero paid,
And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.2
The North Transept ' has ever since been appropriated to states-
' men, as the other transept to poets.' The words of Junius
have been literally fulfilled : ' Recorded honours still gather
' round his monument, and thicken over him. It is a solid
' fabric, and will support the laurels that adorn it.' 3
In no other cemetery do so many great citizens he within so narrow
a space. High over those venerable graves towers the stately monu-
, ment of Chatham,4 and from above, his effigy, graven by a
Monument Oi/ ' * •
and effigy of cunning hand, seems still, with eagle face and outstretched
arm, to bid England be of good cheer, and to hurl defiance
at her foes. The generation which reared that memorial of him has
disappeared. And history, while, for the warning of vehement, high,
and daring natures, she notes his many errors, will yet deliberately
pronounce that, among the eminent men whose bones he near his,
scarcely one has left a more stainless, and none a more splendid name.5
fiew died3" Next in order of date, buried by his own desire
buried20' ' privately in this cathedral, from the love he bore to
March ss, t ^ pjace Of his early education,' is Lord Mansfield.6
Here Murray, long enough his country's pride,
Is now no more than Tully or than Hyde.7
1 Macaulay's Essays, vi. 229. * Bacon, the sculptor, also wrote the
2 His own last words, communicated inscription. George III. approved it,
to me by a friend, who heard them but said, ' Now, Bacon, mind you don't
from the first Lord Sidmouth. ' turn author, but stick to your chisel.'
3 Anecdotes of Chatham, p. 379.— (Londiniana, ii. 63.) The figure itself
In the same vault are his wife and is suggested by Roubiliac's ' Eloquence'
daughter (Lady Harriet Eliot), and the on the Argyll monument.
second Lord and Lady Chatham. His s Macaulay's Essays.
coffin was found turned over by the • It is copied from a portrait by
water thrown into the vault in the fire Reynolds. His nephew (1796) was
of 1806. Lady Harriet's death deeply buried in the same vault.
affected her brother. (See Life of Wil- 7 ' Foretold by Pope, and fulfilled
berforce, i. 125, and Stanhope's Life of 'in the year 1793.' (Epitaph.) The
Pitt, i. 313.) passage is from Pope's Epistles—
R 2
244 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
Close behind the great judge stands the statue of the famous
advocate, Sir William Follett. These are the sole
representatives, in the Abbey, of the modern legal
profession. But the direct succession of statesmen is
PITT and immediately continued. The younger Pitt was buried
pittlid?ed at i*1 hi8 Cher's vault. ' The sadness of the assistants
Putney, Jan. f was beyond that of ordinary mourners. For he
23, buried <* »
Feb. 22, 1806. < whom they were committing to the dust had died of
' sorrows and anxieties of which none of the survivors could be
' altogether without a share. Wilberforce, who carried one of
' the banners before the hearse, described the awful ceremony
' with deep feeling. As the coffin descended into the earth,
1 he said, the eagle face of Chatham seemed to look down with
' consternation into the dark home which was receiving all
' that remained of so much power and glory.' l Lord Wel-
lesley, who was present, with his brother Arthur, already
famous, spoke of the day with no less emotion. The herald
pronounced over his grave, Non sibi sed patria vixit.
charies FOX, There is but one entry in the Eegister between
chiswick, the burial of Pitt and the burial of Fox. They lie
buried1 oct within a few feet of each other.
10, 1806 (the
anniversary
of his first Here, where the end of earthly things
Westminster T , i • i i_ 3 -i i •
election). Liays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings,
Where stiff the hand and still the tongue
Of those who fought and spoke and sung ;
Here, where the fretted aisles prolong
The distant notes of holy song,
As if some angel spoke agen,
' All peace on earth, goodwill to men ' —
If ever from an English heart,
Oh here let prejudice depart ....
For ne'er held marble in its trust
Of two such wondrous men the dust. . . .
Genius and taste and talent gone,
For ever tomb'd beneath the stone,
Where — taming thought to human pride —
The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.
Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,
'Twill trickle to bis rival's bier.
And what is fame 1 the meanest have their day ; Where Murray (long enough his country's pride)
The greatest can but blaze, and pass away. Shall be no more than Tully or than Hyde !
ttXSRSttf&ttfitt 3. ' Malay's Assays; Stanhope's
Conspicuous scene ! Another yet is nigh Pitt, iv. 396 ; Ann. Eegister, 1806, p.
(More silent far), vhere kingt and poets lie; 375 ; Quart. Rev. Ivii. 492.
CHAP. iv. OF THE STATESMEN. 245
O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox's shall the notes rebound.
The solemn echo seems to cry — •
Here let their discord with them die ;
Speak not for those a separate doom,
Whom Fate made brothers in the tomb ! l
Their monuments are far apart from their graves, but, by a
singular coincidence, near to each other, so as to give the
Monument poet's lines a fresh application. Pitt stands in his
robes of Chancellor of the Exchequer, over the west
door of the Abbey, trampling on the French Eevolution, in the
attitude so well known by his contemporaries, ' drawing up
' his haughty head, stretching out his arm with commanding
' gesture, and pouring forth the lofty language of inextin-
Monument ' guishable hope.' Fox's monument, erected by his
numerous private friends, originally near the North
Transept, was removed to the side of Lord Holland's, in the
THE WHIGS- north-west angle of the Nave. The figure of the
Negro represents the prominence which the abolition
of the slave-trade then occupied in the public mind.2 This
Lord spot by the monuments of Fox and Holland, of
Holland, . .
died Oct. 22, Tierney, the soul of every opposition, and of Mackm-
Tiemey, tosh,3 the cherished leader of philosophical and liberal
Mackintosh, thought, and the reformer of our criminal code, has
died 1832
Perceval,' been consecrated as the Whigs' Corner. The shock
died May
11, 1812. of Perceval's assassination is commemorated in the
Grattau,died , . . . . . , XT ,
June 10, Nave. But the burials continued in the North
i6,rT82o.ane Transept.4 Grattan had expressed to his friends his
earnest desire (' Remember ! remember ! ') to be buried in a
retired churchyard at Moyanna, in Queen's County, on the
estate given him by the Irish people. On his deathbed, in the
midst of one of his impassioned exclamations about his country
— ' I stood up for Ireland, and I was right ' — as his eye kindled
and his countenance brightened, and his arm was raised with
surprising firmness, he added, ' As to my grave, I wish to be
' laid in Moyanna : I had rather be buried there.' His friends
told him that it was their intention to place him in West-
1 Scott's Marmion, Introduction to appears from the record of his walk
canto i. round it with Maria Edgeworth. Tha
2 ' Liberty ' lost her cap in the erec- inscription, added in 18b7, is by his
tion of the scaffolding for the coronation nephew Mr. Claude Erskine.
of Queen Victoria. 4 The first Lord Minto was buried
3 Buried at Hampstead, 1832. How here January 29, 1816.
well he knew and loved the Abbey
246 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
minster Abbey.1 ' Oh ! ' said he, ' that will not be thought of ;
' I would rather have Moyanna.' On the request being urged
again the next day from the Duke of Sussex, he gave way,
and said, ' Well, Westminster Abbey.' 2 The children of the
Roman Catholic charities were, at the request of the 'British
' Catholic Board,' who also attended, ranged in front of the
west entrance, the Irish children habited in green. The coffin
nearly touched the foot of the coffin of Fox, * whom in life he
' so dearly valued, and near whom, in death, it would have
' been his pride to lie.' 3
Here, near yon walls, so often shook
By the stern weight of his rebuke,
While bigotry with blanching brow
Heard him and blusb'd, but would not bow, —
Here, where bis asbes may fulfil
His country's cberisb'd mission still,
Tbere let bim point bis last appeal
Wbere statesmen and where kings will kneel ;
His bones will warn them to be just,
Still pleading even from tbe dust.4
Castlereagh, Marquis of Londonderry, followed. The mingled
feelings of consternation and of triumph, that were awakened
castiereagh, m the Conservative and Liberal parties through-
died Aug. 12,
1822, buried out Europe, by his sudden and terrible end, ac-
Ang. 20, ,
companied him to his grave. From his house in St.
James's Square to the doors of the Abbey, ' the streets seemed
' to be paved with human heads.' The Duke of Wellington
and Lord Eldon were deeply agitated. But when the hearse
reached the western door, and the coffin was removed, ' a shout
' arose from the crowd, which echoed loudly through every
' corner of the 5 Abbey.' Through the raging mob, and amidst
1 This was believed by the Irish Grattan's grave with that of an ancient
patriots of that time to have been a mediaeval knight close adjoining, whose
stratagem of the English Government worn and shattered surface was thus
to restrain the enthusiasm which might supposed to represent the fallen great-
have attended Grattan's funeral obse- ness of Ireland. In fact, Grattan's
quies in his own country. Sir Jonah slab is happily as whole and unbroken
Barrington is furious at his being as any in the Abbey, being smaller and
' suffered to moulder in the same ground more compact than most of the grave-
' with his country's enemies. . . . Eng- stones, in order to place it at the head
' land has taken away our Constitution, of Fox's grave according to Grattan's
' and even the relics of its founder are desire.
' retained through the duplicity of his 2 Life of Grattan, v. 545-53.
' enemy ' (Barrington's Own Times, i. * Preface to Speeches of Grattan,
353-58.) An Irish patriot of more pp. Ixi.-lxiii.
recent date, by an excusable mistake, * Ibid. p. Ixxiii.
was led to confound the slab over * Annual Register (1882), p. 181.
CHAP. iv. OF INDIAN STATESMEN. 247
shrieks and execrations, the mourners literally fought their way
into the church ; and it was not till the procession had effected
its entrance, and the doors were closed, that a stillness suc-
ceeded within the building, the more affecting and solemn
from the tumult which preceded it.1 With this awful welcome
the coffin moved on, and was deposited between the graves of
canning ^^ an^ Fox. His rival and successor, George Can-
oidswick nmg> was n°t l°ng behind him. On the day of the
buried' Aug funeral> though the rain descended in torrents, the
16, IBS?. streets were crowded, and he was laid opposite the
grave of Pitt.2 His son, a stripling of sixteen, was present.
When, on the sudden death of Sir Robert Peel, ' all London
' felt like one family,' the departed statesman had so expressly
peei died provided in his will, that he should be ' buried by the
buifedat850' ' side of h*s father and mother at Drayton,' that the
Drayton. honoured grave in the Abbey was not sought. In its
HIS statue. place was erected Gibson's statue of him, which still
waits the inscription that shall record what he was.3
The closing scene of Lord Palmerston's octogenarian career
was laid amongst the memorials of the numerous statesmen,
Paimerston friends or foes, with whom his public life had been
bueriedcoct8' 8Pent- He lies opposite the statue of his first patron,
27,1865. Canning. As the coffin sank into the grave — amidst
the circle of those who were to succeed to the new sphere
left vacant by his death — a dark storm broke over the Abbey,
in which, as in a black shroud, the whole group of mourners
seemed to vanish from the sight, till the ray of the returning
sun, as the service drew to its end, once more lighted up the
gloom.
The Indian statesmen not unnaturally fell into the aisles of
INDIA^ the same transept, which thus enfolds at once the earlier
STATESMEN, trophies of Indian warfare, and the first founders of
burMJa'n. the Indian Empire— Sir George Staunton, Sir John
Maico'im, Malcolm, Sir Stamford Baffles, the younger Canning
Kafflesfdied (laid beside his father), and an earlier, a greater, but
Eari' a more ambiguous name than any of these — Warren
burio!"june Hastings. ' With all his faults, and they were neither
21, 1862.
' From an eyewitness who beheld it the classical costume. (Life of Gibson,
from the organ loft. by Lady Eastlake, 90, which contains
2 Life of Canning, p. 143. an able defence of his choice.) He had
3 Peel's name was first inscribed in wished to have the statue placed in
1866. Gibson refused to undertake the the Nave. But this was impossible,
work unless he was allowed to adopt
2 48 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
* few nor small, only one cemetery was worthy to contain
' his remains. In that Temple of silence and reconcilia-
warren ' tion wnere the enmities of twenty generations lie
Ha*tiug3, < buried, in the Great Abbey which has during many
' ages afforded a quiet resting-place to those whose
Dayiesfori < minds and bodies have been shattered by the
* contentions of the Great Hall, the dust of the illustrious
f accused should have mingled with the dust of the illustrious
' accusers.' l Though this was not to be, and though his
ms bu«t remains lie by the parish church of his ancestral
erected i8i9. Daylesford, his memorial 2 stands in the Abbey, which
had also been associated with his early years — with the days
when he was remembered by the poet Cowper as the active
Westminster boy, who had rowed on the Thames and played
in the Cloisters, amongst the scholars to whom he left the
magnificent cup which bears his name. It was whilst standing
before this bust that Macaulay received from Dean Milman,
then Prebendary of Westminster, the suggestion of writing
that essay, which has in our own days revived the fame of the
great proconsul.
Close by the monument of the stern ruler of India begins
the line of British philanthropists. It started with the tablet
°f J°nas Hanway, whose motto, ' Never despair,' re-
S. calls his unexpected deliverance from his dangers in
n" Persia. Of the heroes of the abolition of the slave-
is. trade,3 Clarkson alone is absent. Granville Sharp
, has his memorial in Poets' Corner, Zachary Macau-
miberforce; lay 4 in the WTiigs' Corner of the Nave. Wilberforce
bur1edUAug9' was, at the requisition of Lord Brougham,5 buried,
with the attendance of both Houses of Parliament,
amongst his friends in the North Transept with whom he
Buxton,died na^ fought the same good fight; and his statue
burie^'at845' sits nearly side by side with Fowell Buxton in the
H£E5U"L North Aisle. In later times and in a more philo-
Sorn! sophic vein, in the same corner of the church, follow
the cenotaphs — all striking likenesses of men prema-
turely lost — of Francis Horner,6 the founder of our modern
' Macaulay's Essays, iii. 465. 4 The epitaph was written by Sir
By Bacon, erected 1819. (Chap- James Stephen, and corrected by Sir
ter Book, June 3, 1819.) Fowell B^.'
3 A monument of the same cause '.. , __.„
has been raised outside the Abbey by LlJe °f Wilberforcc, v. 373.
Charles Buxton. 6 His statue is one of Chantrey'
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 249
economical and financial policy ; Charles Buller,1 the genial
Buiier died advocate of our colonial interests ; Cornewall Lewis,
JSov. 2H,
ms, buried indefatigable and judicial alike as scholar and
Green. as statesman ; and Eichard Cobden,2 the successful
Lewis, died .
1863, buried champion of Free Trade. In the Nave is the m-
Kadnor. scription which marks the spot where for a month
April 2/1865, rested the remains of George Peabody, who had
west Lav- desired to express his gratitude to God for the bless-
GeorTe ings heaped upon him, by ' doing some great good
Peabody, , . , ., ,
1875. ' to his fellowmen.
We now pass to the other side of the Abbey for another line
POETS- °f worthies, which has a longer continuity than any
CORNER. other ; beginning under the Plantagenet dynasty,
and reviving again and again, with renewed freshness, in
each successive reign —
Till distant warblings fade upon my ear,
And lost in long futurity expire.
The Southern Transept,3 hardly known by any other name
but ' Poets' Corner ' — the most familiar 4 though not the most
august or sacred spot in the whole Abbey — derives the origin
of its peculiar glory, like the Northern Transept at a much
later period, from a single tomb. Although it is by a royal
affinity that
These poets near our princes sleep,
And in one grave their mansion keep,5
the first beginning of the proximity was from a homelier cause.
We have already traced the general beginning of the private
monuments to Eichard II. It is from him, also indirectly,
that the poetical monuments take their rise. In 1389 the office
of Clerk of the Eoyal Works in the Palaces of Westminster and
Windsor was vacant. Possibly from his services to the Eoyal
best works. The epitaph is by Sir poets of the Old and of the New Testa-
Henry Englefield. ment.
> His epitaph is by Lord Houghton. * ' I have always observed that the
. * .. visitors to the Abbey remain longest
- The framer of an earlier commer- about the gi le memorials in Poets-
cial treaty, Sir Paul Methuen was buried Corner- A kinder and fonder feeli
in the Abbey in 1757, m the grave of ta]:eg the kce of that cold curiosit
his father, John Methuen, to whom Qr y admiration with which they
there is a monument in the south aisle gaze on the splendid monuments of
of the Nave. t^e great an(j the heroic. They linger
3 A stained window has been re- about these as about the tombs of
cently placed at the entrance of this friends and companions.' (Washing-
transept, with David, and St. John in ton Irving's Sketch Book, p. 216.)
the Apocalypse, as representing the 5 Denham, on Cowley.
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PLAN OF POETS' CORNER.
CHAP. iv. THE MONUMENTS OF THE POETS. 251
Family,1 possibly from Eichard's well-known patronage of
the arts, the selection fell on Geoffrey Chaucer. He
CHAUCER. .
retained the post only for twenty months. But it
probably gave him a place in the Eoyal Household, which was
not forgotten at his death. After the fall of Kichard, ' when
' Chaucer's hairs were gray, and the infirmities of age pressed
' heavily upon him, he found himself compelled to come to
' London for the arrangement of his affairs.' There is still
preserved a lease, granted to him by the keeper of the Lady
Chapel of the Abbey, which makes over to him a tenement in
the garden attached to that building,2 on the ground now
Death of covered by the enlarged Chapel of Henry VII. In
ocl£U25e,r> ^n^s nouse ne died, on October 25, in the last year of
the fourteenth century, uttering, it is said, ' in the
' great anguish of his deathbed,' the ' good counsel ' which
closes with the pathetic words —
Here is no home, here is but -wilderness.
Forth, pilgrim ; forth, 0 beast, out of thy stall !
Look up on high, and thank thy God of all.
Control thy lust ; and let thy spirit thee lead ;
And Truth thee shall deliver ; 'tis no dread.3
Probably from the circumstance of his dying so close at hand,
combined with the royal favour, still continued by Henry IV.,
he was brought to the Abbey, and buried, where the
functionaries of the monastery were beginning to be
interred, at the entrance of St. Benedict's Chapel. There was
nothing to mark the grave except a plain slab, which was
sawn up when Dryden's monument was erected, and a leaden
plate on an adjacent pillar, hung there, it is conjectured, by
Caxton, with an inscription by ' a poet laureate,' Surigonius of
Monument Milan.4 It was not till the reign of Edward VI. that
i)55i.iau< the present tomb, to which apparently the poet's
ashes were removed, was raised, near the grave, by Nicholas
Brigham, himself a poet, who was buried close beside, with
his daughter Eachel.5 The inscription closes with an echo of
the poet's own expiring counsel, ' jErumnarum requies mors.'
Originally the back of the tomb contained a portrait of
1 Godwin's Life of Chaucer, ii. 498. MaternS, hac sacra sum tumu-
* Ibid. ii. 549, 641. latus humo''
« Ibid. ii. 553, 555. (Winstanley's Worthies p 94.) It has
long since disappeared. (See Godwin,
4 Galfridus Chaucer, vates et fama i. 5.)
poesis, 5 Dart ii. 61.
252
THE MONUMENTS
CHAP. IV.
Chaucer.1 The erection of the monument so long afterwards
shows how freshly the fame of Chaucer then flourished, and
accordingly, within the next generation, it became the point
of attraction to the hitherto unexampled burst of poets in
spenser died tno Elizabethan age. The first was Spenser. His
Jan. is, 1599. interment in the Abbey was perhaps suggested by
the fact that his death took place close by, in King Street,
CHAUCER'S MONUMENT.
Westminster. But it was distinctly in his poetical character
HIS funeral ^a^ ^e received the honours of a funeral from
Devereux, Earl of Essex. His hearse was attended
by poets, and mournful elegies and poems, with the pens that
wrote them, were thrown into his tomb. What a funeral was
that at which Beaumont, Fletcher, Jonson, and, in all proba-
bility, Shakspeare attended ! — what a grave in which the pen
of Shakspeare may be mouldering away ! In the orignal in-
1 A painted window above the tomb,
with medallions of Chaucer and Gower,
and with scenes from Chaucer's life and
poems, presented by Dr. Eogers, de-
signed by Mr. Waller, and executed by
Messrs. Baillie and Raye, supplied this
loss in 1868.
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 253
scription, long ago effaced, the vicinity to Chaucer was expressly
stated as the reason for the selection of the spot —
Hie prope Chaucerum situs est Spenserius, illi
Proximus ingenio, proximus et tumulo.1
The actual monument was erected by Nicholas Stone, at the'
cost 2 of Ann Clifford, Countess of Dorset, the great ' restorer
HIS ' of waste places,' and afterwards repaired through
monument, ,., ' . * °
erected 1620, Mason the poet.3 The inscription, in pathos and
restored
1778. simplicity, is worthy of the author of the ' Faery
' Queen,' but curious as implying the unconsciousness of any
greater than he, at that very time, to claim the title then given
him of ' the Prince of Poets.' ' The great Spenser keeps the
' entry of the Church, in a plain stone tomb, but his works are
' more glorious than all the marble and brass monuments
' within.' 4
The neighbourhood to Chaucer, thus emphatically marked
as the cause of Spenser's grave, is noticed again and again
Beaumont, a^ each successive interment. Beaumont was the
isiiMJ.9' next. He lies still nearer to Chaucer,5 under a name-
diedTpTii6' IGSS stone ; and immediately afterwards came the cry
burie<i6at ail(^ counter-cry over the ashes of another, who died
stratford. -yyithin the next year, both suggested by the close
contiguity of these poetic graves :
Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
To learned Chaucer : and, rare Beaumont, lie
A little nearer Spenser, to make room
For Shakspeare in your threefold fourfold tomb.6
To which Ben Jonson replies :
My Shakspeare, rise, I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little farther off to make thee room.
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still while thy book doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
1 Camden. See also Winstanley's ' of mouldering freestone, correcting
Worthies, p. 97 : — ' the mistaken dates, and including it
Dan Chaucer, well of English undeflled, ' in an iron rail.' (Chapter Book,
On Fame's eternal bead-roll to be filed, April 13, 1778.)
I follow here the footing of thy feet 4 Tnm Tli-mm iii 99ft
That with thy meaning so I may the rather meet. , ' , ' _ ,. ,
s At the entrance of St. Benedict's
2 £40. (Walpole's Anecdotes of Chapel. (Register.) Fletcher is buried
Painting, 241.) in St. Mary Overies, Southwark.
3 He raised a subscription for ' re- 6 Basse's Elegy on Shakspeare
' storing it in durable marble instead (1633).
254 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
In fact, the attempt was never made. "Whether it was
prevented by the Poet's own anathema on any one who
should ' move his bones or dig his dust,' or by the imperfect
recognition of his greatness, in Stratford he still lies; and
HIS not for another century was the statue raised l which
monument . , _,". . . . . ,
erected 1740. now stands in the adjacent aisle, by the same de-
signer who planned the monument of Newton,2 to become
the centre of the meditations of Poets, and of the tombs of
Actors.
Next followed — such was the inequality of fortune — Dray-
ton, of whom, after the lapse of not much more than a hundred
Michael years, Goldsmith, in his visit to the Abbey, could say,
died i63i. when he saw his monument, ' Drayton ! I never heard
' of him before.' Indeed it was the common remark of London
gossips — Drayton ' with half a nose, was next, whose works are
' forgotten before his monument is worn out.'3 But at the
time the ' Polyolbion ' was regarded as a masterpiece of art.
It is probable that he was buried near the small north
door of the Nave.4 But his bust was erected here by
the same great lady who raised that to Spenser. Fuller, in his
quaint manner, again revives their joint connection with the
grave of their predecessor : — ' Chaucer lies buried in the south
' aisle of St. Peter's, Westminster, and now hath got the
' company of Spenser and Drayton, a pair royal of poets
' enough almost to make passengers' feet to move metrically,
' who go over the place where so much poetical dust is in-
' terred.' 5 How little the verdict of Goldsmith was then an-
ticipated appears from the fine lines on Drayton's monument,
ascribed both to Ben Jonson and to Quarles, which, in in-
voking 'the pious marble ' to protect his memory, predict
that when its
Euin shall disclaim
To be the treasurer of his fame,
His name, that cannot fade, shall be
An everlasting monument to thee.
Ben Jonson — who, if so be, speaks on this bust of Drayton's
exchanging his laurel for a crown of glory, but who was, in
1 Fuller's Worthies (iii. 288) makes disappointment at the first failure of
his body to have been buried near his his play. (Life, p. 31.)
monument. » Tom Brown, iii. 228.
2 See p. 294. vHome (the author of 4 Heylin, who was present, and
the tragedy of Douglas), wrote on it in Aubrey (Lives, 335).
pencil some verses expressive of his 5 Fuller, History, A.D. 1631.
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 255
fact, the first unquestionable laureate— soon followed. Both
Benjonson, his youth and age were connected with Westminster,
is, IBS/!' He was born in the neighbourhood, he was educated
in the School, and his last years were spent close to the Abbey,
in a house that once stood between it and St. Margaret's
BenJonson's Church.1 This renders probable the story of his
selecting his own grave, where it was afterwards dug,
not far from Drayton's. According to the local tradition, he
asked the King (Charles I.) to grant him a favour. 'What
* is it ? ' said the King. — ' Give me eighteen inches of square
'ground.' 'Where?' asked the King.— ' In Westminster
' Abbey.' This is one explanation given of the story that he
was buried standing upright. Another is that it was with a
view to his readiness for the Eesurrection. ' He lies buried in
' the north aisle [of the Nave], in the path of square stone [the
' rest is lozenge], opposite to the scutcheon of Eobertus de
' Eos, with this inscription only on him, in a pavement-square
' of blue marble, about fourteen inches square,
inscription. ' 0 rare Ben Johnson ! ' 2
' which was done at the charge of Jack Young (afterwards
' knighted), who, walking there when the grave was covering,
' gave the fellow eighteenpence to cut it.' 3 This stone was
taken up when, in 1821, the Nave was repaved, and was brought
back from the stoneyard of the clerk of the works, in the time
of Dean Buckland, by whose order it was fitted into its present
place in the north wall of the Nave. Meanwhile, the original
spot had been marked by a small triangular lozenge, with a
copy of the old inscription. When, in 1849, Sir Eobert Wilson
was buried close by, the loose sand of Jonson's grave (to use
the expression of the clerk of the works who superintended the
operation) ' rippled in like a quicksand,' and the clerk ' saw the
' two leg-bones of Jonson, fixed bolt upright in the sand, as
' though the body had been buried in the upright position ; and
' the skull came rolling down among the sand, from a position
' above the leg-bones, to the bottom of the newly-made grave.
< There was still hair upon it, and it was of a red colour.' It
was seen once more on the digging of John Hunter's grave ;
1 Malone's Historical Account of gravestone, as also in Clarendon's Life
the English Stage; Fuller's Worthies, (i. 34), where see his character.
ii. 425 ; Aubrey's Lives, 414. 3 Aubrey's Lives, 414. His burial
2 He is called Johnson on the is not in the Eegister.
256 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
and ' it had still traces of red hair upon it.' > The world long
wondered that ' he should lie buried from the rest of the poets
' and want2 a tomb.' This monument, in fact, was to have
been erected by subscription soon after his death, but was
delayed by the breaking out of the Civil War. The present
medallion in Poets' Corner was set up in the middle of the last
century by ' a person of quality, whose name was desired to be
' concealed.' By a mistake of the sculptor, the buttons were
set on the left side of the coat. Hence this epigram—
0 rare Ben Jonson — what a turncoat grown !
Thou ne'er wast such, till clad in stone :
Then let not this disturb thy sprite,
Another age shall set thy buttons right.3
Apart from the other poets, under the tomb of Henry V.,
is Sir4 Kobert Ay ton, secretary to the two Queens consort of
Robert the time, and friend of Ben Jonson, Drummond, and
2SU637-I. ' the then youthful Hobbes. He is the first Scottish
poet buried here, and claims a place from his being the first in
whose verses appears the ' Auld Lang Syne.' His bust is by
Farelli, from a portrait by Yandyck.
There is a pause in the succession during the troubled
times of the Civil Wars.5 May, who had unsuccessfully com-
ThomasMa Peted with the wild Cavalier Sir William Davenant
diSLtened f°r *ne laureateship, and, according to Clarendon, on
1661- that account thrown himself into the Parliamentary
cause, was buried here as poet and historian under the Com-
monwealth. But his vacant grave, after the disinterment of
wmiam n^8 remains, received his rival Davenant, connected
AaruD9nt> w^k ^e ^wo greyest °f English poetical names — with
lees. Shakspeare by the tradition of the Stratford player's
intimacy with his mother, and with Milton by the protection
which he first received from him, and afterwards procured for
him, in their respective reverses.6 His funeral was
conducted with the pomp due to a laureate, though,
to the great grief of Anthony Wood, ' the wreath was forgot
1 For full details, see Mr. Frank 4 For a full account of him, see
Buckland's interesting narrative in Transactions of Historical Society, i. pt.
Curiosities of Natural History (3rd se- 6, pp. 113-220.
ries), ii. 181-189. It would seem that, 5 For May see Clarendon's Life, i.
in spite of some misadventures, the 39, 40 ; and for an indignant Eoyalist
skull still remains in the grave. epitaph, the Appendix to Crull, p. 46.
* London Spy, p. 179. « Malone's History of the Stage.
1 Seymour's Stow, ii. 512, 513.
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 257
' that should have been put on the coffin ' l of walnut wood,
which, according to Denham, was the ' finest coffin he had ever
' seen.' 2 Pepys, who was present, thought that the ' many
« hackneys made it look like the funeral of a poor poet. He
' seemed to have many children, by five or six in the first
' mourning coach.' 3 On his grave4 was repeated the inscription
of Ben Jonson, ' 0 rare Sir William Davenant ! '
In the preceding year three poets had been laid in the
Abbey — two of transitory name, the third with the grandest
obsequies that Poets' Corner ever witnessed. In March was
w.Johnson, buried in the North Transept Dr. W. Johnson,
' Delight of the Muses and Graces, often shipwrecked,
t at length rests in this harbour, and his soul with
' God; whose saying was — GOD WITH us.'5 In July the South
sir Robert Transept received Sir Robert Stapleton, a staunch
tariedjuiy R°yanst, though a Protestant convert, translator of
is, 1669. Musaeus and Juvenal.6 But at the end of that month,
OowfoTdied Abraham Cowley died at Chertsey, which when
burled\u Charles II. heard, he said, ' Mr. Cowley has not left a
3, lee/. < better man in England.' Evelyn was at his burial,
though ' he sneaked from Church,' and describes the
hundred coaches of noblemen, bishops, clergy, and all the wits
of the town; and adds, still harping on the local fitness, he
was buried ' next Geoffrey Chaucer,7 and near Spenser ' — near
the poet whose ' Faery Queen,' before he was twelve years,
' filled his head with such chimes of verses as never since
The urn ' ^ ringmg there.' The urn was erected by George
Theinscrip- Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham. The inscrip-
tion- tion— which compares him to Pindar, Virgil, and
Horace, and which, for its Pagan phraseology, could never
be read by Dr. Johnson without indignation — was by Dean
Sprat, his biographer. How deeply fixed was the sense of
his fame appears from the lines, striking even in their exag-
geration, which, speaking of his burial, describe, with the re-
collection of the great conflagration still fresh, that the best
1 Ant. Ox. ii. 165. west side of North Cross, March 12,
2 Aubrey's _Lwes,309.Hewas present. 1066-67. (Crull, p. 280 ; Kegister.)
3 Pepys's Correspondeiice, iv. 90. 6 Died July 11, 1669 ; was buried
4 'Near the vestry door.' (Eegister.) in South Transept near the western
' Near to the monument of Dr. Barrow.' door, July 15. Eegister. (Seymour's
(Aubrey's Lives, 309.) The stone was Stow, ii. 556 ; Dart, ii. 62.)
broken up, but was replaced in 1866. 7 ' Mr. Cowly, a famous poet, was
5 Died March 4, 1666 : ' Subalmoner, ' buried near to Chaucer's monument.'
buried near the Convocation door,' (Register.)
S
258 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
security for Westminster Abbey was that it held the grave of
Cowley : l
That sacrilegious fire (which did last year
Level those piles which Piety did rear)
Dreaded near that majestic church to fly,
Where English kings and English poets lie.
It at an awful distance did expire,
Such pow'r had sacred ashes o'er that fire ;
Such as it durst not near that structure come
Which fate had order'd to be Cowley's tomb ;
And 'twill be still preserved, by being so,
From what the rage of future flames can do.
Material fire dares not that place infest,
Where he who had immortal flame does rest.
There let his urn remain, for it was fit
Among our kings to lay the King of Wit.
By which the structure more renown'd will prove
For that part bury'd than for all above.2
But the most effective glorification at once of Cowley and
John °f P°ets' Corner was that which came from his friend
MSch'zs Sir John Denham, who, within a few months, was laid
1668-9. by hjg gjde, in the ground which he knew so well
how to appreciate, and who, after describing how
Old Chaucer, like the morning star, to us discovers day from far ;
how —
Next, like Aurora, Spenser rose, whose purple blush the day
foreshows ;
how Shakspeare, Jonson, Fletcher,
With their own fires,
Phosbus, the poet's god, inspires ;
and then curses the fatal hour that in Cowley
Pluck'd
The fairest, sweetest flow'r that in the Muses' garden grew.3
If the fame of Cowley has now passed away, it is not so with
John the poet who, like him, was educated4 under the shadow
Sffilyi, of th® Abbey, and was laid beside him. Convert as
Dryden had become to the Church of Eome, and power-
1 Pepys, iii. 325, v. 24. « The name of ' J. Dryden ' is still
* British Poets, v. 213. to be seen carved on a bench in West-
* ' On Mr. Abraham Cowley's Death minster School, in the characters of
' and Burial among the Ancient Poets.' the time, though not in Dryden's own
(British Poets, v. 214.) orthography.
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 259
fully as he had advocated the claims of the ' Hind ' against
the ' Panther,' Sprat (who was Dean at the time), as soon as
he heard of his death, undertook to remit all the fees, and
offered himself to perform the rites of interment in the Abbey,
Lord Halifax offered to pay the expenses of the funeral, with
£500 for a monument. It is difficult to know how to treat the
strange story of the infamous practical jest by which the son
of Lord Jeffreys broke up the funeral on the pretext of making
it more splendid : the indignation of the Dean, who had ' the
' Abbey lighted, the ground opened, the Choir attending, an
' anthem ready set, and himself waiting without a corpse to
' bury ; ' and the anger of the poet's son, who watched till the
death of Jeffreys, with ' the utmost application,' for an op-
portunity of revenge.1 At any rate, twelve days after Dryden's
death, his ' deserving reliques ' were lodged in the College of
Dryden-s Physicians. There a Latin eulogy was pronounced
funeral, May J toj
13,1700. by bir Samuel Garth, himself at once a poet and
physician, and also wavering between scepticism and Roman
Catholicism : and thence ' an abundance of quality in their
' coaches and six horses ' 2 accompanied the hearse with funeral
music, singing the ode of Horace, Exegi monumentum cere
perennius ; 3 and the Father, as he has been called, of modern
English Poetry was laid almost in the very sepulchre 4
of the Father of ancient English Poetry, whose grave-
stone was actually sawn asunder to make room for his monu-
ment. That monument was long delayed. But so completely
had his grave come to be regarded as the most interesting
spot in Poets' Corner, that Pope, in writing the epitaph for
Piowe, could pay him no higher honour than to show how his
monument pointed the way to Dryden's : 5
Thy reliques, Eowe, to this fair urn we trust,
And, sacred, place by Dryden's awful dust.
Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,
To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes.6
The ' rude and nameless stone ' roused the attention of
1 Johnson's Lives, iii. 367-69. The ' and have his monument erected by
story is partly confirmed by the London ' Lord Dorset and Lord Montagu.'
Spy, p. 417. (Pepys's Correspondence, v. 321.)
2 London Spy (p. 418), who saw it 4 'At Chaucer's feet, without any
from Chancery Lane (p. 424). ' name, lies John Dryden his admirer,
3 Postman and Postbag^Siyli,llOO, 'and truly the English Maro.' (Tom
4 ' Mr. Dryden is lately dead, who Brown, iii. 228.)
' will be buried in Chaucer's grave, 6 Pope, iii. 369.
s 2
260 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, who in consequence raised the
Hismonu- Presenfc monument. For the inscription Pope and
ment- Atterbury were long in earnest correspondence :
What do you think [says Atterbury] of some such short inscrip-
tion as this in Latin, which may, in a few words, say all
tion.mscnp" that is to be said of Dry den, and yet nothing more than he
deserves ? —
IOHANNI DKYDENO,
CVI POESIS ANGLICANA
VIM SVAM AC VENEBES DEBET ;
ET SI QVA IN POSTERVM AVGEBITVR LAVDE,
EST ADHVC DEBITVRA :
HONORIS ERGO P. etc.
To show you that I am as much in earnest in the affair as yourself,
something I will send you too of this kind in English. If your design
holds of fixing Dryden's name only below, and his busto above, may
not lines like these be graved just under the name ? —
This Sheffield rais'd, to Dryden's ashes just,
Here fixed his name, and there his laurel'd bust ;
What else the Muse in marble might express,
Is known already ; praise would make him less.
Or thus ?
More needs not ; where acknowledg'd merits reign,
Praise is impertinent, and censure vain.1
Pope improved upon these suggestions, and finally wrote —
This Sheffield raised : the sacred dust below
Was Dryden's once— the rest who does not know ?
This was afterwards altered into the present plain inscription ;
and the bust erected by the Duke was exchanged for a finer
one by Scheemakers, put up by the Duchess, with a pyramid
behind it.2 So the monument remained till our own day, when
Dean Buckland, with the permission of the surviving repre-
sentative of the poet, Sir Henry Dryden, removed all except
the simple bust and pedestal.
Bust of Opposite Dryden's monument is the bust of his
burSt' forgotten rival, and victim of his bitterest satire :
Chelsea,
NOV, 24, Others to some faint meaning make pretence,
But Shadwell never deviates into sense.
1 Pope, ix. 199. 2 Akerman, ii. 89.
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 261
Dryden's son had intended a longer inscription,1 but Sprat sup-
pressed it, on the ground of an exception which some of the
clergy had made to it, as ' being too great an encomium on
' plays to be set up in a church.' Not in Poets' Corner, but
near the steps leading to the Confessor's Chapel, was buried,
Jan. 24, 1684-85, Lord Eoscommon,
In all Charles's days,
Roscommon only boasts unspotted lays.
His last words were from his own translation of the ' Dies Irae : '
My God, my Father, and my Friend,
Do not forsake me in my end.
These names close the seventeenth century and begin the
eighteenth. Another race appears, of whom the monuments
follow in quick succession. By his connection with West-
minster School, by his friendship with Montagu and Prior,
George by his diplomatic honours, rather than by his verses,
lepriJ,' George Stepney,2 — who was thought by his con-
temporaries ' a much greater man ' than Sir Cloudesley
Shovel,3 and ' whose juvenile compositions ' were then believed
to have ' made gray-headed authors blush,' 4— has his bust and
grave just outside the Transept. But within, on the right of
johnPhiiips, Chaucer's tomb, is the monument of John Philips,
buned at erected by his friend Sir Simon Harcourt, and claiming
1/08. in its inscription to close the south side of the Father
of English Poetry, as Cowley closes the north. His ' Splendid
' Shilling ' and ' Cyder ' are now amongst the forgotten curiosities
of literature. But his epitaph has a double interest. With its
wreath of apples (Honos erit huic quoque porno), it recounts his
celebrity at that time as the master, almost the inventor, of the
difficult art of blank verse, and it also indicates the gradual
rise of another fame far greater. Philips himself had been
devoted to Milton's poems, as models for his own feeble imita-
tions ; and the partial patron who composed the inscription on
. his tomb has declared that in this field he was second
Monument
of Philips. to Milton alone : ' Uni Miltono sccundus primoque pane
'par.' It is disputed whether Smalridge, Freind, or Atterbury
was the author. If (as is most probable) Atterbury, the em-
1 Crull ii 42 where it is given. 'With heighten'd reverence to hare seen
* One of 'his' poems relates to the ' The "«"? «randeur of an ^ed Queen''
Abbey — his elegy on the funeral of 3 Dart, ii. 83.
Mary II., in whom he had hoped 4 Johnson's Lives of the Poets.
262 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
phasis laid on Philips's proficiency is the expression of bis own
partiality ' against rhyme and in behalf of blank verse ' — ' with-
' out the least prejudice, being himself equally incapable of
' writing in either of those ways.' l The antiquary Crull
happened to be copying the inscription, and he had
nearly reached these lines, when he was told, 'by a
' person of quality,' to desist from what he was about, for that
there ' was an alteration to be made.' Crull put up his papers,
and pretended to leave. ' My Lord went out,' and Crull im-
mediately returned, and was informed that these lines were to
be erased, and that ' his Lordship ' (Bishop Sprat, then Dean)
' had forbidden the cutting of them.' Crull ' was the more
' eagerly resolved to finish the inscription,' 'as it was originally
' composed by the learned Dr. Srnalridge.' 2 The next day he
found the two lines wholly obliterated. The objection was not,
as might have been supposed, to their intrinsic absurdity, but
because the Royalist Dean would not allow the name of the
regicide Milton to be engraved on the walls of Westminster
Abbey.3 Another four years and the excommunication was
removed. Atterbury — whose love for Milton4 was stronger
even than his legitimist principles, and who, in his last fare-
well5 to the Westminster scholars, vented his grief in the
pathetic lines which close the ' Paradise Lost ' — was now Dean,
and the obnoxious lines were admitted within the walls of the
Miiton, Abbey. Another four years yet again, and the
.buried m criticism in the ' Spectator ' had given expression to
St. Giles's, , . . ... f ,- * j • ,• • •
cnppiegate. the irresistible feeling of admiration growing m every
English heart. ' Such was the change of public opinion,'6 said
Dr. Gregory to Dr. Johnson, ' that I have seen erected in the
Monument ' church a bust of that man whose name I once knew
1737. ' 'considered as a pollution of its walls.' It is indeed
a triumph of the force of truth and genius, such as of itself
hallows the place which has witnessed it. And if this late
1 Pope, viii. 188. 6 A curious instance of the change
2 Crull, pp. 343, 345. is given in the successive editions of
''Un nomm6 Miltonus, qui s'est Sheffield's Essay on Poetry. In the first
' rendu plus infame par ses dangereux edition the epic poet
• ecrits que les bourreaux et les assas- . Must above Mrtoll.9 ,ofty flight3 prevail,
sins de leur roi. (t rench Ambassador 'Succeed where great Torquuto aua where
in App. to Pepys's Correspondence, greater Spenser fail.'
v- - In the last-
See Atterbury s remarks on the
translation nf ' PararHcp T net ' ' Must above Tasso's lofty flights prevail,
• oon \ Paradise .Lost. , Succeed where Spen3ei. ^a «••« Milton fail .'
(Letters, iv. 229.)
4 See Chapter VI. See also his let- (Johnson's Lives of the Poets, ii.
ters to Pope. (Pope, viii. 233.) 155.)
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 263
testimony was rendered to Milton (as a like late acknowledg-
samuei nient had a few years l before been rendered to Samuel
dfcdTeso. Butler, the author of ' Hudibras ') not, as in the case
coveentia °f Spenser, Cowley, and Dryden, by dukes and
Churchyard; duchesses, but by an obscure citizen of London,2 the
erected^11* ^ac^' so ^ar ^rom deserving the cynical remarks of
1732. Pope, only adds to the interest, by the proof afforded
of the wide and (as it were) subterraneous diffusion of the fame
of the once neglected poet, who, though ' fallen on evil days,'
at last received his reward. Probably it was this stimulus
of shak- which roused the public subscription for the statue of
speare.mo. ghakspeare, which in 1740 was finally erected with
the inscription from the ' Tempest,' which certainly well fits its
application under the shadow of the 'cloudcapt towers, the
' gorgeous palaces, and the solemn temples ' of Westminster.
It is curious to mark how immediately these new objects
of interest draw to their neighbourhood the lesser satellites of
Nicholas fame. Nicholas Eowe, poet-laureate and translator
buS Dec. of Lucan, was buried here by Atterbury, from his
19,1718. feeiing for nis 0\& schoolfellow.3 His monument,
which Pope had designed to act as a conductor to the tomb of
Dryden,4 by the time that it was erected claimed kindred with
this mightier brother of the art —
Thy reliques, Eowe, to this sad shrine we trust,
And near thy Shakspeare 5 place thy honour'd dust.
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest,
Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest !
Its conclusion had originally stood, before Buckingham had
erected the tomb to Dryden—
One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
What a whole thankless land to his denies.
1 William Longueville, of the Inner Shakspeare's monument, he suggested
Temple, patron of Butler, who vainly 'Thus Britons love me, and preserve my fame,
endeavoured to provide for his friend's Tree from a Barber's or a Benson's name.'
interment in the Abbey, was him-
self buried in the North Ambulatory, ' gjjf- ** v- 3522-
1720 bee P- ^°y*
'Benson, the auditor, erected the „ * .Thef was a propriety in this
monument to Milton in 1737 ; Barber, allusion from Eowe s plays-especially
the printer, and Lord Mayor of London, ff™ Shore, 'perhaps the best acting
that to Butler in 1732. tragedy after Shakspeare's days.' Dean
Milman told me that Mrs. Siddons
On poets' tombs see Benson's titles writ, used to gay th&t Qne lme ^ Jane glwre
is Pope's line in the ' Dunciad ; ' and was the most effective she ever uttered
when asked for an inscription for — ' Twas he — 'twas Hastings.'
264 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
It now commemorates the grief of the poet's wife —
And blest that, timely from our scene remov'd,
Thy soul enjoys the liberty it lov'd.
To thee, so mourn'd in death, so lov'd in life,
The childless parent and the widow'd wife
With tears inscribes this monumental stone,
That holds thine ashes and expects her own.1
And this, in turn, was falsified by the remarriage of the widow
(whose effigy surmounts the bust) to Colonel Deane.
Three dubious names close this period. In Poets' Corner
lies the old voluptuary patriarch of Charles II. 's wits, St.
st. Evre- Evremond, Governor of Duck Island, who died beyond
u?no3.ep the age of 90. Although a Frenchman and, nominally
at least, a Eoman Catholic, he was buried amongst the English
poets, and, in spite of his questionable writings, was com-
Aphara memorated here, ' inter pr&stantiores csvi sni scriptores.' 2
20, 1689. Aphara Behn,3 the notorious novelist, happily has not
reached beyond the East Cloister. Her epitaph ran —
Here lies a proof that wit can never be
Defence enough against mortality.
Beside her lies her facetious friend, the scandalous satirist and
Tom Brown, essayist, Tom Brown, who had defiled and defied the
1704. Abbey during his whole literary life. The inscrip-
tion prepared for him has by this juxtaposition a meaning
which Dr. Drake, its author, never intended — Inter concelebres
requiescit.4
Next came the age of the ' Tatler ' and ' Spectator.' Steele,
editor of the first, is buried at his seat near Carmarthen,
steeie, 1729. His second wife, ' his dearest Prue,' is laid amongst
De"c'. so, ee' the poets.5 But the great funeral of this circle is
1 710
that of Addison. The last serene moments of his
1 Pope, iii. 365. ' Behn,' as in Pope's line—' The stage
* St. Evremond ' died renouncing the ' how loosely does Astraea ^ead ! '
' Christian religion. Yet the Church * Crull> P- 346' Mr- Lod8e has SU8-
' of Westminster thought fit to give &ested to me that his burial at West-
' his body room in the Abbey, and to minster is in some degree explained,
' allow him to be buried there gratis ' or at least illustrated, by the fact that
The monument was erected by one he was chosen to write the inscription
of the Prebendaries, Dr. Birch 'on on Bish°P Fell's monument in Christ
' account of the old acquaintance be- Church, Oxford (Brown's Works, iv.
' tween St. Evremond and his patron 255> 7th ed')' wnicl1 was tne more
' Waller.' Such is the cynical account remarka*>le as coming from the author
of Atterbury. (Letters, iii. 117, 125.) of the famous epigram on Dr. Fell.
5 For their correspondence see
In the Eegister she is called ' Astrea Thackeray's Humourists (pp. 137-46).
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 265
life were at Warwick House. ' See how a Christian can
' die.'
His body lay in state in the Jerusalem Chamber, and was borne
Joseph thence to the Abbey at dead of night. The choir sang a
died'jmieiz, funeral hymn. Bishop Atterbury, one of those Tories who
JMuiTwf11116 ka<^ l°ved and honoured the most accomplished of the Whigs,
His funeral. met the corpse, and led the procession by torchlight, round
the shrine of St. Edward and the graves of the Plantagenets, to the
Chapel of Henry VII.1
The spot selected was the vault in the north aisle of that
Chapel, in the eastern recess 2 of which already lay the coffins
of Monk and his wife, Montague Earl of Sandwich, and the
two Halifaxes. Craggs was to follow within a year. Into that
recess, doubtless in order to rest by the side of his patron,
Montague Earl of Halifax, the coffin of Addison was lowered.
At the head of the vault, Atterbury officiated as Dean, in his
prelate's robes. Bound him stood the Westminster scholars,
with their white tapers, dimly lighting up the fretted aisle.
One3 of them has left on record the deep impression left on
them by the unusual energy and solemnity of Atterbury's
sonorous voice. Close by was the faithful friend of the departed
— Tickell, who has described the scene in poetry yet more
touching than Macaulay's prose : —
Can I forget the dismal night that gave
My soul's best part for ever to the grave ?
How silent did his old companions tread,
By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead.
Through breathing statues, then unheeded things,
Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings !
What awe did the slow solemn knell inspire,
The pealing organ and the pausing choir ;
The duties by the lawn-rob'd prelate pay'd :
And the last words that dust to dust convey'd !
While speechless o'er thy closing grave we bend,
Accept these tears, thou dear departed friend.
Oh, gone for ever ; take this long adieu ;
And sleep in peace, next thy lov'd Montague.
Ne'er to those chambers where the mighty rest
Since their foundation came a nobler guest :
1 Macaulay's Essays (8vo, 1853), iii. division was at that time empty.
443. describe the locality as I myself saw it
2 The opening to the vault is im- at night when the vault was opened in
mediately on entering the north aisle 1SG7. See Appendix.
of the Chapel. Its nearer cr western 3 Autobiography of BisJwp Newton.
266 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss convey'd
A fairer spirit or more welcome shade.
' It is strange tbat neither his opulent and noble widow, nor any of
his powerful and attached friends, should have thought of placing even
a simple tablet, inscribed with his name, on the walls of the Abbey. It
was not till three generations had laughed and wept over his pages
that the omission was supplied by the public veneration. At length,
in our own time, his image, skilfully graven, appeared in Poets'
Corner.1 It represents him, as we can conceive him, clad
of°Ad"ison, in his dressing-gown, and freed from his wig, stepping from
808' his parlour at Chelsea into his trim little garden, with the
account of the Everlasting Club, or the Loves of Hilpa and Shalum,
just finished for the next day's " Spectator," in his hand. Such a
mark of national respect was due to the unsullied statesman, to the
accomplished scholar, to the master of pure English eloquence, to the
consummate painter of life and manners. It was due, above all, to
the great satirist, who alone knew how to use ridicule without abusing
it — who, without inflicting a wound, effected a great social reform,
and who reconciled wit and virtue after a long and disastrous sepa-
ration, during which wit had been led astray by profligacy, and virtue
by fanaticism.'2
Ten years after followed a funeral of which the inward
contrast in the rnidst of outward likeness to that of Addison is
complete. As he, for the sake of his beloved patron, Montague,
had been laid apart from the rest of the poetic tribe in the
wuiiam Chapel of the Tudors, in the far east of the Church,
died Jan.'i9, so Congreve was laid almost completely separated
26, 1728-9.' from them in the Nave, in the neighbourhood if not
HIS funeral, in the vault of his patroness — Henrietta Godolphin,
the second Duchess of Marlborough. By that questionable
alliance he, amongst the Westminster notables, the worst
corrupter, as Addison the noblest purifier, of English literature,
was honoured with a sumptuous funeral, also from the Jerusalem
Chamber ; and with the same strange passion which caused
the Duchess to have a statue of him in ivory, moving by clock-
work, placed daily at her table, and a wax doll, whose feet
were regularly blistered and anointed by the doctors, as Con-
greve's had been when he suffered from the gout,3 she erected
1 The intention of placing the monu- the Kitcat collection, and in Queen's
ment on the grave of Thomas of Wood- College, Oxford.
stock, inside the Confessor's Chapel, - Macaulay's Essays (8vo, 1853), iii.
was happily frustrated. (Gent. Mag., 443. — To this must be added the recent
1808, p. 1088.) The face was copied inscription of Tickell's verses over his
by Westmacott from the portraits in grave by Lord Ellesmere.
3 Macaulay's Essays, vi. 531.
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 267
the monument to him at the west end of the church, com-
memorating the ' happiness and honour which she had enjoyed
' in her intercourse.' ' Happiness, perhaps,' exclaimed her
inexorable mother, the ancient Sarah ; ' she cannot say
' honour ! ' Yet, though private partiality may have fixed
the spot, his burial in the Abbey was justified by the fame
which attracted the visit of Voltaire to him, as to the chief
representative of English literature ; l which won from Dryden
the praise of being next to Shakspeare ; from Steel e the homage
of ' Great Sir, great author,' whose ' awful name was known '
by barbarians ; and from Pope, the Dedication of the Iliad,
and the title of Ultimas Romanorum. And there is a fitness in
HIS monu- ^he place °f his monument, ' of the finest Egyptian
' marble,' by the door where many, who there enjoy
their first view of the most venerable of English sanctuaries,
may thankfully recall the impressive lines in which he, with a
feeling beyond his age. first described the effect of a great
cathedral on the awestruck beholder —
All is hush'd and still as death. — Tis dreadful !
How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arch'd and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made stedfast and immovable,
Looking tranquillity ! It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a dullness to my trembling heart.
He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet ;
be feels what he remembers to have felt before ; but he feels it with
great increase of sensibility : he recognises a familiar image, but meets
it again amplified and expanded, embellished with beauty, and enlarged
with majesty.2
We return to the South Transept. Matthew Prior claimed
a place there, as well by his clever and agreeable verses, as by
Matthew his diplomatic career and his connection with West-
sept!'25?ned minster School. The monument, 'as a last piece of
' human vanity,' was provided by his son : the bust
was a present from Louis XIV., whom he had known on his
1 Congreve himself judged more his monument. (See the whole story
wisely. ' I wish to be visited on no discussed in Thackeray's Humourists,
' other footing than as a gentleman p. 78 ; see also pp. 61, 80.)
' who leads a life of plainness and '-' Johnson, ii. 197, 198.
' simplicity.' Such is his appearance on
268 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
embassy to Paris, and may serve to remind us of his rebuke to
the Great Monarch when he replied at Versailles, ' I represent
' a king who not only fights battles, but wins them.' The in-
scription was by Dr. Freind, Head Master of Westminster, ' in
' honour of one who had done so great honour to the school.' 1
I had not strength enough [writes Atterbury] to attend Mr. Prior
to his grave, else I would have done it, to have shown his friends that
I had forgot and forgiven what he wrote to me. He is buried, as he
desired, at the feet of Spenser, and I will take care to make good in
every respect what I said to him when living ; particularly as to the
triplet he wrote for his own epitaph ; which, while we were in good
terms, I promised him should never appear on his tomb while I was
Dean of Westminster.2
Ten years afterwards another blow fell on the literary
circle. Gay's ' Fables,' written for the education of the Duke
John Gay, of Cumberland, still attract English children to his
died Dec. 4, .
1732. monument. But his playful, amiable character can
only be appreciated by reading the letters of his contemporaries.3
' We have all had,' writes Dr. Arbuthnot,4 ' another loss, of our
' worthy and dear friend Dr. Gay. It was some alleviation of
' my grief to see him so universally lamented by almost every-
' body, even by those who only knew him by reputation. He
* was interred at Westminster Abbey, as if he had been a peer
' of the realm ; and the good Duke of Queensberry, who lamented
' him as a brother, will set up a handsome monument upon
HIS funeral, ' him.' His body was brought by the Company of
Upholders from the Duke of Queensberry's to Exeter
Change, and thence to the Abbey, at eight o'clock in the
winter evening. Lord Chesterfield and Pope were present
amongst the mourners.5 He had already, two months before
his death, desired —
My dear Mr. Pope, whom I love as my own soul, if you survive me,
as you certainly will, if a stone shall mark the place of my grave, see
these words put upon it —
Life is a jest, and all things show it ;
I thought it once, but now I know it,
with what else you may think proper.
1 Biog. Brit. v. 3445. ' In every friend we lose a part of our-
2 Pope, x. 382. — The triplet was : ' selves, and the best part. God keep
To me 'tis given to die— to you 'tis given ' those we have left : few are worth
To live : a'.as ! one moment sets us even — ' praying for, and one's self the least of
Mark how impartial is the will of Heaven. * a^_' (Pope, iii. 378.)
1 ' Good God ! how often we are to 4 Pope, ix. 208, 209.
' die before we go quite off this stage ! s Biog. Brit. iv. 2167, 2187.
CHAP. iv. OF THE POETS. 269
His wish was complied with.1 The conclusion specially points
to his place of burial :
These are thy honours ! not that here thy bust
Is mix'd with heroes, nor with kings thy dust,
But that the worthy and the good shall say,
Striking their pensive bosoms — ' Here lies Gay.'
This last line, which was altered 2 at the suggestion of Swift,
' is so dark that few understand it, and so harsh when it is
' explained that still fewer approve it.' 3
With Gay is concluded, as far as the Abbey is concerned,
the last of the brilliant circle of friends whose mutual corre-
spondence and friendship give such an additional interest to
pope, died their graves. One of these, however, we sorely miss.
May so, < j jiave ^QQ^ told of one Pope,' says Goldsmith's
Tu^ken* Chinese philosopher, as he wanders through Poets'
imm. Corner murmuring at the obscure names of which he
had never heard before : ' Is he there ? ' ' It is time enough,'
replied his guide, ' these hundred years : he is not long dead :
' people have not done hating him yet.' It was not, however,
the hate of his contemporaries that kept his bust out of the
Abbey,4 but his own deliberate wish to be interred, by the
side 5 of his beloved mother, in the central aisle of the parish
church of Twickenham : and his epitaph, composed by himself,
is inscribed on a white marble tablet above the gallery—
His epitaph. For one that would not be buried in Westminster Abbey.
Heroes and kings ! your distance keep,
In peace let one poor poet sleep,
Who never flatter'd folks like you :
Let Horace blush, and Virgil too.
The ' Little Nightingale,' who withdrew from the boisterous
company of London to those quiet shades, only to revisit them
in his little chariot like ' Homer in a nutshell,' 6 naturally rests
there at last.
With Pope's secession the line of poets is broken for a time.
1 To make room for the monument, 3 Johnson, iii. 215.
Butler's bust (by permission of Alder- 4 p0pe jjj 332
man Barber) was removed to its pre-
sent position. (Chapter Book, October His fihal PietJ excels
31 1733 ) Whatever genuine story tells.'
2 From ' striking their aching bo- (Swift.)
' soms.' (Biog. Brit. iv. 2187.) 8 Thackeray's Humourists, p. 207.
270 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
None whose claims rested on their poetic merits alone were,
Thomson, a^er him, buried within the Abbey, till quite our own
buried at days. Thomson, whose bust appears by the side of
Richmond, r . .
1/84; hu Shakspeare's monument, was interred in the parish
monument .
in the church of his own favourite Eichmond —
Abbey,
erected May
10> 1762- In yonder grave a Druid lies.1
Gray could be buried nowhere but in that country church-
yard of Stoke Pogis, which he has rendered immortal by his
Gray, buried Elegy, and in which he anticipates his rest. His
Pogis, i7n. monument, however, is placed by Milton's ; and, both
by the art of the sculptor, and the verses inscribed upon it by
his friend Mason, is made to point not unfitly to Milton, thus
Mason, completing that cycle of growing honour which we
A«ton, in saw beginning with the tablet of Philips.2 And next
1797. s ' to this cenotaph is also, in a natural sequence, that of
Mason himself, with an inscription by his own friend Hurd.
It may be well to take advantage of this pause in the
succession to mark the memorials of other kinds of genius,
HISTORICAL which have intermingled with the more strictly poetic
AISLE. vein. Isaac Casaubon,3 interesting not only for his
dfeSd j^y'i « great learning, but as one of those Protestants of the
leu. seventeenth century who, like Grotius and Grabe,
looked with a kindly eye on the older Churches, had, on the
death of his French patron Henri IV., received from James I.
(although a layman) prebendal stalls at Canterbury, but
' lieth entombed,' says Fuller, ' in the south aisle 5 of West-
' minster Abbey ; ' who then adds, with an emphasis which
marks this tomb as the first in a new and long succession, ' not
' in the east or poetical side thereof where Chaucer, Spenser,
' Dray ton are interred, but on the west or historical side of the
' aisle.' His monument was made by Stone for £60 at the
cost of ' Thomas Morton, Bishop of Durham, that great lover
' of learned men, dead or alive.' 6 Next to it, and carrying on
1 Collins's Ode. was laid the historian of the Scottish
2 See p. 261. gpottis- Church, Archbishop Spottis-
8 Spelt Causabon in the Register. woode, Nov. woode. He had intended to
Mrs. Causabon was buried in the clois- 26,1639. ^e buried in Scotland, but
ters, March 11, 1635-36. (Register.) the difficulty of removal from London
4 The Register says July 8. and the King's wish prevailed in favour
6 His grave, however, was ' at the of the Abbey. (Grub's Eccl. History of
' entrance of St. Benedict's Chapel.' Scotland, iii. 66.)
(Register.) Near the same spot not 8 Walpole's Painters, 242. About
long afterwards (November 29, 1639) the same time was buried in an un-
CHAP. iv. OF THE SCHOLARS. 271
the same affinity, is the bust of William Camden, by his close
connection with Westminster, as its one lay Head-master, and
Camden, as the Prince of English antiquaries, well deserving
buried Xov. . Jf ,,.,,. 1-1,
10, 1623. his place in this ' Broad Aisle, 1 in which he was
laid with great pomp ; all the College of Heralds attending the
funeral of their chief. Christopher Button preached ' a good
' modest sermon.' 2 ' Both of these plain tombs,' adds Fuller,
marking their peculiar appearance at the time, ' made of white
' marble, show the simplicity of their intentions, the candid-
' ness of their natures, and perpetuity of their memories.' On
casaubon's Isaac Casaubon's tablet is left the trace of another
monument. < candid and simple nature.' Izaak Walton,3 — who
may in his youth have seen his venerable namesake, to whom
indeed Casaubon perhaps gave his Christian name, who was a
friend of his son Meric and of his patron Morton, and who loses
no occasion of commending ' that man of rare learning and
' ingenuity ' — forty years afterwards, wandering through the
South Transept, scratched his well-known monogram
Walton's on the marble, with the date 1658, earliest of those
monogram, '
unhappy inscriptions of names of visitors, wrhich have
since defaced so many a sacred space in the Abbey. O si sic
omnia! We forgive the Greek soldiers who recorded their
journey on the foot of the statue at Ipsambul ; the Platonist
who has left his name in the tomb of Barneses at Thebes ; the
Boman Emperor who has carved his attestation of Memnon's
music on the colossal knees of Amenophis. Let us, in like
manner, forgive the angler for this mark of himself in Poets'
„ , , Corner. Camden's monument long ago bore traces
Camden s
monument. Of another kind. The Cavaliers, or, as some said, the
Independents, who broke into the Abbey at night, to deface
the hearse of the Earl of Essex, 'used the like uncivil deport-
' ment towards the effigies of old learned Camden — cut in
' pieces the book held in his hand, broke off his nose, and
' otherwise defaced his visiognomy.' 4
A base villain— for certainly no person that had a right English
soul could have done it — not suffering his monument to stand without
marked and unknown grave Richard Button, who was a Prebendary, was
Hakluyt (Register), the buried (1629) in the same transept.
Hakiuyt father of English geogra- Dart, ii. 66.
. buried Nov. phers, who was educated at s Walton was born 1593, and died
26, 1616. Westminster,and in later life 1683.
became a Prebendary. See Chapter VI. * Perfect Diurnal, November 23-30,
i Register. 1646. Alluding to the book of ' Bri-
- State Papers, Nov. 21, 1623. ' tannia ' on Camden's monument.
272 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
violation whose learned leaves have so preserved the antiquities of the
nation.1
It was restored by the University of Oxford, from which,
in his earlier struggles, he had vainly sought a fellowship and
Restored a degree — one of the many instances of generous
about 1780. repentance by which Oxford has repaid her short-
comings to her eminent sons.
' Opposite his friend Camden's monument,' 2 though a little
beyond the precincts of the transept, before the entrance of
St. Nicholas's Chapel, is the grave of another antiquary, hardly
less famous — Sir Henry Spelman, buried in his eighty-
first year, by order of Charles I., with much solemnity.3
He had lived in intimacy with all the antiquarians of that
antiquarian time, and the patronage which he received, both
from Archbishop Abbott and Archbishop Laud, well agrees
with the two-sided character of the old knight, at once so
constitutional and so loyal. If ever any book was favourable
to the claims of the High Church party, it was the ' History
' of Sacrilege ; ' but even Spelman was obliged to stop his
'Glossary' at the letter *L,' because there were three M's
that scandalised the Archbishop — ' Magna Charta,' ' Magnum
' Concilium Regis,' and ' M .' At the foot of Camden's
monument the Parliamentary historian May had been buried.
' If he were a biassed and partial writer, he lieth near a good
' and true historian indeed — I mean Dr. Camden.' 4
Twiss, July Under the Commonwealth this spot was consecrated
stron^'jaiy *o the burial of theologians.5 Twiss, the Calvinist
Vicar of Newbury and Prolocutor of the Westminster 6
Assembly, Strong,7 the famous Independent, and Marshall,
1 Winstanley's Worthies (1660). one of the most learned and moderate
2 Gibson's Life of Spelman. Redmayne °^ ^e ear^y Reformers, and
* Register. 1551. ' a compiler of the first Re-
4 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 259. — The Bi son, June formed Liturgy ; and Bil-
expressive bust of Sir William Sander- 18> 1616- son, Bishop of Winchester,
Sanderson, derson, the aged historian of buried in the South Ambulatory, June
July 18, Mary Stuart, James I., and 18, 1616 — remarkable for his defence
1676,aged91. Charles I., was originally of ' Episcopacy,' for his belief in the
close to the spot where, with his wife, literal meaning of the ' Descent into
' mother of the maids of honour,' he ' Hell,' and for his noble statement of
lies in the North Transept. Evelyn the true view of Christian Bedemp-
(Memoirs, ii. 420) was present at his tion.
funeral. It was removed to make way 6 See Chapter VI. Twiss was
for Wager's monument, and now looks buried at the upper end of the poor
out from beneath that of Admiral Folks' Table, near the entry.' (Regis-
Watson, ter.) His funeral was attended by the
* Two earlier Protestant divines had whole Assembly of Divines. (Neal's
been already interred in the Abbey, Puritans, iii. 317.)
Redmayne (1551), Master of Trinity, 7 For Strong's pastoral ministrations
CHAP iv. OF THE DIVINES. 273
the famous Presbyterian preacher, were all laid here until
their disinter ment in 1661. It became afterwards no less
Marian, ^ne centre of BoyaKst divines. In the place of
£555- 23> May's1 monument was raised the tablet of Dr. Trip-
buried"' ^e^> and *nen that °f Outram, who wrote a once
outrkm70' celebrated book on Sacrifice, both Prebendaries of
A^M Westminster. Beside them rests another far greater,
also locally connected with Westminster — Isaac
burtedMa4' Barrow. Doubtless had ' the best scholar in Eng-
' land ' (as Charles II. called him when he signed
his patent for the Mastership of Trinity) died in his own great
college, he would have been interred in the vestibule of Trinity
chapel, which was to contain Newton's statue, as his portrait
hangs by the side of that of Newton in Trinity hall. It was
the singular connection of his office with Westminster School
which caused his interment under the same roof which con-
tains Newton's remains. He had come, as master after master,
to the election of Westminster scholars, and was lodged in one
of the canonical houses ' that had a little stair to it out of the
' Cloisters,' 2 which made him call it ' a man's nest.' 3 He was
there struck with high fever, and died from the opium which,
by a custom contracted when at Constantinople, he administered
to himself. ' Had it not been too inconvenient to carry him to
' Cambridge, there wit and eloquence had paid their tribute
' for the honour he has done them. Now he is laid in West-
' minster Abbey, on the learned side of the South Transept.'4
Barrow's ^is monument was erected by ' the gratitude of his
monument. < friends, a contribution not usual in that age, and a
' respect peculiar to him among all the glories of that Church.'
His epitaph was written by 'his dear friend Dr. Mapletoft.'
' His picture was never made from life, and the effigies on his
' tomb doth but little resemble him.' ' He was in person of the
in the Abbey, see Chapter VI. His down in 1710 (11). (Chapter Book,
funeral sermon was preached by February 22, 1710.)
Obadiah Sedgewick, who says that he a Lives of Ouildford and North, iii.
was ' so plain in heart, so deep in 318. Another version is that ' he died
judgment, so painful in study, so ' in mean lodgings at a Sadler's near
exact in preaching, and, in a word, ' Charing Cross, an old low-built
so fit for all the parts of the minis- ' house, which he had used for several
terial service, that I do not know his ' years.' (Dr. Pope's Life of Ward,
equal.' 107.) He had a few days before put
Dr. Pope ' into a rapture of joy ' by
1 Crull, App. xxiv. inviting him to the Lodge at Trinity.
- It was, doubtless, the ' old pre- (Ibid. 167.)
' bendal house called the Tree,' pulled 4 Life of Dr. Barrow, p. xvii.
274 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
' lesser size, lean and of extraordinary strength, of a fair and
' calm complexion, a thin skin, very susceptible of the cold ;
' his eyes gray, clear, and somewhat shortsighted ; his hair of a
' light auburn, very fine and curling.'
Above Casaubon and Barrow is the monument erected
by Harley, Earl of Oxford, to the illustrious Prussian scholar,
orabe died Grabe,1 the editor of the Septuagint and of Irenaeus,
bnried'ii7st' wno> like Casaubon, found in the Church of England
Pancras. a home m0re congenial than either Borne or Geneva
could furnish.
Looking down the Transept are three notable monuments,
united chiefly by the bond of Westminster School, but also by
Busby, that of learning and wit — Busby, South, and Vincent.
5,ui695. Busby, the most celebrated of schoolmasters before our
own time, was doubtless the genius of the place for all the
fifty-eight years in which he reigned over the School.2 To this,
and not to the Abbey, belongs his history. But the recollection
Hismonu- °^ n^s severity long invested his monument with a
ment. peculiar awe. ' His pupils,' said the profane wit of
the last century, ' when they come by, look as pale as his
' marble, in remembrance of his severe exactions.' 3 As Sir
Eoger de Coverley stood before Busby's tomb, he exclaimed,
' Dr. Busby, a great man, whipped my grandfather — a very
' great man ! I should have gone to him myself if I had not
' been a blockhead. A very great man ! ' 4 From this tomb,
it is said, all5 the likenesses of him have been taken, he having
steadily refused, during his life, to sit for his portrait. He was
buried, like a second Abbot Ware, under the black and white
marble pavement which he placed along the steps and sides of
the Sacrarium.
Under those steps was laid South, who began his career at
Westminster under Busby ; and then, after his many vicissi-
south,died tudes of political tergiversation, polemical bitterness,
buried July anc* witty preaching, was buried, as Prebendary and
Archdeacon of Westminster, ' with much solemnity,'
in his eighty-third year, by the side of his old master.6
1 Secretan's Life of Nelson, p. 223. — the same thought in Carmina Quadri-
He was buried in the Chancel of St. gesimalia, first series, p. 66.
Pancras Church, it was believed from 4 Spectator, No. 139.
a secret sympathy with the Roman * One exception must be noticed —
Catholics, who were buried in the the portrait in the Headmaster's
adjacent cemetery. house — unlike all the others, and ap-
- See Chapter VI. parently from life.
* Tom Brown, iii. 228. Compare « See Chapter VI,
CHAP. iv. OF THE THEOLOGIANS. 275
Vincent followed the two others after a long interval.1 His
relations with Westminster were still closer than theirs —
Vincent, Scholar, Under-master, Headmaster, Prebendary and
burldDec.1' Dean in succession. Still his works on ancient com-
29, IBIS. merce and navigation would almost have entitled him
to a place amongst the scholars of the Abbey, apart from his
official connection with it.
Not far from those indigenous giants of Westminster is
the monument of Antony Horneck,2 who, though a German by
Homeck, birth and education, was, with the liberality of those
buried Feb. '
4, 1696-7. times, recommended by Tillotson to Queen Mary for a
stall in the Abbey. He was ' a most pathetic preacher, a
' person of saint-like life,' 3 the glory of the Savoy Chapel,
where his enormous congregations caused it to be said that
his parish reached from Whitechapel to Whitehall. He pre-
sented the rare union of great pastoral experience, unflinching
moral courage, and profound learning. The Hebrew epitaph
bears witness to his proficiency in Biblical and Eabbinical
literature.
Another Prebendary of Westminster, Herbert Thorndyke,4
lies in the East Cloister. He had the misfortune of equally
Thorndyke, offending the Nonconformists at the Savoy Conference
is, 1672. by his supposed tendencies to the Church of Rome,
and the High Church party by his familiarity with the Mo-
ravians. In his will he withheld his money from his relatives if
they joined either the mass or the new licensed Conventicles.
And on his grave he begged that these words might be
inscribed : ' Hie jacet corpus Herberti Thorndyke, Preb.
' hujus ecclesice, qui vivus veram reformandce ecclesice rationem ac
' modum precibusque studiisque prosequebatur. Tu, lector, requiem
' ei et beatam in Christo resurrectionem precare.' 5 This wish was
not fulfilled. His gravestone, which is near the eastern entrance
to the Abbey, from the Cloister, never had any other inscrip-
tion than his name, which has lately been renewed. Beneath
another unmarked gravestone, in the North Cloister, lies Dr.
1 He is buried in St. Benedict's lies with him, died in 1668, on his re-
Chapel. See Chapter VI. turn from New England, to
- He is buried in the South Tran- a^ieeT" which he was one of the
sept. See Chapter VI. Close beside first emigrants. John's son
his monument is that of another Pre- Paul had already returned in 1663.
bendary, Samuel Barton (died Sept. 1, See Chapter VI.
1715). 5 This inscription was adduced in
3 Evelyn, iii. 78. the famous Woolfrey case.
4 His brother, John Thorndyke, who
T 2
276 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
William King, friend of Swift, and author of a long series of
Dr. wiiHam humorous and serious writings, intertwined with the
Decfar.'im. politics and literature of that time. He lies beside
his master, Dr. Knipe.
The burial of Atterbury, connected with almost every
celebrated name in the Abbey during this period, and in the
Atterbury, opinion of Lord Grenville the greatest master of English
itariediuy' prose, must be reserved for another place.1 But im-
mediately above his grave hangs the monument of a
buried011' divine whose memory casts a melancholy interest over
1694^. ^ the small entrance by which Dean after Dean has de-
scended into the Abbey : ' the favourite pupil of the great
' Newton ' — ' the favourite chaplain of Sancroft, whose early
' death was deplored by all parties as an irreparable loss to
' letters ; ' 2 the youthful pride of Cambridge, as Atterbury was
of Oxford ; perhaps, had he lived, as unscrupulous and as im-
perious as Atterbury, but with an exactitude and versatility of
learning which may keep his name fresh in the mind of students
long after Atterbury's fame has been confined to the political
history of his time. Henry Wharton, compiler of the ' Anglia
' Sacra,' died in his thirty-first year. His funeral was attended
by Archbishop Tenison and Bishop Lloyd. Sprat, as Dean,
read the service. The Westminster scholars (at that time ' an
' uncommon respect,' and ' the highest the Dean and Chapter
' can show on that occasion ') were caused to attend ; the usual
fees were remitted ; and Purcell's Anthem was sung over
his grave,3 which was close to the spot where his tablet is
seen.4
Returning towards Poets' Corner, in the south aisle of
1 See Chapter VI. Cathedral of Cashel, which he built at
* Macaulay, ii. 109. the foot of the Bock in the place of
* Life of Wharton. the beautiful church which he left in
4 In the North Aisle and Transept ruins at the top of the hill. Bishop
may here be noticed Warren, Bishop of Monk lies close by, author
Warren, Bangor (1800), with the f^lgge"1116 of the Life °f B<™ttey, con-
1800. fire monument of his wife, nected with Westminster
Bou'.ter, and the two Irish Primates both by his stall and by the magnifi-
1742- — Boulter, the munificent cent memorial of him, left by his
statesman-prelate, who ' was translated family, in the church of St. James the
' to the Archbishopric of Armagh, 1723, Less. In the South Aisle, too, must
' and from thence to Heaven, 1742 ; ' be added the Scottish Prebendary of
A 1809 and Agar, Lord Normanton, Bell ^^ Westminster, Andrew Bell,
who, in 1809, was buried in the founder of the Madras
the adjacent grave of his uncle, Lord scheme of education. (The monument
Mendip, Archbishop successively of mistakenly gives the date of his instal-
Cashel and Dublin. On his tomb is lation 1810 instead of 1819.) A third
sculptured, by his express desire, an Irish Primate, the handsome George
exact copy of the miserable modern Stone, lies' in the Nave.
CHAP. iv. OF THE MEN OF LETTERS. 277
the Choir is a monument ! which commemorates at once the in-
creasing culture of the Nonconformists and the Christian libera-
watts died nty °f the Church of England. Isaac Watts was ' one of
Ne^,geton, ' the first authors that taught the Dissenters to court
Bunhiiin ' attention by the graces of language.' We may add
Fields, 1748. £hat Jle was Qne Qf ^he £rg^ jf no^ ^he ftj-g^ wko ma(Je
sacred poetry the vehicle of edification and instruction. He was
the Keble of the Nonconformists and of the eighteenth century.
Before the ' Christian Year,' no English religious poems were so
popular as his ' Psalms and Hymns.' ' Happy ' says the great
contemporary champion of Anglican orthodoxy, 'will be that
Charles « reader whose mind is disposed, by his verses or his
Wesley, r ' J
buried in < prose, to imitate him in all but his Nonconformity, to
Murylebone, •*•
' copy his benevolence to men and his reverence to God.'2
His monument was erected a century after his death,
Koadchapei, and now, after nearly another century, close by has been
raised a memorial to the two Wesleys, inscribed with
Monument,
i«76. their characteristic sayings, taken from their respective
tombs, and sculptured with the faces of the two brothers, and
the scene of John's preaching.
Meanwhile, the ' Historical or Learned Aisle ' of the South
Transept had overflowed into that part which was especially
MEN op entitled Poets' Corner. The blending of poet, divine,
LKTTEKS. scholar, and historian in the same part of the Abbey
is a testimony to the necessary union of learning with imagina-
tion, of fact with fiction, of poetry with prose ; a protest against
the vulgar literary heresy which denies Clio to be a muse.
The ' Divine Spirit ' ascribed to Poetry on the monument of
Spenser is seen to inspire a wider range. The meeting-point
between the two is in the group of ' men of letters,' properly
so called, which gathered round Shakspeare's monument — the
cluster of names familiar through Boswell's ' Life of Johnson.'
Goldsmith, Goldsmith was the first to pass away. ' I remem-
4, 1774, and < ber once,' said Dr. Johnson, ' being with Goldsmith
buried at the -rTT, ., . -, ,•,
Temple. * m Westminster Abbey. While we surveyed the
' Poets' Corner, I said to him —
' Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.
1 It was erected at the beginning 2 Johnson's Poets, iii. 248. Speaker
of this century, but ' was mutilated by Onslow, after his last visit to him,
' the hand of wantonness ' before 1810. ' thought he saw a man of God after his
(Life of Dr. Watts, p. xlix.) It has ' death devoutly laid out. May my soul
been recently repaired by the Noncon- 'be where his soul now is!' (Mem.
formats. of Watts, 310.)
278 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
' When we got to Temple Bar he stopped me, pointed to the
' heads [of the Jacobites] upon it, and slily whispered me—
' Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.' l
It is his name only, not his dust, that is mingled with the Poets.
He lies on the north side of the Temple Church, under a grave-
stone erected in this century. But ' whatever he wrote, he did
' it better than any other man could do. He deserved a place
' in Westminster Abbey, and every year he lived would have
' deserved it better.' 2 It had been intended that he should
have his burial in the Abbey, but the money which a public
funeral would have cost was reserved for his monument.3
It is on the south wall of the South Transept — in a
situation selected by the most artistic, and with an inscription
composed by the most learned, of his admirers. Sir Joshua
Keynolds fixed the place. Dr. Johnson exemplified, in his in-
scription, the rule which he had sternly laid down for others, by
writing it not in English, but in Latin. In vain was the
famous round-robin addressed to him by all his friends, none
of whom had the courage to address him singly, to petition
that
the character of the deceased as a writer, particularly as a poet, is
perhaps not delineated with all the exactness which Dr. Johnson is
capable of giving it : we therefore, with deference to his superior
judgment, humbly request that he would at least take the trouble of
revising it, and of making such additions and alterations as he shall
think proper upon a further perusal. But if we might venture to
express our wishes, they would lead us to request that he would write
the epitaph in English rather than in Latin, as we think that the
memory of so eminent an English writer ought to be perpetuated in
the language to which his works are likely to be so lasting an orna-
ment, .which we also know to have been the opinion of the late Doctor
himself.4
Sir Joshua agreed to carry it to Dr. Johnson, ' who received
' it with much good humour, and desired Sir Joshua to tell the
Goldsmith's 'gentlemen that he would alter the epitaph in any
epitaph. < manner they pleased, as to the sense of it, but he
would never consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster
1 Boswell's Johnson, ii. 225. An printed privately at the Chiswick Press
interesting application of this incident p. 5.)
occurs in some verses on a stranger who 2 Boswell's Johnson, iv. 108.
encountered the poet Rogers wandering * Life of Reynolds, ii. 71.
through Poets' Corner. (Fasciculus, * Boswell's Johnson, iii. 449.
CHAP. iv. OF THE MEN OF LETTERS. 279
' Abbey with an English inscription ; ' adding, ' I wonder that
' Joe Warton, a scholar by profession, should be such a fool. I
' should have thought too that Mund Burke would have had
' more sense.' ! One mistake in detail was afterwards discovered
as to the date 2 of Goldsmith's birth. The expression ' physicus,'
as Boswell says, ' is surely not right.' Johnson himself used to
say, ' Goldsmith, sir, will give us a very fine book on this sub-
'ject; but if he can distinguish a cow from a horse, that, I
' believe, is the extent of his knowledge of natural history.' 3
But the whole inscription shows the supreme position which
Goldsmith occupied in English literature ; and one expression,
at least, has passed from it into the proverbial Latin of man-
kind—
Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit.4
The giant of the circle was next to fall. Johnson, a few days
before his death,
had asked Sir John Hawkins, as one of his executors, where he
Johnson, should be buried ; and on being answered, ' Doubtless in
burled'oec?' ' Westminster Abbey,' seemed to feel a satisfaction, very
20, 1784. natural to a poet ; and, indeed, very natural to every man
of any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be
laid with bis fathers. Accordingly, upon Monday, December 20, his
remains [enclosed in a leaden coffin] were deposited in that noble
and renowned edifice [in the Soutb Transept, near tbe foot of Shak-
speare's monument, and close to the coffin of his friend Garrick] ; and
over bis grave was placed a large blue flagstone with name and age.
His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends,
particularly such of the members of the Literary Club as were in
town ; and was also honoured with the presence of several of tbe
Keverend Chapter of Westminster. Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks,
Mr. Windham, Mr. Langton, Sir Charles Bunbury, and Mr. Colman
bore bis pall. His schoolfellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful
office of reading the Burial Service.5
A flagstone with his name and date alone marks the spot.
The monument6 long intended to be placed on it was at last
transferred to St. Paul's.7
1 Boswell's Johnson, iii. 449. the order for its admission in the Chap-
2 1731 for 1728. (Ibid. iii. 448.) ter Book' March 17> 179°-
s Ibi(j iij 449 ' Life of Reynolds. The discus-
sion of the proposed epitaphs between
« NiMumscnbendi genus quod iettgit Parr> ReynoidS) and Lord stowell fills
non ornavit. (Epitaph.) thirty pages in Dr Parr,g Works, iv.
s Boswell's Johnson, v. 351, 352. 680-713. For the appropriateness of
6 The proposal for its erection occurs the statue at St. Paul's, see Milman's
in the private records of the Club, and Annals, 481.
280 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
Within a few feet of Johnson lies (by one of those striking
coincidences in which the Abbey abounds) his deadly enemy,
Macpherson, James Macpherson, the author or editor of ' Ossian.'
buried6 ' ' Though he died near Inverness, his body, according to
i7%? his will, was carried from Scotland, and buried ' in the
' Abbey Church of Westminster, the city in which he had
' passed the greatest and best part of his life.'
The last links in that group are the two dramatists, Richard
Cumberland and Richard Brinsley Sheridan, both buried close
cmnber'and, *° Shakspcare's statue. At Cumberland's funeral a
bJfriedMay funeral oration was delivered — perhaps the last of its
kind — by Dean Vincent, his former schoolfellow1 at
died July 7, Westminster. When Sheridan was dying, in the eX-
buried July * °7
is, 1816. tremity of poverty, an article appeared from a generous
enemy in the ' Morning Post,' saying that relief should be given
before it was too late : ' Prefer ministering in the chamber of
' sickness ' to ministering at ' the splendid sorrows that adorn
' the hearse ' — ' life and succour against Westminster Abbey and
' a funeral.' But it was too late ; and Westminster Abbey and
the funeral, with all the pomp that rank could furnish, wras the
alternative. It was this which suggested the remark of a
French journal : ' France is the place for a man of letters to live
' in, and England the place for him to die in.' 2
Two cenotaphs close the eighteenth century in Poets'
Corner, under the tablet of St. Evremond. One is that of
Christopher Christopher Anstey, the amiable author of the ' New
budeTat ' Bath Guide ' — probably the most popular satire of
Bath, isos. f.naf. time, though now receding into the obscurity
enveloping the Bath society which it describes. The other,
remarkable by the contrast which it presents to the memorial
of the worldly-minded wit of Charles II. 's age, is that of the
Granviiie Christian chivalry and simplicity of Granville Sharp,
Sharp, died ... ' ,11 f , • 1 7-
July i, isia, belonging more properly to the noble army of Aboli-
Fuiham. tionists on the other side of the Abbey, but claiming
its place among the men of letters by his extensive though
eccentric learning.3 The monument, with its kneeling negro,
and its lion and lamb, was erected by the African Institution ;
and the inscription commemorating the most scrupulously
1 Notes and Queries, second series, * Hoare's Life of Granville Sluirp,
ii. 46. p. 472. For his character, see Stephen's
2 Moore's Life of Slieridan, ii. 461. Eccl. Biog. ii. 312-321.
CHAP. iv. OF THE MEN OF LETTERS. 281
orthodox of men was, by a curious chance, the composition of
the Unitarian, William Smith.
The remaining glories of Poets' Corner1 belong to our own
time and to the future. It would seem as if, during the open-
ing of this century, the place for once had lost its charm. Of
campbeii, that galaxy of poets which ushered in this epoch,
Boulogne, Campbell alone has achieved there both grave and
buried juiy monument, on which is inscribed the lofty hope of
rienry 'cary, immortality from his own ode on ' The Last Man.'
1844] ' Close beside him, and within a month, but beneath an
unmarked gravestone,2 was laid Cary, the graceful and accurate
translator of Dante. Of those who took part in the vast re-
vival of our periodical literature the only one who rests here is
the founder of the 'Quarterly Review,' William Gifford.3 Of
wiiiiam the three greatest geniuses of that period, two (Burns
8, 182/V ' and Walter Scott) sleep at Dumfries and at Dryburgh,
under their own native hills ; the third (Byron) lies at New-
Byron, died stead. ' We cannot even now retrace the close of the
lo^hT" ' brilliant and miserable career of the most celebrated
buried1^ ' Englishman of the nineteenth century, without feeling
juTS2iad> ' something of what was felt by those who saw the
1824. ' < hearse with its long train of coaches4 turn slowly
' northwards, leaving behind it that cemetery which had been
' consecrated by the dust of so many great poets, but of which
' the doors were closed against all that remained of Byron.' 5
Hard trial to the guardians of the Abbey at that juncture :
let us not condemn either him or them too harshly, but
rather ponder his own description of himself in the speech of
1 In the Cloisters is the tablet of the venerable Archdeacon) remembers how
humourist, Bonnell Thornton, friend he sacrificed his breakfast by running
Thornton °^ Warton, who wrote his into Great George Street to see the
1768. epitaph; and the grave and funeral pass.
Chambers, monument of Ephraim 5 Macaulay's Essays, ii. 338. — It
buried May Chambers, the eccentric was understood that an unfavourable
21, 1740. sceptical philosopher, the answer would be given to any applica-
Father of Cyclopaedias, who wrote his tion to inter Byron in the Abbey.
own epitaph — ' Multis pervulgatus, (Moore's Life, vi. 221.) He was buried
' paucis notus, qui vitam, inter lucem et in the village church at Hucknall, near
' umbram, nee eruditus nee idioticis Newstead. The question was revived
' literis deditus, transegitS on the suggestion that the statue of
2 An inscription was first added in Byron by Thorwaldsen should be ad-
1868. mitted. This also was refused, and the
3 In the same grave was afterwards refusal caused an angry altercation in
buried his early school- the House of Lords between Lord
Sept^'iws fellow. Dean Ireland (died Brougham and Bishop Blomfield. See
Sept. 2, buried Sept. 8, 1842). Appendix to Lord Broughton's Travels
4 A lively Westminster boy (now a in Albania, vol. i. pp. 522-544.
282 THE MONUMENTS CHAP, iv'
Manfred's Abbot. Coleridge, poet and philosopher, rests at
Highgate ; and when Queen Emrna, from the Islands of the
Pacific, asked in the Abbey for a memorial of the author of the
southey, ' Ancient Mariner,' she asked in vain. Southey and
Wordsworth have been more fortunate. Though they
res^ by the lakes they loved so well, Southey 's bust
l°°ks down upon us from over the shoulder of Shak-
i85oUburied 8Peare > an^ Wordsworth, by the sentiment of a kins-
atcrasmere. man> is seated in the Baptistery — not unsuited to the
innocent presence of childhood at the sacred font — not un-
worthy to make that angle of the Nave the nucleus of a new
Poets' Corner of future years. Beside him, by a like concord of
ideas, has been erected by almost the sole munificence of a gene-
Kebie,died rous admirer — Edward Twisleton — the bust of Keble,
mouttT16" author of the ' Christian Year,' who himself wrote the
i866Cburied reverential epitaph on "Wordsworth's monument at
He?tert'ey' Grasmere, and who, if by his prose he represents an
atBemerton ecclesiastical party, by his poetry belongs to the
?8oopbnried w^°le °f English Christendom. The stained glass
atDereham. ai)OVe, given by a citizen of the United States, com-
memorates two sacred poets, alike connected with Westminster
in their early days, and representing in their gentle strains the
two opposite sides of the English Church — George Herbert and
William Cowper.
A poet of another kind, Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton,
whose indefatigable labours in the various branches of literature
reached over a period of half a century, lies apart,
1873. ur ' in the Chapel of St. Edmund, amongst the ancient
nobles, and by the side of a warrior whose fall on the field
of Barnet he had celebrated in one of the best of his romances.
We return to the western aisle of the South Transept.
There lies the brilliant poet and historian who, perhaps of all
who have trod the floor of the Abbey, or lie buried within its
precincts, most deeply knew and felt its manifold interests,
Macauiay, an^ most unceasingly commemorated them. Lord
iw9,1burfed' Macauiay rests at the foot of the statue of Addison,
Jan. 9, iseo. Wh0se character and genius none had painted as he ;
carrying with him to his grave the story of the reign of Queen
Anne, which none but he could adequately tell. And. whilst,
from one side of that statue, his bust looks towards the Royal
Sepulchres, in the opposite niche is enshrined that of another
no less profound admirer of the ' Spectator,' who had often
CHAP. iv. OF THE ACTOES. 283
expressed his interest in the spot as he wandered through
Thackeray, the Transept — William Makepeace Thackeray. Close
ises, buried under the bust of Thackeray lies Charles Dickens, not,
at Kensal . J
Green. it may be, his equal in humour, nut more than his
equal in his hold on the popular mind, as \vas shown in the
intense and general enthusiasm evinced over his grave. The
funeral, according to Dickens's urgent and express desire in his
will, was strictly private. It took place at an early hour in the
summer morning, the grave having been dug in secret the
night before, and the vast solitary space of the Abbey was oc-
cupied only by the small band of the mourners and the Abbey
Clergy, who, without any music except the occasional peal of
the organ, read the funeral service. For days the spot was
visited by thousands ; many were the flowers strewn upon it by
unknown hands, many were the tears shed by the poorer
visitors. He rests beside Sheridan, Garrick, and Henderson.
In the same transept, close by the bust of Camden and Casau-
bon, lie in the same grave Grote and Thirlwall, both scholars
together at Charterhouse, both historians of Greece, the philo-
sophic statesman and the judicial theologian.
The dramatists, who complete the roll of the writers of the
eighteenth century, throw us back on another succession of
notables whose entrance into the Abbey is itself signifi-
"" cant, from the contrast which it brings out between the
French and the English Church in reference to the stage. In
France ' the sacraments were denied to actors who refused to
' repudiate their profession,1 and their burial was the burial
' of a dog. Among these was the beautiful and gifted Le
' Couvreur. She died without having abjured the profession
' she had adorned, and she was buried in a field for cattle
' on the banks of the Seine- . . . Moliere was the object of
' especial denunciation ; and when he died, it was with extreme
' difficulty that permission could be obtained to bury him in
' consecrated ground. The religious mind of Eacine recoiled
' before the censure. He ceased to write for the stage when
' in the zenith of his powers ; and an extraordinary epitaph,
' while recording his virtues, acknowledges that there was one
' stain upon his memory— that he had been a dramatic poet.'
The same view of the stage has also prevailed in the Calvinistic
1 A curious exception was made in favour of the singers at the opera,
who, by an ingenious fiction, were considered part of the Royal Household of
France.
284 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
Churches. On the other hand, the Italian Church, with the
Pope at its head, has always regarded the profession of actors
as innocent, if not laudable ; and with this has, on the whole,
agreed the practice of the Church of England. The reward of
its forbearance has been that, ' if we except the short period of
' depravity which followed the Eestoration, the English theatre
' has been that in which the moralist can find least to condemn.' *
Of this triumph of the stage — of this proof of the toleration
of the English Church towards it — "Westminster Abbey is the
crowning scene ; and probably through this alone has won a
place in the French literature of the last century.2 Not only
has it included under its walls the memorials of the greatest of
dramatists, and also those whose morality is the most obnoxious
to complaint, but it has opened its doors to the whole race of
illustrious actors and actresses. A protest indeed, as we have
Anne oid- seen, was raised against the epitaph of Shadwell, and
Oct. 27, 1730. also against the monument of Anne Oldfield:
Some papers from the Honourable Brigadier Churchill, asking
leave to put up in the Abbey a monument and an inscription to the
memory of the late Mrs. Oldfield, being this day delivered in Chapter
to the Lord Bishop of Eochester and Dean of the said Church, and
tbe same being examined and read, his lordship the Dean was pleased
to declare that he was so far from thinking tbe matter therein pro-
posed proper to be granted, that he could neither consent to it
himself, nor put any question to tbe Chapter concerning it.3
But, even in this extreme case, the funeral had been permitted.
Her extraordinary grace of manner drew a veil over her
many failings : —
There was sucb a composure in her looks, and propriety in her
347 354 °f Eationalism> H' Ont part au temple consacre a la
« O' rivale d'Athenes ! 6 Londres, heu- Et L^vreur a Londres aurait eu des
reuse terre! tombeaux
Ainsi que les tyrans vous avez su Parmi k beaux rft j roig t j
Les prejuges honteux qui vous livraient Quiconque' a des talens a Londres est
m guerre. un grand homme.
recorT ^ ' L'abondance et la libertS
XT i 'ef' • , . Ont. apres deux mille ans, chez vous
Nul art n'est meprise, tout succes a sa ressuscite
T 0 , ™1, . A T 11 ^ i £i j i L'esprit de la Grece et de Eome. —
Le vamqueur de Tallard, le fils de la „ ,. . r, „,
victoire Voltaire s Ode on the Death, of Liecou-
Le sublime Dryden et le sage Addison, vreur> voh x- 36°- (OphUs = Oldfield.)
£t la charmante Ophils et 1'immortel
Newton Chapter Book, February 20, 1736.
CHAP. iv. OF THE ACTORS. 285
dress, that you would think it impossible she could change the garb
you one day saw her in for anything so becoming, till the next day
you saw her in another. There was no mystery in this but that,
however apparelled, herself was the same ; for there is an immediate
relation between our thoughts and our gestures, that a woman must
think well to look well.1
She was brought in state to the Jerusalem Chamber, and
buried, with the utmost pomp, at the west end of the Nave.
Her grave is in a not unsuitable place, beneath the monu-
ment of Congreve. Here she lies, ' buried ' (according to the
testimony of her maid, Elizabeth Saunders) ' in a very fine
' Brussels lace head, a Holland shift, and double ruffles of the
' same lace, a pair of new kid gloves, and her body wrapped in
' a winding-sheet.'
' Odious ! in woollen ! 'twould a saint provoke,'
Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke ;
' No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace
' Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face :
' One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead —
' And — Betty— give this cheek a little red.' 2
Anne Bracegirdle— earlier in her career, but, by the great
age at which she died (in her eighty-sixth year), later in the
Anne Abbey— lies in the East Cloister. She was the most
b£ri£i sept, popular actress of her time.3 Mrs. Gibber lies in the
BMUUM North Cloister. ' Gibber dead ! ' exclaimed Garrick,
Gibber. 1766. ' then Tragedy expired with her.' 4 An inscription
Pricharrt. by Whitehead, in Poets' Corner, records the better
m8.at h qualities of ' Prichard, by nature for the stage de-
' signed.' 5
Of the race of male actors, first came Betterton, the Roscius
of his age. After a long life, in which he had been familiar
Betterton, with the leading wits of the reign of Charles II., he
bnned May ^^ buried in the south end of the East Cloister ; and
of no funeral of that time, except Addison's, is left a more
touching account than that by his friend Sir Richard Steele :—
Having received notice that the famous actor Mr. Betterton was to
be interred this evening in the Cloisters near Westminster Abbey, I
was resolved to walk thither, and see the last office done to a man
1 Tatler i. 104 ; iv. 152. was put in the Roman Catholic chapel,
2 Pope v 279. ' ' Prav for t^ie sou^ of Mrs. Anna Cibber.'
s Macaulav, iv. 310. (AaM.Rtg.mi.)
4 Previous* to her funeral a notice 5 Churchill's Roscmd.
286 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
whom I had always very much admired, and from whose action I had
received more strong impressions of what is great and noble in human
nature, than from the arguments of the most solid philosophers, or the
descriptions of the most charming poets I had ever read. . . . While
I walked in the Cloisters, I thought of him with the same concern as
if I waited for the remains of a person who had in real life done all
that I had seen him represent. The gloom of the place, and faint
lights before the ceremony appeared, contributed to the melancholy
disposition I was in ; and I began to be extremely afflicted that Brutus
and Cassius had any difference, that Hotspur's gallantry was so un-
fortunate, and that the mirth and good humour of Falstaff could not
exempt him from the grave. Nay, this occasion in me, who look upon
the distinctions amongst men to be merely scenical, raised reflections
upon the emptiness of all human perfection and greatness in general ;
and I could not but regret that the sacred heads which lie buried in
the neighbourhood of this little portion of earth in which my poor old
friend is deposited, are returned to dust as well as he, and that there
is no difference in the grave between the imaginary and the real
monarch.1
The memory of Betterton's acting was handed on by Barton
Booth, celebrated as the chief performer of Addison's ' Cato.'
Booth enters ; hark the universal peal !
But has he spoken ? Not a syllable !
It was said of him that as Eomeo, ' whilst Garrick seemed
Booth, died « to be drawn up to Juliet, he seemed to draw Juliet
May 10, 1733. r
buried at ' down to him.' His bust in Poets' Corner, erected by
Cowley near •/••»•- T
uxbridge. his second wife (Mrs. Laidlaw, an actress), in 177'2,
is probably as much owing to his connection with Westminster
as to his histrionic talent. He was educated at Westminster
School under Busby, from which he escaped to Ireland to in-
dulge his passion for the stage ; and he possessed property in
Westminster, called Barton Street (from his own name) and
Cowley Street (from his country residence). His surname has
acquired a fatal celebrity from his descendant, Wilkes Booth,
who followed in his ancestor's profession, and, by the knowledge
so gained, assassinated President Lincoln in Ford's Theatre at
Washington, on Good Friday, 1865.
In the North Cloister is Spranger Barry and his wife, Anne
Barry, Crawford. — ' in person taller than the common size ' —
buried Jan. *
20, 1777. famous as ' Othello ' and ' Eomeo.' In this character
he and his great rival, Garrick, played against each other so
1 Tatlcr, No. 167.
CHAP. iv. OF THE ACTORS. 287
long as to give rise to the proverb, ' Eomeo again ! a plague on
Foote, died ' ^oth your houses ! ' And in the same year, in the
buriedW. ^est Cloister, was interred the comedian, Samuel Foote,
' who pleased Dr. Johnson against his will.' ' The dog
' was so very comical — Sir, he was irresistible ! '
At last came the ' stroke of death, which eclipsed the gaiety
' of nations and impoverished the public stock of harmless
David « pleasures.' From Adelphi Terrace, where Garrick
Crurrick
died Jan. 20, died, a long line of carriages reached to the Abbey.
buried Feb. ml t
1,1779. The crowd was so dense that a military guard was
needed to keep order. Covent Garden and Drury Lane were
each represented by twelve players. The coffin was carried
through the west door. Amongst the members of the Literary
Club who attended in a body, were Eeynolds, Burke, Gibbon,
and Johnson. ' I saw old Samuel Johnson,1 says Cumberland,
* standing at the foot of Shakspeare's monument, and bathed in
' tears.' At the foot of that statue ' he was laid, by the spot
Gamete whither he was soon followed by his former preceptor.
Monument, jjis monument was raised high aloft on the opposite
wall — with all the emblems of tragic art, and with an inscription
by Pratt 2 — which has provoked the only serious remonstrance
against the introduction of these theatrical memorials, and that
not from any austere fanatic, but from the gentlest and most
genial of mortals : —
Taking a turn in the Abbey the other day [says Charles Lamb], I
was struck with the affected attitude of a figure, which, on examination,
proved to be a whole-length representation of the celebrated Mr.
Garrick. Though I would not go so far, with some good Catholics
abroad, as to shut players altogether out of consecrated ground, yet I
own I was a little scandalised at the introduction of theatrical airs and
gestures into a place set apart to remind us of the saddest realities.
Going nearer, I found inscribed under this harlequin figure a farrago
of false thoughts and nonsense.3
The last actor buried in the Abbey was John Henderson,
1 Life of Reynolds, ii. 247; Fitz- 'Davy.' (Pen and Ink Sketches, 1864.)
gerald's Garrick, ii. 445. Garrick's For her funeral, see Smith's Book for a
widow is buried with him, Rainy Day, p. 226.
Garrkkr'a *n ner wedding sheets. She I An inscription had been prepared
died Oct. 16, survived him forty-three by Burke, which was thought too long.
1822, agred years — ' a little bowed-down (Windham's Diary, p. 361.) For
Oc'tb"5ied ' °^ woman> wno went about Sheridan's Monody, see Fitzgerald's
' leaning on a gold-headed Garrick, ii. 445.
' cane, dressed in deep widow's mourn- 3 Charles Lamb's Prose Works, 25.
' ing, and always talking of her dear
288 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
whose chief parts were Shylock and Falstaff, and who first
John Hen- played Macbeth in Scottish costume. He died sud-
buriedDec. denlv in his prime, and was laid l beside Cumber-
5 1785
land and Sheridan. Two cenotaphs, now side by side,
in St. Andrew's Chapel, commemorate the two most illustrious
of the modern family of actors — Sarah Siddons and her brother,
* John Kemble. The statue of Mrs. Siddons, by Chan-
otStUG Ol ^
don^'dieT" trey (suggested by Eeynolds's portrait of her as- the
June 8, 1631. Tragic Muse) stands in colossal proportions, in a place
selected, after much deliberation, by the sculptor and the three
successive Deans of that time. The cost was defrayed by Mac-
ready, and the name affixed after a long consultation with
statue of Lord Lansdowne and Rogers. The statue of John
Kembie.1 Philip Kemble, by Hinchcliffe (after a design of Flax-
diedFeb. * . ' J .
26,1823-, man)was in 1865 moved from an inappropriate site
Lausanne, in the North Transept, with the concurrence of his
niece, Fanny Kemble. He is represented as ' Cato.'
Not altogether alien to the stage, but more congenial to the
Church, is the series of eminent musicians, who in fact formed
a connecting link between the two, which has since been
almost severed. In a humorous letter, imagined to be
written from one to the other in the nether world, of two of
the most famous of these earlier leaders of the art, they are
compared to Mahomet's coffin, equally attracted by the Theatre
and Earth — the Church and Heaven.2
Henry Lawes lies, unnamed, in the Cloisters, probably from
his place in the Chapel Eoyal under Charles I. and the Com-
Lawe= died nionwealth, in which he composed the anthem for the
burie^bct coronation of Charles II., the year before his death.
25, lees. But his chief fame arises from his connection with
Milton. He composed the music of ' Comus,' and himself acted
the part of the attendant spirit in its representation at
Ludlow ; and his reward was the sonnet which rehearses his
peculiar gift —
Harry, whose tuneful and well-measur'd lay
First taught our English music how to span
Words with just note and accent —
To after age thou shalt be writ the man
That with smooth air could humour best our tongues.
1 His wife was interred on his coffin It is also one of the complaints in the
in 1819. (See Neale, ii. 270.) London Spy (p. 187), against the
z Tom Brown's Letters from the Dead quiremen of the Abbey, that they
to the Living. (Blow and Purcell.) should ' sing at the playhouse.'
CHAP. iv. OF THE MUSICIANS. 289
Christopher Gibbons (son of the more famous ! Orlando)
also lies unmarked in the Cloisters — first of the famous
Christopher organists of the Abbey, and master of Blow.
burfeTo'ct. But the first musician who was buried within the
lurceiu'died Church — the Chaucer, as it were, of the Musicians'
SortodLkoY. Corner — was Henry Purcell,2 organist of the Abbey,
who died nearly at the same early age which was fatal
to Mozart, Schubert,3 and Mendelssohn, and was buried in the
north aisle of the Choir, close to the organ 4 which he had been
the first to raise to celebrity, and with the Anthem which he
had but a few months before composed for the funeral of Queen
Mary. The tablet above was erected by his patroness, Lady
Elizabeth Howard, the wife of Dryden, who is said to have
Epitaph on composed the epitaph5 — 'Here lies Henry Purcell,
' Esq., who left this life, and is gone to that blessed
' place where only his harmonies can be excelled.' As ' Tom
' Brown ' 6 and his boisterous companions passed this way, they
overlooked all the other monuments, ' except that of Harry
' Purcell, the memory of whose harmony held ' even those coarse
' souls for a little.' 7
Opposite to Purcell is the grave and tablet of his master,
also his successor in the Abbey — John Blow. Challenged by
Blow buried James H. to make an anthem as good as that of one
Oct. 8, 1708. Of the King's Italian composers, Blow by the next
Sunday produced, ' I beheld, and lo a great multitude ! ' The
King sent the Jesuit, Father Petre, to acquaint him that he
was well pleased with it : ' but,' added Petre, * I myself think
' it too long.' ' That,' replied Blow, ' is the opinion of but one
' fool, and I heed it not.' This quarrel was, happily, cut short
1 Orlando Gibbons is buried in Can- ' Musa profana suos, religiosa siios.'
terbury Cathedral. s Neale, ii. 221. — The same thought
2 He was born in a house, of which of the welcome of the heavenly choir
some vestiges still remain, in Old Pye was expressed in Dryden's elegy upon
Street, Westminster, and lived, as him —
organist, in a house on the site of that they handed him along,
now occupied by the Precentor, in And^l the way he taught, and all the way they
Dean's Yard. Whilst sitting on the
steps of that house he caught the cold Possibly suggested by a somewhat
which ended fatally. similar line in Cowley's Monody on
3 Schubert died at 32, Mozart at 35, Crawshaw—
Purcell at 37, Mendelssohn at 38 Andthou, their charge, went singing afthe^ky.
4 The organ then stood close to Pur-
cell's monument. ' Dum vicina organa e Vol. iii. p. 127.
' spirant,' are the words of the inscrip- ' ' Peter Abbot,' on the night of
tion on his gravestone, lately restored, July 1, 1800, made a wager that he
which also records his double fame would write his name on this rnonu-
both in secular and sacred music — rnent. See Chapter II.
290 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. tv.
by the Revolution of 1688. Close beside Blow is his successor,
croft, bnned William Croft. His tablet records his gentleness to his
ITS/'. ' pupils for fifty years, and the fitness of his own Halle-
lujah to the heavenly chorus, with the text, ' Awake up my
* glory, awake lute and harp ; I myself will awake right early.'
He will be longer remembered in the Abbey for the union of
Arnold, died ^s i^usic with Purcell's at its great funerals. Samuel
b^rie2!'oct Arnold, the voluminous composer, lies next to Purcell ;
and opposite his tablet is that of the historian of all
?8Hney>died those who lie around him — Charles Burney,1 and last
has f°llowed Sir William Sterndale Bennett. In the
Sept.
Be'nnett, south and west Cloisters are several musicians of lesser
fame, among them Benjamin Cooke, with his ' canon '
engraved on his monument ; William Shield, the composer, at
sweid, Feb. whose funeral, by the express command of George IV.,2
MUZK the choirs of the Chapels Royal and of St. Paul's
1832. attended ; and Muzio Clementi, whose grandchildren
have recently rescued his grave from oblivion.
One, the greatest of all, has found his resting place in a less
appropriate, though still a congenial spot. Handel had lived
Handei died ^ ^e society of poets. It was Arbuthnot, the friend
turfed In °^ P°Pe> wno said, ' Conceive the highest you can of
corner April ' ^s abilities, and they are much beyond anything
' that you can conceive.' He who composed the
' Messiah,' and ' Israel in Egypt,' must have been a poet, no
less than a musician, of no ordinary degree.3 Therefore he was
not unfitly buried in Poets' Corner, apart from his tuneful
brethren. Not less than three thousand persons of all ranks
attended the funeral. Above his grave, by his own provi-
sion, Roubiliac erected his monument, with the inscription, ' I
' know that my Redeemer liveth.' There stands the unwieldy
musician, with the ' enormous white wig, which had a certain
' nod or vibration when things went well at the oratorio.' 4 It was
no doubt accidental that the figure faces eastward ; but it gave
1 The other historian of music — 3 ' I would uncover my head and
Hawkins, tne biographer of Johnson— ' kneel at his tomb.' (Beethoven.)
buried May Sir John Hawkins, lies in 4 Burney's Life of Handel, 36.
28, 1789. the North Cloister, with ' Nature required a great supply of
only the letters J.H., by his own desire, ' sustenance to support so large a mass,
on the gravestone. ' and he was rather epicurean in the
2 Sir George Smart told Mr. Lodge, ' choice of it.' (Ibid. p. 32.) His
to whom I owe the fact, that the fune- ' hand was so fat that the knuckles
ral was the finest service of the kind ' were like those of a child.' (Ibid. p.
in his recollection. Shield left his 35.) For the curious care with which
violoncello to the King, who accepted Boubiliac modelled the ear of Handel,
the bequest, but caused the full value see Smith's Life of Nollekens, ii. 87.
to be paid to his widow.
CHAP. iv. OF THE ARTISTS. 291
an exquisite pleasure to the antiquary Carter, when (in contrast
to the monument of Shakspeare), he saw ' the statue of
' this more than man turning his eyes to where the
' Eternal Father of Heaven is supposed to sit enthroned, King
' of kings, and Lord of lords.' 1 ' He had most seriously and
' devoutly wished, for some days before his death, that he
' might breathe his last on Good Friday, in hopes, he said, of
' meeting his good God, his sweet Lord and Saviour, on the
' day of His resurrection.' 2 And a belief to this effect prevailed
amongst his friends. But in fact he died at 8 A.M. on Easter
Eve. It was the circumstance of Handel's burial in the Abbey
that led to the musical commemoration there on the centenary
of his birth, which is recorded above his monument.3
Music and poetry are the only arts which are adequately
represented in the Abbey. Sir Godfrey Kneller is its only
ARTISTS. painter, and even he is not buried within its walls,
oct! S7,'i7za, ' Sir Godfrey sent to me,' says Pope, ' just before he
KneTierHaii. * died. He began by telling me he was now convinced
' he could not live, and fell into a passion of tears. I said I
' hoped he might, but if not he knew that it was the will of God.
' He answered, " No, no; it is the Evil Spirit." The next word
' he said was this : " By God, I witt not be buried in West-
'" minster!" I asked him why? He answered, "They do
' " bury fools there." Then he said to me, " My good friend,
4 " where will you be buried ? " I said, " Wherever I drop —
' " very likely in Twickenham." He replied, " So will I." He
pope's * proceeded to desire that I would write his epitaph,
Sete.011 ' which I promised him.'4 He was buried in the
garden of his manor at Whitton — now Kneller Hall. He chose
for his monument in the church at Twickenham a position
already occupied (on the north-east wall of the church) by Pope's
tablet to his father. An angry correspondence ensued after
Kneller's death between his widow and Pope, and the monu-
ment was ultimately placed in the Abbey.5 The difficulty did
1 Gent. Mag. (1774), part ii. p. 670. agree in the date of Saturday, April 14.
2 Burney, p. 31, states that on the See Mr. Husk's Preface to the Book of
monument the date of his death had Words of the Handel Festival.
been inscribed as Saturday, April 14, 3 See Chapter VI.
and that it was corrected to ' Good 4 Pope's Works, iii. 374.
' Friday,' April 13. This is a com- 5 At the west end of the Nave,
plete mistake. His monument, his where Fox's monument now is. It was
gravestone beneath it, the Burial Re- there so conspicuous and solitary as
gister, and the account of an eyewit- to be made a landmark for the pro-
ness in Mrs. Delaney's Memoirs, all cessions in the Nave. (See Precentor's
u 2
292 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
not end even there. Pope fulfilled his promise at his friend's
deathbed, but thought the epitaph ' the worst thing he ever
' wrote in his life,' and Dr. Johnson said of it :
Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad ; the
third is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word crowned not being
applicable to the honours or the lays ; and the fourth is not only bor-
rowed from the epitaph on Eaphael, but of a very harsh construction.1
After this unfortunate beginning, no painter has been, or
probably ever will be, interred within the Abbey. The burial
of Sir Joshua Keynolds in St. Paul's has carried with it the
commemoration of all future artists in the crypt of that great
cathedral.2
Of architects and sculptors, Dickinson, the manager who
worked under Wren, was buried in the chief site of his achieve-
ments— the restored or defaced North Porch, the graves of
chambers, Chambers, Wyatt, and Adam, and the monument of
ifareu is, Taylor, are in the South Transept, and the tablet of
wyatt, sept. Banks in the North Aisle ; and in the Nave lie Sir
28 1813
Adam, 1792. Charles Barry, whose grave is adorned, in brass, by a
BankSr,'i805.' memorial of his own vast work in the adjacent pile
2M860. *: of the New Palace of Westminster, and Sir Gilbert
Scott, the leader of the Gothic revival.
The West Cloister contains the monuments of the two
vertue. use. engravers, Vertue — who, as a Eoman Catholic, was
1785. e buried near an old monk, of his family, laid there
just before the Dissolution 3 — and Woollett,4 ' Incisor Excellent-
' issimus.'
It is a proof of the late, slow, and gradual growth of science
in England, that it has not appropriated to itself any special
MEN OP place in the Abbey, but has, almost before we are aware
of it, penetrated promiscuously into every part, much
mentmo°fnu~ in the same way as it has imperceptibly influenced all
pwrnUnd our social and literary relations elsewhere.
Ekrustan- In the middle of the eighteenth century there
i786,'m6- were two important places vacant in the Nave, on
George each side of the entrance to the Choir. That on the
^onof James, south was occupied by the monument designed by
hopefme. Kent to the memory of the first Earl Stanhope, and
Book on Queen Caroline's funeral, * Malcolm's Londinium, p. 193 ;
1737.) It was moved by Dean Buck- Nichols's Boiuyer.
land to the south aisle of the Choir.
1 Lives of the Poets, iii. 211. 4 He was buried in old St. Pancras
* Milman's Annals of St.PauVs, 475. Churchyard.
CHAP. iv. OF THE ARTISTS. 293
of his second son, and recording also the characters of the
second and third Earls of the same proud name, to which
has now been added the name of the fifth Earl, distinguished
as the historian of the times in which his ancestors played
so large a part. They are all buried at Chevening. Col-
lectively, if not singly, they played a part sufficiently con-
spicuous to account for, if not to justify, so honourable a
place in the Abbey.1 But at the same moment that the
artist was designing this memorial of the high-spirited and
high-born statesman, he was employed in erecting two other
monuments in the Abbey, which outshine every other name,
however illustrious by rank or heroic action. One was but
a cenotaph, and has been already described — the statue of
Shakspeare in Poets' Corner. But the other was to celebrate
the actual interment of the only dust of unquestionably world-
wide fame that the floor of Westminster covers — of one so far
raised above all the political or literary magnates by whom he
is surrounded, as to mark an era in the growth of the monu-
mental history of the whole building. On March 28, 1727, the
sir Isaac body of Sir Isaac Newton, after lying in state in the
Mlrchn2oied Jerusalem Chamber, where it had been brought from
Mochas hig deathbed in Kensington, was attended by the
leading members of the Eoyal Society, and buried at
the public cost in the spot in front of the Choir, which, being
HIS grave. ' one of the most conspicuous in the Abbey, had been
' previously refused to various noblemen, who had applied for
' it.' 2 Voltaire was present at the funeral. The selection of this
spot for such a purpose marks the moment at which the more
sacred recesses in the interior of the church were considered to
be closed, or to have lost their special attractions, whilst the
publicity of the wide and open spaces hitherto neglected gave
them a new importance. On the gravestone3 are written the
words, which here acquire a significance of more than
usual solemnity — ' Hie depositum quod mortale fait Isaaci
' Newtoni.' 4 On the monument was intended to have been
inscribed the double epitaph of Pope :
1 ' Stanhope's noble flame.' (Pope, 2 London Gazette, April 5, 1727.
vi. 376.) The first Earl had a public 3 Restored to its place in 1866.
funeral in the Abbey, after which he 4 Johnson had intended, ' Isaacus
was privately interred at Chevening, ' Newtonius, legibus natures investigatis,
where still hangs the banner used at ' hie quiescit.'
Westminster.
294 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
ISAACUS NEWTONIUS,
Quern Immortalem
Testantur Tempus, Natura, Ccelum :
Mortalem
Hoc marmor fatetur.
Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night :
GOD said, Let Newton be ! — and all was light.1
The actual inscription agrees with the actual monument —
the one in words, the other in marble allegory, a description
of Newton's discoveries, closing with the summary :
Naturae, antiquitatis, Sanctse Scripturas sedulus, sagax, fidus inter-
pres, Dei 0. M. majestatem philosophia asseruit ; Evangelii simplici-
tatem moribus expressit. Tibi gratulenter mortales, tale tantumque
exstitisse humani generis decus.2
His grave, if not actually the centre of the heroes of science,
yet attracted two at least of his friends towards the same spot.
Ffoikes.died One was Martin Ffolkes, liis deputy at the Eoyal Society,
at54Huiiigd. °f which he ultimately became the President, though,
from his Jacobite principles, he never was made a
baronet. He is buried in his ancestral place at Hillington, in
Norfolk ; but his genial character,3 his general knowledge, and
his antiquarian celebrity as a numismatist, naturally procured
His monn- ^or nmi a memorial in the North Aisle of the Abbey.
Marehslf6'1 It was erected, long afterwards, by the sister-in-law of
his daughter Lucretia. The other was his relative
and successor in the Mint, John Conduitt, who was buried ' on
conduitt, ' the right side of Sir Isaac Newton/ and whose monu-
29,1737. ment, at the extreme west end of the Nave, was raised
(as its inscription states) exactly opposite to his. Incorporated
into this., so as to connect the early prodigy of English Astro-
nomy with the name of its maturest development, is the
at pioie. memorial of Jeremiah Horrocks, erected two centuries
after the day on which he first observed the Transit of Venus.
Close upon these follows the band of eminent physicians —
uniting (as so many since) science4 and scholarship with
medical skill, and bound by ties, more or less near, to the pre-
1 Pope, iii. 378. « tury.' His portrait, by Hogarth, is
2 See the criticism in the continuator the ' picture of open-hearted English
of Stowe, p. 618. ' honesty and hospitality, but does not
3 Nichols's Literary Anecdotes ; ' indicate much intellect.' (H. Cole-
Dibdin's Bibliomania. — ' He had a ridge's Northern Worthies.)
' striking resemblance to Peireskius, 4 Dr. Willis, in whose house his
< the ornament of the seventeenth cen- brother-in-law Fell read the Liturgy
CHAP. iv. OF THE MEN OF SCIENCE. 295
siding genius of Westminster at that period. It is a very
THE PHY- ' sickly time/ l writes the daughter of Atterbury to her
8ICIAXS. exiled father, in announcing the successive deaths of
his beloved friends, Chamberlen, Arbuthnot, and Woodward.2
Hugh Chamberlen was the last of the eminent race of ac-
coucheurs who brought into the world the royal progeny of the
Chamberlen, whole Stuart dynasty, from James I. to Anne. He
died June . . • **
visited Atterbury in the Tower, and Atterbury repaid
his friendship by the pains bestowed on his elaborate epitaph
which forms a topic of no less than seven letters in the Bishop's
exile.3 It is inscribed on the cenotaph erected to the physician
by Atterbury's youthful admirer, the young Edward, Duke of
Buckinghamshire.4
John Woodward, who was buried in the Nave, at the head
of Newton's gravestone, within two months after Newton's
woodward, death, was, amidst all his eccentricities, philosophical
25? buried an^ antiquarian, the founder of English Geology, and
May 1,1728. of that Cambridge chair which bears his name, and
has received an European illustration from the genius of Adam
Sedgwick ; and his death was received as a blow to science all
over Europe — 'the first man of his faculty,'5 writes Atterbury
from his French exile. Beneath the monument of Woodward
in the North Aisle of the Nave lies Sir Charles Lyell, the most
eminent geologist of our time. Beside the grave of Newton lies
Sir John Herschel, whose name, combined with his father's, is
the most illustrious of our modern astronomers.
His rival, John Freind, interred at his own seat at Hitchin,
Freind Hertfordshire, has a monument on the opposite side.
i728™yri2e6d His cl°se connection with Westminster, through his
at mtchin. brother Robert, the Headmaster,6 and through his
education there, may have led to the monument ; but it has an
under the Commonwealth, and who 4 By a Chapter Order of May 16,
prescribed for Patrick during 1729 (afterwards rescinded), the Du-
?er-6Wim?' the Plague, was buried in the chess of Buckinghamshire is allowed
Abbey in 1675. (Patrick's to take down the screen of the sacra-
Works, ix. 443.) riuni to erect the monument.
1 Atterbury's Letters, iv. 127, 151, » Atterbury's Letters, iv. 244.
159. « He gave for a theme, on the day
* Another friend of Atterbury, who after his brother>s imprisonment,
died at this time, and who lies amongst < Crater ne desere fratim ' (Nichols's
the many nobles in the Ormond vault, Anecdotes, v. 86, 102), and wrote the
is Charles Boyle, Earl of Orrery, his epitaph for him> as for man otherg-
pupil at Oxford, and author of the Hence Pope's lines-
Dissertation on Phalaris, which led to
the furious controversy with Bentley. rrjfrid' lorJ?ur ePitaPh 1>m Sieved,
. . , , , , 7- ,/ lov 1 JO Where still so much is said,
s Atterbury s Letters, pp. 127, 149, One h *lf will never be believed,
185, 186, 198, 217, 258, 260. The other never read.
296 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
intrinsic interest from his one eminence as a physician and
scholar, and the vicissitudes of his political life — imprisoned in
the Tower for his intimacy with Atterbury, released at the
promise of Walpole, extorted by his friend Dr. Mead ; favourite
of George II. and Queen Caroline — an interest independent of
any accidental connection with the place. Samuel Wesley's
epitaph says of afflicted Physic on this event, ' She mourns with
' Eadcliffe, but she dies with Freind.' J Atterbury heard of his
death hi France with much concern : ' He is lamented by men
' of all parties at home, and of all countries abroad ; for he was
' known everywhere, and confessed to be at the head of his
' faculty.' 2
Kichard Mead is buried in the Temple Church, but his bust
also is in the Nave.3 He was the first of that succession of
cenotaphs eminent physicians who have been (from this example)
ofMead,died . , ., , ,11 , ^T * • , • •
Feb. 16,15/4; sent forth from the homes of Nonconformist ministers.
His noble conduct, in refusing to prescribe for Sir E. Walpole
till Freind was released from the Tower, and in repaying him
all the fees of his patients ; his fiery encounter with their
joint adversary, Woodward, in the courts of Gresham College ;
his large and liberal patronage of arts and sciences, give a pecu-
liar charm to the good physician who ' lived more in the broad
* sunshine of life than almost any man.' 4
Wetenall and Pringle have tablets in the South, and
Winteringham in the North Transept. But the main succes-
weteLn, si°n °f science is carried on in St. Andrew's Chapel,5
Pringie, which contains busts of Matthew Baillie, the eminent
physician, the brother of Joanna, the poetess ; of Sir
Humphrey Davy, the genius of modern chemistry;
Dr. Young, whose mathematical and hiero-
discoveries have outshone his medical fame.6
AUton ^ i8 Probably by an accidental coincidence only that
&>UmerSt,of ^e same corner contains the monument of a benevo-
lent lady, Sarah, Duchess of Somerset, daughter of
Dr. Alston, President of the College of Physicians, who devoted
1 Nichols, v. 103. failure, hence the medallion is in pro-
* Atterbury's Letters, ii. 320, 384. file. (Peacock's Life, p. 485.) The
* The inscription was written by site was fixed at the particular request
Dr. Ward. (Nichols, vi. 216.) of Chantrey, to which the Dean (Ire-
4 Boswell's Johnson, iv. 222. land) acceded, ' knowing from long
* Dr. Buchan, author of ' Domestic ' experience how delicate and honour-
' Medicine,' is buried in the West ' able his judgment is in all matters
Cloister (1805). ' relating to the Abbey.' (Chapter
6 Dr. Young's epitaph is by Hudson Book, July 23, 1834.)
Gurney. The projected bust was a
CHAP. iv. OF THE MEN OF SCIENCE. 297
almost the whole of her fortune to charitable bequests in
Oxford, Cambridge, Westminster, and Wiltshire. John Hunter,
ocTi6r'id79e3d *^e Bounder °f modern surgery, had been buried in
removed ' the vaults of St. Martm's-in-the-Fields Church. From
here, March. ,
those vaults, just before they were finally closed, his
remains were removed by the energy of Mr. Frank Buckland.1
Animated by a chivalrous devotion to the memory of a great
man, he spent sixteen dreary days in the catacombs of that
church, which ended in his triumphant recovery of the relics,
and his ' translation ' of them to the Nave of the Abbey.
And now, the latest-born of time, comes the practical science
of modern days. The earliest that the Abbey contains is Sir
INVENTORS Robert Moray, first President of the Royal Society,
TIFCAL^I- buried in the South Transept near Davenant, at the
charge of Charles II., who through him had made all
Kir Robert . ,
Moray, his scientific communications : ' the life and soul of
buried July
e, 1673. « the Society ; ' Evelyn's ' dear and excellent friend, that
' good man and accomplished gentleman.' 2 The strange genius
sir samnei of Sir Samuel Morland3 — perfidious secretary of Oliver
died less. Cromwell, more creditably known as the first inventor of
the speaking-trumpet, the fire-engine, the calculating machine,
and, according to some, even of the steam-engine — has left his
mark in the South Aisle of the Nave, by the two singular
His wives tablets to his first wife, Carola Harsnett, and his second
oct°io i674d wife> Anne Fielding, whom he married, and buried in
Febne24Ui67<J *^e Abbey, within the space of ten years.4 It was
before these two tablets — which record the merits of
Carola and Anne, in Hebrew, Greek, Ethiopic, and English —
that Addison paused, and, contrasting them with the extra-
ordinary praises bestowed on the dead in some epitaphs, re-
marked that ' there were others so excessively modest, that they
Tompion, ' deliver the character of the person departed in
£rm3Nov* ' Greek and Hebrew, and by that means are not under-
d^sSv ' stood once in a twelvemonth.'5 In the centre of the
KovU4ied Nave, in the same grave, were laid the master and ap-
i75i. ' prentice — Tompion and Graham, the fathers of English
watchmaking. The slab over their grave, commemorating
' their curious inventions and accurate performances,' was re-
1 See the interesting account in his * For Morland's Life, see Pepys's
Curiosities of Natural History, ii. 160- Diary, and his Autobiography.
179. 4 Marriage Kegister, 1670 and 1676 ;
2 Burnet's Oicn Time, i. 90 ; Evelyn Burial Register, 1674 and 1679-80.
(who attended the funeral), ii. 383. * Spectator, No. 26.
298 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
moved at the beginning of the century. This change called forth
many an indignant remonstrance from the humble but useful
tribe who regarded this gravestone as their Caaba. ' Watch-
' makers,' says one of them, ' the writer amongst the number,
' until prevented by recent restrictions, were in the habit of
' making frequent pilgrimages to the sacred spot : from the in-
* scription and the place, they felt proud of their occupation ;
* and many a secret wish to excel has arisen while silently con-
' templating the silent resting-place of the two men whose
* memory they so much revered. Their memory may last, but
' the slab is gone.' 1
In the South Transept, perhaps from his sacred profession,
ied beside the other divines, was erected (by the mother
5 °^ George III.) the medallion of Stephen Hales, re-
. markable as a vegetable physiologist and as the first
contriver of ventilators.
But all these lesser representatives of practical science
shrink into insignificance, both without and within the Abbey,
dtedAuWai9' as ^s cn*ef representative leaps full-grown into sight
1819; buried in Chantrey's gigantic statue of James Watt, the
at Hands- J ° °
worth, near * Improver of the Steam Engine.' Of all the monu-
Blrming- r
ham. ments in the Abbey, perhaps this is the one which
provokes the loudest execrations from those who look for uni-
formity of design, or congeniality with the ancient architecture.
Well may the pavement of the church have cracked and
yawned, as the enormous monster moved into its place, and ' dis-
' closed to the eyes of the astonished workmen rows upon rows
' of gilded coffins in the vaults beneath ; into which, but for
' the precaution of planking the area, workmen and work must
' have descended, joining the dead in the chamber of death.'2
Well might the standard-bearer of Agincourt, and the worthies
1 Thompson's Time and Timekeepers, was sunk in a passage tunnelled under
p. 74. — The passage was pointed out to the screen, and then lifted into its
nie by a friend, in consequence of the present place. This, however, was not
strong irritation expressed on the sub- the case. The pedestal was introduced
ject by an obscure watchmaker in a in three parts over the tomb of Lewis
provincial town. The gravestone, Eobsart, and the statue was just able
happily, had not been destroyed, and to force its way through the door ;
was restored in 1866. although, in anticipation of the passage
2 Cunningham's Handbook, p. 23. — not being wide enough, permission had
It is said that an exalted personage, been obtained to remove the neigh-
when visiting this Chapel some twenty bouring monument of Pulteney. It
years ago, inquired how the statue was at the moment of crossing the
effected its entrance. No one present threshold that the arch of the vault
was able to answer. An explanation beneath gave way, as described above,
was afterwards given, that the statue These particulars were communicated
CHAP. iv. OF THE MEN OF SCIENCE. 299
of the Courts of Elizabeth and James, have started from their
tombs in St. Paul's Chapel,1 if they could have seen this colossal
champion of a new plebeian art enter their aristocratic resting-
place, and take up his position in the centre of the little
sanctuary, regardless of all proportion, or style, in the surround-
ing objects. Yet, when \ve consider what this vast figure
represents, what class of interests before unknown, what revo-
lutions in the whole framework of modern society, equal to
any that the Abbey walls have yet commemorated, there is
surely a fitness even in its very incongruity ; and as we read
the long laudation on the pedestal, though we may not think
it, as its admirers call it, ' beyond comparison the finest
' lapidary inscription in the English language,' yet, in its
vigorous style and scientific enthusiasm, it is not unworthy
of the omnigenous knowledge of him who wrote it,2 or of
the powerful intellect and vast discovery which it is intended
to describe.
In the centre of the Nave lie the geographer Eennell, one
of the founders of the African Society, Telford, the builder of
Renneii, bridges, and Eobert Stephenson, who 'had3 during his
6,uirs3o.April ' h'fe expressed a wish that his body should be laid
biriefsept. ' near that of Telford ; and the son of the Killing-
stephenson ' worth engineman thus sleeps by the side of the son
s?1^^0*' ' °f the Eskdale shepherd,' and over their graves the
L?ckpeh light falls through the stained-glass windows erected
med i860 m memory of their brethren in the same art — Locke
Brunei, died *
and Brunei.4 Near them, and like them raised by
native exertions from obscurity to fame — near also to Eennell —
is the grave to which the remains of David Livingstone were
brought from the lonely hut in which he died in Central Africa.
In some respects it is the most remarkable grave in the Abbey ;
for it was almost needed to certify the famous traveller's death,
so long doubted, and so irresistibly proved by the examination
(after the arrival of the remains in England) of the arm frac-
to me by Mr. Weekes, who assisted corner of the Nave ; Telford's in the
Chantrey in the operation, through the Chapel of St. Andrew.
kindness of Mr. Sopwith. 4 The window erected to Stephenson
1 Smiles's Lrifeof Watt, p. 507. curiously commemorates the mechanical
- ' It has ever been reckoned one of contrivances of the world, from the
'the chief honours of my life,' says Tower of Babel down to the railways ;
Lord Brougham, 'that I was called that to Locke, the instances, in the
' upon to pen the inscription upon the Gospel History, of working on the
' noble monument thus nobly reared.' Sabbath ; that to Brunei, the building
3 Smiles's Engineers, ii. 481. Een- of the Temple,
nell's monument is at the north-west
300 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
tured by the lion, and reset by himself. It testifies also to the
marvellous fidelity with which his African servants bore the
bones of their dead master, through long months of toil and
danger, to the shores of Zanzibar. When Jacob Wainwright,
the negro boy, threw the palm branch into the open grave,
more moved by the sight of the dead man's coffin than by the
vast assemblage which, from floor to clerestory, crowded the
Abbey, it was felt that the Lanarkshire pioneer of Christian
civilisation, the greatest African traveller of all time, had not
laboured altogether in vain.
"We have now gone through all the monuments and graves
that attach themselves to the history of our country. There
PRIVATE still remains the thin dark thread of those who, without
*™' historical or official claims, have crept into the Abbey,
often, we must regret to think, from the carelessness of those
who had the charge of it in former times. The number of
those who lie within or close around the Abbey must be not less
than three thousand. Goldsmith, in his ' Citizen of the World,'
has a bitter satire on the guardianship of ' the sordid priests,
' who are guilty, for a superior reward, of taking down the
' names of good men to make room for others of equivocal
* character, or of giving other but true merit a place in that
' awful sanctuary.' l
0 fond attempt to give a deathless lot
To names ignoble, born to be forgot !
Still, even amongst these, there are claims upon our attention
of various kinds, which deserve a passing notice.
One class of obscure names belongs to the less distinguished
among ' the Nobles,' who with the Kings and Queens had
THE anciently claimed interment within the Abbey. Most of
NOBILITY, these lie, as we have seen, in the Ormond vault, coffins
upon coffins, piled under the massive masonry of the Protectorate.
Others repose in the same Chapel within the ducal vaults of Rich-
mond, Buckingham, Monk, and Argyle. But amongst the special
burial-places of the aristocracy,2 three may be selected, as
belonging rather to the course of private than of public history,
yet still with an interest of their own.
1 Goldsmith, ii. 44. Compare Wai- Almeric de « extraordinary privilege for
pole's Letters, iii. 427. urcy,l7i9. , himself and his heirSi of
* In the North Aisle lies Almeric de ' being covered before the king.' (Epi-
Courcy, descended from John de Courcy, taph.)
who ' obtained from King John the
CHAP. iv. OF THE NOBILITY. 301
In the Chapel of St. Nicholas is the vault in which, owing
to the marriage of Charles, ' the proud Duke of Somerset,' with
the heiress of the Percys, the House of Percy has from that
time been interred, under the monument of the ancient Duchess
of Somerset, widow of the Protector; Charles and his wife
were buried in Salisbury Cathedral, but their son Algernon was
interred in this vault ; and his daughter and sole
rerzey,eth heiress was Elizabeth Percy, the first Duchess of
Northeuni-f Northumberland, who died on her sixtieth birthday,
bur'iedfr>ec. an^ was the nrs^ °^ ^eT name interred in the Percy
is, 1776. vault. She was conspicuous both for her extensive
munificence, and for her patronage of literature, of which the
' Percy Eeliques ' are the living monument. By her own re-
peated desire, the funeral was to be ' as private as her rank
' would admit.' The crowd collected was, however, so vast that
the officiating clergy and choir could scarcely make their way
from the west door to the chapel. Just as the procession had
passed St. Edmund's Chapel, the whole of the screen, including
the canopy of John of Eltham's tomb,1 came down with a crash,
which brought with it the men and boys who had clambered
to the top of it to see the spectacle, and severely wounded
many of those below. The uproar and confusion put a stop to
the ceremony for two hours. The body was left in the ruined
Chapel, and the Dean did not return till after midnight, when
the funeral was completed, but still amidst ' cries of murder,
' raised by such of the sufferers as had not been removed.' 2
Another very different race is that of the Delavals. Of that
ancient northern family, whose ancestor carried the standard
Admiral at Hastings, two were remarkable for their own
buriJdJan. distinctions — Admiral Delaval3 (companion of Sir
S'lLDetar Cloudesley Shovel) and Edward Hussey Delaval, last
LordD^ia- of the male line, who was the author of various philo-
Sdy8Deia- sophical works,4 and lies buried amongst the philoso-
SJSyMez- phers in the Nave. But Lord and Lady Delaval, with
W3i"gh> their daughter Lady Tyrconnell, and their nephew's wife
Lady Mexborough,5 are interred in or close to St. Paul's Chapel,
1 See Chapter III. p. 121. worthy of his ancestors.
2 Annual Register, xix. 197 ; Gent. 3 Charnock's Naval Biog. ii. 10.
Mag. [1776], p. 576. This is the only 4 Gent. Mag. 1814, pt. ii. p. 293.
private vault which still continues to 5 Another reason has been some-
receive interments. Amongst those times assigned for the position of Lady
of our own time (1864) may be especi- Mexborough's monument ; but this
ally mentioned the rebuilder of Alnwick, family connection is, perhaps, sum-
distinguished by a princely munificence cient.
302 THE MONUMENTS OF THE NOBILITY. CHAP. IT.
\vhere the banners — the last vestiges of a once general custom
hang over their graves.1 Their pranks at Seaton Delaval 2
belong to the history of Northumberland, and of the dissolute
state of English society at the close of the last century ; and
in the traditions of the North still survives the memory of the
Lad TVT- PomP which, at every stage of the long journey from
conneif.isoo. Northumberland to London, accompanied the remains
of the wildest of the race— Lady Tyrconnell.3
Another trace of the strange romances of the North of
England is the grave of Mary Eleanor Bowes, Countess of
MaryEiea- Strathmore, who, a few months before the funeral
couuteLeof (just described) of her neighbour Lady Tyrconnell,4 was
died'A^riT' buried in the South Transept, in the last year of the
Maylofwoo. past century, after adventures which ought to belong
to the Middle Ages.
It is touching to observe how many are commemorated from
their extreme youth. Not only, as in the case of eminent
persons — like Purcell, or Francis Horner, or Charles Buller,
MONUMENTS where the Abbey commemorates the promise of glories
YOUNG. not yet fully developed — but in the humbler classes of
life, the sigh over the premature loss is petrified into stone, and
affects the more deeply from the great events amidst which it
jane Lister, is enshrined. ' Jane Lister, dear child, died October 7,
less. c ' 1688.' 'Her brother Michael had already died in
' 1676, and been buried at Helen's Church, York.' 3 In that
eventful year of the Revolution, when Church and State were
reeling to their foundations, this ' dear child ' found her quiet
Nicholas resting-place in the Eastern Cloister. In that same
BaJ™two year, too, a few months before, another still more in-
significant life — Nicholas Bagnall, ' an infant of two
' months old,6 by his nurse unfortunately overlaid '-
has his own little urn amongst the Cecils and Percys
in St Nicholas's Chapel.7
1 Neale, ii. 181. 6 He was buried with an infant
2 Hewitt's Visits to Remarkable brother (September 5, 1684) in the
Places (2nd series), pp. 354-374. grave which afterwards received his
3 Register, November 4, 1800. mother, Lady Anne Charlotte Bagnall,
4 Howitt, p. 198. daughter of the second Earl of Elgin
5 This seems to show that her father (March 13, 1712-13), wife of Nicholas
must have been Dr. Lister, author of Bagnall, of Plas Newydd, in \Vales.
a ' Journey to Paris,' and other works It would seem that the unhappy nurse
on Natural History, who came from never forgot the misfortune, and in
York to London in 1683. He is buried her will begged to be buried near the
at Clapham, with his first wife, who is child. (Chester's Registers, 220.)
there described as his ' dear wife.' Anna Sophia ' Close by is the urn of
There is no Register in St. Helen's at Hariey,1695. the infant daughter of Har-
York between 1649 and 1690. ley, French Ambassador to James II.
THK NIGHTINGALE MONUMENT.
304 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
In the Little Cloisters is a tablet to ' Mr. Thomas Smith, of
' Elmly Lovet . . . who through the spotted veil of the small -
Thomas ' Pox rendered a pure and unspotted soul to God, ex-
2™Mba'r^ed ' pecting but not fearing death.' l Young Carteret, a
carter^4' Westminster scholar, who died at the age of 19, and
MMctJaii is ^urie(i in the North Aisle of the Choir, with the
1711- chiefs of his house, is touchingly commemorated by
the pretty Sapphic verses of Dr. Freind.2
In the Nave several young midshipmen are commemorated.
Amongst them is William Dalrymple, who at the age
of 18 was killed in a desperate engagement off the
coast of Virginia, ' leaving to his once happy parents
4 the endearing remembrance of his virtues.'
Other tombs represent the intensity of the mourners' grief.
In St. Andrew's Chapel, Lord Kerry's monument to his wife,
MON-CMEXTS ' w^° ^a^ rendered him for thirty-one years the
£LMOLBN~ ' happiest of mankind,' retained at its north end, till
Lad Ke a ^ew mon^ns before his own interment in the same
tomb, the cushion on which, year after year, he came
Lord Kerry, * **
to kneel.3 Opposite to it is the once admired 4 monu-
ment raised by her son to commemorate the premature death of
j^ Lady Elizabeth Shirley,5 daughter of Washington,
Htahttunia Earl Ferrers, wife of Joseph Gascoigne Nightingale,
1731- ' and sister of Lady Selina, Countess of Huntingdon,6
foundress of the Calvinistic sect which bears her name. This
spot (apart from her grave in the area beneath Queen Eleanor's
tomb) was doubtless selected as affording better light and space ;
1 There was a like monument in the ' of Westminster Abbey. What heaps
North Cloister to R. Booker, a West- ' of unmeaning stone and marble !
minster scholar, who died of small-pox ' But there was one tomb which showed
in 1655. (Seymour's Stow, p. 582.) ' common sense : that beautiful figure
2 It was probably from a feeling of ' of Mr. Nightingale endeavouring to
this kind that a splendid though pri- ' shield his lovely wife from Death,
vate funeral was awarded in Poet's ' Here, indeed, the marble seems to
Corner to Lieutenant Riddell, who in ' speak, and the statues appear only
1783 was killed in a duel. (Gent. ' not alive.' (Wesley's Journal, Feb.
Mag. 1783, 362-443.) 16, 1764.)
* Akermann, ii. 189. * It was really a monument to Mr.
4 ' Mrs. Nightingale's monument has Nightingale. (See Chapter Book,
not been praised beyond its merit. February 13, 1758.) His wife was
' The attitude and expression of the aged 27, he 56. For a curious story
' husband in endeavouring to shield his connected with Lord Brougham's father
1 wife from the dart of Death is natural and the digging of her grave, see Lord
' and affecting. But I always thought Brougham's Memoirs, i. 205. But she
' that the image of Death would be died 11 years before his birth. •
' much better represented with an ex- 6 Two of her sons are buried in the
' tinguished torch than with a dart.' North Transept, where a monument
(Burke on his first visit to the Abbey : was to have been erected to them.
Prior's Burke, 32.) ' I once more (Chapter Book, March 3, 1743-34.)
' took a serious walk through the tombs
CHAP. IT. OF PRIVATE PERSONS. 305
and in order to accommodate the monument, the effigy of Lady
Monument Catherine St. John was removed to the chapel of St.
erected irss. Nicholas. The husband vainly trying to scare the
spectre of Death from his wife is probably one of the most often
remembered sights of the Abbey. It was when working at
this elaborate structure that Eoubiliac made the exclamation
(already quoted) on the figure in the neighbouring tomb of Sir
Francis Vere.1 It was also whilst engaged on the figure of
Death, that he one day, at dinner, suddenly dropped his knife
and fork on his plate, fell back in his chair, and then darted
forwards, and threw his features into the strongest possible ex-
pression of fear — fixing his eyes so expressively on the country
lad who waited, as to fill him with astonishment. A tradition
of the Abbey records that a robber, coming into the church by
moonlight, was so startled by the same figure as to have fled in
dismay, and left his crowbar on the pavement.2
Other monuments record the undying friendship, or family
affection, which congregated round some loved object. Such
MONUMENTS are Mary Kendall's tomb in St. Paul's Chapel, and the
OFFIUKNDS. tombs of the Gethin,3 Norton, and Freke families in
KenLu, the South Aisle of the Choir. Such is the monument
Grace ' which, in the East Cloister, records Pope's friendship
with General Withers and Colonel Disney (commonly
called Duke Disney), who resided together at Greenwich.
Gay, in his poem on Pope's imaginary return from Greece, thus
describes them : —
Now pass we Gravesend with a friendly wind,
And Tilbury's white fort, and long Blackwall ;
Greenwich, where dwells the friend of human kind
More visited than either park or hall,
Withers the good, and (with him ever joined)
Facetious Disney, greet thee first of all.
I see his chimney smoke, and hear him say,
Duke ! that's the room for Pope, and that for Gay.4
1 Or at the north-west corner of to be preached for her in the Abbey
Lord Norris's monument. (Smith's every Ash-Wednesday. Her celebrity
Life of Nollekens ii. 86.) See p. 191. arose, in part, from a book of extracts
- The crowbar, which was found which were mistakenly supposed to be
under the monument, is still preserved. original. She is buried at Holling-
3 For Grace Gethin see Ballard's bourne, near Maidstone, where her
Illustrious Ladies, p. 263 ; and D'ls- epitaph records a vision shortly before
raeli's Curiosities of Literature. — She her death,
left a bequest for an anniversary sermon 4 Pope's Works, iii. 375.
306 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. iv.
Pope's epitaph carries on the same strain after Wither s's
death : —
withers, Here, Withers, rest ! thou bravest, gentlest mind,
died 1729. rj^y country's friend, but more of human kind.
0 born to arms ! 0 worth in youth approv'd !
0 soft humanity, in age belov'd !
For thee the hardy vet'ran drops a tear,
And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere.
Withers, adieu ! yet not with thee remove
Thy martial spirit, or thy social love !
Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage,
Still leave some ancient virtues to our age :
Nor let us say (those English glories gone),
The last true Briton lies beneath this stone ! 1
And ' Duke Disney ' closes the story in the touching record,
D^ney died that ' Colonel Henry Disney, surviving his friend and
' companion, Lieutenant-General Withers, but two
' years and ten days, is at his desire buried in the same grave
' with him.'
Others have gained entrance by their longevity. There are
three whose lives embrace three whole epics of English
MONTTMKNTS £
OF LOX- History. The epitaph of Anne Birkhead (now effaced)
Anne in the Cloisters, seen by Camden when it was still a
^ino^* fresh wonder, recorded that she died on August 25,
1568, at the age of 102—
An auncient age of many years
Here lived, Anne, thou hast,
Pale death hath fixed his fatal force
Upon thy corpse at last.
In the centre of the South Transept, amongst the poets, by a
Thomas not unnatural affinity, was buried Thomas Parr, the
issues!, patriarch of the seventeenth century, ' the old, old,
' very old man,' on whose gravestone it is recorded that he
lived to the age of 152, through the ten reigns from Edward
IV. to Charles I. He was brought up to Westminster, two
months before his death, by the Earl of Arundel, ' a great
' lover of antiquities.' ' He was found on his death to be
' covered with hair.' Many were present at his burial, ' doing
' homage to this our aged Thomas de Temporibus.' 2 In the
1 Pope's Works, iii. 375. doubt as to his age, see Mr. Thorns on
2 Fuller's Worthies, p. 68. For the the Longevity of Man, pp. 85-94.
CHAP. iv. OF FOREIGNERS. 307
"West Cloister lies Elizabeth Woodfall, daughter of the famous
EMzabeth printer, who carried on the remembrance of Junius
pea'^s11' to our own time, when she died in Dean's Yard at the
age of 93.
Connected with these by a curious coincidence of long life
MONL-MEN-TS are several illustrious foreigners. Casaubon, St. Evre-
mond, Grabe, and the Duke of Montpensier, have been
already mentioned.
But in the Chapel of St. Paul, with his wife and daughter
near him, lies Ezekiel Spanheim, a Genevese by birth, but
spanheim, student at Leyden and professor at Heidelberg, who
died in England, as Prussian minister, in his eighty-
first year — the Bunsen of his time, uniting German research
into scholarship and theology with the labours of his diplomatic
profession.
Peter Courayer, the Blanco White of the eighteenth century
— endeared to the English Church, and estranged from the
Courayer, Pioman Church, by his vindication, whilst yet at the
1£T6<1 95
im. ' Sorbonne, of the validity of Anglican Orders — had
been already, before his escape from France, attached to the
Precincts of Westminster by his friendship with the exiled
Atterbury,1 who had hanging in his room a portrait of Cou-
rayer, which he bequeathed to the University of Oxford. He
lived and died in Downing Street, in close intimacy with Dr.
Bell, one of the Prebendaries, chaplain to the Princess Amelia.
Dr. Bell afterwards published Courayer's ' Last Sentiments,'
which were of the extremest latitude in theology ; and by him
Courayer was, at his own request, buried, in his ninety-fifth
year, in the Southern Cloister. His epitaph, by his Mend
Kynaston, of Brasenose College, Oxford, was put up too hastily
before the author's last revisal.2
In the Chapel of St. Andrew, close to the Nightingale monu-
ment, lies ' Theodore Phaliologus.' 3 There can be little doubt
Theodore that he is the eldest of the five children of ' Theodore
buried°Ma3' ' Paleologus, of Pesaro, in Italye, descended from the
3, 1644. t imperial lyne of the last Christian Emperors of
' Greece ; being the sonne of Camilio, the sonne of Prosper, the
' sonne of Theodore, the sonne of John, the sonne of Thomas,
1 See Atterbury's Letters, iv. 97, ' near the Lady St. John's tomb,
103, 133. ' May 3, 1644.' (Register.) For the
• A correct copy is given in Nichols's removal of Lady St. John's tomb, see
Bowyer, p. 545. ' P- 305.
3 ' Theodore Phaliologus, buried
x 2
308 THE MONUMENTS CHAP. IT.
' second brother of Constantine Paleologus, the eighth of that
' name, and last of that lyne that rayned in Constantinople
' until subdued by the Turks : who married with Mary, the
' daughter of William Balls, of Hadlye, in Souffolke, Gent., and
' had issue five children — Theodora, John, Ferdinando, Maria,
« and Dorothy— and departed this life at Clyfton, the 21st of
' January 1636.' l There is a letter from him at Plymouth in
French, addressed to the Duke of Buckingham, on March 19,
1628-29, asking for employment and appealing to his noble
birth.2 He was lieutenant in Lord St. John's 3 regiment, and was
probably on that account buried close to Lady St. John's tomb.
In the South Aisle of the Nave is a tablet to Sir John Chardin,
the famous explorer of Persia, who, though born in France, and
writing in French, ultimately settled in England, and
chaniin, ^g^ Q^ Chiswick.4 It contams his name and a motto
buried at
cwswick, fo for arj great travellers, Nomen sibi fecit eundo. Pascal
Paoii died Paoli, the champion of Corsican independence, died in
buried lt°7 : his eighty-second year, under the protection of England,
st. Pancras. jjjs bust, which looks from the Southern Aisle towards
Poets' Corner, was erected not merely from the general esteem
in which he was held, but from his close connection with the
whole Johnsonian circle, of whom he was the favourite.
' General Paoli had the loftiest port of any man I have ever
' seen.' 5 He was buried in the old Roman Catholic cemetery
at St. Pancras, from which, in 1867, his remains were removed
to Corsica.
1 From a brass tablet, with the Im- Prerogative Court of Canterbury, March
perial eagle at the top, in the parish 9, 1694. The only information which
church of Landulph in Cornwall, the it gives respecting his family, is that he
feet resting on the two gates of Rome left as his executrix his widow Martha.
and Constantinople. (Gent. Mag. The conjecture in Archaologia (xviii.
[1775], p. 80 ; 1793, p. 716 ; Arch, xviii. 93), that this sailor was the son of the
83 ; Some Notices of Landulph Church, Paleologus buried in Cornwall, is there-
by the Rector, 1841, pp. 24-26.) fore unrounded. It is said that a mem-
This curious pedigree was pointed her of the family is still living. For
out to me by Mr. Edmund Ffoulkes. further particulars, see Notes and
Ferdinando must be the emigrant to Queries, 3rd series, vii. pp. 403, 586 ;
Barbadoes, of whom a very interesting xii. p. 30.
account appears in Gent. Mag. 1843, 2 Calendars of State Papers, Domes-
pt. ii. p. 28. The Greeks, in their tic Times, vol. xcvi. No. 47 (see Life of
War of Independence, are said to have Constant ins Rhodocanakis, by Prince
sent to enquire whether any of the Rhodocanakis, p. 38).
family remained ; offering, if such were 3 Army List of Roundheads and
the case, to equip a ship and proclaim Cavaliers. I owe this identification to
him for their lawful sovereign. He Colonel Chester.
had a son ' Theodorus ' who is pro- 4 His son and heir, Sir John Char-
bably the same as Theodore Paleology, din, created a baronet, was buried near
a mariner, whose will was signed his father's monument, 17-5".
August 1, 1693, and proved in the 5 Boswell's Johnson, ii. 83.
CHAP. IV.
OF FOREIGNERS.
309
In the East Cloister is a tablet erected to a young Bernese
noble of the name of Steigerr, the remembrance of whose pro-
steifjerr, mising character still lingers in the Canton of Berne.
28, 1772. ' In the North Transept, under the monument of Holies,
Duke of Newcastle, are interred three remarkable persons,
transferred in 1739-40 from the French church in the Savoy-
Louis Duras, Earl of Feversham, nephew of Turenne,
' who had learned from his uncle how to devastate,
' though not how to conquer ! ' 1 and Armand de
Bourbon, with his sister Charlotte, who died at an
advanced age,2 having come to England before the Re-
vocation of the Edict of Nantes, when he pleaded the
cause of the Camisards to Queen Anne, and meditated
an invasion of France, with the view of assisting the
insurrection in the Cevennes. His brother Louis,
Marquis de la Caye, was killed amongst the Huguenot regiments
at the battle of the Boyne.3
One other ' translation ' must be noticed. In the North
Cloister lie the supposed remains of William Lyndwood, the
celebrated Canonist and Bitualist Bishop of St. David's,
which were found on January 16, 1852, in St. Stephen's
Chapel, in the Palace of Westminster, where he was
consecrated in 1442, ' in a roughly formed cavity, cut
the foundation-wall of the north side of the Crypt,
Duras,
Earl of
Feversham,
died April
8, 1709.
Armaud de
Bourbon,
died Feb. 12,
1732-3.
Charlotte de
Bourbon,
died Oct.
15, 1732 ;
removed to
the Abbey,
March 21,
1739-40.
Lyndwood,
died Oct.
21, 1446 ;
removed
March 6,
1852.
' into
beneath the stone seat in the easternmost window.'
1 Macaulay, ii. 195.
2 La France Protestante, De Haag,
ii. 478, which gives the age of Armand
as 77 (and the date of his death
February 25, 1732), and that of Char-
lotte as 74. I owe this information to
the kindness of M. Jules Bonnet.
3 NOTE FROM BCKIAL REGISTEK,
1739-40, now inscribed on the grave. —
' Louis de Duras, Earl of Feversham,
' etc., died April 8, 1709, in the sixty-
' ninth year of his age.
' Cy gist tres haut et tres puissant
' Seigneur, Mon seigneur Armand de
' Bourbon, Marquis de Miremont, etc.,
' a qui Dieu a fait la grace de faire
' naitre en sa sainte Religion Reformee
' et d'y perseverer malgre les grandes
' promesses de Louis mesme dans
' sa plus tendre jeunesse ; ne dans le
' Chatteau de la Cate en Languedoe le
' 12 juillet 1656, deced6 en Angleterre
' le 12 fevr. 1732.' [He was buried in
the French church of the Savoy,
February 22, 1732-33.]
' Cy gist Charlotte de Bourbon, a
qui Dieu a fait la grace de naitre, de
vivre et de mourir dans sa sainte Re-
ligion, la gloire en soit a jamais rendue
a la ste. b£nite et adorable Trinit£, —
Pere, Fils et St. -Esprit. Amen,
decedee en Angleterre le 14 octobre
1732, agee de 73 ans.' She was
buried in the French church of the
Savoy, October 21, 1732.
' And the bodies of the said Earl
of Feversham, Monsieur Armand de
Bourbon, and Charlotte de Bourbon,
being deposited in a vault in the
Chapel in the Savoy, were taken up
and interred, on the 21st day of March,
1739, in one grave in the North
Cross of the Abbey, even with the
North Corner, and touching the plinth
of the iron rails of the monument of
the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle
3 ft. 0 in. deep.'
310 THE MONUMENTS: CHAP. IT.
Lastly, the Cloisters,1 long after the Abbey had been closed
against them, became the general receptacle of the humbler
officers and retainers of the Court and of the Chapter.
oF°SKBI-B"v'1'8 Contrasted with the reticence of modern times on
VAX TO.
faithful services, which live only in the grateful
memory of those who profit by them, three records attract
Ambrose special notice. One is of the blind scholar, Ambrose
usher, 1617. fisher, who after having, first at Cambridge, and then
at Westminster (where he lived in the house of Dr. Grant, one
of the Prebendaries), ' freely, unrestrainedly, cheerfully im-
' parted his knowledge, whether in philosophy or divinity, to
' many young scholars,' — was buried near the library.
Nunc est positus mutam prope Bibliothecarn,
Ipse loquens quoniam bibliotheca fuit.
So wrote Ayton. Another poet and scholar of Westminster,
entering into the general sentiment of the Cloisters, wrote —
Men, women, children, all that pass this way,
Whether such as here walk, or talk, or play,
Take notice of the holy ground y' are on,
Lest you profane it with oblivion :
Kemember with due sorrow that here lies
The learned Fisher, he whose darkened eyes,
Gave light which as the midday circulates
To either sex, each age, and all estates.2
Another is that of the servant of one of the Prebendaries, full
of the quaint conceits of the seventeenth century : —
Lawrence, With diligence and trust most exemplary,
62.u Did William Lawrence serve a Prebendary ;
And for his paines now past, before not lost,
Grain'd this remembrance at his master's cost.
0 read these lines againe : you seldome find
A servant faithful, and a master kind.
Short-hand he wrote : his flowre in prime did fade,
And hasty Death short-band of bim hath made.
Well covth he numbers, and well mesur'd land ;
Thus doth be now that ground whereon you stand,
Wherein he lyes so geometricall :
Art maketb some, but thus will nature all.
1 Sir R. Coxe, Taster to Elizabeth II., James II., and William III., in the
Sir R. Coxe, an<^ James I., has a tablet North Transept.
1623. ' in the South Transept - Grant's preface to Fisher's defence
Saunders, (Stone was paid £30 for of the Liturgy : Epitaphs by Ayton and
it. Walpole's Anecdotes); Harris.
Clement Saunders, Carver to Charles
CHAP. iv. THEIR GROWTH. 311
A. third is that of John Broughton, one of the Yeomen of the
Guard. He was a man of gigantic strength, and in his youth
Broughton, furnished the model of the arms of Rysbrack's
' Hercules.' He was the ' Prince of Prizefighters ' in
his time, and after his name on the gravestone is a space,
which was to have been filled up with the words ' Champion
' of England.' l The Dean objected, and the blank remains.
It is natural to conclude this survey of the monu-
mental structure of the Abbey with the reflections of
the surrey.
When I am in a serious humour, I very often walk by myself in
Westminster Abbey ; where the gloominess of the place, and the use
to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and tbe
condition of tbe people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a
kind of melancholy, or rather thougbtfulness, that is not disagreeable.
.... I know that entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark
and dismal thoughts in timorous minds and gloomy imaginations ; but
for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it
is to be melancholy ; and can therefore take a view of nature, in her
deep and solemn scenes, with tbe same pleasure as in her most gay
and delightful ones. By this means I can improve myself with those
objects which others consider with terror. When I look upon the
tombs of tbe great, every emotion of envy dies in me ; when I read
tbe epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out ; when I
meet with tbe grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with
compassion ; when I see tbe tomb of tbe parents themselves, I consider
tbe vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow ; when
I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival
wits placed side by side, or tbe holy men that divided tbe world with
tbeir contests and disputes, I reflect witb sorrow and astonishment on
tbe h'ttle competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I
read tbe several dates of tbe tombs, of some that died yesterday, and
some six hundred years ago, I consider tbat great day wbeii we shall
all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.2
Our purpose has been somewhat different, though con-
verging to the same end. We have seen how, by a gradual
Gradual but certain instinct, the main groups have formed
fhemon°u- themselves round particular centres of death: how
the Kings ranged themselves round the Confessor;
how the Prince and Courtiers clung to the skirts of the Kings ;
1 These facts were communicated to the master-mason of the Abbey (Mr.
Poole) by Broughton's son-in-law. * Spectator, No. 26.
312 THE MONUMENTS: CHAP. iv.
how out of the graves of the Courtiers were developed the
graves of the Heroes ; how Chatham became the centre
of the Statesmen, Chaucer of the Poets, Purcell of the
Musicians, Casaubon of the Scholars, Newton of the Men of
Science : how, even in the exceptional details, natural affinities
may be traced ; how Addison was buried apart from his
brethren in letters, in the royal shades of Henry YII.'s Chapel,
because he clung to the vault of his own loved Montague ; how
Ussher lay beside his earliest instructor, Sir James Fullerton,
and Garrick at the foot of Shakspeare, and Spelman opposite
his revered Camden, and South close to his master Busby, and
Stephenson to his fellow-craftsman Telford, and Grattan to
his hero Fox, and Macaulay beneath the statue of his favourite
Addison.
These special attractions towards particular graves and
monuments may interfere with the general uniformity of the
Abbey, but they make us feel that it is not a mere dead museum,
that its cold stones are warmed with the life-blood of human
affections and personal partiality. It is said that the celebrated
French sculptor of the monument of Peter the Great at St.
Petersburg, after showing its superiority in detail to the famous
equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius at Rome, ended by the
candid avowal, ' Et cependant cette mauvaise bete est vivante, et
1 la mienne est morte.' Perhaps we may be allowed to reverse the
saying, and, when we contrast the irregularities of Westminster
Abbey with the uniform congruity of Salisbury or the Valhalla,
may reflect, * Cette belle bete est morte, mais la mienne est vivante.'
We have seen, again, how extremely unequal and uncertain
is the commemoration of our celebrated men. It is this which
uncertain renders the interment or notice within our walls a
distribution . •«_ • • i *, -,-,•,
of honours, dubious honour, and makes the Abbey, after all, but
an imperfect and irregular monument of greatness. But it is
this also which gives to it that perfectly natural character of
which any artificial collection is entirely destitute. In the
Valhalla of Bavaria, every niche is carefully portioned out : and
if a single bust is wanting from the catalogue of German
worthies, its absence becomes the subject of a literary contro-
versy, and the vacant space is at last filled. Not so in the
Abbey : there, as in English institutions generally, no fixed rule
has been followed. Graves have been opened or closed, monu-
ments erected or not erected, from the most various feelings of
the time. It is the general wave only that has borne in the
CHAP. IV.
THEIR GROWTH.
313
chief celebrities. Viewed in this way, the absences of which
we speak have a touching significance of their own. They are
eloquent of the force of domestic and local affection over
the desire for metropolitan or cosmopolitan distinction —
eloquent of the force of the political and ecclesiastical prejudice
at the moment — eloquent also of the strange caprices of the
British public.1 Why is it that of the three greatest names of
English literature — Shakspeare, Bacon, and Newton — the last
only is interred, and the second not even recorded, in the Abbey ?
Because the growth of the sentiment which drew the dust of
our illustrious men hitherward was in Elizabeth's time but just
beginning. Why are men so famous as Burke and Peel amongst
statesmen, as Pope and Gray, Wordsworth and Southey amongst
poets, not in the Statesmen's or the Poets' Corner ? Because
the patriarchal feeling in each of these men — so different each
from the other, yet alike in this — drew them from the neighbour-
hood of the great, with whom they consorted in the tumult of
life, to the graves of father and mother, or beloved child, far
away to the country churchyards where they severally repose —
in each, perhaps, not unmingled with the longing desire for a
simple resting-place which is expressed in Pope's epitaph on
himself at Twickenham,2 and in Burke's3 reflections during
his first visit to the Abbey. Why is it that Montague Earl of
Sandwich, Monk Duke of Albemarle, restorers of the monarchy,
Archbishop Ussher, the glory of the Irish Church, Clarendon,
the historian of the great Eebellion, rest here with no con-
temporary monument — three of them with none at all ? 4 That
1 Another disturbing force has in
late years been found in the attraction
of St. Paul's. The first public monu-
ment erected there was that of How-
ard. (See Milman's Annals, p. 480.)
The first intimation of the new feel-
ing is in Boswell's Johnson, ii. 226.
(1773.) ' A proposition which had been
agitated, that monuments to eminent
persons should, for the time to come,
be erected in St. Paul's church, as
well as in Westminster Abbey, was
mentioned ; and it was asked who
should be honoured by having his
monument first erected there. Some-
body suggested Pope. JOHNSON :
Why, sir, as Pope was a Roman
Catholic, I would not have his to
be first. I think Milton's rather
should have the precedence. I
think more highly of him now than
" I did at twenty. There is more
" thinking in him and in Butler than
" in any of our poets." '
2 See p. 269.
3 ' I have not the least doubt that
the finest poem in the English lan-
guage, I mean Milton's " II Pen-
" seroso," was composed in the long-
resounding aisle of a mouldering
cloister or ivy'd abbey. Yet, after
all, do you know that I would rather
sleep in the southern corner of a
country churchyard than in the tomb
of the Capulets. I should like, how-
ever, that my dust should mingle with
kindred dust. The good old expres-
sion, " family burying ground," has
something pleasing in it, at least to
me.' (Prior's Life of Burke, i. 39).
4 See pp. 210, 213.
314 THE MONUMENTS: CHAP. iv.
blank void tells again in the bare stones the often repeated story
of the ingratitude of Charles II. towards those to whom he
owed so much and gave so little. Why is it that poets like
Coleridge, Scott, and Burns, discoverers like Harvey and Bell,
have no memorial ? Because, for the moment, the fashion of
public interment had drifted away from the Abbey, or lost heed
of departing greatness in other absorbing interests, or ceased to
regard proportion in the distribution of sepulchral honours.
It is well that this should be so. Westminster Abbey is,
as Dr. Johnson well said,1 the natural resting-place of those
great men who have no bond elsewhere. Its metropolitan
position has, in this respect, powerfully contributed to its fame.
But even London is, or ought to be, insignificant compared
with England ; even Westminster Abbey must at times yield
to the more venerable, more enduring claims of home and of
race. Those quiet graves far away are the Poets' Corners of a
yet vaster temple ; or may we take it yet another way, and say
that Stratford-on-Avon and Dryburgh, Stoke Pogis and Gras-
mere, are chapels-of-ease united by invisible cloisters with
Westminster Abbey itself?
Again, observe how magnificently the strange conjunction
of tombs in what has been truly called this Temple of Silence
TheToiera- and Eeconciliation exemplifies the wide toleration of
tionof the f- .
Abbey. Death — may we not add, the comprehensiveness of
the true religion of the Church of England ? Not only does
Elizabeth lie in the same vault with Mary her persecutor, and
in the same chapel with Mary her victim ; not only does Pitt
lie side by side with Fox, and Macpherson with Johnson, and
Outram with Clyde; but those other deeper differences, which
are often thought to part more widely asunder than any political
or literary or military jealousy, have here sunk into abeyance.
Goldsmith in his visit to the Abbey, puts into the mouth of his
Chinese philosopher an exclamation of wonder that the guar-
dianship of a national temple should be confided to ' a college
' of priests.' It is not necessary to claim for the Deans of West-
minster any exemption from the ordinary infirmities of their
profession ; but the variety of the monuments, in country and
in creed, as well as in taste and in politics, is a proof that the
successive chiefs who have held the keys of St. Peter's Abbey
1 See p. 279. Compare Beattie's lines 'Mid the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome
Let vanity adorn the marble tomb Where night and desolati<JQ *™ tl0™-
With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of re- Mine be the breezy hill, &c.
nown ;
CHAP. iv. THEIR VARIETY. 315
have, on the whole, arisen to the greatness of their situation,
and have endeavoured to embrace, within the wide sympathy of
their consecrated precincts, those whom a narrow and sectarian
spirit might have excluded, but whom the precepts of their
common Master, no less than the instincts of their common
humanity, should have bid them welcome. The exclusiveness
of Englishmen has given away before the claims of the French
Casaubon, the Swiss Spanheim, the Corsican Paoli. The
exclusiveness of Churchmen has allowed the entrance of the
Nonconformist Watts, of the Eoman Catholic Dryden, l
Courayer, the foreign latitudinarian, Ephraim Chambers, the
sceptic of the humbler, and Sheffield, the sceptic of the higher
ranks, were buried with all respect and honour by the ' college
' of priests ' at Westminster, who thus acknowledged that the
bruised reed was not to be broken, nor the smoking flax
quenched. Even the yet harder problem of high intellectual
gifts, united with moral infirmity or depravity, has on the whole
here met with the only solution which on earth can be given.
If Byron was turned from our doors, many a one as questionable
as Byron has been admitted. Close above the monument of
the devoted Granville Sharpe is the monument of the epicurean
St. Evremond. Close beneath the tablet of the blameless
Wharton lies the licentious Congreve. The godlike gift of
genius was recognised — the baser earthly part was left to the
merciful judgment of its Creator. So long as Westminster
Abbey maintains its hold on the affections of the English Church
and nation, so long will it remain a standing proof that there
is in the truest feelings of human nature, and in the noblest
aspirations of religion, something deeper and broader than the
partial judgments of the day and the technical distinctions of
sects, — even than the just, though for the moment misplaced,
indignation against the errors and 'sins of our brethren. It is the
involuntary homage which perverted genius pays to the superior
worth of goodness, that it seeks to be at last honoured within
the building consecrated to the purest hopes of the soul of man ;
and when we consent to receive such within our W7alls, it is the
best acknowledgment of the truth uttered by the Christian poet —
There is no light but Thine — with Thee all beauty glows.
1 Several Roman Catholics, since the family in St. Edmund's Chapel, with
Reformation, have been buried in the Eequiescat in pace on their coffins
Abbey, besides those before enumerated. (Register) ; De Castro, the Portuguese
Lord Stafford (1719) and others of his envoy, in the Nave, 1720 (ibid.)
316 THE MONUMENTS: CHAP. IT.
There is yet another interest attaching to the tombs, even
the worst and humblest — namely, as a record of the vicissitudes
Thechanges °f art- Doubtless, this is shared by Westminster
of taste. Abbey with other great cathedrals and churches. Still
the record here is more continuous and more striking than
anywhere else. We trace here, as in a long procession, the
gradual rising of the recumbent effigies : first, to lean their
heads on their elbows, then to kneel, then to sit, then to stand
on then' feet, then to gesticulate, then to ascend out of tomb,
or sea, or ruins, as the case may be. Every stage of sepulchral
attitude is visible, from the knight of the thirteenth century,
with his legs crossed on his stony couch, to the philanthropist
of the nineteenth century, with his legs crossed far otherwise,
as he lounges in his easy armchair. Forgive them ; it may be
a breach of the rules of ecclesiastical order, but it is also the
life of the nation, awkwardly, untowardly struggling into
individual existence. It will enable future generations to know
a Wilberforce as he actually was, no less than a Plantagenet
prince as it was supposed he ought to be. At times the two
streams of taste meet so abruptly as to leave their traces almost
side by side. The expiring mediaeval art of Sir Francis Yere's
monument confronts both in time and place the first rise of
classical art in the monument of Sir George Holies. The brass
effigy of the engineer Stephenson, in the homeliest of all
modern costumes, carries to its utmost pitch the prosaic realities
of our age, as much as the brass effigy of Sir Kobert Wilson, a
few yards off, in complete armour, carries to a no less extrava-
gance its unreal romance.
We thus discern the evanescent phases of the judgments of
taste, which ought to make the artists and the critics of each
successive age, if not sceptical, at least modest, as to the
immortality of their own reputations. We are sometimes
shocked at the ruthless disregard of ancient days, with which
the Eeformers or the Puritans swept away the altars or the
imagery of their predecessors. But we have seen how the same
disregard of antiquity reaches back far earlier. ' Ecclesiam
1 stravit istam quam tune renoravit' was the inscription which
long glorified the memory of Henry III. for destroying the
venerable Norman Church of the Confessor. Henry V.'s Chantry
absorbed a large part of the tombs of Eleanor and Philippa.
Henry VII. razed to the ground what must have been the
graceful Lady Chapel of Henry III. The first prodigious
CHAP. iv. THEIR VARIETY. 317
intrusion of Pagan allegories, the first reckless mutilation of
mediaeval architecture by modern monuments, is the tomb of
the favourite of Charles I., the patron and friend of Archbishop
Laud. It was their sanction and influence that began the
desecration, as it is now often thought, which to no section of
Church or State is so repugnant as to the spiritual descendants
of those to whom it then seemed the height of ecclesiastical
propriety.
Or, again, we pass with scorn the enormous structures
which Eoubiliac raised in the Nave to General Wade and
General Hargrave ; but a great London antiquary declared of
one of them, that 'Europe could hardly show a parallel to
' it ; ' l and the other was deemed by the artist himself so splendid
a work, that he used to come and weep before it, to see that it
was put too high to be appreciated.2 The clumsy rocks and
' maritime monsters which we ridicule in the strange representa-
tion of Admiral Tyrell's death was, at the time, deemed ' a truly
' magnificent monument,' 3 and its germ may even be seen in
Addison's plaintive wish,4 — 'that our naval monuments might,
' like the Dutch, be adorned with rostral courses and naval
* ornaments, with beautiful festoons of seaweed, shells, and coral.'
A fastidious correspondent of Pope, whilst he criticises the
tombs already existing, proposes a remedy which to us appears
worse than the disease.
I chose a place for my wife [says Aaron Hill] in the Abbey Cloisters
— the wall of the church above being so loaded with marble as to leave
me no room to distinguish her monument. But there is a low and
unmeaning lumpisbness in the vulgar style of monuments, which dis-
gusts me as often as I look upon them ; and, because I would avoid
the censure I am giving, let me beg you to say whether there is sig-
nificance in the draught, of which I enclose you a copy. The flat
table behind is black, the figures are white marble. The whole of what
you see is but part of the monument, and will be surrounded by pilas-
ters, arising from a pediment of white marble, having its foundation on
a black marble mountain, and supporting a cornice and dome tbat will
ascend to the point of the cloister arch. About half-way up a craggy
path, on the black mountain below, will be the figure of ' Time ' in
1 Malcolm, p. 169. 1771, he recorded that ' the two monu-
- Akermann, ii. 37. ' merits with which he thought none
3 Charnock's Naval Biog. v. 269.— ' of the others worthy to be compared,
I have myself observed persons above ' are that of Mrs. Nightingale, and
the class of rustics standing entranced ' that of the Admiral rising out of his
before it, and calling it the 'master- ' tomb at the Resurrection.' — Journal,
' piece of the Abbey.' When Wesley iii. 426.
passed through the Abbey, Feb. 25, 4 Spectator, No. 26.
318 THE MONUMENTS. CHAP. iv.
white marble, in an attitude of climbing, obstructed by little Cupids,
of the same colour ; some rolling stones into his path from above, some
throwing nets at his feet and arms from below ; others in ambuscade,
shooting at him from both sides ; while the ' Death ' you see in the
draught will seem, from an opening between hills in relievo, to have
found admission by a shorter way, and prevented ' Time ' at a dis-
tance.1
To the continuator of Stow, in the eighteenth century, the
tomb of Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire, appears far superior
to that of Henry VII., particularly ' the Trophy and figure of
' Time.' 'I have seen no ornament that has pleased me better,
' and very few so well.' 2 In like manner, the tomb and screen
of Abbot Esteney fell before the cenotaph of General Wolfe,
which narrowly escaped thrusting itself into the place of the
exquisite mediaeval monument of Aymer de Valence.
I will give you one instance, that will sum up the vanity of great
men, learned men, and buildings altogether. I heard lately that Dr.
Pearce, a very learned personage, had consented to let the tomb of
Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, a very great personage, be re-
moved for Wolfe's monument ; that at first he had objected, but was
wrought upon by being told that hight Aymer was a templar, a very
wicked set of people, as his Lordship had heard, though he knew nothing
of them, as they are not mentioned by Longinus ; and I wrote to his
Lordship, expressing my concern that one of the finest and most ancient
monuments in the Abbey should be removed, and begging, if it was
removed, that he would bestow it on me, who would erect and preserve
it at Strawberry Hill. After a fortnight's deliberation, the Bishop
sent me an answer, civil indeed, and commending my zeal for antiquity !
but, avowing the story under his own hand, he said that at first, they
had taken Pembroke's tomb for a Knight Templar's ; that, upon dis-
covering whose it was, he had been very unwilling to consent to the
removal, and at last had obliged Wilton to engage to set the monu-
ment up within ten feet of where it stands at present.3
In this attack on the Dean, Horace Walpole has all the
world on his side, and possibly the world's judgment is now
fixed for ever. Yet if some successor of Zachary Pearce were
now, in the enthusiasm of modern restoration, to remove General
Wolfe, it is almost certain that he would incur the wrath of
some future Walpole.
There are, doubtless, ' lumpish ' monuments which obstruct
the architecture, which have no historical reason for being
1 Pope's Works, ix. 304. Appendix to Chapter VI.
2 Stow's Survey [1755], ii. 619. See 3 Walpole's Letters, ii. 274.
CHAP. iv. VAKIETIE3 OF JUDGMENT. 319
where they are, and might be more fittingly placed in other
parts of the Abbey. On these, so far as friends and survivors
permit, no mercy need be shown. But still, even here the
Deans of Westminster should always have before their eyes the
salutary terror of the projected misdeed of Bishop Pearce.
It must also be borne in mind that these incongruities
are no special marks of English or of Protestant taste.
They belong to the wave of sentiment that passed over the
whole of Europe in the last century.1 The Chapters of the
Cathedrals of Eheims and Strasburg were as guilty in their
ruthless destruction as ever have been the Chapter of any English
Cathedral. The Campo Santo at Pisa has had its delicate
tracery, its noble frescoes, mutilated by monuments as unsightly
as any in Westminster. The allegorical statues in the Abbey
of St. Peter are but the sister figures, on a less gigantic scale,
of the colossal forms of Pagan mythology which cluster round
the tombs of the Popes in the Basilica of St. Peter. The return
from sitting, standing, speaking statues of the dead to their
recumbent or kneeling effigies, has been earlier in Protestant
England than in Papal Italy.
And if our moral indignation is also roused against the
prominence of many a name now forgotten, yet the same mixture
variety of of mortification and satisfaction which is impressed
judgment. Up0n us as we see) jn the monuments, the proof of the
fallibility of artistic judgment, is impressed upon us in a deeper
sense as we read, in the history of their graves, or their epi-
taphs, a like fallibility of moral and literary judgment. In this
way the obscure poets and warriors who have attained the places
which we now so bitterly grudge them, teach us a lesson never
to be despised. They tell us of the writings, the works, or the
deeds in which our fathers delighted ; they remind us that the
tombs and the graves which now so absorb our minds may in
like manner cease to attract our posterity ; they put forward
their successors to plead for their perpetuation, at least in the
one place where alone, perhaps, a hundred years hence either
will be remembered. And if a mournful feeling is left upon our
minds by the thought that so many reputations, great in their
day, have passed away ; yet here and there the monuments contain
the more reassuring record, that there are glories which increase
instead of diminishing as time rolls on, and that there are
judgments in art and in literature, as well as in character, which
» See Chapter VI.
320 THE MONUMENTS. CHAP. iv.
will never be reversed. As in Henry VII. 's Chapel, the eye
rests with peculiar interest on Lord Dundonald's banner, fifty
years ago torn from its place and kicked ignominiously down
the flight of steps, yet within our own time, on the day of the
old sailor's funeral, reinstated by the herald at the gracious
order of the Sovereign — so the like reparation is constantly
working on a larger scale elsewhere. The inscription on
Spenser's tomb shows that even then the time had not arrived
when the true Prince of Poets was acknowledged in his rightful
supremacy ; yet it arrived at last, and the statue of Shakspeare,
better late than never, became the centre of a new interest in
Poets' Corner, which can never depart from it.1 And who
would willingly destroy any link in the chain of lesser tablets,
from Phillips to Gray, which marks the gradual rise of Milton's
fame, from the days when he had the ' audience fit but few '
to the moment of his universal recognition ? 2
Shakspeare and Milton, as we have seen, have had their
redress. For others, who have been thus overlooked, it is
enough now to say, that they are conspicuous by their absence.
But it may be hoped that these injustices will become rarer and
rarer as time advances. The day is fast approaching when the
country must provide for the continuation to future times of
that line of illustrious sepulchres which has added so much to
the glory both of Westminster Abbey and of England. Already
in the eighteenth century, the alarm was raised that the Abbey
was ' loaded with marbles ; ' a ' Petition from Posterity ' 3 was
presented to the Dean and Chapter to entreat that their case
might be considered ; a French traveller remarked that ' le
' peuple n'est pas plus serre dans les rues de Londres qu'a West-
' minster, celebre Abbaye, demeure des monuments funebres de
' toutes les personnes illustres de la nation ; ' 4 and Young, in his
poem on the Last Day, describes how
That ancient, sacred, and illustrious dome,
"Where soon or late fair Albion's heroes corne,
That solemn mansion of the royal dead,
Where passing slaves o'er sleeping monarchs tread,
Now populous o'erflows.
Yet the very pressure increases the attraction. What a poet,
already quoted, said of a private loss is still more true of the
losses of the nation — ' A monument is so frequented a place as
1 See p. 263. a Annual Register, 1756, p. 876.
2 See p. 261. 4 D'Holbach, Quart. Rev. xviii. 32fi.
CHAP. iv. VARIETIES OF JUDGMENT. 321
* "Westminster Abbey, restoring them to a kind of second life
' among the living, will be in some measure not to have lost
' them.' 1 The race of our distinguished men will still continue.
That they may never be parted in death from the centre
of our national energies, the hearth of our national religion,
should be the joint desire at once of the Church and of the
Commonwealth. The legislature has, doubtless for this purpose,
excepted the two great metropolitan churches from the general
prohibition of intramural interments. Is it too much to hope
that it will carry out the intention, by erecting within the pre-
cincts of the Abbey a Cloister, which shall bear on its portals
the names of those who have been forgotten within our walls
in former times, and entomb beneath its floor the ashes of
the illustrious men that shall follow after us ? We have
already more than rivalled Santa Croce at Florence. Let us
hope in future days to excel even the Campo Santo at Pisa.
NOTE ON THE WAXWOEK EFFIGIES.
Amongst the various accompaniments of great funerals — the body
lying in state, guarded by the nobles of the realm ; 2 the torchlight
procession ; 3 the banners and arms of the deceased hung over the
tomb 4 — there was one so peculiarly dear to the English public, as to
require a short notice.
This was ' the herse ' — not, as now, the car which conveys the
coffin, but a platform highly decorated with black hangings, and con-
taining a waxen effigy of the deceased person. It usually remained
for a month in the Abbey, near the grave, but in the case of sovereigns
for a much longer time. It was the main object of attraction, some-
times, even in the funeral sermon (see p. 157). Laudatory verses were
1 Pope, ix. 304. bury, and to Convocation, then sitting
2 At Monk's funeral.it is 'remark- for the revision of the Prayer Book,
able,' says Walpole, ' that forty No notice was taken. The last (ex-
gentlemen of good families submitted cept for royalty) was that of Lady
to wait as mutes, with their backs Charlotte Percy, May 1781. (Register ;
against the wall of the chamber where Gent. Mag. 1817, part i. p. 33.) The
the body lay in state, for three weeks, first Cloister funeral, in which the
waiting alternately twenty each day.' corpse was taken into the church, and
3 The funerals of great personages the whole service read, was that of
were usually by torchlight. A solemn George Lane Blount, aged 91, March
remonstrance was presented against 26, 1847. (Register.)
the practice, on religious, apparently 4 These still remain, in St. Paul's
Puritan, grounds, by the officials of Chapel, over the graves of the Delavals,
the Heralds' College, in 1662. It was and remnants of others are preserved in
addressed to the Archbishop of Canter- the Triforium.
322 THE MONUMENTS. CHAT- IT.
attached to it with pins, wax or paste.1 Of this kind, probably, was
Ben Jonson's epitaph on Lady Pembroke —
Underneath this sable herse
Lies the subject of all verse,'
Sidney's sister, etc.
They were even highly esteemed as works of art.
Mr. Emanuel Decretz (Serjeant-Painter to King Charles I.) told me, in 1649,
that the catafalco of King James, at his funerall (which is a kind of bed of state
erected in Westminster Abbey, as Kobert Earl of Essex had, Oliver Cromwell, and
General Monke), was very ingeniously designed by Mr. Inigo Jones, and that he
made the four heades of the cariatides of playster of Paris, and made the drapery
of them of white callico, which was very handsome and very cheap, and shewed
as well as if they had been cutt out of white marble.2
These temporary erections, planted here and there in different parts
of the Abbey, but usually in the centre, before the high altar,3 must of
themselves have formed a singular feature in its appearance.
But the most interesting portion of them was the ' lively effigy,'
which was there placed after having been carried on a chariot before
the body. This was a practice which has its precedent, if not its
origin, in the funerals of the great men of the Eoman Commonwealth.
The one distinguishing mark of a Eoman noble was the right of having
figures, with waxen masks representing his ancestors, carried at his
obsequies and placed in his hall.
In England the effigies at Eoyal Funerals can be traced 4 back as
far as the fourteenth century. After a time they were detached from
the hearses, and kept in the Abbey, generally near the graves of the
deceased, but were gradually drafted off into wainscot presses above
the Islip Chapel. Here they were seen in Dryden's time —
And now the presses open stand,
And you may see them all a-row. *
In 1658 the following were the waxen figures thus exhibited : —
Henry the Seventh and his fair Queen,
Edward the First and his Queen,
Henry the Fifth here stands upright,
And his fair Queen was this Queen.
1 Cunningham's Handbook of the Chamberlain's Records.) Monk's hearse
Abbey, p. 16. Many of the references was designed by Francis Barlow. (\V al-
and facts in this note I owe to Mr. pole's Anecdotes, p. 371.)
William Thorns, F.S.A. 3 See funeral of Anne of Cleves,
2 Aubrey's Letters and Lives, ii. Excerpta Historica, 303.
412. — There is an engraving of the 4 For Edward I.'s effigy (lying on
Wax Effigies and Catafalque of James his tomb), see Piers Langtoft (ii. 341) ;
tlie First prefixed to the funeral sermon Arch. iii. 386. For a like effigy of
preached by Dean Williams. The Anne of Bohemia, see Devon's Ex-
accounts are preserved of the periwig chequer Rolls, 17 E. II.
and beard made for the effigy. (Lord * Miscellaneous Poems, p. 301.
CHAP. iv. THE WAXWORK EFFIGIES. 323
The noble Prince, Prince Henry,
King James's eldest son,
King James, Queen Anne, Queen Elizabeth,
And so this Chapel's done.1
With this agrees the curious notice of them in 1708 : —
And so we went on to see the ruins of majesty in the women (sic : waxen ?)
figures placed there, by authority. As soon as we had ascended half a score stone
steps in a dirty cobweb hole, and in old wormeaten presses, whose doors flew open
at our approach, here stood Edward the Third, as they told us; which was a
broken piece of waxwork, a batter'd head, and a straw-stuff 'd body, not one quarter
covered with rags ; his beautiful Queen stood by, not better in repair ; and so to
the number of Jialf a score Kings and Queens, not near so good figures as the
King of the Beggars make, and all the begging crew would be ashamed of the
company. Their rear was brought up with good Queen Bess, with the remnants
of an old dirty ruff, and nothing else to cover her.2
Stow also describes the effigies of Edward III. and Philippa, Henry
V. and Catherine, Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York, Henry Prince of
Wales, Elizabeth, James I., and Queen Anne, as shown in the chamber
close to Islip's Chapel.3 Of these the wooden blocks, entirely denuded
of any ornament, still remain.
But there are eleven figures in a tolerable state of preservation.
That of Queen Elizabeth was, as we have seen, already worn out in
Queen 1708 and the existing figure is, doubtless, the one made by
Elizabeth, order of the Chapter, to commemorate the bicentenary of
the foundation of the Collegiate Church, in 1760. As late as 1783 it
stood in Henry VII. 's Chapel. The effigy of Charles II. used to stand
, over his grave, and close beside him that of General Monk.
General ' Charles II. is tolerably perfect,4 and seems to have early
attracted attention from the contrast with his battered pre-
decessors. Monk used to stand beside his monument by Charles II. 's
grave. The effigy is in too dilapidated a condition to be shown,
but the remnants of his armour exist still. The famous cap,
in which the contributions for the showmen were collected, is gone : —
Our conductor led us through several dark walks and winding ways, utter-
ing lies, talking to himself, and flourishing a wand which he held in his hand.
He reminded me of the black magicians of Kobi. After we had been almost
1 The Mysteries of Love and Elo- 1754 were also to be seen what were
quence, p. 88. (8vo, London, 1658.) shown as the crimson velvet robes of
- Tom Brown's Walk through Lon- Edward VI. (Description of the Abbey
don and Westminster, p. 49. He ob- and its Monuments [1754], p. 753.)
serves that ' most of them are stripped These were shown to Dart, as of Edward
' of their robes, I suppose by the late III. (i. 192).
' rebels. The ancientest have escaped 4 ' That as much as he excelled his
' best. I suppose, because their clothes ' predecessors in mercy, wisdom, and
' were too old for booty.' Dart (1717, ' liberality, so does his effigies exceed
vol. i. p. 192). ' the rest in liveliness, proportion, and
3 The face of Elizabeth of York was ' magnificence.' (Ward's London Spy,
still perfect when seen by Walpole. chap. viii. p. 170.)
(Anecdotes of Painting, i. 61.) In
T 2
324 THE MONUMENTS. CHAP. iv.
fatigued with a variety of objects, he at last desired me to consider attentively
a certain suit of armour, which seemed to show nothing remarkable. ' This
' armour,' said he, ' belonged to General Monk.' — Very surprising that a general
should wear armour ; — ' And pray,' added he, ' observe this cap ; this is General
Monk's cap.' — Very strange indeed, very strange, that a general should have a
cap also! — 'Pray, friend, what might this cap have cost originally?' 'That,
' sir,' says he, ' I don't know ; but this cap is all the wages I have for my
' trouble.' '
The Fragment on the Abbey in the ' Ingoldsby Legends' thus con-
cludes : —
I thought on Naseby, Marston Moor, and Worcester's crowning fight,
When on my ear a sound there fell, it filled me with affright ;
As thus, in low unearthly tones, I heard a voice begin —
' This here's the cap of General Monk ! Sir, please put summut in.'' *
William III., Mary, and Anne were, in 1754, ' in good condition
•wmiam in., ' an(l greatly admired by every eye that beheld them,' 3 and
androueen nave probably not been changed since. A curious example
Anne. of large inferences drawn from small premisses may be seen
in Michelet's comment on the wax effigy of William III. —
La fort bonne figure en cire de Guillaume III. qui est a Westminster, le montre
au vrai. II est en pied comme il fut, mesquin, jaune, mi-Francais par 1'habit
rubane de Louis XIV. mi-Anglais de flegme apparent, etre a sang froid, que
pousse certaine fatalite mauvaise.4
The Duchess of Eichmond (see p. 197) stood ' at the corner of the
Duchess of ' great east window ' — according to her will — ' as well done
Kichmond. < m wax 5 ag couj^ b6j an(j dressed in coronation robes and
' coronet (those which she wore at the coronation of Queen Anne),
' under clear crown-glass and none other,' with her favourite
Duchess or °
Bucking- parrot. The Duchess of Buckinghamshire, with one son,
and her son, as a child (see p. 229) stood by her husband's monument,
of Bucking^ The figure of her last surviving son is represented in a re-
lire" cumbent posture, as the body was brought from Eome. This
is the last genuine ' effigy.' It long lay in the Confessor's Chapel.6
The two remaining figures belong to a practice, now happily dis-
continued, of ekeing out by fees the too scanty incomes of the Minor
Canons and Lay Vicars, who in consequence enlarged their salaries by
adding as much attraction as they could by new waxwork figures,
Chathau when the custom of making them for funerals ceased. One
of these is the effigy of Lord Chatham, erected in 1779,
when the fee for showing them was, in consideration of the interest
1 Goldsmith's Citizen of the World. by Wren, was the last used for a
2 Inqoldsby Legends. Sovereign.
3 Description of the Abbey (1574), 4 Michelet,LOTm2ri7.(1864),p.l70.
p. 753. But none of these effigies, nor 5 By a Mr. Goldsmith. (Cunning-
indeed of Charles II. (I learn from ham's London, p. 539.)
Mr. Doyne Bell), were carried at the ' Westminster Abbey and its Curi-
funerals. The hearse of Mary IL, made osities (1783), p. 47.
THE WAXWORK EFFIGIES.
325
Nelson.
attaching to the great statesman (see page 241), raised from three-
pence to sixpence.1 ' Lately introduced ' (says the Guide-book of 1783)
' at a considerable expense. . . . The eagerness of connoisseurs and
' artists to see this figure, and the satisfaction it affords, justly places
' it Among the first of the kind ever seen in this or any other country.' 2
The waxwork figure of Nelson furnishes a still more remarkable
proof of his popularity, and of the facility with which local traditions
are multiplied. After the public funeral, the car on which
his coffin had been carried to St. Paul's was deposited there,
and became an object of such curiosity, that the sightseers deserted
Westminster, and all flocked to St. Paul's.3 This was a serious injury
to the officials of the Abbey. Accordingly, a waxwork figure of the
hero was set up, said to have been taken from a smaller figure, for
which he had sat, and dressed in the clothes which he had actually
worn (with the exception of the coat). The result was successful, and
the crowds returned to Westminster.
Ludicrous and discreditable as these incidents may be, they are
the exact counterparts of the rivalry of relics in the monasteries of the
Middle Ages — such as we have already noticed in the endeavours of
the Westminster monks to outbid the legends of the Cathedral of St.
Paul 4 (Chapter I.), and as may be seen in the artifices of the Abbey
of St. Augustine to outshine the Cathedral at Canterbury.5 (See
Memorials of Canterbury, p. 199.)
1 The original fee had been a penny-
(See Peacham's Worth of a Penny.)
* Westminster Abbey and its Curi-
osities, p. 51.
s Nelson's saying on the Abbey has
been variously reported as ' a Peerage
' or Westminster Abbey,' and ' Victory
' or Westminster Abbey,' and is often
said to have been the signal given at
Aboukir. (So, for example, Montalem-
bert's Moines de V Occident, iv. 431.)
Sir Augustus Clifford has pointed out
to me the real occasion. It was at the
battle of Cape St. Vincent, on Feb. 14,
1797, ' the most glorious Valentine's
' Day ' (as Nelson used to call it). The
Commodore, as he then was, had just
taken the Spanish ship, ' San Nicholas,'
when he found himself engaged with
another three-decker, the ' San Josef.'
The two alternatives that presented
themselves to his unshaken mind were
to quit the prize or instantly to board
the three-decker. Confident of the
bravery of his seamen, he determined
on the latter. . . . He headed the
assailants himself in this sea attack,
exclaiming " Westminster Abbey or
" glorious victory ! " ' (Letter of Col.
Drinkwater, an eyewitness of the
battle, quoted in Pettigrew's Life of
Nelson, u 94.) The success was com-
plete, and Nelson marked his sense of
its value by transmitting the sword
which the commander of the ' San
' Josef ' surrendered into his hands to
the Town Hall of his native county
at Norwich, where it still remains.
(Ibid. 90.)
4 ' St. Paul's affords a new theatre
' for statuaries, and suggests monu-
' ments there ; the Abbey would still
' preserve its general customers by
' new recruits of waxen puppets.'
(Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting,
p. 566.)
s Another resemblance to the mediae-
val usage of decorating the images of
saints may be seen in the adornment
(apparently) of the wax effigies in the
Abbey for the visits of great persons.
' King Christianus (of Denmark) and
' Prince Henry went into the Abbey of
' Westminster, and into the Chapel
' Eoyal of Henry VII., to behold the
' monuments, against whose coming
' the image of Queen Elizabeth, and
' certain other images of former Kings
' and Queens, were newly beautified,
' amended, and adorned with royal
' vestures.' — (Nichol's Progresses of
James I. ii. 87 [in 160G\)
CHAPTER V,
THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION.
The approach to the Abbey through these gloomy monastic remains prepares the
mind for its solemn contemplation. The Cloisters still retain something of the
quiet and seclusion of former days. The gray walls are discoloured by damp, and
crumbling with age : a coat of hoary moss has gathered over the inscriptions of
the several monuments, and obscured the death"1 s heads and other funereal emblems.
The sharp touches of the chisel are gone from the rich tracery of the arches. The
roses which adorned the keystones have lost their leafy beauty : everything bears
marks of the gradual dilapidation of time, which yet has something touching and
pleasing in its very decay. The sun was pouring down a yellow autumnal ray
into the square of the Cloisters, beaming upon a -scanty plot of grass in the centre,
and lighting up an angle of the vaulted passage with a kind of dusky splendour.
From between the arches the eye glanced up to a bit of blue sky or a passing
cloud, and beheld the sun-gilt pinnacles of the Abbey towering into the azure
heaven. — WASHINGTON IEVING'S Sketch Book, i. 399.
SPECIAL AUTHORITIES.
The special authorities for this chapter are : —
I. Flete's History of the Monastery, from its Foundation to A.D. 1386.
MS. in the Chapter Library, of which a modern transcript exists
in the Lambeth Library.
II. The fourth part of the Consuetudines of Abbot Ware (1258-1283),
amongst the MSS. in the Cotton Library. It has evidently been
much used by Dart in his Antiquities of Westminster. But since
that time it was much injured in the fire of 1731, which damaged
the Library in the Westminster Cloisters (see Chapter VI.), and
was long thought to be. illegible. Within the last two years, how-
ever, it has in great part been deciphered, by an ingenious chemical
process, at the expense of the Dean and Chapter, and a transcript
deposited in the Chapter Library. In the use made of it I have
derived much assistance from the classification of its contents by
Mr. Gilbert Scott, jun., and the comments upon it by Mr. Ashpitel.
III. Cartulary of tlie Abbey of St. Peter, Westminster, of which an abstract
was printed for private circulation by Mr. Samuel Bentley, 1836,
the original being in the possession of Sir Charles Young, to whose
kindness I owe the use made of it.
IV. Walcott's Memorials of Westminster (1849).
V. Westminster Improvements : a brief Account of Ancient and Modern
Westminster, by One of the Architects of the Westminster Improve-
ment Company (William Bardwell). 1839.
For the general arrangements of an English Benedictine Monastery, I am
glad to be able to refer my readers to the long-expected account of the best
preserved and best explained of the whole class, — the description of the
Monastery of Canterbury Cathedral by Professor Willis in the Archceologia
Cantiana, vol. .vii. pp. 1-206.
327
CHAPTER V.
THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION.
WE have hitherto considered the Abbey in reference to the
general history of the country. It now remains to track its
The MOU- connection with the ecclesiastical establishment of
which it formed a part, and which, in its turn, has
peculiar points of contact with the outer world. This inquiry
naturally divides itself into the periods before and after the
Reformation, though it will be impossible to keep the two
entirely distinct. There is, however, one peculiarity which
belongs almost equally to both, and constitutes the main dis-
tinction both of the ' Monastery l of the west ' from other Bene-
dictine establishments, and of the ' Collegiate Church ' of the
Dean and Chapter of Westminster from cathedrals in general.
The Monastery and Church of Westminster were, as we have
seen,2 enclosed within the precincts of the Palace of Westminster
as completely as the Abbey of Holyrood 3 and the Con-
vent of the Escurial were united with those palaces of
the Scottish and Spanish sovereigns. The abbey was,
in fact, a Royal Chapel4 on a gigantic scale. The King had a
private entrance to it through the South Transept, almost direct
from the Confessor's Hall,5 as well as a cloister communicating
with the great entrance for State processions6 in the North
Transept. Even to this day, in official language, the coronations
1 The independence of the Monas- fact that the Castle is still a part
tery from episcopal jurisdiction is of of the parish of Canongate. (Joseph
course common to all other great Robertson.)
monastic bodies, and forms a part of 4 ' CapellanostraS'peculiariscapelTa
the vast ' Presbyterian ' government, ' pallatii nostri principalis,' is Edward
which, before the Reformation, flour- III.'s description of the Abbey. (Dug-
ished side by side with Episcopacy. dale's Monasticon, i. 312.)
What I have here had to trace is its 5 See Chapter III. Gent. Mag.
peculiar form in Westminster. [1828], pt. i. p. 421.— Fires in the
- See Chapter I. Palace are described as reaching the
3 This was true even when Holy- Monastery. (Archives, A.D. 1334 ;
rood was on the site of the Castle Matt. Paris, A.D. 1269.)
rock, of which a trace remains in the 6 Westminster Improvements, 14.
328 THE ABBEY BEFOKE THE BE FORMATION. CHAP. v.
are said to take place in ' Our Palace at Westminster,' } though
the Sovereign never sets foot in the Palace strictly so called,
and the whole ceremony is confined to the Abbey, which for
the time passes entirely into the possession of the Crown and its
officers.
From this peculiar connection of the Abbey with the Palace
— of which many traces will appear as we proceed — arose the
itsinde- independence of its ecclesiastical constitution and its
pendence. dignitaries from all other authority within the kingdom.
Even in secular matters, it was made the centre of a separate
jurisdiction in the adjacent neighbourhood. Very early in its
history, Henry III. pitted the forces of Westminster against
the powerful citizens of London.2 Some of its privileges at
the instance of the Londoners3 were removed by Edward I.
But whatever show of independence the City of Westminster
still possesses, it owes to a reminiscence of the ancient grandeur
of its Abbey. So completely was the Monastery held to stand
apart from the adjacent metropolis, that a journey of the
monastic officers to London, and even to the manor of Padding-
ton, is described as an excursion which is not to be allowed
without express permission.4 The Dean is still the shadowy
head of a shadowy corporation : and on the rare occasions of
pageants which traverse the whole metropolis, the Dean, with
his High Steward and High Bailiff, succeeds to the Lord Mayor
at Temple Bar.5 In former times, down to the close of the last
century, the Dean possessed, by virtue of this position, consider-
able power in controlling the elections, even then stormy, of the
important constituency of Westminster.
In like manner the See of London, whilst it stretches on
every side, has never 6 but once penetrated the precincts of
Westminster. The Dean, as the Abbot before him, still remains
supreme under the Crown. The legend of the visit of St. Peter
1 See London Gazettes of 1838. and offer up their devotions in Henry
1 Matt. Paris, A.D. 1250. ' Utinam VII.'s Chapel. (Widmore, p. 161.)
4 non in aliorum lasionem,' is an anno- It is probably a relic of this which
tation by some jealous hand. exists in the payment for ' the Lord
3 Bidgway, pp. 52, 207 ; Eishanger, ' Mayor's Candle ' in the Abbey.
A.D. 1277. « There was an attempt made in
4 Ware, 170. 1845, under the energetic episcopate
* As in the reception of the Princess of Bishop Blomfield, to include the
Alexandra in 1862. It was usual, down Abbey in the diocese of London, but
to the seventeenth century, for the it was foiled by the vigilance of
Lord Mayors of London, after they Bishop Wilberforce, who, for that
had been sworn into office in West- one year, occupied the Deanery of
minster Hall, to come to the Abbey, Westminster.
CHAP. v. ITS INDEPENDENCE. 329
to the fisherman had for one express object the protection of
the Abbey against the intrusion of the Bishop of London.1
' From that time there was no King so undevout that durst it
' violate, or so holy a Bishop that durst it consecrate.' 2 The
claims to be founded on the ruins of a Temple of Apollo, and by
King Sebert, have the suspicious appearance of being stories in-
tended to counteract the claims of St. Paul's Cathedral to the
Temple of Diana, and of its claim to that royal patronage.3
Even the haughty Dunstan was pressed into the service, and
was made, in a spurious charter, to have relinquished his rights as
Bishop of London. The exemption was finally determined in
the trial between Abbot Humez and Bishop Fauconberg, in the
thirteenth century, when it was decided in favour of the Abbey
by a court of referees ; whilst the manor of Sudbury was given
as a compensation to the Bishop, and the church of Sudbury to
St. Paul's Cathedral.4 An Archdeacon of Westminster, who is
still elected by the Chapter, exercised, under them for many years,
an archidiaconal jurisdiction 5 in the Consistory Court under the
South-western Tower. In the sacred services of the Abbey
neither Archbishop nor Bishop, except in the one incommuni-
cable rite of Coronation, was allowed to take part without the
permission of the Abbot, as now of the Dean. When Archbishop
Turbine consecrated Bernard Bishop of St. David's, that Queen
Maud might see it, probably in St. Catherine's Chapel, it was
with the special concession of the Abbot.6 When the Bishop of
Lincoln presided at the funeral of Eleanor, it was because the
Abbot (Wenlock) had quarrelled with Archbishop Peckham.7
From the time of Elizabeth, the privilege of burying great
personages has been entirely confined to the Dean and Chapter
of Westminster. From the first occasion of the assembling of
the Convocation of the Province of Canterbury within the pre-
cincts of Westminster, down to the present day, the Archbishop
has always been met by a protest, as from the Abbot so from the
Dean, against any infringement of the privileges of the Abbey.
The early beginnings of the Monastery have been already
THE traced. Its distinct history first appears after the
ABBOTS. Conquest, and is concentrated almost entirely in the
Abbots. As in all greater convents, the Abbots were personages
1 See Chapter L, pp. 8, 17. the privileges in detail, see Flete, c. ii^
2 More's Life of Richard III. 177. xii.
8 Wharton, Ep". Land. p. 247. 5 Wills were proved there till 1674.
4 Ibid. p. 29 ; Widmore, p. 38. For « Eadmer, p. 116.
7 Eidgway, pp. 103, 104 ; Wykes.
330 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
of nearly episcopal magnitude, and in Westminster their peculiar
relation to the Crown added to their privileges. The Abbots
since the Conquest, according to the Charter of the Confessor,
were, with two exceptions (Humez and Boston), all chosen from
the Convent itself. They ranked, in dignity, next after the
Abbots of St. Albans.1 A royal licence was always required
for their election,2 as well as for their entrance into possession.
The election itself required a confirmation, obtained in person
from the Pope, who, however, sometimes deputed the duty of
installation to a Bishop. On their accession they dropped their
own surnames, and took the names of their birthplaces, as if by
a kind of peerage. They were known, like sovereigns, by their
Christian names — as ' Eichard the First,' or ' Richard the
' Second ' 3 — and signed themselves as ruling over their com-
munities ' by the grace of God.' They were to be honoured as
' Vicars of Christ.' When the Abbot passed, every one was to
rise. To him alone the monks confessed.4 A solemn bene-
diction answered in his case to an episcopal consecration. If,
after his election, he died before receiving this, he was to be
buried like any other monk ; but otherwise, his funeral was to
be on the most sumptuous scale, and the anniversary of his death
to be always celebrated.5
Edwin, the first Abbot of whom anything is known, was
probably, through his friendship with the Confessor, the secret
Edwill) founder of the Abbey itself. He, though as long as
he lived he faithfully visited the tomb of his friend,
accommodated himself with wonderful facility to the Norman
Conqueror, and in that facility laid the foundation of the most
regal residence in England. Amongst the Confessor's dona-
tions to Westminster, there was one on which the Conqueror
set his affections, for his retreat for hunting, ' by reason of the
origin of ' pureness of the air, the pleasantness of the situation,
castie. ' and its neighbourhood to wood and waters.' It was
the estate of ' the winding ' of the Thames — '• Windsor.' 6 This
1 For the whole question of pre- imperfect ; but for the funerals see the
cedence, as between the Abbot of St. Islip Roll, and for the general privi-
Albans, the Abbot of Westminster, and leges, see Chronicle of Abingdon, ii.
the Prior of Canterbury Cathedral, see 336-350.
Mr. Riley's preface to Walsingham's 6 Neale, i. 29. Windles-ore, not
Chronicles of the Abbots of St. Albans, the ' winding-shore,' as is generally
vol. iii. pp. Ixxii.-lxxv. said ; but, as I have been informed by
2 Ware. a learned Scandinavian scholar, ' the
8 Ibid. p. 403. ' winding sandbank,' or ' the sandspit
4 Archives of St. Paul's, A.D. 1261. ' in a winding,' as in Helsing-or (El-
5 Ware, p. 10.— The MS. is here very sinore).
THE NORMAN ABBOTS.
331
the Abbot conceded to the King, and received in return some
lands in Essex, and a mill at Stratford ; in recollection of
which the inhabitants of Stepney, Whitechapel, and Stratford
used to come to the Abbey at Whitsuntide ; ' and two bucks from
the forest of Windsor were always sent the Abbot on the Feast
of St. Peter ad Vincula.2 Edwin was first buried in the Cloister ;
afterwards, as we shall see, in the Chapter House.
To Edwin succeeded a series of Norman Abbots — Geoffrey,
Yitalis, Gislebert, Herbert, and Gervase, a natural son of King
Stephen. Geoffrey was deposed and retired to his
original Abbey of Jumieges, where he was buried. In
Yitalis 's time the first History of the Abbey was
written by one of his monks, Sulcard. Gislebert was
the author of various scholastic treatises, still pre-
served in the manuscripts of the Cottonian Library.3
Then followed Laurence, who procured from the Pope
the Canonisation of the Confessor, and with it the ex-
altation of himself and his successors to the rank of
mitred Abbot.
Down to the time of Henry III. the Abbots had been buried
in the eastern end of the South Cloister. Three gravestones
still remain, with the rude effigies of these as yet unmitred
dignitaries.4 But afterwards— it may be from the increasing
importance of the Abbots— the Cloisters were left to the humbler
denizens of the Monastery. Abbot Papillon, though
degraded from his office nine years before, was buried
in the Nave. Abbot Berking was buried in a marble
tomb before the High Altar in the Lady Chapel,5 then
just begun at his instigation. Crokesley, who suc-
ceeded, had been the first Archdeacon of Westminster, and in
his time the Abbey was exempted from all jurisdiction of the
See of London. He lived in an alternation of royal shade and
Geoffrey,
1068-74^
Vitalis,
1076-82.
Gislebert,
Crispin,
1082-1114.
Herbert,
1121-40.
Gervase,
1140-60.
Laurence,
1 160-76.
Walter,
1176-91.
Postard,
1191-1200.
Papillon,
1200-14,
died 1223.
Humez,
1214-22.
Berking,
1322-46.
Crokesley,
1246-58.
1 Akermann, i. 74.
2 Cartulary ; Dugdale, i. 310.
3 Neale, i. 32.
4 Flete MS.— The names of the
Abbots were inscribed in modern times,
but all wrongly. That, for example,
of Gervase, who was buried under a
small slab, was written on the largest
gravestone in the Cloisters. The real
order appears to have been this, begin-
ning from the eastern corner of the
South Cloister : Postard in front of the
dinner-bell ; Crispin and Herbert under
the second bench from the bell ; Vitalis
(under a small slab) and Gislebert
(with an effigy) at the foot of Gervase
(under a small stone) ; Humez (with
an effigy) at the head of Gervase. The
dinner-bell probably was hung in what
was afterwards known as Littlington's
Belfry.
s It was removed when Henry VII. 's
Chapel was built, and his grave is now
at the steps leading to it. The grey
stone and brass were visible till late
in the last century. (Crull, p. 117 ;
Seymour's Stow, ii. 613.)
332 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
sunshine — sometimes causing the King to curse him and de-
clare, ' It repenteth me that I have made the man ; ' l and send
criers up and down the streets of London warning every one
against him ; sometimes, by undue concessions to him, enraging
the other convents, almost always at war with his own.
He was buried first in a small Chapel of St. Edmund near
the North Porch, and afterwards removed to St. Nicholas's
Chapel, and finally, in Henry VI.'s time, to some other place
not mentioned.2
The exemption from the jurisdiction of the See of London
led to one awkward result. It placed the Abbey in immediate
dependence on the Papal See, and the Abbots accordingly (till
a commutation and compensation was made in the time of
Edward IV.) were obliged to travel to Eome for their confirma-
tion, and even to visit it once every two years. The inconvenience
Lewisham, was instantly felt, for Crokesley's successor, Peter of
Lewisham, was too fat to move, and before the matter
could be settled he died. The journey, however, was carried
Ware> out by the next Abbot, Eichard de Ware, and with
material results, which are visible to this day. On his
second journey, in 1267, he brought back with him the mosaic
Mosaic pavement — such as he must have seen freshly laid down
fromgRome i11 tne Church of San Lorenzo— to adorn the Choir
of the Church, then just completed by the King. It
remains in front of the Altar, with an inscription, in part still
decipherable, recording the date of its arrival, the name of the
workman who put it together (Oderic), the ' City ' from whence
it came, and the name of himself the donor. He was buried
underneath it,3 on the north side. As in the history of England
at large, the reign of Henry HI. was an epoch fruitful of
change, so also was it in the internal regulations of the Abbey.
To us the thirteenth century seems sufficiently remote. But, at
the time, everything seemed ' of modern use,' so startling were
1 Matt. Paris, 706, 726. From a careful examination of the
1 Flete. On July 12, 1866, in bones, he appears to have been a per-
making preparations for a new Reredos, sonage of tall stature, slightly halting
the workmen came upon a marble coffin on one leg, with a strong projecting
under the High Altar. Fragments of brow ; and the knotted protuberances
a crozier in wood and ivory, and of a in the spine imply that he had suffered
leaden paten and chalice, prove the much from chronic rheumatism. See a
body to be that of an Abbot ; whilst complete account of the whole, by Mr.
the absence of any record of an inter- Scharf , in the Proceedings of the Society
ment on that spot, and the fact that of Antiquaries, 2nd series, vol. iii.. No.
the coffin was without a lid, and that 5, pp. 354-357.
the bones had been turned over, show 3 His stone coffin was seen there in
that this was not the original grave. 1866.
These indications point to Crokesley.
CHAP. v. THE NORMAN ABBOTS. 333
the ' innovations ' begun by Abbot Berking, when compared with
the ancient practices of the first Norman Abbots, ' Gislebert,'
and his brethren ' of venerable memory.' ' To Abbot Ware,
accordingly, was due the compilation of the new Code of the
Monastery, known as his Consuetudines or ' Customs.' Opposite
weniock, to Ware, on the south side, lies Abbot Wenlock, who
1281-1308. jive(j to gee the compietion of the work of Henry III.,
and who shared in the disgrace (shortly to be told) of the
robbery of the Royal Treasury. The profligate manners of the
Kydyngton, reign of Edward II. were reflected in the scandalous
cfurtiingtou, election of Kydyngton,2 ultimately secured by the in-
1316-1334. fluence Of piers Gaveston with the King. He was
succeeded by Curtlington, who was a rare instance of the
unanimous election of an Abbot by Pope, King, and Convent.
His grave began the interments in the Chapel of the patron
Heniev saint of their order — St. Benedict. But his successor,
1334-44. Henley, lies under the lower pavement of the Sacra-
riuin, opposite Kydyngton. Then occurs the one exception of
a return to the Cloister. The Black Death fell heavily on
Westminster. The jewels of the convent3 had to be sold
Byrcheston, apparently to defray the expenses. Abbot Byrcheston
1344-1349. r \ . , ., . ,. *T,
The Black and twenty-six monks were its victims. He was
ms.11 ° buried in the Eastern Cloister, which he had built;
and they probably 4 lie beneath the huge slab in the Southern
Cloister, which has for many years borne the false name of
' Gervase,' or more popularly ' Long Meg.' If this be so, that
vast stone is the footmark left in the Abbey by the greatest
plague that ever visited Europe.
Langham lies by the side of Curtlington. The only
Langham, Abbot of Westminster who rose to the rank of Cardi-
diedisre; ngj^ and to the See of Canterbury, and whose de-
Ely, 1362- parture from each successive office (from Westminster
bis'hop'of to Ely, and from Ely to Canterbury) was hailed with
1866-89; ' iov bv those whom he left, and with dread by those
Cardinal, ,, ..,. , ji rj j. • i •
1368; whom he joined — is also the first in whom, as far as
Treasurer, we know, a strong local affection for Westminster
Lord had an opportunity of showing itself. His stern
Sen??"' and frugal administration in Westminster, if it pro-
voked some enmity from the older monks, won for him the
• ! Ware, pp. 257, 258, 261, 264, 291, pavement where the Easter caudle
319, 344, 359, 495, 500. stood, with a figure in brass. (Flete.)
:- He was buried before the altar, * Cartulary, 1349.
under the southern part of the lower 4 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 114.
_
334: THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
honour of being a second founder of the monastery. To the
Abbey, where he had been both Prior and Abbot, his heart always
turned. The Nave, where his father was buried, had a special
continua- hold upon him, and through his means it first advanced
Nave" towards completion.1 In the Chapel of St. Nicholas
he was confirmed in the Archiepiscopal See ; and to the Chapel
of St. Benedict, at the close of his many changes, he begged to
be brought back from the distant Avignon, where he died,
and was there laid under the first and grandest ecclesiastical
tomb that the Abbey contains. Originally2 a statue of Mary
Magdalene guarded his feet. He had died on the eve of her
feast. It was from the enormous bequest which he left,
amounting in our reckoning to ^200,000, that his successor,
T.LIT ^ Nicholas Littlington, rebuilt or built the Abbot's house
Littlmfrton, «
No6v;29ied (^e present Deanery, where his head appears over the
1386. ' entrance), part of the Northern and the whole of the
Southern and "Western Cloisters (where his initials are still3
HIS build- visible), and many other parts of the conventual build-
ings. ing8 4 since perished. In Littlington's mode of making
his bargains5 for these works he was somewhat unscrupulous.
But he was long remembered by his bequests. In the Eefectory,
to which he left silver vessels, a prayer for his soul was al-
ways repeated immediately after grace.6 Of his legacies to
the Chapter Library, one magnificent remnant exists in the
Littlington Missal, still preserved. He died on St. Andrew's 7
Eve, ' at dinner time,' at his manor of Neate, and was buried
before the altar of St. Blaize's Chapel.
We trace the history of the next Abbots in the Northern
Colchester Chapels. In that of St. John the Baptist was laid the
Ha£erde°i 'grand conspirator,' 8 William of Colchester, who
Kyrto*n' was sent by Henry IV., with sixty horsemen to the
N^ich Council of Constance,9 and died twenty years after
1466-69.' Shakspeare reports him to have been hanged for his
treason ; Kyrton lies in the Chapel of St. Andrew, which he
1 Gleanings, 53. of the fall of Richard II. (French
* Cartulary. Chronicle of EicJiard II. 139-224.)
3 Gleanings, 210. 9 Widmore, p. Ill ; Rymer, v. 95.
4 The stone came from the quarries William of Colchester succeeded for the
of Reigate. (Archives.) time in establishing his precedence over
4 Cartulary. the Abbot of St. Albans : and it has been
6 Ibid. conjectured that this was the occasion
7 Esteney's Niger Quaternar.p. 86. of the portrait of Richard II. (Riley's
8 Widmore, p. 102 ; Shakspeare's Preface to Walsingham's Abbots of St.
EicJiard II. Act v. sc. 6. The Prior of Albans, iii. p. Ixxv.)
Westminster had already had a vision
CHAP. v. THE PLANTAGENET ABBOTS. 335
adorned for himself, as his family had adorned the adjoining
Thomas a^ar °^ St. Michael ; ! Milling — raised by Edward
1469-74'; IV- to the See of Hereford, but returning to his old
&tene4y2' haunts to be buried2 — and Esteney,3 the successive
guardians of Elizabeth Woodville and her royal children,
Utt-uoo. in the Chapel of St. John the Evangelist. During
this time Flete, the Prior of the Monastery, wrote its meagre
isiip, i5oo- history.4 Fascet, the Abbot who saw the close of the
32 died
May 12. fifteenth century, was interred in a solitary tomb in St.
buildings. Paul's Chapel.5 Finally Islip, who had witnessed the
completion of the east end of the Abbey by the building
of Henry VII. 's Chapel, himself built the Western Towers
as high as the roof, filled the vacant niches outside with the
statues of the Sovereigns, and erected the apartments and the
gallery against the south side of the Abbey by which the Abbot
could enter and overlook the Nave. The larger part of the
Deanery buildings subsequent to Abbot Littlington seem in fact
to have been erected in his time. He had intended to attempt
a Belfry Tower over the central lantern.6 In the elaborate re-
presentation which has been preserved of his obsequies,7 we
seem to be following to their end the funeral of the Middle Ages.
The isiip WG see him standing amidst the ' slips ' or branches of
the bower of moral virtues, which, according to the
fashion of the fifteenth century, indicate his name; with the
words, significant of his character,8 ' Seek peace and pursue it.'
We see him, as he last appeared in state at the Coronation of
Henry VIII., assisting Warham in the act, so fraught with
consequences for all the future history of the English Church
— amidst the works of the Abbey, which he is carrying on with
all the energy of his individual character and with the strange
1 Cartulary. See Appendix. 4 The graves of Hawerden and Nor-
2 Milling's coffin was moved from wich are not known.
the centre of the Chapel to make room 5 So at least it would seem. The tomb
for the Earl of Essex'sgrave (see Chapter was subsequently moved to make way
IV.), to its present place on the top of for Sir J. Puckering's monument, and
Fascet's tomb. In 1711 it was errone- placed in the entrance to St. John
ously called Humphrey de Bohun's. Baptist's Chapel.
(Crull, p. 148.) 6 Dart, ii. 34.
3 Esteney lay at the entrance of the ' See the Islip Eoll, in the Library
Chapel of St. John the Evangelist, of the Society of Antiquaries ; in
behind an elaborate screen. The body Vestusta Monumenta, vol. iv. 16-20 ;
was twice displaced— in 1706 (when it and Widmore, p. 206. The plate left
was seen) and in 1778, when the tomb by him remained till 1540 (Inventory),
was demolished for the erection of 8 ' A good old father.' Henry VIII.
Wolfe's monument. (Neale, ii, 195.) (State Papers, vii. 30.)
The fragments were reunited in 1866.
336 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
exorcisms of the age which was drawing to its close. We see
him on his deathbed, in the old manor-house of Neate, sur-
rounded by the priests and saints of the ancient Church ; the
Virgin standing at his feet, and imploring her Son's assistance
to John Islip — ' Islip, 0 Fill veniens, succurre Johanni ! ' — the
Abbot of Bury administering the last sacraments. We see his
splendid ' hearse,' amidst a forest of candles, before the High
Altar, with its screen, for the last time filled with images, and
surmounted by the crucifix with its attendant saints. We see
him, as his effigy lay under the tomb in the little chapel which
he had built,1 like a king, for himself, recumbent in solitary
state— the only Abbot who achieved that honour. The last
efflorescence of monastic architecture coincided with its im-
minent downfall ; and as we thus watch the funeral of Islip, we
feel the same unconsciousness of the coming changes as breathes
through so many words and deeds and constructions on the eve
of the Eeformation.
Such were the Abbots of Westminster. It seems ungrate-
ful to observe, what is yet the fact, that in all their line there
is not one who can aspire to higher historical honour than
that of a munificent builder and able administrator : Gislebert
alone left theological treatises famous in their day. And if
from the Abbots we descend to the monks, their names
are still more obscure. Here and there we catch a
trace of their burials. Amundisham, in the fifteenth century,
Thomas Brown, Humphrey Eoberts,2 and John Selby 3 of North-
umberland (known as a civilian), in the sixteenth century, are
interred near St. Paul's Chapel; Vertue in the Western
Cloister.4 Five of them — Sulcard, John of Reading, Flete the
Prior, Richard of Cirencester,5 and (on a somewhat larger scale)
the so-called Matthew6 of Westminster — have slightly con-
tributed to our historical knowledge of the times. Some of
them were skilled as painters.7 In Abbot Littlington's time,
a giganiic brother, whose calves and thighs were the wonder of
all England, of the name of John of Canterbury, emerges into
view for a moment, having engaged to accompany the aged
1 This chapel, which consists of an nicle is made up of the chronicle of
upper and lower story, was called the Matthew Paris (whence the name), of
Jesus Chapel. St. Albans, and a continuation of it
2 Crull, p. 211. from 1265 to 1325, by John Severe,
* Weever, p. 265. otherwise John of London, a monk of
4 See Chapter IV. Westminster. (Madden's Preface to
5 Seymour's Stow, ii. 607. Matthew Paris, vol. i. pp. xxv. xxvi.)
6 'Matthew of Westminster's' Chro- ' Cartulary.
CHAP. v. THE MONASTIC LIFE. 337
Abbot to the sea-coast, to meet a threatened French invasion
which never took place. They obtained the special permission
of the Chapter to go and fight for their country. "When his
armour was sold in London, ' no person could be found of a size
* that it would fit,1 of such a height and breadth was the said
* John.' There are two, in whose case we catch a glimpse into
the motives which brought them thither. Owen, third son of
Owen Tudor, and uncle of Henry VII., escaped from the
troubles of his family into monastic life, and lies in the South
Transept in the Chapel of St. Blaize.2 Another was Sir John
Stanley, natural son of James Stanley, Bishop of Ely — the
unworthy stepson of Margaret of Richmond. A dispute with
his Cheshire neighbours had brought him under Wolsey's anger ;
he was imprisoned in the Fleet ; and after his release, ' upon
' displeasure taken in his heart, he made himself a monk in
' Wt stniinster, and there died.' 3 The deed still remains 4 in
which, for this purpose, he solemnly affirmed his separation
from his wife.
The insignificance or the inactivity of this great community,
without any supposition of enormous vices, explains the easy
The fall of the monasteries when the hour of their disso-
Ute. lution arrived. The garrulous reminiscences which
the Sacristan in Scott's ' Monastery,' retains of the Abbot ' of
' venerable memory,' exactly reproduce the constant allusion in
the thirteenth century which we find in the ' Customs of Abbot
' Ware.' The very designation used for them is the same ; their
deeds moved in exactly the same homely sphere. The trivial
matters which engross the attention of Abbot Ware or Prior
Flete will recall, to any one who has ever visited the sacred
peninsula of Mount Athos, the disputes concerning property
and jurisdiction which occupy the whole thought of those
ancient communities. The Benedictine Convent of Monte
Cassino has been recently saved by the intervention of the
public opinion of Europe, because it furnished a bright ex-
ception to the general tenor of monastic life. Those who
have witnessed the last days of Vallombrosa must confess
with a sigh that, like the ancient Abbey of Westminster, its
inmates had contributed nothing to the general intelligence of
Christendom.
1 Cartulary, A.D. 1286. 4 The whole story, with the docu-
2 Sandford, p. 293. ments. is given in the Archaeological
3 Herbert's Henry VIII., p. 300. Journal, vol. xcvii. pp. 72-84.
Z
338 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
It is to the buildings and institutions of the monastery that
the interest of its mediaeval history attaches ; and these, there
The fore, it must be our endeavour to recall from the dead
esutls.10 past. It would be wandering too far from the Abbey
itself to give an account of the vast possessions scattered not
only over the whole of the present city of Westminster, from the
Thames to Kensington, or from Vauxhall Bridge to Temple
Bar, but through 97 towns and villages, 17 hamlets, and 216
manors,1 some.of which have still remained as the property of the
Chapter. It is enough to recall the vast group of buildings
which rose round the Abbey, as it stood isolated from the rest
of the metropolis, like St. Germain des Pres at Paris, ' the
' Abbey of the Meadows,' in its almost rural repose.
On this seclusion of the monastic precincts the mighty city
had, even into the beginning of the sixteenth century, but very
Possessions slightly encroached. Their southern boundary was
wwtof l" the stream which ran down what is now College
minster. Street, then ' the dead wall ' 2 of the gardens behind,
and was crossed by a bridge, still existing, though deep beneath
the present 3 pavement, at the east end of College Street.
Close to it was the southern gateway into the monastery. The
Abbots used to take boat on this stream to go to the Thames,4
but the property and the grounds extended far beyond. The
Abbot's Mill stood on the farther bank of the brook,
called the Mill Ditch, as the bank itself was called
MilUxtnk. In the adjacent fields were the Orchard, the Vine-
The orchard, yard, and the Bowling Alley, which have left their
BOWHI™ ' traces in OrcJuird Street, Vine Street, and Bowling
Garden"" Street.5 Farther still were the Abbot's Gardens and
the Monastery Gardens, reaching down to the river, and known
by the name of the Minster Gardens, which gradually faded
away into the Monster Tea-gardens.6 Two bridges marked the
course of the Eye or Tyburn across the fields to the north-west.
The Pass of One was the Eye Bridge, near the Eye Cross, in the
Bridge!* ' ' island 7 or field or ' village of Eye ' (Ey-bury) ; another
was a stone bridge, which was regarded as a military pass,8
• ' Westminster Improvements, 11. 5 Gleanings, p. 239.
See Dugdale's Monasticon, i. 297-307. • Ibid. p. 229.
2 Gleanings, p. 229 ; see Gent. May. ' All these names are collected in
1836. — The wall was pulled down in the ' Cartulary.'
1776. 8 Hence ' Knightsbridge,' either from
* Westminster Improvements, p. 8. Sir H. Knyvet, Knight, who there
4 Archives ; Parcel 31, Item 16. valiantly defended himself, there being
There was a large pond close by, assaulted, ' and slew the master-thief
CHAP. v. POSSESSIONS OF THE MONASTERY. 339
against the robbers who infested the deep morass and which is
Tothin now Belgravia. Further south was the desolate heath
of Tothill Fields. The name is derived from a high
hill,1 probably, as the word implies, a beacon, which was
levelled in the seventeenth century. At its foot was Bulinga
Fen — the ' Smithfield ' of Western London — which witnessed
the burnings of witches, tournaments, judicial combats, fairs,
bear-gardens, and the interment of those who had been stricken
by the plague.2 In one of its streams the ducks disported
themselves, which gave their name to Duck Lane,3 now swept
away by Victoria Street. Another formed the boundary
between the parishes of St. Margaret and St. John.4 A shaggy
pool deep enough to drown a horse has gradually dwindled away
into a small puddle and a vast sewer, now called the King's
Scholars'' Pond and the King's Scholars' Pond Sewer. Water
was conveyed to the Convent in leaden pipes, used until 1861,
from a spring,5 in the Convent's manor of Hyde (now Hyde
HY^ Manor. Park). The manor of Neate,6 by the river-side in
J»eate . •*
Manor. Chelsea, was a favourite country-seat of the Abbots.7
There Littlington and Islip died.
On the north-east, separated from the Abbey by the long
reach of meadows, in which stood the country village of
ru— ions Charing, was another enclosure, known by the name of
on tnG
north-past, the Convent Garden — or rather, in Norman-French,
the Convent Garden, whence the present form, Covent Garden
covent — W^h its grove of Elms and pastures of Long Acre,
and of the Seven Acres* For the convenience of the
conventual officers going from Westminster to this garden, a
'•with his own hands.' (Walcott, p. ways. An old stone house over the spring
300.) Or, as Dean Milman reports bore the arms of Westminster till 1868,
the tradition, from the knights who when it was supplanted by a lesser
there met the Abbot returning from his structure with a short inscription,
progresses with heavy money bags, and 6 Cunningham's London. (The Neate
escorted him through the dangerous Houses.) John of Gaunt borrowed
jungle ; or ' King abridge,1 which, after it from the Abbot for his residence
all, appears to be the earlier name (see during Parliament (see Archceological
Dare's Memorials of Knightsbridge, p. Journal, No. 114, p. 144).
4), from Edward the Confessor. " Hyde and Neate were exchanged
1 See the petition of the inhabitants with Henry VIII. for Hurley. (Dug-
of Westminster in 1698, in the City dale, i. 282.) But the springs in
Archives, given, with notes, by Mr. 'Crossley's field 'were specially reserved
Burtt in the Archceological Journal, for the Abbey by the Charter of
No. 114, p. 141. Elizabeth in 1560, and a conduit-house
2 Walcott, p. 325. built over them, which remained till
3 ArchcEological Journal, p. 284. 1868. The water was supposed to be
4 Westminster Improvements, 18. a special preservative against the Plague.
5 The water supply continued till (State Papers, May 22, 1631.)
1861, when it was cut off by the rail- " Brayiey's Londiniana, iv. 207.
z 2
340 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
solitary oratory or chapel was erected on the adjacent fields,
dedicated to St. Martin.1 This was ' St. Martin-in-the Fields.'
The Abbot had a special garden on the banks of the river, just
where the precincts of the city of Westminster succeeded to
those of London, opposite to the town residences of the bishops
of Carlisle and Durham, near the church of St. Clement Danes,
called the ' Frere Pye Garden.' 2 Beyond this, again, was the
dependency (granted by Henry VII.) of the collegiate church of
st. Martinv St. Martm's-le-Grand. The Abbot of Westminster
ic-Grand. became the Dean of St. Martin' s-le-Grand, and, in
consequence of this connection, its inhabitants continued to
vote in the Westminster elections till the Eeform Act of 1832,3
and the High Steward of Westminster still retains the title of
High Steward of St. Martin's-le-Grand.
From this side the Monastery itself was, like the great
temples of Thebes, approached by a continual succession of
gateways; probably, also, by a considerable ascent4 of rising
ground. Along the narrow avenue of the Royal Wav '
King Street. , -L. , ,
— the King s Street — underneath two stately arches,
the precincts of the Palace of Westminster were entered. Close
within them was the clock tower, containing the bell, which,
under the name of Great Tom of Westminster, sounded through-
out the metropolis from the west, as now from its new position
in the east.6 The Palace itself we leave to the more general
historians of Westminster. Then followed the humbler gateway
which opened into the courtyard of the Palace, and farther west,
at what is now the entrance of Tothill Street, the Gatehouse or
Prison 7 of the Monastery.8
The Gatehouse consisted of two chambers over two arches,y
built in the time of Edward III., by Walter de Warfield, the
cellarer or butler of the Abbey.10 Its history, though belonging
to the period after the Reformation, must be antici-
pated here. It was then that whilst one of the
chambers became the Bishop of London's prison for convicted
1 Gent. Mag. [1826], part i. p. 30. provements,19.) See Gent. Mag. 18G6,
2 See Archives : Parcel 31, Item 5. pt. i. pp. 777, 778.
3 Kempe's History of St. Martin's- • See Chapter VI.
le-Grand, and see Chapter VI. " Cartulary.
4 The present ground is nine feet 8 There is a drawing of it in the
above the original surface of the island. Library of the Society of Antiquaries.
(Westminster Improvements, 13.) (See also Walcott, p. 273.)
5 When the King went to Parlia- 9 Cooper's Plans, 1808. (Soc. Ant.
ment, faggots -were thrown into the Lond.)
cart ruts of King Street to enable the 10 Stow, p. 176.
state coach to pass. (Westminster Im-
OLD GATEHOUSE OF THE PRECINCTS, WESTMINSTER.
PULLED DOWX IS 1776.
342 THE ABBEY BEFOKE THE KEFORMATIOX. CHAP. v.
clergy, and for Eoman Catholic recusants,1 the other acquired
a fatal celebrity as the public prison of "Westminster. Here
Ralegh was confined on the night before his execution.
> After the sentence pronounced upon him in the King's
1618- Bench he was ' putt into a very uneasy 2 and uncon-
' venient lodging in the Gatehouse.' He was conveyed thither
from Westminster Hall by the Sheriff of Middlesex. The
carriage which conveyed him wound its way slowly through the
crowds that thronged St. Margaret's Churchyard to see him pass :
amongst them he noticed his old friend Sir Hugh Burton, and
invited him to come to Palace Yard on the morrow to see him
die. Weekes, the Governor of the Gatehouse, received him
kindly. Tounson, the Dean of Westminster, came and prayed
with him a while.3 The Dean was somewhat startled at
Ealegh's high spririts, and almost tried to persuade him out of
them. But Ealegh persevered, and answered that he was
4 persuaded that no man that knew God and feared Him could
' die with cheerfulness and courage, except he was assured of
' the love and favour of God towards him ; that other men
' might make show, but they felt no joy within.' Later in the
evening his wife came to him, and it was then that, on hear-
ing how she was to take charge of his body, he replied, ' It
* is well, Bess, that thou shouldest have the disposal of the
* dead, which thou hadst not always the disposing of, living.'
Shortly after midnight he parted from her, and then, as is
thought, wrote on the blank leaf in his Bible his farewell of
life-
Ev'n such is Time, that takes on trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust ;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wander'd all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days.
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.4
1 The Spanish Ambassador Gondo- 4 ' Verses said to have been found
mar had it cleared of these by order of ' in his Bible in the Gatehouse at
James I. One of them was afterwards ' Westminster '— ' given to one of his
* canonised. (Edwards's Life of Ralegh, ' friends the night before his suffer-
i- 693-) . ' ing.' (Ralegh's Poems, p. 729.) An-
2 Public Becord Office, State Papers other short poem is also said to be ' the
(Domestic), James I., vol. ciii. Xo. 74. ' night before he died : '
St. John's Life of Ealegh, ii. 343-369. Cowards fear to die ; but courage stont,
3 Tounson's letter in Edwards's Life Rather than live in suuff, will be put out.
of Ralegh, ii. 489. The well-known poem, called his
CHAP. v. THE GATEHOUSE. 343
After a short sleep, about four in the morning, ' a cousin of
' his, Mr. Charles Thynne, coming to see him, Sir Walter,
' finding him sad, began to be very pleasant with him ; where-
* upon Mr. Thynne counselled him : Sir, take heed you goe
' not too muche upon the brave hande ; for your enemies
' will take exceptions at that. Good Charles (quoth he)
* give me leave to be mery, for this is the last merriment
' that ever I shall have in this world e : but when I eome to»
' the last parte, thou shalte see I will looke on it like a man \—
' and so he was as good as his worde.' At five Dean Tounson
returned, and again prayed with him. After he had received
the Communion he ' was very cheerful and merry, ate his
' breakfast heartily,' ' and took a last whiff of his beloved
' tobacco, and made no more of his death than if he had been
* to take a journey.'1 Just before he left the Gatehouse a cup
of sack was given him. ' Is it to your liking ? ' 'I will answer
' you/ he said, ' as did the fellow who drank of St. Giles' bowl
4 as he went to Tyburn, "It is good drink if a man might
' " but tarry by it." ' 2 The Dean accompanied him to the
scaffold. The remaining scenes belong to Old Palace Yard, and
to St. Margaret's Church, where he lies buried.
Sir John Elliot, who certainly, and Hampden probably, had
Hampden m boyhood witnessed Ealegh's execution, with deep
and EiHot. emotion, were themselves his successors in the Gate-
LoTeiace. house, for the cause of constitutional freedom.3 To it,
from the other side, came the royalist Lovelace, and there wrote
his lines —
Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage ;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage.
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
In it, Lilly, the astrologer, found himself imprisoned imme-
diately after the Eestoration, ' upstairs where there
Lilly. ' . , . j
1 was on one side a company of rude swearing persons,
' Farewell,' also ascribed to this night, sacrament with Master Dean, and
had already appeared in 1596. (Ibid. have forgiven both Stukeley and the
727-729.) Frenchman.' (Ibid. i. 701.)
J Edwards's Ralegh, ii. 489. He 2 Edwards's Ralegh, i. 698.
said on the scaffold ' I have taken the 3 Forster's Statesmen, i. 18, 53.
344 THE ABBEY BEFOEE THE EEFOEMATICX. CHAP. T.
' on the other side many Quakers, who lovingly entertained
* him.' * In it Sir Geoffrey Hudson, the dwarf, died, at the age
Hudson. of sixty-three, under suspicion of complicity in the
Pepys. Popish Plot.2 In it the indefatigable Pepys,3 Collier,
the nonjuring divine, and Savage the poet, made their experience
coiner °f prison life.4 In it, according to his own story,
savage. Captain Bell was incarcerated, and translated ' Luther's
capt. Ben. < Table Talk,' having ' many times begun to translate the
' same, but always was hindered through being called upon
* about other businesses. Thus,' he writes, ' about six weeks after I
' had received the same book, it fell .out that one night, between
' twelve and one of the clock .... ihere appeared unto me
' an ancient man, standing at my bedside, arrayed .all in white,
* having a long and broad white beard hanging down to his
' girdle, who, taking me by -my right ear, spoke these words
' following to me : Sirrah, will you not take time to translate
' that book which is sent you out of Germany ? I will
' shortly provide for you both place and time to do it. And
' then he vanished away out of my sight. .... Then, about a
' fortnight after I had seen that vision, I went to Whitehall to
' hear the sermon, after which ended, I returned to my lodging,
' which was then in King Street, Westminster ; and sitting
' down to dinner with my wife, two messengers were sent from
' the Privy Council Board, with a warrant to carry me to the
' Keeper of the Gatehouse, Westminster, there to be safely
' kept until further order from the hands of the Council — which
' was done, without showing me any cause at all wherefore I
' was committed. -Upon which said warrant I was kept there
' ten whole years close prisoner; where I spent five years thereof
' in translating the said book, insomuch that I found the words
' very true which the old man in the foresaid vision did say
' unto me, " I will shortly provide for you both place and time
' " to translate it." ' 5 The Gatehouse remained standing down
to the middle of the last century. The neighbourhood was
familiar with the cries of the keeper to the publican opposite,
' Jackass, Jackass,' for gin for the prisoners. It was pulled
down in 1777, a victim to the indignation of Dr. Johnson. One
of its arches, however, was still continued in a house which was
1 Life of Zalty, p. 91. Edwards's 8 Evelyn, iii. 297.
Ralegh, i. 699-,715. 4 Johnson's Poets, iii. 309.
2 In Peveril of the Peak, the Gate- * Southey's Doctor, viL 35.4-356.
house is confounded -with Newgate.
CHAP. v. THE GATEHOUSE. 345
as late as 1839 celebrated as having been the abode of Edmund
Burke.1
The office of Keeper of the Gatehouse was in the gift of the
Dean and Chapter. Perhaps the most remarkable ' Keeper '
Keeper of was Maurice Pickering, who, in a paper addressed to
the Gate- °' ' r r
the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, m 1580, says : ' My
' predecessor and my wief and I have kept this offis of the Gate-
' house this XXIII. yeres and upwards.' He was considered
a great man in Westminster, and in official documents he
Maurice was styled ' Maurice Pickering, gentleman.' At one
I'k-kering, J V. j j- •
1580. time he and his wife are mentioned as dining at a
marriage-feast at ' His Grace the Lord Bishop of Rochester's,
' in Westminster Close,' and at another as supping with Sir
George Peckham, Justice of the Peace. On another occasion,
when supping with Sir George he foolishly let out some of the
secrets of his office in chatting with Lady Peckham (the Gate-
house at that time was full of needy prisoners for religion's
sake, whose poverty had become notorious). 'He told her
' Ladyship, in answer to a question she asked him, Yea, I
' have many poor people for that cause (meaning religion),
' and for restrainte (poverty) of their friends I fear they will
' starve, as I have no allowance for them. For this Master
' Pickering was summoned before the Lord Chancellor, examined
' by the Judges, and severely reprimanded ; ' upon which he sent
a most humble and sorrowful petition to Lord Burleigh,
' praying the comfort of his good Lord's mercy ' in the matter,
and protesting that he had ever prayed for ' the prosperous
' reign of the Queene, who hath defended us from the tearinge
' of the Devill, the Poope, and all his ravening wollves.' The
Privy Council appears to have taken no further notice of the
matter, except to require an occasional return of the prisoners
in the Gatehouse to the Justices of the Peace assembled at
Quarter Sessions.2 In the year of the Armada,
Pickering presented to the Burgesses of Westminster a
fine silver-gilt ' standing-cup,' which is still used at their feasts,
the cover (the gift of his wife) being held over the heads of
those who drink. It has the quaint inscription —
The Giver to his Brother wisheth peace,
With Peace he wisheth Brother's love on earth,
1 Westminster Improvements, 55. 2 I owe this information to the
The order for its removal is in the kindness of Mr. Trollope, Town-Clerk
Chapter-Book, July 10, 1776. of Westminster.
346 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
Which Love to seal, I as a pledge am given,
A standing Bowie to be used in inirthe.
The gift of Maurice Pickering and Joan his wife, 1588.
Passing the Gatehouse and returning from this anticipation
of distant times, we approach the Sanctuary. The right of
The sane- ' Sanctuary ' was shared by the Abbey with at least
tuary. thirty other great English monasteries ; l but probably
in none did the building occupy so prominent a position, and
in none did it play so important a part. The grim old Norman
fortress,2 which was still standing in the seventeenth century,
is itself a proof that the right reached back, if not to the time
of the Confessor, at least to the period when additional sanctity
was imparted to the whole Abbey by his canonisation in 1198.
The right professed to be founded on charters of King Lucius,3
and continued, it was believed, till the time of ' the ungodly
' King Yortigern.' It was then, as was alleged, revived by
Sebert, and sanctioned by the special consecration by St. Peter,
whose cope was exhibited as the very one which he had left
behind him on the night of his interview with Edric, and as a
pledge (like St. Martin's cope in Tours) of the inviolable
sanctity of his monastery.4 Again, it was supposed to have
been dissolved ' by the cursed Danes,' and revived ' by the holy
' king St. Edward,' who had 'procured the Pope to call a
' synod for the establishing thereof, wherein the breakers there-
' of are doomed to perpetual fire with the betrayer Judas.'
Close by was a Belfry Tower,5 built by Edward III., in which
hung the Abbey Bells, which remained there till Wren had
completed the Western Towers, and which rang for coronations
and tolled for royal funerals. ' Their ringings, men said,
' soured all the drink in the town.' The building, properly so
called, included two churches, an upper and a lower, which the
inmates were expected as a6 kind of penance, to frequent.
But the right of asylum rendered the whole precinct a vast
' cave of Adullam ' for all the distressed and discontented of
the metropolis who desired, according to the phrase of the time,
1 Arch. viii. 41. 5 Where now stands the Guildhall,
- Described in Archceolog. i. 35 ; built 1805. (Widniore, p. 11 ; Glean-
Maitland's Lond. (Entinck), ii. 134 ; ings, p. 228 ; Walcott, p. 82.)
Gleanings, p. 228 ; Walcott, p. 81. 6 It is also said that one object of
3 Eulog. iii. 346 ; Move's Life of St. Margaret's Church was to relieve
Richard III., p. 40 ; Kennet, i. 491. ' the south aisle of the Abbey from this
* Neale, i. 55 ; Dart (App.), p. 17. dangerous addition to the worshippers.
See Chapter I. (Westminster Improvements, 10.)
CHAP. v. THE SANCTUARY. 347
' to take Westminster.' Sometimes, if they were of higher
rank, they established their quarters in the great Northern
Porch of the Abbey, with tents pitched, and guards watching
round, for days and nights together.1 Sometimes they darted
away from their captors, to secure the momentary protection
of the consecrated ground. ' Thieving ' or ' Thieven ' 2 Lane
was the name long attached to the winding3 street at the
back of the Sanctuary, along which ' thieves ' were conducted
to the prison in the Gatehouse, to avoid these untoward
emancipations if they were taken straight across the actual
precincts.4 One such attempt is recorded a short time be-
fore the Dissolution. In 1512, a sturdy butcher of the name
of Briggs, in trying to rescue Eobert Kene ' while being con-
' veyed to the Gatehoust,' was killed by Maurice Davy the
constable.5 Sometimes they occupied St. Martin's-le-Grand
(which, after the time of Henry VII., was, by a legal fiction,
reckoned part of the Abbey6), thus making those main refuges
' one at the elbow of the city, the other in the very bowels.'
' I dare well avow it, weigh the good that they do with the
' hurt that cometh of them, and ye shall find it much better to
' lack both than have both. And this I say, although they
' were not abused as they now be, and so long have been, that
' I fear me ever they will be, while men be afraid to set their
' hands to the amendment ; as though God and St. Peter were
' the patrons of ungracious living. Now unthrifts riot and
' run in debt upon the boldness of these places ; yea, and rich
* men run thither with poor men's goods. There they build,
* there they spend and bid their creditors go whistle for
' them. Men's wives run thither with their husbands' plate,
* and say they dare not abide with their husbands for beating.
' Thieves bring thither their stolen goods, and there live there-
' on. There devise they new robberies : nightly they steal
' out, they rob and reave, and kill, and come in again as
' though those places gave them not only a safeguard for the
' harm they have done, but a licence also to do more. Howbeit
' much of this mischief, if wise men would set their hands to
' it, might be amended, with great thank of God, and no breach
' of the privilege.' 7 .
1 Capgrave's Chron., p. 298 ; Wai- cott, p. 70.)
singham, ii. 285. 4 Smith, p. 27.
- The ancient plural of ' Thieves.' s State Papers, H. VIII. 3509.
See Westminster Improvements, 25. 6 Stow, p. 615.
3 Hence called Bow Street. (Wai- " Speech of the Duke of Buckingham,
348 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
Such was the darker side of the institution. It had,
doubtless, a better nucleus round which these turbulent
elements gathered. If often the resort of vice, it was some-
times the refuge of innocence, and its inviolable character
provok€d an invidious contrast with the terrible outrage which
had rendered Canterbury Cathedral the scene of the greatest
historical murder of our annals. In fact, the jealous sensitive-
ness of the Chapter of Canterbury had given currency to a pre-
diction that the blood of Beeket would never be avenged till a
similar sacrilege defiled the walls of Westminster.1 At last it
came, doubtless in a very inferior form, but creating a powerful
sensation at the time, and leaving permanent traces behind.
During the campaign of the Black Prince in the North of
Spain, two of his knights, Shackle and Hawle, had taken
prisoner a Spanish Count. He returned home for his ransom,
leaving his son in his place. The ransom never came, and the
young Count continued in captivity. He had, however, a
powerful friend at Court — John of Gaunt, who, in right of his
wife, claimed the crown of Castille, and in virtue of this
Spanish royalty demanded the liberty of the young Spaniard.
The two English captors refused to part with so valuable a
prize. John of Gaunt, with a high hand, imprisoned them in
the Tower, whence they escaped and took sanctuary at West-
minster. They were pursued by Alan Bloxhall, Constable of
Murder of the 2 Tower, and Sir Ralph Ferrers, with fifty armed
n. 1378 " men.3 It was a day long remembered in the Abbey —
the llth of August, the festival of St. Taurinus. The two
knights, probably for greater security, had fled not merely into
the Abbey, but into the Choir itself. It was the moment of the
celebration of High Mass. The Deacon had just reached the
words of the Gospel of the day, ' If the goodman of the house
' had known what time the thief would appear,' 4 when the
clash of arms was heard, and the pursuers, regardless of
time or place, burst in upon the service. Shackle escaped, but
Hawle was intercepted. Twice he fled round the Choir, his
enemies hacking at him as he ran, and at length, pierced with
twelve wounds,5 sank dead in front of the Prior's Stall, that is, at
in Sir T. More's Life of Richard III.
vol. ii. p. 80. It is probably a drama-
tic speech put into the mouth of a
hostile witness ; but it serves to show
what were regarded as notorious facts
in More's time.
Walsingham, ii. 378.
Ibid.
Widmore, p. 104.
Eulog. Hist. iii. 342, 343.
Widmore, p. 104.
CHAP. v. THE SANCTUARY. 349
the north side of the entrance of the Choir.1 His servant and
one of the monks fell with him.2 He was regarded as a martyr
to the injured rights of the Abbey, and obtained the honour (at
that time unusual) of burial within its walls — the first who was
laid, so far as we know, in the South Transept, to be followed a
few years later by Chaucer, who was interred at his feet. A
brass effigy and a long epitaph marked, till within the last
century, the stone where he lay,3 and another inscription was
engraved on the stone where he fell, and on which his effigy
The Abbey may still be traced. The Abbey was shut up for four
De^ s, 1398. months,4 and Parliament was suspended, lest its
assembly should be polluted by sitting within the desecrated
precincts, and from the alleged danger of London.5 The whole
case wTas heard before the King. The Abbot, William of Col-
chester, who speaks of ' the horrible crime ' 6 as an act which
every one would recognise under that name, recited the whole
story of St. Peter's midnight visit to the fisherman,7 as the
authentic ground of the right of sanctuary; and carried his
point so far as to procure from the Archbishops and Bishops
an excommunication of the two chief assailants — which was
repeated every Wednesday and Friday by the Bishop of London
at St. Paul's — and the payment of £200 from them (equal to at
least £2,000) to the Abbey by way of penance. On the other
hand, Shackle 8 gave up his Spanish prisoner, who had waited
upon him as his valet, but not without the remuneration of 500
marks in hand and 100 for life ; 9 and the extravagant claims
of the Abbot led (as often happens in like cases) to a judicial
sifting of the right of sanctuary, which from that time forward
was refused in the case of debtors.10
This tremendous uproar took place in the early years of
Eichard II., and perhaps was not without its effect in fixing
his attention on the Abbey, to which he afterwards showed so
much devotion.11 Another sacrilege of the like kind took place
1 Brayley, p. 258. lo Walsingham, i. 378.
2 Weever, p. 261. " See Chapter III. In addition to
3 Neale, ii. 269. tne proofs of Kichard II.'s interest in
4 Widmore, p. 106. Cartulary. the Abbey there mentioned, may be
5 Brayley, p. 259. given the following curious incidents.
6 'Illudia'ctumhorribile.' (Archives, The anniversary of his coronation was
Parcel 41.) celebrated at the altar of St. John as
7 Eulog. iii. 346. See Chapter I. long as he lived, 1395. He sent a
8 He himself seems to have been portion of the cloth of gold, with 50
buried in the Abbey, 1396. (Stow, p. points of gold, in which the Confessor
gl4 \ was wrapt, to his uncle the Duke of
• Widmore, p. 106. Berry, 1397. His flight and deposi-
350 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
nearly at the same time, but seems to have been merged in the
general horror of the events of which it formed a part. At the
outrage of time of the rebellion of Wat Tyler, John Mangett,
i38i. * Marshal of the Marshalsea, had clung for safety to
one of the slender marble pillars round the Confessor's Shrine,
and was torn away by Wat Tyler's orders.1 The King, with
his peculiar feeling for the Abbey, immediately sent to inquire
into the act. Within the precincts, close adjoining to St.
Margaret's Church, was a tenement known by the name of the
* Anchorite's House.' 2 Here, as often in the neighbourhood of
great conventual buildings, dwelt, apparently from generation
to generation, a hermit, who acted as a kind of oracle to the
neighbourhood. To him, as afterwards Henry V., so now
Richard II. resorted, and encouraged by his counsels, went out
on his gallant adventure to Smithfield, where his presence sup-
pressed the rebellion.3
A more august company took refuge here in the next cen-
tury. Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of Edward IV., twice made
the Sanctuary her home. The first time was iust
Iirst visit i a
of Elizabeth before the birth of her eldest son. On this occasion
Woodvil e,
Oct. i, 1470. s]aej with her three daughters and Lady Scrope, took
up their abode as 'sanctuary women,' apparently within the
Sanctuary itself. The Abbot (Milling) sent them provisions —
Birth of ' half a loaf and two muttons '—daily. The nurse in
NoT.i4.i4TO. the Sanctuary assisted at the birth, and in these
straits Edward V. first saw the light ; and was baptized by the
Sub-prior, with the Abbot as his godfather, and the Duchess of
Bedford and Lady Scrope as his godmothers.4 The Queen re-
mained there till her husband's triumphant entry into London.
second vt^t '^^e secon(^ occasion was yet more tragical. When
woEodvain'etl1 Richard III.'s conspiracy against his nephews tran-
Aprii, USB. spired, the Queen again flew to her well-known refuge
—with her five daughters, and, this time, not with her eldest
son (who was already in the Tower), but with her second son,
tion are carefully recorded in 1399. this very one, was buried in his own
(Cartulary.) The name of the maker chapel. (Cartulary, see p. 431.) There
of the mould of the statues of himself was a hermit of the same kind in the
and his queen — William Wodestreet — precincts at Norwich. They were also
in 1394, is preserved. (Ib.) common in Ireland. The remains of
1 Brayley, p. 266. such a hermitage exist close to the
* Chapter Book, May 10, 1604. — It Cathedral of Kilkenny. See- Graves's
occurs in other entries as the Anchor's Kilkenny, p. 7 ; Arch. Journal, xi.
House. Its last appearance is in the 194-200 ; Kingsley's Hermits.
Chapter Book, June 3, 1778. One of 3 Howe's Chronicle, p. 284.
the hermits who lived here— perhaps 4 Strickland, iii. 328.
CHAP. v. THE SANCTUARY. 35 1
Richard Duke of York. She crossed from the Palace at mid-
night, probably through the postern-gate,, into the 'Abbot's
' Place.' It was in one of the great chambers of the house,
probably the Dining-hall (now the College Hall), that she was
received by Abbot Esteney.1 There the Queen ' sate alone on
' the rushes, all desolate and dismayed,' and all ' about her
' much heaviness, rumble, haste, and business ; carriage and
' conveyance of her stuff into Sanctuary ; chests, coffers, packers,
4 fardels, trussed all on men's backs; no man unoccupied —
' some lading, some going, some discharging, some coming for
' more, some breaking down the walls to bring in the next way.'
In this scene of confusion appeared Rotheram, Archbishop of
York, who deposited with her the Great Seal, ' and departed
' hence again, yet in the dawning of the day. By which time
' he might, in his chamber window ' [from his palace on the
site of the present Whitehall] ' see all the Thames full of boats
' of the Duke of Gloucester's servants, watching that no man
' should pass to the Sanctuary.' The Queen, it would seem,
had meantime withdrawn into the fortress of the Sanctuary
itself, where, as she said, ' her other son, now King, was born
' and kept in his cradle ; ' and there she received the southern
Primate, Cardinal Bourchier. It is instructive to observe how
powerful the terrors of the Sanctuary were in the eyes both of
besiegers and besieged. The King would have taken his nephew
by force from the Sanctuary, but was met by the two Arch-
bishops with the never-failing argument of St. Peter's visit to
the fisherman, ' in proof whereof they have yet in the Abbey
' St. Peter's cope to show.' 2 At last, however, even this was
believed to have been turned by some ingenious casuist, who
argued that, as the child was incapable of such crimes as needed
sanctuary, so he was incapable of receiving sanctuary. The
Queen resisted with all the force of a woman's art and a
mother's love. ' In what place could I reckon him secure if he
' be not secure in this Sanctuary, whereof was there never yet
' tyrant so devilish that durst presume to break ? . . . . But,
* you say, my son can deserve no sanctuary, and therefore he
' cannot have it. Forsooth he hath found a goodly gloss, by
' which that place that may defend a thief may not save an
' innocent I can no more, but whosoever he be that
' breaketh this holy sanctuary, I pray God shortly send him need
1 His effigy, copied from his tomb, 2 More's Life of Edward F., p. 40.
now hangs in the Hall.
352 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
' of sanctuary, when he may not come to it ! For taken out of
' sanctuary I would not my mortal enemy were.'
The argument of the ecclesiastic, however, at last pre-
vailed. * And therewithal she said to the child, " Farewell,
* " mine own sweet son ; God send you good keeping ! Let me
' " kiss you once, ere you go ; for God knoweth when we shall
* " kiss one another again." And therewith she kissed him
* and blessed him, turned her back, and went her way, leaving
' the child weeping as fast. ' 1 She never saw her sons again.
She was still in the Sanctuary when she received the news of
their death, and ten months elapsed before she and the
Princesses left it. The whole precinct was strictly guarded by
Richard ; so that ' the solemn Church of Westminster and all
' the adjacent region was changed after the form of a camp or
' fortress.'
At the same moment, another child of a princely house was
in the monastery, also hiding from the terror of the ' Boar.'
owen Owen Tudor, the uncle of Henry VII., had himself
Tudor. been sheltered in the Sanctuary in the earlier days of
the York dynasty, was now there as a monk, and was buried at
last in St. Blaise's Chapel.
The last eminent person who received the shelter of the Sanc-
tuary fled thither from the violence, not of Princes, but of Eccle-
siastics. Skelton, the earliest known Poet Laureate,
from under the wing of Abbot Islip, poured forth
against Cardinal Wolsey those furious invectives, which must
have doomed him to destruction but for the Sanctuary, im-
pregnable even by all the power of the Cardinal at the height
of his grandeur. No stronger proof can be found of the
sacredness of the spot, or of the independence of the institution.
He remained here till his death,2 and, like Le Sueur in the
Chartreuse at Paris, rewarded his protectors by writing the
doggerel epitaphs which were hung over the royal tombs, and
which are preserved in most of the older antiquarian works on
the Abbey.
The rights of the Sanctuary were dissolved with the dis-
solution of the Abbey. Abbot Feckenham, as we shall see,
End of the made a vigorous speech in behalf of the retention of
Sanctuary, ., . . .
1566. its privileges ; and under his auspices three fugitives
were there, of very unequal rank, ' for murder ; ' a young Lord
1 Strickland's Queens, iii. 331, 34.8, 2 He was buried in St. Margaret's
355, 377 ; Green's Princesses, iii. 413. Churchyard, 1529.
CHAP. v. THE SANCTUARY. 353
Dacre, for killing ' Squire West ; ' a thief, for killing a tailor in
Long Acre ; and a Westminster scholar, for ' killing a big boy
' that sold papers and printed books in Westminster Hall.' l
These probably were2 its last homicides. After the accession
of Elizabeth its inmates were restricted chiefly to debtors,
under the vigilant supervision of the Dean and the Archdeacon.
But at last even this privilege was attacked. On that
occasion, Dean Goodman pleaded the claims of the Sanctuary
before the House of Commons, and, abandoning the legend of
St. Peter, rested them on the less monastic but not less
apocryphal charters of King Lucius.3 Whatever there might
be in other arguments, there was ' one strong especial reason
' for its continuance here. This privilege had caused the
' houses within the district to let well.' 4 For a time the
Dean's arguments, fortified by those of two learned civilians,
prevailed. But Elizabeth added sterner and sterner restrictions,
and James I. at last suppressed it with all other
Sanctuaries.5 Unfortunately, the iniquity and vice
which gathered round the neighbourhood of the Abbey, and
which has only in our own time been cleared away, was the not
unnatural result of this ' City of Refuge,' a striking instance
of the evils which, sooner or later, are produced by any attempt
to exalt local or ecclesiastical sanctity above the claims of law,
and justice, and morality. The ' Sanctuaries ' of mediaeval
Christendom may have been necessary remedies for a barbarous
state of society ; but when the barbarism of which they formed
a part disappeared, they became almost unmixed evils ; and
the National Schools and the Westminster Hospital, which
have succeeded to the site of the Westminster Sanctuary, may
not unfairly be regarded as humble indications of the dawn of
a better age.
Not far from the Sanctuary was the Almonry, or * Ambrey.'
It was coeval with the Abbey, but was endowed afresh by
The Henry VII. with a pension for thirteen poor men,6 and
Almonry. w^n another for women, by his mother, Margaret of
Richmond. In connection with it were two Chapels, that of St.
1 Machyn's Diary, Dec. 6, 1556. 3 Strype's Annah, i. 528.
See Chapter VI. 4 Widmore, p. 141 : Walcott, p. 80.
2 There seems to have been much s Widmore, ibid. ; 1 Jas. I. c. 25,
discussion as to a case in which the § 34 ; 21 Jas. I. c. 28.
Abbot, somewhat contrary to his own • Stow, p. 644. — Twelve of the alms-
principles, had delivered up a robber men still continue, bearing the badge
of the name of Vaughan. (Excerpta of Henry VII. 's Portcullis.
Histories, 312.)
A A
354 THE AEBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
Dunstan,1 the scene of a Convocation in the reign of Henry
st Anne-s "VHI.,2 and that of St. Anne, which gave its name to
^ae- St. Anne's Lane,3 for ever famous through Sir Eoger
de Coverley's youthful adventure there :—
This worthy knight, being then but a stripling, had occasion to
inquire which was the way to St. Anne's Lane, upon which the person
whom he spoke to, instead of answering his question, called him
' a young Popish cur,' and asked him who had made Anne a saint?
The boy, being in some confusion, inquired of the next he met, which
. was the way to Anne's Lane ; but was called a ' prick-eared cur ' for
his pains, and, instead of being shown the way, was told that she had
been a saint before he was born, and would be one after he was hanged.
' Upon this,' says Sir Eoger, ' I did not think fit to repeat the former
4 question, but going into every lane in the neighbourhood, asked what
1 they called the name of that lane.' By which ingenious artifice he
found out the place he inquired after, without giving offence to any
party.4
The inner arch of the Gatehouse led into an irregular
square, which was the chief court of the monastery, correspond-
ing to what is at Canterbury called the ' Green Court,' and
which at Westminster, in like manner (from the large trees
'The Kims- Panted round it), was known as 'The Elms.'5
Yard^The Amongst them grew a huge oak, which was Mown
Granary. down in 1791. Across this court ran the long building
of the Granary. It was of two storeys, and was surmounted by
a large central tower. Near it was the Oxstall, or stable for the
cattle, and the Barn adjoining the mill-dam.6 Its traces were still
visible in the broken ground at the beginning of this century.
At right angles to it were the Bakehouse and Brewhouse.
The Abbot's Place (or Palace), built by Littlington with
a slight addition by Islip, like the Abbot's house at St. Albans,
•The occupied the south-western side of the Abbey, and
stood round an irregular quadrangle, into which, for
Gaten:uLor. the most part (as in all houses of that age), its windows
CTHF
DBAHBKY^ looked. Only from the Grand Dining-HaU and its
Han. m parlour there were windows into the open space before
1 Ware. (Gleanings, p. 229.) Professor Willis
2 Wilkins, Cone. iii. 749. See Chap- (Arch. Cantiana,, vii. 97) conjectures
ter VI. that the word ' Homers,' applied to
3 In this lane was Purcell's house. part of the Canterbury Precincts, is a
(Novello's Life of Purcell, p. x.) corruption of ' Ormeaux ' (' Elms ').
4 Spectator, No. 125. The lane is 8 See the document quoted in Glean-
now destroyed. ings, p. 224 ; and Gent. Mag. [1815] ,
5 Malcolm, p. 256. — The green of part i. p. 201. See Chapter VI.
Dean's Yard was first made in 1753.
CHAP. Y. THE ABBOT'S HOUSE. 355
the Sanctuary. It was commonly called ' Cheyney Gate
' Manor,' from the conspicuous chain ' which was drawn across
the approach from the Sanctuary. It had a Chapel in Islip's
time, perhaps built or arranged by him, — ' My Lord's new
' Chapel,' hung with ' tapestry of the planets,' and white cur-
tains ' full of red heads,' probably that at the south-west end
of the Nave — in connection with the newly built ' Jericho
' Parlour ' and with the wooden gallery which overlooks it, and
which was hung in green and red silk, and having ' a little table
' of Queen Joan's arms.' 2 This house — the present Deanery
—was the scene, already in the Middle Ages, of many striking
events. The reception of Elizabeth Woodville in its Hall
has been already told. In the Hall, before that time, was
concerted the conspiracy3 of Abbot Colchester, which Shak-
speare has incorporated into the last scenes of the play of
< Richard II.'—
Aumerle. — You holy clergymen, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ?
Abbot of Westminster.— Before I freely speak my mind herein,
You shall not only take the sacrament
To bury mine intents, but to effect
Whatever I shall happen to devise.
Come borne with me to supper ; I will lay
A plot, shall show us all a merry day.
The Abbot had been entrusted with the charge of the three
Dukes and two Earls who were suspected by Henry IV. ' You
conspiracy ' shall be entertained honourably,' he said, ' for King
of colche™ ' Richard's sake ; ' and he took the opportunity of their
1399. ° ' presence in his house to concert the plot with Walden
the deposed Primate, Merks ' the good Bishop of Carlisle ' (who
had formerly been a monk at Westminster), Maudlin the priest
(whose likeness to Piichard was so remarkable), and two others
1 Gleanings, p. 222. — So the ap- the two prelates were sent to the
proach to the Deanery of St. Paul's is Tower, but afterwards released. Ac-
called ' St. Paul's Chain.' cording to Hall, when the conspiracy
- Inventory. was discovered, ' the Abbot, going be-
3 The authorities for this story are ' tween his monastery and mansion for
Holinshed and Hall, but in much ' thought [i.e. for anxiety], fell into a
more minute detail the French Chro- ' sudden palsy, and shortly after, with-
nicle (published by the English His- ' out speech, ended his life.' This is
torical Society) on the Betrayal of fabulous, as Colchester long outlived
Richard II., pp. 228, 229, 258, 260. the conspiracy. (See Widmore, p.
According to this, the Abbot and 110; Arcluzologia, x. 217.)
A A 2
356 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
attached to Richard's Court. They dined together, evidently
in the Abbot's Hall, and then withdrew into what is called,
in one version ' a secret chamber,' ] in another ' a side council-
' chamber,' where six deeds were prepared by a secretary, to
which six of the number affixed their seals, and swore to be
faithful to the death of King Richard.2 The ' secret chamber '
may have been that which exists behind the wall of the present
Library of the Deanery, and which was opened, after an interval
of many years, in 1864.3 The Long Chamber, out of which it
is approached, must have been the chief private apartment of
the Abbot, and was lighted by six windows looking out on the
quadrangle. But the ' side council-chamber ' rather indicates
the first of the long line of associations which attach to a spot
immediately adjoining the Hall.
' There is an old, low, shabby wall, which runs off from the
' south side of the great west doorway into Westminster Abbey.
' This wall is only broken by one wired window, and the whole
' appearance of the wall and window is such, that many strangers
' and inhabitants have wondered why they were allowed to en-
THE JEHU- ' cumber and deform this magnificent front. But that
CHAMBEB. ' wall is the JERUSALEM CHAMBER, and that guarded
1 window is its principal light.' So a venerable church-reformer4
of our own day describes the external appearance of the Chamber
which has witnessed so many schemes of ecclesiastical polity-
some dark and narrow, some full of noble aspirations — in the
later days of our Church, but which even in the Middle
Ages had become historical. In the time of Henry IV. it
was still but a private apartment — the withdrawing- room of
the Abbot, opening on one hand into his refectory, on the
other into his yard or garden5 — just rebuilt by Nicholas
Littlington, and deriving the name of Jerusalem, probably,
from tapestries 6 or pictures of the history of Jerusalem, as
the Antioch Chamber 7 in the Palace of Westminster was so
called from pictures of the history of Antioch.8 The small
1 Holinshed. (Walcott's Inventory, p. 47.) The
2 See Widmore, p. 110 ; and Archceo- tapestries in the IGth century repre-
logia, xx. 217. 3 See Chapter VI. sented the history of the planets. The
4 W. W. Hull's Church Inquiry, curtains were of ' pale thread full of
1827, p. 244. See Chapter VI. ' red roses.' (Inventory.)
4 It is this court probably which is ~ Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting,
mentioned in the accounts of Abbot Islip i. 20.— Brayley, 59. ' Galilee ' • was the
as ' the Jerusalem Garden in Cheney- name for the chamber between the
' gate.' (Archives, May 5, 1494.) Great and Little Hall in the Palace of
G 'Two good peeces of counterfait Westminster. (Vet. Mon. iv. 2.)
' arras, of the seege of Jerusalem,' The first mention of the Chamber
358 THE ABBEY BEFOEE THE EEPOEMATION. CHAP. v.
ante-chamber which connects it with the rest of the abbatial
buildings was of later date, probably under Abbot Islip ; but it
derived its name doubtless from its proximity to its greater
and more famous neighbour. As the older and larger was
called the ' Jerusalem parlour,' so this was called the ' Jericho
' parlour.' '
If the Jerusalem Chamber was perhaps the scene of the
conspiracy against the first Lancastrian king, it certainly was
Death of the scene °f hi8 death. Henry IV., as his son after -
March so""" ^m> ^^ ^eeu filled with the thought of expiating his
lil3- usurpation by a crusade. His illness, meanwhile, had
grown upon him during the last years of his life, so as to
render him a burden to himself and to those around him. He
was covered with a hideous leprosy, and was almost bent
double with pain and weakness. In this state he had come up
to London for his last Parliament. The galleys were ready for
the voyage to the East. ' All haste and possible speed was
' made.' It was apparently not long after Christmas that the
King was making his prayers at St. Edward's Shrine, ' to take
* there his leave, and so to speed him on his journey,' when he
became so sick, that such as were about him feared
His illness.
' that he would have died right there ; wherefore they
' for his comfort bore him into the Abbot's Place, and lodged
' him in a Chamber, and there upon a pallet laid him before
' the fire, where he lay in great agony a certain time.' He
must have been brought through the Cloisters, the present
ready access from the Nave not being then in existence.3 ' The
' fire ' was doubtless where it now is, for which the Chamber
then, as afterwards in the seventeenth century, was remarkable
amongst the parlours of London, and which, as afterwards,4 so
now, was the immediate though homely occasion of the his-
torical interest of the Chamber. It was the early spring, when
the Abbey was filled with its old deadly chill, and the friendly
warmth naturally brought the King and his attendants to this
spot. ' At length when he w?as come to himself, not knowing
in Henry IV.'s time, implies that there ' Inventory. On one of the windows
had been an earlier one, ' a certain is scratched the date 1512.
' chamber called of old time Jerusalem.' * See Chapter III.
(Rer. Angl. Script. Vet. i. 499.) To this, 3 This was probably added in Islip's
perhaps, belonged the fragments of time, with the passage communicating
painted glass, of the time of Henry directly into the Abbot's House.
III., chiefly subjects from the New * See Chapter VI. It had ' a fire-
Testament, but not specially learing on ' fork ' of iron and two ' andirons.' (in-
Jerusalem, in the northern window. ventory.)
CHAP. v. THE JERUSALEM CHAMBER 359
' where he was, he freined (asked) of such as were about him,
' what place that was. The which showed to him that it
' belonged to the Abbot of Westminster ; and, for he felt him-
' self so sick, he commanded to ask if that Chamber had any
* special name. Whereto it was answered that it was named
1 Hierusalem. Then said the King, Laud be to the Father of
* Heaven ! for now I know that I shall die in this Chamber,
' according to the prophecy made of me beforesaid, that I should
' die in Hierusalem.' ! All through his reign his mind had been
filled with predictions of this sort. One especially had run
through Wales, describing that the son of the eagle ' should
' conquer Jerusalem.' 2 The prophecy was of the same kind as
that which misled Cambyses at Ecbatana, on Mount Carmel,
when he had expected to die at Ecbatana, in Media ; and (ac-
cording to the legend) Pope Sylvester II., at ' Santa Croce in
' Gerusalemme,' when he had expected to avoid the Devil by not
going to the Syrian Jerusalem ; and Eobert Guiscard, when he
found himself unexpectedly in a convent called Jerusalem in
Cephalonia.3
With this predetermination to die, the King lingered on —
Bear me to that Chamber : there I'll lie —
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die ; 4
and it was then and there that occurred the scene of his son's
conversion removal of the Crown, which Shakspeare has immor-
of Henry v. talised,5 and which, though first mentioned by Mon-
strelet, is rendered probable by the frequent discussions which
had been raised in Henry's last years as to the necessity of his
resigning the crown : 6—
Ceux qui de luy avoient la garde un certain iour, voyans que de
son corps, n'issoit plus d'alaine, cuidans pour vray qu'il fut transis, luy
avoient couvert le visage. Or est ainsi que comme il est accoutume
de faire en pays, on avoit mis sa couronne Eoyal sur une couch assez
1 Fabyan, pp. 388, 389. the actual localities, as he evidently re-
2 Arch. xx. 257. presents the whole affair as taking place
3 Palgrave's Normandy, iv. 479. — in the Palace. But it is curious that,
A convent bearing the name of ' Jeru- if the King be supposed to remain in
' salern ' exists on Mount Parnassus, the Jerusalem Chamber, the Lords may
and another near Moscow. have been ' in the other room '—the
4 For many years (see Chapter III.) Dining Hall, where the music would
the portrait of his rival, Eichard II., play. Prince Henry might thus pass
was hung in this Chamber. It has not ' through the chamber where they
.now returned to its original place in ' stayed,' but through the 'open door'
the Abbey. of the Chamber itself into the adjacent
5 It is perhaps too much to suppose court.
that Shakspeare paid any attention to 6 Pauli, v. 72.
360 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFOIttlATIOX. CHAP. v.
pres de luy, laquelle devoit prendre presenternent apres son trepas son
dessusdit premier fils et successeur, lequel fut de ce faire assez prest :
et print la dicte courrone, & emporta sur la donner a entendre des
dictes gardes. Or advint qu'assez tost apres le Eoy ieeta un soupir si
fut descouvert, & retourna en assez bonne memoire ; & tant qu'il re-
garda ou auoit este sa couronne raise : & quand il ne la veit demanda
ou elle estoit, & ses gardes luy respondirent, Sire, monseigneur le
Prince vostre fils 1'a emporte : & il dit qu'on le feit venir devers luy &
il y vint. Et adonc le Roy lui demanda pourquoi il avoit emporte sa
couronne, & le Prince dit : Monseigneur, voicy en presence ceux qui'
m'avoient donne a entendre & afferme, qu'estiez trespasse, et pour ce
que suis vostre fils aisne, et qu'a moy appartiendra vostre couronne &
Royaume apres que serez alle de vie a trepas, 1'avoye prise. Et adonc
le Roy en soupirant luy dit : Beau fils — comment y auriez vous droit
car ie n'en y euz oncques point, & se S9aiiez vous bien. Monseigneur,
respondit le Prince, ainsi qui vous 1'avez tenu et garde a 1'espee, c'est
mon intention de la garder & deffendre toute ma vie ; & adonc dit le
Roy, or en faictes comme bon vous semblera : ie m'en rapporte a Dieu
du surplus, auquel ie prie qu'il ait mercy de moy. Et bref apres sans
autre chose dire, alia de vie & trepas.1
The English chroniclers speak only of the Prince's faithful
attendance on his father's sick-bed ; and when, as the end drew
near, the King's failing sight 2 prevented him from observing
what the ministering priest was doing, his son replied, with
the devotedness characteristic of the Lancastrian House, ' My
' Lord, he has just consecrated the body of our Lord. I en-
* treat you to worship Him, by whom kings reign and princes
* rule.' The King feebly raised himself up, and stretched out
his hands ; and, before the elevation of the cup, called the
Prince to kiss him, and then pronounced upon him a blessing,3
variously given, but in each version containing an allusion to
the blessing of Isaac on Jacob — it may be from the recollection
of the comparison of himself to Jacob on his first accession,4 or
from the likeness of the relations of himself and his son to the
two Jewish Patriarchs. ' These were the last words of the vic-
' torious Henry.' 5 The Prince, in an agon}7 of grief, retired to
an oratory, as it would seem, within the monastery ; and there,
on his bare knees, and with floods of tears, passed the whole of
that dreary day, till nightfall, in remorse for his past sins. At
1 Monstrelet, p. 163.— He speaks of 2 Elmham, c. vii.
the King's being buried ' a 1'Eglise de s Ibid. Capgrave's De Henricis, p.
' Vaste moustier aupres ses predeces- 110.
' seurs.' The burial (see Chapter III.) 4 See Chapter II.
was really at Canterbury. s Elmham, c. vii.
CHAP. v. THE JERUSALEM CHAMBER. 361
night he secretly went to a holy hermit in the Precincts (the
successor, probably, of the one whom Richard II. had consulted),
and from him, after a full confession, received absolution. Such
was the tradition of what, in modern days, would be called the
' conversion of Henry V.'
The last historical purpose to which the Abbot's House was
turned before the Dissolution was the four days' confinement of
sir Thomas Sir Thomas More, under charge of the last Abbot, who
14-17,1534. strongly urged his acknowledgment of the King's
Supremacy. From its walls he probably wrote his Appeal to a
General Council,1 and he was taken thence by the river to the
Tower.
On leaving the Abbot's House, we find ourselves in the
midst of the ordinary monastic life. It is now that we come
The upon the indications of the unusual grandeur of the
subpriors. establishment. The Abbot's House was, as we have
seen, a little palace. The rest was in proportion. In most
monasteries there was but one Prior (who filled the office of
Deputy to the Abbot), and one Subprior. Here, close adjoining
to the Abbot's House, was a long line of buildings, now forming
the eastern side of Dean's Yard, which were occupied by the
Prior, the Subprior, the Prior of the Cloister, and the two
inferior Subpriors, and their Chaplain.2 The South Cloister
near the Prior's Chamber was painted with .a fresco of the
Nativity.3 The number of the inferior officers was doubled in
like manner, raising the whole number to fifty or sixty. The
ordinary members of the monastic community were, at least
in the thirteenth century, not admitted without considerable
scrutiny as to their character and motives. Their number
seems to have amounted to about eighty. The whole suite was
called ' the Long House,' or the ' Calbege,' or the ' House with
' the Tub in it ' — from the large keel or cooling tub used in the
vaulted cellarage. It terminated at the ' Blackstole Tower ' still
remaining at the entrance of ' Little Dean's Gate.'
The Abbot's House opened by a large archway, still visible,
into the West Cloister. The Cloisters had been begun by the
THE Confessor, and were finished shortly after the Conquest.
CLOISTERS. par£ Of fae eastern side was rebuilt by Henry III.,
and part of the northern by Edward I. The eastern was
finished by Abbot Byrcheston in 1345, and the southern and
1 More's Works, 282 ; Doyne Bell's - Ware, p. 275.
Tower CMpel, p. 77. 3 Cartulary.
362 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
western, with the remaining part of the northern, by the Abbots
Langham and Littlington from 1350 to 1366. l In this quad-
rangle was, doubtless, the focus of the monastic life, the place
of recreation and gossip, of intercourse and business, and of
final rest. In the central plot of grass were buried the humbler
brethren ; in the South and East Cloisters, as we have seen,
the earlier Abbots. The behaviour of the monks in this public
place was under the supervision of the two lesser Subpriors,
who bore the somewhat unpleasant name of ' Spies of the
' Cloister.' In the North Cloister, close by the entrance of the
Church, where the monks usually walked, sate the Prior. In
The school the Western — the one still the most familiar to West-
in the West . ,, ii-»r <• i -»T • • j i
cloister. minster scholars — sate the Master of the Novices, with
his disciples. This was the first beginning of Westminster
School. Traces of it have been found in the literary chal-
lenges of the London schoolboys, described by Fitzstephen,2
in the reign of Henry II., and in the legendary traditions of
Ingulph's schooldays, in the time of the Confessor and Queen
Edith :-
Frequently have I seen her when, in my boyhood, I used to visit
my father, who was employed about the Court ; and often when I met
her, as I was coming from school, did she question me about my studies
and my verses, and most readily passing from the solidity of grammar
to the brighter studies of logic, in which she was particularly skilful,
she would catch me with the subtle threads of her arguments. She
would always present me with three or four pieces of money, which
were counted out to me by her handmaiden, and then send me to the
royal larder to refresh myself.3
Near the seat of the monks was a carved crucifix.4 These
novices or disciples at their lessons were planted, except for one
hour in the day, each behind the other.5 No signals or jokes
were allowed amongst them.6 No language but French was
allowed in their communications with each other. English and
1 Gleanings, 37, 52, 53. A frag- ' sibus inter se conrixantur.' (Descript.
ment, bearing the names of William Lond.)
Hufus and Abbot Gislebert, is said to 3 Ingulph's Chronicle (A.D. 1043-
have been found in 1831. (Gent. Mag. 1051). The Chronicle really dates
[183r, part ii. p. 545.) A capital, from the beginning of the fourteenth
with their joint heads, was found in century. (Quart liev. xxxiv. 296.)
the remains of the walls of the West- 4 Cartulary,
minster Palace. (Vet. Man. vol v. s Ware, p. 268.
plate xcvii. p. 4.) • Ibid. p. 277.
* ' Pueri diversarum scholarum ver-
THE CLOISTERS, "WITH ENTRANCE TO THE CHAPTER HOUSE.
364 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
Latin were expressly prohibited.1 The utmost care was to be
taken with their writings and illuminations.2
Besides these occupations, many others less civilised were
carried on in the same place. Under the Abbots ' of venerable
' memory ' before Henry III.'s changes, the Cloister was the
scene of the important act of shaving, an art respect-
ing which the most minute directions are given.
Afterwards the younger monks alone underwent the operation
thus publicly. Soap and hot water were to be always at hand ;
and if any of the monks were unable to perform their duty in this
respect, they were admonished ' to revolve in their minds that
' saying of the Philosopher, " For learning what is needful no
' " age seems to me too late.'' ' 3 In the stern old days, before
the time of Abbot Berking ' of happy memory,' these Claustral
shavings took place once a fortnight in summer, and once in
three weeks in winter,4 and also on Saturdays the heads and
feet of the brethren were duly washed. An arcade in the
South Cloister is conjectured to have been the Lavatory. Baths
might be had for health, though not for pleasure. The arrange-
ments for the cleanliness of the inmates form, in fact, there, as
elsewhere in English monasteries, a curious contrast with the
consecration of filth and discomfort in other parts of mediaeval
life both sacred and secular.
It is difficult to imagine how these various occupations
were carried on in the Cloisters. The upper tracery of the
bays appears to have 5 been glazed ; but the lower part was
open, then as now ; and the wind, rain, and snow must have
swept pitilessly alike over the brethren in the hands of the
monastic barber, and the novices turning over their books or
spelling out their manuscripts. The rough carpet of hay and
straw in summer, and of rushes in winter, and the mats laid
along the stone benches, must have given to the Cloisters a
habitable aspect, unlike their present appearance, but could
have been but a very inadequate protection against the incle-
mency of an English frost or storm.
If during any part of this conventual stir the Abbot appeared,
every one rose and bowed, and kept silence till he had gone by.6
1 Ware, pp. 280, 375, 388, 404, 422, 3 Ibid. pp. 291, 292, 293-296.
423. — The form of admission is given 4 Ibid. p. 290.
in Latin, French, and English, ib. p. 5 Remains of the iron fittings are
407. still visible.
- Ibid. pp. 275, 281. « Ware, pp. 278, 282.
CHAP. v. THE REFECTORY. 365
He passed on, and took his place in solitary grandeur in the
Eastern Cloister.
Along the whole length of the Southern Cloister extended
the Refectory of the Convent, as distinguished from that of the
THK REFEC- Abbot's Hall in his own ' palace.' There were, here, as
TOBY. jn the Other greater monasteries,1 guest chambers. The
rules for the admission of guests show how numerous they were.
They were always to be hospitably received, mostly with a
double portion of what the inmates had, and were to be shown
over the monastery as soon as they arrived. All Benedictines
had an absolute claim on their brother Benedictines ; and it
was a serious complaint that on one occasion a crowd of dis-
orderly Cistercian guests led to the improper exclusion of the
Abbots of Boxley and Bayham, and the Precentor of Canter-
bury. The Refectory was a magnificent chamber, of which the
lower arcades were of the time of the Confessor, or of the first
Norman Kings ; the upper story, which contained the Hall
itself, of the time of Edward III. It was approached by two
doors, which still remain in the Cloister. The towels for
wiping their hands hung over the Lavatory outside, between
the doors, or at the table or window of the Kitchen,2 which,
with the usual Buttery in front (still in part remaining), was
at the west end of the Refectory. The regulations for the
behaviour of the monks at dinner are very precise. No monk
was to speak at all, no guest above a whisper. Laymen of low
rank were not to dine in the Refectory, except on the great
exceptional occasion when, as we have seen, the fisherman—
the successor of Edric — came with his offering of the salmon
to St. Peter.3 The Prior sate at the high table, with a small
hand-bell (Skylla) beside him, and near him sate the greater
guests. No one but Abbots or Priors of the Benedictine order
might take his place, especially no Abbot of the rival Cister-
cians, and no Bishop. Guests were in the habit of purchasing
annuities of provisions, not only for themselves, but for their
descendants. No one was to sit with his hand on his chin, or
his hand over his head, as if in pain, or to lean on his elbows, or
to stare, or to crack nuts with his teeth.4 The arrangements
of the pots of beer were gratefully traced to Abbot Crokesley,
' of blessed memory.' 5 The usual reading of Scripture took
1 Remains exist of a chamber par- s See Chapter I. p. 18.
allel to the Refectory, which probably 4 Ware, pp. 206, 207.
served this purpose. 5 Ibid. p. 303.
2 Ware, p. 263.
366 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP v.
place, closed by the usual formulary, Tu autem, Domine, miserere
nobis.1 The candles were to be carefully lit at dusk. Two
scandals connected with this practice were preserved in
the recollections of the monastery — one of a wicked cook,
who had concealed a woman in the candle-cupboard ; another
of ' an irrational and impetuous sacrist,' who had carried off
the candles from the Great Refectory to the Lesser Dining-
hall or ' Misericord.'2 To what secular uses the Refectory was
turned will appear as we proceed. The provisions were to be
of the best kind, and were under the charge of the Cellarer.
The wheat was brought up from the Thames to the Granary,
which stood in the open space now called Dean's Yard, and the
keeper of which was held to be 'the Cellarer's right hand.'3
Over the East Cloister, approached by a stair which still in
part remains, was the Dormitory.4 In the staircase window
THE DOR- leading up to it was a crucifix. The floor was covered
MITORY OP ... ... -n i i i -, -, .
THE MOXKS. with matting. Each monk had his own chest of
clothes, and the like, carefully limited, as in a school or ship-
cabin.5 They were liable to be waked up by the sounding
of the gong or bell, or horn, or knocking of a board, at an
alarm of fire, or of a sudden inundation of the Thames.6 A
gallery still remains opening on the South Transept, by which
they descended into the Church for their night services. They
were permitted to have fur caps, made of the skins of wild
cats or foxes.7 At right angles to the Dormitory, extending
from the Cloister to the College garden, was the building known
in monasteries as ' the lesser dormitory.' 8
We pass abruptly from this private and tranquil life of the
monks in their Dormitory to three buildings which stand in
close connection with it, and which, by the inextricable union
of the Abbey with the Crown and State of England, bring us
into direct contact with the outer world — the Treasury, the
'Ware, p. 218. — Two particles of this The stairs from the Cloisters were re-
Benedictine service are still preserved stored by Sir Gilbert Scott. (See Glean-
in the Hall of Christ Church, Oxford, ings.) Another small stair, descending
on days when the Dean and Chapter at the southern end, was discovered in
dine. A single verse is recited, in 1869.
Greek, from the first chapter of St. * Ware, pp. 48, 49, 253, 255, 257.
John's Gospel, which is cut short by 6 Such a flood took place in 1274.
the Dean saying ' Tu autem.' (Matt. West.)
2 Ware, pp. 233, 235. : Ware, pp. 25, 241.
* Ibid. p. 171. * The long subterranean drain, which
4 The dormitory still exists, divided indicates the course of the building,
between the Chapter Library and the was found in 1868. See Arcluzologia
Great School. (See Chapter VI.) Cantlana, vii. 82.
CHAP. v. THE TREASURY. 367
Chapter House, and the Jewel House or Parliament Office. In
Tl(K the Eastern Cloister is an ancient double door, which
CRY< can l never be opened, except by the officers of the
Government or their representatives (now the Lords Commis-
sioners of the Treasury, till recently, with the Comptroller of
the Exchequer), bearing seven keys, some of them of huge
dimensions, that alone could admit to the chamber within.
That chamber, which belongs to the Norman2 substructions
underneath the Dormitory, is no less than the Treasury of
England3 — a grand word, which, whilst it conveys us back to
the most primitive times, is yet big with the destinies of the
present and the future ; that sacred building, in which were
hoarded the treasures of the nation, in the days when the
public robbers were literally thieves or highwaymen ; that
institution, which is now the keystone of the Commonwealth,
of which the Prime Minister is the ' First Lord,' the Chancellor
of the Exchequer the administrator, and which represents the
wealth of the wealthiest nation in the world. Here it was
that, probably almost immediately after the Conquest, the
Kings determined to lodge their treasure, under the guardian-
ship of the inviolable Sanctuary which St. Peter had consecra-
ted, and the bones of the Confessor had sanctified. So, in the
cave hewn out of the rocky side of the Hill of Mycenae, is still
to be seen, in the same vault, at once the Tomb and the
Treasury of the House of Atreus. So, underneath the cliff of
the Capitoline Hill, the Treasury of the Roman Commonwealth
was the shrine of the most venerable of the Italian gods — the
Temple of Saturn. So, in this ' Chapel of the Pyx,' as it is
now called, the remains of an altar seem4 to indicate its original
sanctity ; if it be not, as tradition loved to point out, the
Tomb of tomb of one who may well be called the genius of the
Hugoiin. place, the first predecessor of our careful Chancellors
of the Exchequer, Hugoiin, the chamberlain of the Confessor,
1 The ' Standard ' Act of 1866 Palace of Westminster ; the third, in
vested the sole custody in the Trea- ' the late dissolved Abbey of West-
sury. The transfer of the keys of the ' minster, in the old Chapter-house ; '
Exchequer took place on May 31, 1866. the fourth was ' in the Cloister of the
I owe the exact statement of the facts ' said Abbey, locked with five locks
relating to the Treasury to Sir Charles ' and keys, being within two strong
Trevelyan and Mr. Chisholm. ' double doors.' (Repertorie of Records,
7 Gleanings, pp. 9, 10. printed 1631, pp. 15-92.) But the
s In the seventeenth century there three first are, in order of time, later
were, properly speaking, four Trea- than the fourth.
suries— the first, in the Court of 4 The piscina shows it to have been
Receipt ; the second, in the New an altar.
368 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
whose strict guardianship of the royal treasure kept even his
master in awe.1 Even if not there, he lies hard by, as we shall
presently see. Hither were brought the most cherished posses-
sions of the State. The Eegalia of the Saxon monarchy; the
Black Rood of St. Margaret (' the Holy Cross of Holyrood ')
from Scotland ; the ' Crosis Gneyth ' (or Cross of St. Neot)
from Wales, deposited here by Edward I.;2 the Sceptre or
Rod of Moses ; the Ampulla of Henry IV. ; the sword with
which King Athelstane cut through the rock at Dunbar ; 3 the
sword of Wayland Smith,4 by which Henry II. was knighted ;
the sword of Tristan, presented to John by the Emperor ; 5
the dagger which wounded Edward I. at Acre ; the iron
gauntlet worn by John of France when taken prisoner at
Poitiers.6
In that close interpenetration of Church and State, of
Palace and Abbey, of which we have before spoken, if at times
the Clergy have suffered from the undue intrusion of the
Crown, the Crown has also suffered from the undue intrusion
of the Clergy. The summer of 1303 witnessed an event which
probably affected the fortunes of the Treasury ever afterwards.
The Rob- The King was on his Scottish wars, and had reached
bery, 1303. LinHthgow, when he heard the news that the immense
hoard, on which he depended for his supplies, had been carried
off. The chronicler of Westminster records, as matters of
equal importance, that in that year ' Pope Boniface YIII. was
' stripped of all his goods, and a most audacious robber by hirn-
' self secretly entered the Treasury of the King of England.'7
The chronicler vehemently repudiates the ' wicked suspicion '
that any of the monks of Westminster were concerned in the
transaction. But the facts are too stubborn. The chief robber,
doubtless, was one Richard de Podlicote, who had already
climbed by a ladder near the Palace Gate through a window of
the Chapter House, and broken open the door of the Refectory,
whence he carried off a considerable amount of silver plate.
The more audacious attempt on the Treasury, whose position
he had then ascertained, he concerted with friends partly
1 See Chapter I. p. 13. and secular treasures together, that at
2 Palgrave's Calendars, i. p. cxvi. the Coronations the Lord Treasurer,
3 Malmesbury, p. 149. with the Lord Chancellor, carried the
4 Hist. Gaufridi Duels, p. 520. sacred vessels of the altar. (Taylor's
* Rymer, i. 99 ; iii. 174. Regality, p. 172.)
6 Ibid. i. 197.— It may be as a 7 Matthew of Westminster, A.D.
memorial of this accumulation of sacred 1303.
CHAP. v. THE TKEASURY. 369
within, partly without the Precincts.1 Any one who had passed
through the Cloisters in the early spring of that year must
have been struck by the unusual appearance of a crop of hemp
springing up over the grassy graves, and the gardener who
came to mow the grass and carry off the herbage was constantly
refused admittance. In that tangled hemp, sown and grown,
it was believed, for this special purpose, was concealed the
treasure after it was taken out. In two large black panniers
it was conveyed away> across the river, to the ' King's Bridge,'
or pier, where now is Westminster Bridge, by the monk
Alexander of Pershore, and others, who returned in a boat to
the Abbot's Mill, on the Mill Bank. The broken boxes, the
jewels scattered on the floor, the ring with which Henry III.
was consecrated, the privy seal of the King himself, revealed
the deed to the astonished eyes of the royal officers when they
came to investigate the rumour. The Abbot and forty-eight
monks were taken to the Tower, and a long trial took place.2
The Abbot and the rest of the fraternity were released, but
the charge was brought home to the Subprior and the Sacrist.
The architecture still bears its protest against the treason and
the boldness of the robbers. The approach from the northern
side was walled off, and the Treasury thus reduced by one-third.3
Inside and outside of the door by which this passage is entered
may be felt under the iron cramps fragments of what modern
science has declared to be the skin of a human being. The
same terrible lining was also affixed to the three doors of the
Eevestry 4 in the adjoining compartment of the Abbey. These
savage trophies are generally said to belong to the Danes ; and,
in fact, there is no period to which they can be so naturally
referred as to this. They are, doubtless, * the marks of the
' nails, and the hole in the side of the wall,' to which the West-
minster chronicler somewhat irreverently appeals, to persuade
' the doubter ' not to be faithless, but ' believing in the innocence
' of the monks.' 5 Rather they conveyed the same reminder to
the clergy who paced the Cloisters or mounted to the Dormitory
door, as the seat on which the Persian judges sate, formed out
of the skin of their unjust predecessor, with the inscription,
' Remember whereon thou sittest.' Relics of a barbarous pas-t,
the}7 contain a striking instance of terrific precautions against
1 Matthew of Westminster, A.D. 1303. s Gleanings, pp. 50-52.
- Gleanings, pp. 282 288. The 4 Dart, i. 64 ; Akerman, ii. 26 ;
names of the monks are given in Dug- Gleanings, pp. 48, 50.
dale, i. 312 ; Rymer, ii. 938. s Matthew of Westminster, A.D. 1303.
B B
370 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. THAP. v.
extinct evils. The perils vanish — the precautions remain. From
that time, however, the charm of the Eoyal Treasury was
broken, and its more valuable contents were removed elsewhere,
although it was still under the protection of the Monastery.1
Thenceforth the Westminster Treasury was employed only
for guarding the Eegalia, the Eelics, the Eecords of Treaties,2
and the box or Pyx containing the Standard Trial Pieces of
gold and silver, used for determining the justness of the gold
and silver coins of the realm issued from the Eoyal Mint. One
by one these glories have passed from it. The Eelics doubtless
disappeared at the Eeformation ; the Treaties, as we shall
presently see. Except on the eve of the Coronations — when
they are deposited in the Dean's custody either in the Jerusalem
Chamber, or in one of the private closets in his Library — the
Eegalia have, since the Eestoration, been transferred to the
Tower.3 The Trial Pieces alone remain, to be visited once every
five years by the officers before mentioned, for the ' Trial of the
' Pyx.' 4 But it continues, like the enchanted cave of Toledo or
Covadonga, the original hiding-place of England's gold, an
undoubted relic of the Confessor's architecture, a solid fragment
of the older fabric of the monarchy — overshadowed, but not
absorbed, by the ecclesiastical influences around it, a testimony
at once to the sacredness of the Abbey and to the independence
of the Crown.
The Chapter House has a more complex history than the
1 The Exchequer paid ten shillings further order of the House ; and even
in 1519 to Mr. Fulwood, one of the this was carried only by 42 against 41.
monks, for mending the hinges, and (Cobbett's Parliamentary History, iii.
supplying a key of the Treasury door. 118. See Chapter VI.)
(State Papers, 1519.) 4 The Pyx, which sometimes gives
8 Palgrave, i. p. Ixxvi. its name to this chapel, is the box kept
8 Down to the time of the Common- at the Mint, in which specimens of the
wealth, the Treasury, as containing the coinage are deposited. The word
Regalia, had been in the custody of the ' Pyx ' (originally the Latin for ' box,'
Chapter, as before of the Convent. On and derived from the pyxis or box-
January 23, 1643, a motion was made tree) is now limited to this depository
in the Commons that the Dean, Sub- of coins in the English Mint, and to
dean, and Prebendaries should be re- the receptacle of the Host in Roman
quired to deliver up the keys ; and the Catholic Churches. The Trial is the
question put whether, upon the refusal examination of the coins contained in
of the keys, the door of that place the Pyx by assay and comparison with
should be broken open. So strong was the Trial Plates or pieces. See an
the deference to the ancient rights of account of it in Brayley's Londiniana,
the Chapter that, even in that excited iv. 145-147 ; and in the ' Report to
time, the question was lost by 58
against 37 ; and when the doors were
finally forced open, it was only on the
express understanding that an inven-
tory be taken, new locks put on the
doors, and nothing removed till upon
the Controller-General of the Ex-
chequer upon the Trial of the Pyx,
etc., dated February 10, 1866 ; by Mr.
H. W. Chisholm, Chief Clerk of the
Exchequer.'
CHAP. v. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 371
Treasury, and in some respects it epitomises the vicissitudes of the
THE CHAP- Abbey itself. Its earliest period, doubtless, goes back to
TER HOUSE, the Confessor. Of this no vestiges remain, unless in the
thickness of the walls in the Crypt beneath.1 But even from
Tombs in this early time it became the first nucleus of thp
the Chapter . , f ,-, » i •, -n-
House. burials ot the Abbey. Here, at least during the re-
building of the Church by Henry III., if not before, on the
south side of the entrance, were laid Edwin, first Abbot and
friend of the Confessor, in a marble tomb ; 2 and close beside
and with him, moved thither from the Cloister, Sebert, the sup-
posed founder of Westminster, St. Paul's, and Cambridge ; 3
Ethelgoda, his wife, and Eicula, his sister ; Hugolin, the
chamberlain of the Confessor ; and Sulcard, the first historian
of the Monastery. At a later period it contained two children
of Edward III., who were subsequently removed to the Chapel
of St. Edmund.4 Eound its eastern and northern walls are still
found stone coffins,5 which show it to have been the centre of a
consecrated cemetery.
We have already seen the determination of Henry III. that
the Abbey Church should be of superlative beauty. In like
manner the Chapter House was to be, as Matthew
Henry III., _. , . , . ..
1250. Paris expressively says — meaning, no doubt, that the
word should be strictly taken — ' incomparable.' 6 John of St.
Orner was ordered to make a lectern for it, which was to be, if
possible, more beautiful than that at St. Albans.7 Its structure
implies the extraordinary care and thought bestowed upon it.8
It was still 9 regarded as unfinished at the close of the fifteenth
1 See Mr. Scott's Essay on the Chap- to the Abbey itself see Chapter I.
ter House in Old "London, pp. 146, 156. p. 9.
2 The tomb was still visible in the 4 It has been sometimes said that
time of Flete, from whose manuscript Eleanor, the youngest daughter of
account this is taken. He also gives Edward I., by his second wife Mar-
the epitaph and verses, written on a garet, but called after his lamented
tablet above the tomb of Edwin : — Eleanor, was buried in the Chapter
House (1311). But she appears
Iste locellus habet bina cadavera claustro ; //2~,/,»,>» rxw-v, „/,<.<>/,<. ,•;; RA\ t.
TJxor Seberti, prima tamen minima ; (Green S Princesses, 111. 64) to have
Defracta capitis testa, clarus Hugolinus been taken to Beauheu.
A claustro noviter hie translatns erat ; a Two such were found in 1867.
Abbas Edvinus et Sulcardus ccenobita ; 6 r}ianrl^ny „ on
Sulcardus major est.-Deus assit eis. , Cleanings, p. dj.
7 Vet. Man. vi. 4, 2o.
From these lines it may be inferred 8 The mathematical proportions are
that Ethelgoda's was less than Hu- strictly observed. The tiles on the
golin's and Edwin's than Sulcard's, floor are of the most elaborate pat-
and that Hugolin's had had its head terns ; one is a miniature of the
broken. original rose window of the South
3 For the removal of Sebert 's sup- Transept. (G. G. Scott.)
posed remains from the Chapter House 9 Cartulary.
B B 2
372 THE ABBEY BEFOEE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
century. It has three peculiarities, each shared by only one
its pecu- other building of the kind in England. It is, except
iiarities. Lincoln, the largest Chapter House in the kingdom.
It is, except Wells, the only one which has the advantage of a
spacious Crypt underneath, to keep it dry and warm. It is,
except Worcester, the only instance of a round or octagonal
Chapter House, in the place of the rectangular or longitudinal
buildings usually attached to Benedictine monasteries.1 The
approach to it was unlike that of any other. The Abbey
Church itself was made to disgorge, as it were, one-third of its
Southern Transept to form the Eastern Cloister, by which it
is reached from the Chancel. Over its entrance, from a mass
of sculpture, gilding, and painting, the Virgin Mother looked
down, both within and without ; 2 and there was also, significant
of the purposes of the edifice,3 a picture of the Last Judgment.
The vast windows, doubtless, were filled with stained-glass.4 Its
walls were painted in the reign of Edward IV. by a conventual
artist, Brother John of Northampton, with a series of rude
frescoes from the Apocalypse, commencing with four scenes from
the legendary life of St. John,5 and ending with a large group
of figures, of which it is difficult to decipher the design. At
the eastern end were five stalls, occupied by the Abbot, the
three Priors, and the Subprior, more richly decorated, and of
an earlier date.
The original purposes of the Chapter House were quaintly
defined by Abbot Ware immediately after its erection. ' It
its monastic ' *s ^ne Little House, in which the Convent meets to
purposes. < consult for its welfare. It is well called the Capitu-
' lum (Chapter House), because it is the caput litium (the head
' of strifes), for there strifes are ended. It is the workshop of
' the Holy Spirit, in which the sons of God are gathered
' together. It is the house of confession, the house of obe-
' dience, mercy, and forgiveness, the house of unity, peace, and
' tranquillity, where the brethren make satisfaction for their
' faults.'6
These uses seem to be indicated in the scrolls on the
Angels' wings above the Abbot's stall, on which are written
1 All the other octagonal Chapter for the canvas to fill up the empty
Houses are attached to cathedrals. windows (1253).
(Gent. Mag. 1866, pt. i. p. 4.) s Cartulary. This date . confirms
* Ware, pp. 283, 419. the previous conjecture of Sir Charles
s See Cartulary. Eastlake (History of Oil Painting,
4 The exact date of the progress of p. 180).
the building is given hy the accounts * Ware, p. 311.
CHAP. v. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 373
confessio, satisfactio, munditia carnis, puritas mentis, and the
other virtues arranged beneath.
To this, at least once a week, the whole Convent came in
procession. They marched in double file through the vestibule,
capitu'ar °^ which the floor still bears traces of their feet. They
meetings, bowed, on their entrance, to the Great Crucifix, which
rose, probably, immediately before them over the stalls at the
east end, where the Abbot and his four chief officers were en-
throned.
When they were all seated on the stone seats round, perfect
freedom of speech was allowed. Now was the opportunity for
making any complaints, and for confessing faults. A story
was long remembered of the mistake made by a foolish Prior
in Abbot Papillon's time, who confessed out of his proper turn.1
The warning of the great Benedictine oracle, Anselm, against
the slightest violation of rules, was emphatically repeated.2
No signals were to be made across the building.3 The guilty
parties were to acknowledge their faults at the step before the
Abbot's Stall. Here, too, was the scene of judgment and punish-
ment. The details are such as recall a rough school rather
than a grave ecclesiastical community. The younger monks
were flogged elsewhere.4 But the others, stripped 5 wholly or
from the waist upwards, or in their shirts girt close round them,
were scourged in public here, with rods of single or double thick-
ness, by the ' mature brothers,' who formed the Council of the
Abbot (but always excluding the accuser from the office), the
criminal himself sitting on a three-legged bench — probably
before the central pillar, which was used as a judgment-seat or
whipping-post.6 If flogging was deemed insufficient, the only
further punishment was expulsion. The terrors of immurement
or torture seem unknown.
In this stately building the chief ceremonials of the Abbey
were arranged, as they are now in the Jerusalem Chamber.
Here were fixed the preliminary services of the anniversaries of
Henry VII. ; and the Chantry monks, and the scholars to be
sent at his cost to the universities, were appointed.7
It has been well observed,8 that the Chapter House is an
1 Ware, p. 316. Matt. Paris, p. 848 ; Piers Plowman,
- Ibid. pp. 318, 331. 2819 ; Ware.
3 Ibid. p. 321. 7 Malcolm, p. 222.
4 Ibid. pp. 348, 366, 383. 8 Fergusson's Handbook of Archi-
5 Ibid. p. 380. lecture, ii. 53.
6 Fosbroke's Monacliism, p. 222;
374 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
edifice and an institution almost exclusively English. In the
original Basilica the Apse \vas the assembly-place, where the
Bishop sate in the centre of his clergy, and regulated ecclesi-
cnamberof astical affairs. Such an arrangement was well suited
commons, for the delivery of a pastoral address, and for the rule
of a despotic hierarchy, as in the churches of the Continent ;
but it was not in accordance with the Anglo-Saxon idea of a
deliberative assembly, which should discuss every question as a
necessary preliminary to its being promulgated as a law. It
was therefore by a natural sequence of thought that the Council
Chamber of the Abbey of Westminster became the Parliament
House of the English nation, the cradle of representative and
constitutional government, of Parliament, Legislative Chambers,
and Congress, throughout the world.
At the very time when Henry III. was building the Abbey
— nay, in part as the direct consequence of the means which he
took to build it — a new institution was called into existence,
which first was harboured within the adjoining Palace, and then
rapidly became too large for the Palace to contain. As the
building of the new St. Peter's at Rome, by the indulgences
Rise of the issued to provide for its erection, produced the Re-
commons, formation, so the building of this new St. Peter's at
Westminster, by the enormous sums which the King
exacted from his subjects, to gratify his artistic or his devotional
sentiment, produced the House of Commons. And the House
of Commons found its first independent home in the ' incom-
' parable ' Chapter House of Westminster. Whatever may be
the value of Wren's statement, that ' the Abbot lent it to the
' King for the use of the Commons, on condition that the Crown
' should repair it,' l there can be no question that, from the time
separate of the separation of the Commons from the Lords,
the House of it became their habitual meeting-place.2 The exact
Commons,
1282. moment of the separation cannot perhaps be ascer-
tained. In the first instance, the two Houses met in West-
minster Hall. But they parted as early as the eleventh year
of Edward I.3 From that time the Lords met in the Painted
Chamber in the Palace ; the Commons, whenever they sate in
1 Elmes's Life of Wren, Appendix, made over by the Crown in exchange
P- 110- for the Chapter House. But there
2 It is conjectured by Carter (Ancient is no sufficient ground for this supposi-
Sculptures, p. 75) that the Jerusalem tion.
Chamber of the Abbot was the Antioch 3 Hallam's Middle Ayes, iii. 54.
Chamber of Henry III. (p. 417), and
CHAP. v. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 375
London, within the precincts of the Abbey. Such secular as-
semblies had already assembled under its shadow, though not
commons of vet within the Chapter House. We find the Commons
JhSstew, <>f London in the Cloister churchyard in 1263.1 The
vast oblong of the Eefectory naturally lent itself to
large gatherings of this kind. There, in a chamber only inferior
councils of in beauty and size to Westminster Hall, Henry III.
Story!16 held a 8reat Council of State in 1244.2 There, in an
assembly, partly of laity, partly of clergy,3 Edward I.
1294 : insisted on a subsidy of a half of their possessions. The
consternation had been so great, that the Dean of St. Paul's
had, in his endeavour to remonstrate, dropped down dead at
King Edward's feet. But ' the King passed over this event
' with indifferent eyes,' and persisted the more vehemently in
his demands. ' The consequence was that, . . . after eating
* sour grapes, at last, when they were assembled in the Eefec-
' tory of the monks of Westminster, a knight, John Havering
' by name, rose up and said, " My venerable men, this is the
' " demand of the King — the annual half of the revenues of
' " your chamber. And if any one objects to this, let him rise
' " up in the middle of this assembly, that his person may
' " be recognised and taken note of, as he is guilty of treason
'"against the King's peace."1 There was silence at once.
'When they heard this, all the prelates were dispirited, and
' immediately agreed to the King's demands.' 4 In the Eefec-
tory, accordingly, the Commons were convened, under Edward
II., when they impeached Piers Gaveston ; and also on several
occasions during the reigns of Eichard II., Henry IV., and
Henry V.5 But their usual resort was ' in their ancient place
usua'iy in ' the House of the Chapter in the Great Cloister of the
Hou^apter ' Abbey of Westminster.' 6 On one occasion a Parlia-
ment was summoned there, in 1256, even before the birth of
March 26, the House of Commons, to grant a subsidy for Sicily.7
It is from the reign of Edward III., however, that
these meetings of the Commons were fixed within its walls.
1 Liber de Antiq. Legibus, p. 19. ibid. iv. 34 ; 3 Henry V. ibid. 70.
- Matt. Paris, 639. ' 6 25 Edward III. Parl. Rolls, ii.
3 Chiefly the Clergy, and, therefore, 237 ; 50 Edward III. ibid. 322, 327 ;
perhaps the Convocations, September 51 Edward III. ibid. 363 ; 1 Eichard II.
21, 1294. (Parry's Parliaments, p. 56.) ibid. iii. 5 ; 2 Richard II. ibid. 33 ;
4 Matthew of Westminster, 1294. 8 Richard II. ibid. 185. Coke's In-
5 18 Richard II. Parliament Bolls, stitutes, iv. 1.
ii. 329 ; 20 Richard II. ibid. iii. 338 ; 7 Ann. Burt. 386 ; Hody, 346.
5 Henry IV. ibid. 523 ; 2 Henry V. (Parry, 37.)
376 THE ABBEY BEFOKE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
With this coincides the date of those curious decorations which
in that age seemed specially appropriate. ' Piers Plowman's ' *
vision of a Chapter House was as of a great church, carven
and covered, and quaintly entailed, with seemly ceilings set aloft,
as a Parliament House painted about. The Seraphs that adorn
the chief stalls, the long series of Apocalyptic pictures which
were added to the lesser stalls, were evidently thought the
fitting accompaniments of the great Council Chamber. The
Speaker,2 no doubt, took his place in the Abbot's Stall facing
the entrance. The burgesses and knights who came up reluc-
tantly from the country, to the unwelcome charge of their
public business, must have sate round the building — those who
had the best seats, in the eighty stalls of the monks, the others
arranged as best they could. To the central pillar were attached
placards, libellous or otherwise, to attract the attention of the
members.3
The Acts of Parliament which the Chapter House witnessed
derive a double significance from the locality. A doubtful
tradition 4 records that the monks of Westminster com-
plained of the disturbance of their devotions by the
noise and tumult of the adjoining Parliament. Unquestionably
there is a strange irony, if indeed it be not rather a profounder
wisdom, in the thought that within this consecrated precinct
were passed those memorable statutes which restrained the
power of that very body under whose shelter they
Statute Cir- r *
cumspecte were discussed. Here the Commons must have as-
Agatis, 1285.
statute of sented to the dry humour of the statute Circumspecte
Provisions,
1350. Agatis, which, whilst it appears to grant the lesser
prsemunire, privileges of the clergy, virtually withholds the larger.5
Here also were enacted the Statutes of Provisions and
of Praemunire,6 which, as Fuller says, first ' pared the Pope's
' nails to the quick, and then cut off his fingers.' These ancient
walls heard ' the Commons aforesaid say the things so at-
' tempted be clearly against the King's crown and regality, used
' and approved of the time of all his progenitors, and declare that
1 Piers Plowman's Creed, 1. 396, &c. have never been able to verify it.
- The first authentic Speaker, Peter 5 ' Acknowledged as a statute, though
de la Mare, was elected in 1377. ' not drawn in the form of one.' Hal-
3 See the libel, of which two copies lam's Middle Ages, ii. 317 ; Fuller's
were so affixed, against Alexander Church History, A.D. 1285.
Nevile, Archbishop of York in the 6 Hallam's Middle Ages, ii. 339,
time of Richard II. (Arch. xvi. 80.) 356 ; Fuller's Church History, A.U.
4 It is mentioned in Montalembert's 1350; Statutes, 25 Edward III. c. 6,
Moines de V Occident, iv. 432 ; but I 16 Richard II. c. 5.
CHAP. v. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 377
' they and all the liege Commons of the same realm will stand
' with our Lord the King and his said crown and his regality
' in the cases aforesaid, and in all other cases attempted
' against him, his crown, and his regality, in all points to live and
convention ' to die.' Here also was convened the Assembly, half
of Henry V., *
U2i. '' secular and half ecclesiastical, when Henry V. sum-
moned the chief Benedictine ecclesiastics to consider the abuses
of their order, consequent on the number of young Abbots who
had lately succeeded, after an unusual mortality amongst their
elders. The King himself was present, with his four councillors.
He entered humbly enough (satis humiliter), and with a low
bow to the assembly sate down, doubtless in the Abbot's Chair,
and heard a discourse on the subject by Edmund Lacy, Bishop
of Exeter. Sixty Abbots and Priors were there, seated, we
may suppose, in the stalls, and more than 300 monks in the
body of the house. The King then recommended the needful
reforms, and assured them of his protection.1 Here, in order to
woisey's be out of the reach of the jurisdiction of his brother
court, 1527. Primate, Wolsey, as Cardinal Legate, held his Lega-
tine Court, and with the Archbishop of Canterbury and other
prelates sate in judgment on Thomas Bilney and Dr. Barnes,
both of them afterwards 2 burnt for their Protestant opinions.
Tonstal, Bishop of London, sate as his commissary, and received
there a humble recantation by a London priest, of the heretical
The Acts of practices 'of Martin Luther and his sect.'3 Here,
at'ion.6 ' finally, were enacted the scenes in which, during the
first epoch of the Reformation, the House of Commons took so
prominent a part by pressing forward those Church of England
statutes which laid the ' foundations of the new State,' which
' found England in dependency upon a foreign power, and
' left it a free nation ; ' which gave the voice of the nation
for the first time its free expression in the councils of the
Church.4
"Within the Chapter House must thus have been passed the
first Clergy Discipline Act, the first Clergy Residence Act, and
The Act of chief °f all> the Act of Supremacy and the Act of
submission. Submission. Here, to acquiesce in that Act, as we
shall see, met the Convocation of the Province of Canterbury.5
1 Walsingham, p. 337; Tyler, ii. 3 Strype's Ecc. Mem. i. 109. See
67 ; Harleian MS., No. 6064. (Mai- Chapter VI.
colm's Londinium, p. 230.) 4 Froude, ii. 455, 456.
2 Foxe's Acts and Monuments, iv. * Wake's State of the Church, App.
p. 622. pp. 219, 220. See Chapter VI.
378 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
Beneath that vaulted roof and before that central pillar must
The Act of nave been placed the famous Black Book, which sealed
suppression, ^he fate of all the monasteries of England, including
the Abbey of Westminster close by, and which struck such a
thrill of horror through the House of Commons when they
heard its contents.1
The last time that the Commons sate in the building was
on the last day of the life of Henry VIII. The last Act passed
•was the attainder of the Duke of Norfolk ; and they must
have been sitting here when the news reached them that the
King had died that morning, and while those preparations
for the coronation of Prince Edward — whom King Henry
had designed should be crowned before his own death, in order
to secure his succession — were going on in the Abbey, which
were summarily broken off when the news came that the King
himself was dead.2
In the year 1540, when the Abbey was dissolved, the
Chapter House became, what it has ever since continued to
Transfer be, absolutely public and national property. It is
capitular uncertain where the Dean and Chapter, who then
succeeded, held their first meetings. But they never
could have entered the Ancient Chapter House by
House of6 right in the performance of any portion of their
Stephen's duties ; and the Jerusalem Chamber, for all practical
purposes, soon became ' our Chapter House.' 3 In 1547, in
the first year of Edward VI., the Commons moved to the
Chapel of St. Stephen,4 in the Palace of Westminster. This
1 Froude, iv. 520. ' tomed place.' The clause in all leases,
2 See Chapter II. p. 67. as far back as can be traced, and to the
* The date of the earliest Chapter present day, is, ' Given in the Chapter
Order Book is 1642. The Chapters ' House of the Dean and Chapter at
are there said to be held, and the Deans ' Westminster.'
to be installed, 'in the Chapter House,' 4 The Chapel of St. Stephen was
as Cox was in 1549. It was in 1555 founded by King Stephen. It was
that the Jerusalem Chamber was first rebuilt by Edward III., as a thank-
used as a Chapter House. In the inter- offering after his victories, on a yet
val between 1540 and 1555 it was more splendid scale than St. George's
treated as a separate habitation, 'the at Windsor. Its Canons gave their
' house in the which Mother Jone name to Canon Row, sometimes also
' doth dwell.' (Walcott's Inventory, called St. Stephen's Alley. Between
p. 47.) There is no express indication this collegiate body and that of the
of any change till 1637, when it is said, Abbey long disputes of jurisdiction
a ' Chapter was holden, in the usual raged, till they were finally settled
' place of meeting, for the Collegiate in Abbot Esteney's time, as recorded
' Church of St. Peter in Westminster ; ' with much curious detail in his Niger
on December 13, 1638, ' a Chapter is Quartenar. p. 118. After the Dissolu-
' holden in Hierusalem Chamber ; ' in tion it became the property of the
February 16, 1638-39, ' at the accus- Crown (by 2 Edward VI. c. 14), and was
CHAP. v. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 379
splendid edifice had become vacant in consequence of the
suppression of the collegiate Chapter of St. Stephen, which occu-
pied the same position in regard to Westminster that the Chapel
of St. George occupied to Windsor. From this period we enter
on the third stage of the history of the Chapter House,1 when
the Government appropriated it to the preservation of the
Public Eecords. These records were afterwards still further
augmented at the close of the seventeenth century. Down to
The chapter that time many of the documents were kept in the
as°a Record Pyx Chapel ; but ' about the year 1697 one of the
i863.e> ' Prebendaries of Westminster having built a copper
' for boiling, just under one of the windows of the Treasury,
' such a dampness was thereby occasioned as very much injured
' the Eecords, which occasioned the removal of them into the
' Chapter House.' 2 And again, an alarming fire, which in 1731
broke out in the Cloisters, occasioned the removal of whatever
documents had been left in the Chapel of the Pyx, for safety,
into the Chapter House ; 3 and in order to fit the building for
this purpose an upper storey was proposed. Sir Christopher
Wren had in 1705 protested and ' absolutely refused to build
' any gallery for such use ; ' but now it was carried out, for in
1740 the groined roof was taken down as ruinous.4 There was
a constant and ineffectual complaint maintained by the House
of Commons against the ' eternal brewhouse and the eternal
' washhouse ' of the Chapter, as endangering the safety of the
records. It began in 1732, and lasted till 1832, and was the
subject of a comical speech by Charles Buller.
But even this period is not without interest in itself, and
invests the Chapter House with another series of delightful
historical associations. The unsightly galleries, which long
obstructed it, once contained the Domesday Book and other
like treasures of English History. Here was nourished the
glory of three names for ever dear to English archaeology-
Arthur Agarde, Thomas Eymer, and Francis Palgrave.5
granted for other purposes, probably Treasury). This lease expired on
from the ruin into which Westminster Michaelmas Day 1840. Since that
Palace had then recently fallen from time the Office of Works has paid a rent
£re. of £10 : 1 : 4 to the Dean and Chapter.
1 The only connection of the Chapter - Extract from note in pocketbook
with the Chapter House was retained of Dr. G. Harbin, librarian at Longleat,
in two adjoining offices. These were 1710.
erected by the Government on ground 3 Palgrave's Calendars, vol. i. pp.
belonging to the Dean and Chapter, cxxv.-cxxix. See Chapter VI.
who granted a lease for forty years, 4 Felix Summerly 's Handbook of
from Michaelmas 1800, to W. Chinnery, Westminster Abbey, 43.
Esq. (as nominee on behalf of the * Blog. Brit. i. 66, 347 ; xiv. 164.
3SO THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION, 'CUAP. v.
Arthur Agarde was ' a man known to Selden to be most
' painful, industrious, and sufficient in things of this nature,'
and to Camden as ' antiquarius insignia' He was one of the
Arthur original members of the Society of Antiquaries, and
burie'iAu there laboured in company with Archbishop Parker,
24, i6i5. gjr Robert Cotton (who became his intimate friend),
two whom he must often have met in the Cloisters, Lancelot
Andrewes as Dean, and Camden as Headmaster of Westminster
School. Here he toiled over the Domesday Book and the
Antiquities of the Parliament which had assembled in the scene
of his labours. Here he composed the ' Compendium ' of the
Eecords hi the adjacent Treasury, where some of the chests
still remain inscribed as he left them ; and here, in the
Cloisters, by the door of the Chapter House, he caused the
monument to himself and his wife to be erected before his
death, in 1615, in his seventy-fifth year — ' Eecordorum Eegi-
' orum hie prope depositorum diligens scrutator.'
Thomas Eymer, the historiographer of King William III.,
was a constant pilgrim to the Chapter House for the compilation
Thomas of his valuable work on the Treaties of England. So
Rhymer, di( a care£ujjy ciose(j ^as the Eecord Office itself, that he
had to sit outside in the vestibule ; and there, day after day,
out of the papers and parchments that were doled out to him,
formed the solid folios of ' Eymer' s Fcedera.' l
Sir Francis Palgrave — who can forget the delight of ex-
ploring under his guidance the treasures of which he was the
Francis honoured guardian ? So dearly did he value the con-
die'f i86i'. nection which, through the Keepership of the Eecords,
he had established with this venerable edifice, that, lest he
should seem to have severed the last link, he insisted, even after
the removal of the Eecords, on the replacement of the direction
outside the door, which there remained long after his death—
' All letters and parcels addressed to Sir F. Palgrave are to be
' sent to Eolls Court, Chancery Lane.'
On the night of the fire which consumed the Houses of
Parliament in 1834, - when thousands were gathered below,
watching the progress of the flames, when the waning affection
for our ancient national monuments seemed to be revived in
that crisis of their fate, when, as the conflagration was driven
by the wind towards Westminster Hall, the innumerable faces
1 Mr. Burtt, in the Gentleman'1 s Hatherley, who witnessed it from be-
Magazine, October 1859, pp. 336-343. low ; and partly to Sir Francis Palgrave
* I owe this story partly to Lord himself.
THE CHAPTER HOUSE AS RESTORED BY SIR GILBERT SCOTT.
382 THE ABBEY BEFOEE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
of that vast multitude, lighted up in the broad glare with more
than the light of day, were visibly swayed by the agitation of
the devouring breeze, and one voice, one prayer seemed to go
up from every upturned countenance, ' 0 save the Hall ! ' — on
that night two small figures might have been seen standing
on the roof of the Chapter House overlooking the terrific blaze,
parted from them only by the narrow space of Old Palace Yard.
One was the Keeper of the Eecords, the other was Dean
Ireland. They had climbed up through the hole in the roof to
witness the awful scene. Suddenly a gust of wind swept the
flames in that direction. Palgrave, with all the enthusiasm of the
antiquarian and of his own eager temperament, turned to the
Dean, and suggested that they should descend into the Chapter
House and carry off its most valued treasures into the Abbey
for safety. Dean Ireland, with the caution belonging at once
to his office and his character, answered that he could not
think of doing so without applying to Lord Melbourne, the
First Lord of the Treasury.
It was a true, though grotesque, expression of the actual facts
of the case. The Government were the masters of the Chapter
The Resto House. On them thus devolved the duty of its preser-
c*ia°terf the vation> when, after its various vicissitudes, it once
House, 1865. more became vacant by the removal of the Eecords to
the Eolls House. Then, in 1865, in the eight hundredth anni-
versary of its own foundation, in the six hundredth anniversary
of the House of Commons, which it had so long sheltered, a
meeting of the Society of Antiquaries was held within its dis-
figured and deserted walls, to urge the duty of restoring it to
its pristine beauty. Under the auspices of Mr. Gladstone, then
Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Mr. Cowper, First Commis-
sioner of Works, the adequate sum was granted by Parliament,
and the venerable building has become one of the most splendid
trophies of the archaeological and architectural triumphs of the
Nineteenth Century. Its stained windows will represent the
scenes which have interwoven English history with the Abbey.
Its tables contain the various local illustrations of Westminster.
Not far from the Chapter House and Treasury, and curiously
following their fortunes, is an ancient square ' Tower,' which
The jewel mav once nave served the purpose of a monastic
House. prison, but which was sold to the Crown in the last
year of Edward III.1 It bears in its architecture the marks of
' Widmore, 174, 231.
CHAP. v. THE PARLIAMENT OFFICE. 383
the great builder of that time — Abbot Littlington.1 For many
The Pariia- years ^ was the King's Jewel House. It then became
ment office. < the Parliament office,' — that is, the depository of the
Acts of Parliament, which had been passed either in the adja-
cent Chapter House or in the Chapel of St. Stephen. In 1864 2
they were transferred to the far grander Tower, bearing the
name of Queen Victoria, and exhibiting the same enlarged
proportions to the humble Tower of the Plantagenets, that the
Empire of our gracious Sovereign bears to their diminutive
kingdom. But the gray fortress still remains, and with the
Treasury and the Chapter House forms the triple link of the
English State and Church with the venerable past. Comparing
the concentration of English historical edifices at Westminster
with those at Rome under the Capitol, as the Temple of Saturn
finds its likeness in the Treasury, and the Temple of Concord
(where the Senate assembled) in the Chapter House and
Eefectory, so the massive walls of the Tabularium, where the
decrees of the Senate were carefully guarded, correspond to
the Square Tower of the Parliament office, overlooking the
garden of the Precincts from which it has long been parted.
From the Jewel House, across the end of the Garden, was
a pathway to the stream which flowed into the Thames — used
chiefly for processions on Rogation days and other like holidays
— over a piece of ground which belonged to the Prior, but
which was left as a kind of waste plot, from its exposure to the
floods both of stream and river. This corner of the Precincts
was the scene of a curious story, which was, no doubt, often
The An- tolc^ m tne Cloister and Eefectory. Not far from the
chorite. Jewel House was the cell of the hermit who 3 formed
an adjunct of the monastic community — and was, in succes-
sive generations, consulted by Henry III., Richard II., and
Henry V. Its occupant, at the close of the fourteenth century,
was buried in a leaden coffin, in a small adjacent chapel. A
ushbome certain William Ushborne, keeper of the adjacent
fishpond. Palace, suborned a plumber of the convent to dig up
the sacred bones, which he tossed into the well in the centre
1 For the architectural description Uniformity, and had lain hid in some
of it, see Gleanings, p. 226. It is now obscure corner of the Parliament
used as the depository of the standards Office. It was in 1864 deposited in the
of weights and measures, in connection Chief Clerk's Office in the House of
with the Trial of the Pyx. Lords, where it was found in 1867.
2 By this removal was recovered the 3 Lestrange, in Norfolk Archceo-
long-lost Prayer-book of 1662, which logical Journal.
had been detached from the Act of
384 THE ABBEY BEFOKE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
of the cloister-cemetery, and had the leaden coffin conveyed by
its iron clasps to his office. The sacrilege was first visited on
the poor plumber, who was seized with a sudden faintness and
died in Ushborne's house. This, however, was but the begin-
ning of Ushborne's crimes. He afterwards contrived to appro-
priate the waste marsh just described, which he turned into a
garden, with a pond to preserve his own fresh fish. On a
certain fast day, the Vigil of St. Peter ad Vincula, the day
before the great conventual feast on the fat bucks of Windsor
— he invited his Westminster neighbours to a supper. Out of
the pond he had fished a large pike. He himself began upon
it, and after two or three mouthfuls he screamed out, ' Look—
1 look — here is come a fellow who is going to choke me ; ' and
thus caught, ' without the viaticum,' by the very fish which
had been the cause of his sacrilege, he died on the spot and
was buried in the Choir of St. Margaret's. It was a matter of
unfeigned satisfaction that his successor, though bearing the
same ill-omened name of William, was a highly respectable man,
' good and simple,' who made many benefactions to the Abbey,
and was buried just within the Church, by the basin for holy
water at the Cloister door.1 There was also a succession of
female anchorites (' my Lady Anchoress '), who were the laun-
dresses of the sacred vestments.
Leaving these haunted spots, we return to the Garden,
which had been thus invaded and avenged. The prior's portion
of it was remarkable as having been planted with damson
The Garden trees.2 But the larger part of it, now the College
infirmary. Garden, was the pleasure-ground of the Infirmary,
corresponding to what at Canterbury is now called ' The Oaks,'
The in- in wnicn the sick monks took exercise. The Infir-
nrmary. mary itself, which has almost totally disappeared, was
almost a second monastery. The fragments of its Xorman
arches show that it belonged to the original establishment of
the Confessor. Hither came the processions of the Convent to
see the sick brethren ; 3 and were greeted by a blazing fire in
the Hall, and long rows of candles in the Chapel.4 Here,
although not only here, were conducted the constant bleedings
of the monks.5 Here, in the Chapel, the young monks wriv
privately whipped. Here the invalids were soothed by music.6
1 Cartulary. < Ibid. pp. 264, 265.
2 Ibid. * Ibid. pp. 425, 438, 440, 444.
1 Ware, pp. 479, 483. « Ibid. p. 475.
THE INFIRMARY.
385
Here also lived the seven ' play-fellows ' l (sympectce), the name
given to the elder monks, who, after they had passed fifty years
in the monastic profession, were exempted from all the ordi-
nary regulations, were never told anything unpleasant, and
themselves took the liberty of examining and censuring every-
thing.2
A few arcades and pillars mark the position of the ancient
Hall and Chapel of the Infirmary, which here, as elsewhere,
has been absorbed into the modern capitular buildings. The
Chapel, of which the proportions can be imagined from the
vast remains of the corresponding edifice at Canterbury, was
dedicated to St. Catherine. This, rather than the Abbey
Church itself, was used for such general ecclesiastical solem-
nities as took place in the Precincts. Of the thirty- eight 3
episcopal consecrations described before the Keformation as
performed in ' Westminster,' where any special locality is desig-
nated, we usually find the Chapel of St. Catherine. Fifteen4
certainly, probably more, were there consecrated. One, William
de Blois, was consecrated to Lincoln, before the High Altar,
in 1203. Abbot Milling was consecrated to Hereford in the
1 Ware, p. 343.
2 The Chronicle so called of Ingulph,
A.D. 974 ; Ducange (voce Sempecta) ;
Fosbroke's Monachism, 265.
3 For the accurate statement of these
consecrations I am indebted to Profes-
sor Stubbs. Those which are recorded
as taking place in ' Westminster,' but
without the specification of particular
localities, are of Bernard, Bishop of
St. David's, in 1115 ; David of Bangor
in 1120, Robert Chichester of Exeter
in 1138, Eoger of Pontevyne in 1154,
Adam of St. Asaph in 1175, Henslow,
William de Blois of Worcester in 1218,
John Fountain of Ely in 1220, Geoffrey
de Burgh of Ely in 1225, Albert of Ar-
magh in 1248, Louis de Beaumont of
Durham in 1318, Alexander Neville
of York in 1374, Walter Skirlow of
Lichfield in 1386, Alexander Bache of
St. Asaph in 1390. It is natural to
suppose that these were consecrated
within the precincts of the Abbey, and,
if so, probably in St. Catherine's Chapel.
But the specification of the Palaces of
the Bishops of Carlisle, Durham, and
York, and of the Chapel of St. Stephen
for the remaining eleven, between
1327 and 1535, makes it doubtful
whether some of the earlier ones may
not also have taken place in private
chapels. Becket's election to the pri-
macy, 1162, was recited and confirmed
by Henry de Blois in the Refectory.
(Diceto, 533.) Baldwin (1184) was
elected by the royal party against the
Canterbury monks, in a tumultuous,
meeting in the Chapter House of
Westminster. In order to forestall
their adversaries, they rushed at once
with a Te Deum to the Abbey, kissed
Baldwin before the altar, and returned
him to the king as elected. (Benedict,
415.)
4 These were Hugh of Lincoln,
afterwards canonised, and William of
Worcester, in 1186 ; Hubert Fitzwalter
and Herbert le Po:r of Salisbury, and
Godfrey of Winchester, in 1189 and
1194 ; Robert of Bangor in 1197,
Eustace of Ely in 1198, William of
London in 1199, Geoffrey Hennelaw
of St. David's in 1203, John Gray
of Norwich, and Giles Braose of Here-
ford in 1200, Eustace of London in
1221, William Brewer of Exeter and
Ralph Neville of Chichester in 1224,
Thomas Bluneville of Norwich in
1226. The use of this Chapel is
illustrated by the fact that the only
consecration that took place at Read-
ing (of Le Poer to Chichester, June 25,
1215) was in like manner in the Infir-
mary Chapel of the Abbey of Reading.
C C
386 THE AEBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
Lady Chapel in 1474, a few years before its destruction by
Henry VII.
Besides these more individual solemnities, St. Catherine's
Chapel witnessed the larger part of the provincial Councils
councils of Westminster.1 More than twenty such were held
of West-
minster. at various times. The most remarkable were as fol-
lows : — In 1076 was the assembly for the deposition of Wolf-
underLan- stan, already described. In 1102 Anselm held the
mixed council of lords spiritual and temporal, to issue
1102.' canons against simony, against marriage of the clergy,
against the long Saxon hair of laymen, against untrained clergy,
against archdeacons who were not deacons, as well as other
graver offences. Here these same denunciations were con-
1124. tinned in three councils held at Westminster shortly
lisa. after, under Cardinal John of Crema, Williams Arch-
1127. bishop of Canterbury, and Albric of Ostia, all legates.2
Here, four years after the murder of Becket, in the presence
straggle °f Walter Humez, for the first time wearing the full
primttes, insignia of mitred Abbot, took place the celebrated
contest between Eichard Archbishop of Canterbury
and Roger Archbishop of York, in the struggle for precedence,
which on the occasion of the coronation of Henry IV.'s son had
just led to that catastrophe. ' The Pope's Legate was present,
* on whose right hand sate Eichard of Canterbury, as in his
* proper place ; when in springs Eoger of York, and, finding
' Canterbury3 so seated, fairly sits him down on Canterbury's
' lap — a baby too big to be danced thereon ; yea, Canterbury's
' servants dandled this large child with a witness, who plucked
' him from thence, and buffeted him to purpose.' 4 Eichard
claimed the right side as belonging to his see — Eoger as be-
longing to his prior consecration. In the scuffle, the northern
primate was seized, as he alleged, by the Bishop of Ely, thrown
on his face, trampled down, beat with fists and sticks, and
severely bruised. He rose, with his cope torn,5 and rushed
1 The twenty -four Councils of West- - For the strange stories of John of
minster are given in Moroni's Dizio- Crema, see Fuller's Church History,
nario delta Erudizione (' Westminster ') A.D. 1102 ; Eadmer, iii. 67 ; Florence
from 1066 to 1413. Professor Stubbs of Worcester. See the authorities in
has called my attention to the opinion Robertson's History of the Church, iii.
of Mr. Kemble, that Cloveshoe, the 234.
scene of the Saxon Council in 747, was • Gervase, 1433.
' at Westminster.' But he has shown 4 Fuller's Church History, A.D. 1176.
that the inference is mistaken, and * Brompton, 1109. The decrees of
that the ' Westminster ' in question was the council are given in Benedict, i.
probably Westbury in Worcestershire. 97-107.
CHAP. v. COUNCILS OF WESTMINSTER. 387
into the Abbey, where he found the King and denounced to
him the two prelates of Canterbury and Ely. At last the
feud was reconciled, on the Bishop of Ely's positive denial of
the outrage, and the two Primates were bound by the King to
keep the peace for five years. It led to the final settlement of
the question, as it has remained ever since, by a Papal edict,
giving to one the title of the Primate of All England, to the
other of the Primate of England.1 At another council, held
apparently in the Precincts, the less important prece-
dence between the bishops of London and Winchester
was settled, London taking the right, and Winchester the left
of the legate.2 Here, in the presence of Archbishop (after-
wards Saint) Edmund, Henry III., with the Gospel in one
hand and a lighted taper in the other, swore to observe the
Excommuni- Magna Charta. The Archbishop and Prelates, and
transgressors the King himself, dashed their candles on the ground,
Charta, ws. whilst each dignitary closed his nostrils and his eyes
against the smoke and smell, with the words, ' So go out,
' with smoke and stench, the accursed souls of those who
' bieak or pervert the Charter.' To which all replied, 'Amen
' and Amen ; but none more frequently or loudly than the
' King.' 3 Yet ' he took not away the High Places,' exclaims
the honest chronicler, ' and again and again he collected and
' spent his money, till, oh shame ! his folly by constant repeti-
' tion came to be taken as a matter of course.' Per-
1290
haps of all the councils which the Precincts witnessed
(the exact spot is not mentioned) the most important was that
which sanctioned the expulsion of the Jew?s from England.4
We have now traversed the monastic Precincts. We would
fain have traced in them, as in the Abbey itself, the course of
English history. But it has not been possible. Isolated
incidents of general interest are interwoven with the growth
Growth of °f *^e Convent, but nothing more, unless it be the
English. gradual rise of the English character and language.
It was at first strictly a Norman institution. As a general rule,
1 So in France the Archbishop of in the Roman Catholic Church even
Lyons was styled by the Pope ' Pri- the See of Rome has not ventured to
' mate of Gaul,' and the Archbishop of decide between the two rivals. (Fitz-
Vienne ' Primate of Primates.' A like patrick's Doyle, ii. 76.)
rivalry existed in the Irish Church, 2 Diceto, 656. Another was held in
between the Archbishop of Armagh 1200. (Ibid. 707.)
and the Archbishop of Dublin. In 3 Matt. Paris, p. 742. Grossetete,
the Protestant Church the question Letters, 72, p. 236, ed. Luard.
has long been determined in favour of 4 Hardouin's Concilia, A.D. 1290.
' the Lord Primate of Armagh.' But Pauli, iv. 53.
c c 2
388 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
English was never to be spoken in common conversation — nor
even Latin — nothing but French. And the double defeat of
the Saxons, first from the Danes at Assenden, and then from
the Normans at Hastings, was carefully commemorated. But
still the tradition of the English Saxon home of St. Edward
lingered. It is expressly noted that the ancient Saxon prac-
tice of raising the cup from the table with both hands, which
had prevailed before the Norman Conquest, still continued at
the monastic suppers. One of the earliest specimens of the
English language is the form of vow, which is permitted to
those who cannot speak French, ' Hie frere N. hys hole sted-
' fastness and chaste lyf, at fore God and alle hys halewen,
' and pat hie sallen bonsum l liven withouten properte all my
* lyf tyme.'
Neither can we arrive at any certain knowledge of their
obedience or disobedience to the rules of their order. Only
now and then, through edicts of kings 2 and abbots,
we discern the difficulty of restraining the monks from
galloping over the country away from conventual restraint, or,
hi the popular legends, engaged in brawls with a traditionary
giantess and virago of the place in Henry VIII. 's reign — Long
Meg of Westminster.3
"We ask in vain for the peculiarities of the several Chapels
which sprang up round the Shrine, or for the general appear-
speciai ance °f ^e worsnip- The faint allusions in Abbot
devotions. Ware's rules reveal here and there the gleam of a lamp
burning at this or that altar, or at the tomb of Henry III.,
and of the two Saxon Queens, or in the four corners of the
Cloisters or in the Chapter House. We see at certain times the
choir hung with ivy, rushes, and mint. We detect at night
the watchers, with lights by their sides, sleeping in the
Church.4 A lofty Crucifix met the eyes of those who entered
through the North Transept ; another rose above the High
Altar ; 5 another, deeply venerated, in the Chapel of St. Paul.
We catch indications of altars of St. Thomas of Canterbury,
of St. Helena, of the Holy Trinity, and of the Holy Cross, of
1 This is a translation of the French As long as a crane,
• a ki je serai obedient.' Ware, c. 26. And feet like a flame>' e/c:. . 7fl .
* Archives. (v111' m>
3 Tract on Long Meg of Westminster, She is introduced as a character on the
in Miscellanea, Antiqua Anglicana. stage in that masque with Skelton.
See Ben Jonson's Fortunate Isles : — 4 Ware.
• Or Westminster Meg, * Chapter IV. and Islip Roll.
With her long leg,
CHAP. v. ITS SPECIAL DEVOTIONS. 389
which the very memory has perished. The altar of St. Faith l
stood in the Eevestry ; the chapel and altar of St. Blaize in
the South Transept. The relics2 given by Henry III.
and Edward I. have been already mentioned ; the
Phial of the Sacred Blood, the Girdle of the Virgin, the tooth
of St. Athanasius, the head of St. Benedict. And we have
seen their removal3 from place to place, as the royal tombs
encroached upon them ; how they occupied first the place of
honour eastward of the Confessor's shrine ; then, in order to
make way for Henry V.'s chantry, were transported to the
space between the shrine and the tomb of Henry III., whence
they were again dislodged, or threatened to be dislodged, by
the intended tomb of Henry VI. A spot of peculiar sanctity
existed from the times of the first Norman kings, which per-
haps can still be identified on the south-eastern side of the
Grave of Abbey. Egelric, Bishop of Durham in the time of the
E^Giric
ion ' Confessor, was a characteristic victim of the vicissi-
tudes of that troubled period. Elevated from the monastery of
Peterborough, in 1041, to the see of York, he was driven from
his newly-acquired dignity, by the ' almost natural ' jealousy of
the seculars, and degraded in 1042, if such an expression may
be used, to the hardly less important see of Durham. From
Durham he was expelled by the same influence in 1045, and
again restored by the influence of Siward of Northumberland.4
In 1056 he resigned his see and retired to his old haunts at
Peterborough. There, either from suspicion of malversation
of the revenues of Durham, or of treasonable excommunica-
tions at Peterborough, he was, in 1069, arrested by order of the
Conqueror, and imprisoned at Westminster. He lived there
for two years, during which, 'by fasting and tears, he so
' attenuated and purged away his former crimes as to acquire
' a reputation for sanctity,' and, on his death in 1072, was
buried in the porch of the Chapel of St. Nicholas,5 ordering his
fetters to be buried with him, to increase his chance of a
martyr's glory. This is the earliest mention of that Chapel.
1 This had already been conjectured * Occasionally they \vere lent out by
by Sir Gilbert Scott from the fresco of the monks. See Appendix.
a female saint with the emblems of St. 4 Simeon of Durham ; (Hist. Eccl.
Faith, a book and an iron rod; and the Dur. iii. 6;) Worcester Chron. A.D.
statement in Ware that the Altar of St. 1073 ; Peterborough Chron., A.D. 1072;
Faith was under the charge of the Ann. Wav., A.D. 1072 ; Flor. Wig., A.D.
Eevestiarius, puts it beyond doubt. 1072 ; Hugo Candidus, p. 45.
(See Old London, p. 146 ; Gleanings, 5 Malmesbury, De Gest. Pont. Angl.
p. 47.) iii.
2 For the whole list see Flete, c. xiv.
390 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
The grave which, seventy years after, ' was honoured by the
' vows and prayers of pilgrims,' is therefore probably under the
southern wall of the Abbey; and it is an interesting thought
that in the stone coffin recently found near that spot
we may perhaps have seen the skeleton of the sancti-
fied prisoner Egelric.
The Confessor's shrine was, however, of course the chief
object. But no Chaucer has told us of the pilgrimages to it,
whether few or many : no record reveals to us the sentiments
which animated the inmates of the Convent, or the congrega-
tions who worshipped within its walls, towards the splendid
edifice of which it was the centre. The Bohemian travellers in
the fifteenth century record the admiration inspired by the
golden sepulchre of ' St. Keuhard,' or ' St. Edward,' ' the ceiling
' more delicate and elegant than they had seen elsewhere ; '
' the musical service lovely to hear ; ' and, above all, the
unparalleled number of relics, ' so numerous that two scribes
' writing for two weeks could hardly make a catalogue of
' them.'
In the close of the fifteenth century we can see the conven-
tual artists1 hard at work in beautifying the various Chapels.
Their ceilings, their images, were all newly painted.
An alabaster image of the Virgin was placed in the
Chapel of St. Paul, and a picture of the Dedication of the
Abbey. Over the tomb of Sebert were placed pictures, pro-
bably those which still exist. Then was added the Apocalyptic
series round the walls of the Chapter House. Then we read
of a splendid new Service Book, highly decorated and illumi-
nated, and presented, by subscriptions from the Abbot and
eight monks. As the end draws near, there is no slackening of
artistic zeal. As we have seen, no Abbot was more devoted to
the work of decoration and repair than Islip, and of all the
grand ceremonials of the Middle Ages in the Abbey, there is
none of which we have a fuller description than that one which
contains within itself all the preludes of the end.
For it was when Islip was Abbot that there arrived for
Wolsey the Cardinal's red hat from Eome. He ' thought it for
Reception * his honour meet ' 2 that so high a iewel should not be
of Wolsey's J
Hat, 1515. conveyed by so simple a messenger as popular rumour
had imagined, and accordingly ' caused him to be stayed by the
' way, and newly furnished in all manner of apparel, with all
1 Cartulary. » Cavendish's Wolsey, 29, 30.
CHAP. v. PROCESSION OF WOLSEY'S HAT. 391
' kinds of costly silks which seemed decent for such high ambas-
' saclor.' That done, he was met at Blackheath, and escorted
in pomp to London. ' There was great and speedy provision
' and preparation made in Westminster Abbey for the confir-
' mation of his high dignity . . . which was done,' says his
biographer, ' in so solemn a wise as I have not seen the like
' unless it had been at the coronation of a mighty prince or
' king.' We can hardly doubt that he chose the Abbey now,
as, on a subsequent occasion, for the convocation of York, in
order to be in a place beyond the jurisdiction of the rival
primate. What follows shows how completely he succeeded in
1515 establishing his new precedence over the older dignity,
sov. is. Qn Thursday, Nov. 15, the prothonotary entered
London with the Hat in his hand, attended by a splendid
escort of prelates and nobles, the Bishop of Lincoln riding on
his right, and the Earl of Essex on his left, ' having with them
' six horses or above, and they all well becoming, and keeping
' a good order in their proceeding.' ' The Mayor of London
' and the Aldermen on horseback in Cheapside, and the craft
' stood in the street, after their custom.' It was an arrival
such as we have seen but once in our day, of a beautiful
Princess coming from a foreign land to be received as a
daughter of England. At the head of this procession the Hat
moved on, and ' when the said Hatt was come to the Abbey of
' Westminster,' at the great north entrance, it was welcomed by
the Abbot Islip, and beside him, the Abbots of St. Albans,
Bury, Glastonbury, Reading, Gloucester, Winchester, Tewkes-
bury, and the Prior of Coventry, 'all in pontificalibus.' By
them the Hat was honourably received, and ' conveyed to the
' High Altar, where it was sett.' ' On Sunday the 18th
the Cardinal, with a splendid retinue on horseback,
' knights, barons, bishops, earls, dukes, and archbishops,' came
between eight and nine from his palace by Charing Cross.
They dismounted at the north door, and « went to the High
' Altar, where, on the south side, was ordained a goodly traverse
' for my Lord Cardinal, and when his Grace was come into it,'
then, as if after waiting for a personage more than royal,
' immediately began the mass of the Holy Ghost, sung by the
' Archbishop of Canterbury (Warham). The Bishop of Roehes-
' ter (Fisher) acted as crosier to my Lord of Canterbury.' The
1 ' After its long and fatiguing ous narrative in Hook's Archbislwps of
journey from Italy.' See the humor- Canterbury, v. 250.
892 THE ABBEY BEFORE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. v.
Bishop of Lincoln read the Gospel, the Bishop of Exeter the
Epistle. Besides the eight "Abbots were present the Archbishops
of Armagh and Dublin, and the Bishops of Winchester, Durham,
Norwich, Ely, and Llandaff. Colet, Dean of St. Paul's, ' made
' a brief collation or proposition,' explaining the causes of ' his
' high and joyous promotion,' the dignities of a prince and
bishop, and also ' the high and great power of a Cardinal ; ' and
* how he betokeneth the free beams of wisdom and charity which
' the apostles received from the Holy Ghost on Whit Sunday ;
' and how a Cardinal representeth the order of Seraphim, which
' continually increaseth in the love of the glorious Trinity, and
' for this consideration a Cardinal is Duly apparelled with red,
' which colour only betokeneth nobleness.' His short discourse
closed with an exhortation to my Lord Cardinal in this wise :
' My Lord Cardinal, be glad and enforce yourself always to do
' and execute righteously to rich and poor, and mercy with
' truth.' Then, after the reading of the Bull, ' at Agnus Dei,
* came forth of his traverse my Lord Cardinal, and kneeled
' before the middle of the High Altar, where for a certain time he
' lay grovelling, his hood over his head during benediction and
' prayers concerning the high creation of a Cardinal,' said over
him by Archbishop Warham, ' which also sett the Hatt upon
* his head.' Then Te Deum was sung. ' All services and cere-
' monies finished, my Lord came to the door before named, led
' by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, where his Grace with
' all the noblemen ascended upon their horses, and in good
' order proceeded to his place by Charing Cross, preceding it
' the mace, such as belongeth to a Cardinal to have ; and my
' Lord of Canterbury ' (the latest historian l of the Primates
with true English pride adds, ' one almost revolts from writing
' the fact '), ' having no cross before him.' 2 We need not follow
them to the splendid banquet. It is enough for the Abbey to
have been selected as the scene of the Cardinal's triumphant
day, to have thus seen the full magnificence at once of the
Papal hierarchy and of the Revival of Letters, and to have heard
in the still small accents of Colet the whisper of the coming
storm, and have welcomed in the Cardinal Legate the first great
dissolver of monasteries.3
But the precincts of Westminster had already sheltered the
1 Hook, v. 253. s Wolsey visited the Abbey as Legate
2 Cavendish's Wolsey, ii. 301. MS. in 1518 and 1525. ' Ex improvise,
from the Heralds' Office. ' severe, intemperauter, omnia agit ;
CHAP. v. CAXTON'S FEINTING PRESS. 393
power which was to outshine the hats of cardinals and the
crosiers of prelates, and to bring out into a new light all
Caxton's that was worthy of preservation in the Abbey itself.
press, 14/7. ' William Caxton, who first introduced into Great
' Britain the art of printing, exercised that art A.D. 1477, or
' earlier, in the Abbey of Westminster.' l So speaks the
epitaph, designed originally for the walls of the Abbey, now
erected by the Koxburghe Club near the grave in St. Margaret's
Church, which received his remains in 1491. His press was
near the house which he occupied in the Almonry, by the
Chapel of St, Anne.2 This ecclesiastical origin of the first
English Printing-press is perpetuated in the name of 'the
* Chapel,' given by printers to a congress or meeting of their
body; perhaps also by the use of the terms 'justification,'
' monldng ' and ' friaring,' as applied to operations of printing.
Victor Hugo, in a famous passage of his ' Notre Dame de Paris,'
describes how ' the Book killed the Church.' The connection
of Caxton with the Abbey gives to this thought another and a
kindlier turn — ' The Church (or the Chapel) has given life to
' the Book.' In this sense, if in no other, Westminster Abbey
has been the source of enlightenment to England, beyond any
other spot in the Empire ; and the growth of this new world
within its walls opens the way to the next stage in its
history.
' miscet, turbat, ut ten-eat casteros, ut history in the Abbey, connected with
' imperium ostendat, ut se terribilem Colony of Caxton's press, are the
' preheat ; ' Polydore Vergil. (Dugdale, rats. corpses of a colony of rats
i. 278.) found in a hole in the Triforium. They
1 The words ' in the Abbey of West- had in successive generations carried
' minster ' are taken from the title- off fragments of paper, beginning with
pages of Caxton's books in 1480, 1481, mediasval copy-books, then of Caxton's
and 1484. The special locality, at the first printed works, ranging down to the
Bed Pale near St. Anne's Chapel in the time of Queen Anne. Then, probably
Almonry, is given in Stow, p. 476 ; during the repairs of Wren, the hole
Walcott, p. 279. The only Abbot was closed, and the depredations ceased,
with whom he had any relations was and the skeletons alone remained.
Esteney. (Life of Caxton, i. 62-66.) These, with other like curiosities, are
- Amongst the curiosities of natural now in the Chapter House.
CHAPTEE VI.
THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION.
Something ere the end,
Some work of noble note may yet be done ;
"Tis not too late to seek a newer world
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will,
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
TENNYSON'S Ulysses.
SPECIAL AUTHOBITIES.
The special authorities for this period are : —
I. The Chapter Books, from 1542 to the present time.
II. Hacket's Life of ArchbisJwp Williams.
III. Heylin's Life of Laud.
IV. Bernard's Life of Heylin.
V. Atterbury's Life and Letters.
VI. Life of Bislwp Newton, by himself.
VII. Lives of South, Thomas, and Vincent, prefixed to their Works.
VIII. Carter's Articles in the Gentleman's Magazine of 1799-1800.
IX. Census Alumnorum Westmonasteriensium.
X. Lusus Alteri Westmonasterienses, 1st and 2nd series.
XI. Autobiography of William Taswell, in the Camden Society, vol. ii. 1852.
395
CHAPTER VI.
THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION.
THE Dissolution of the Abbey l and Monastery of St. Peter,
like all the acts of the first stage of the Reformation, was effected
The Dissoiu- with a silence only explicable by the long expectation
tion of the . . . J f
Monastery, with which their approach was prepared. The first
1539-40. book, containing the orders of the new Dean and
Chapter, which begins in 1542, quietly opens with the record of
leases and meetings for business. The services of the Roman
Church continued unchanged through the remaining years of
Henry VIII. Three masses a day were said — in St. John's
Chapel, the Lady Chapel, and at the High Altar. The dirge
still sounded, and the waxlights still burned, on Henry VII.'s
anniversaries. Under Edward VI. the change is indicated by
an order to sell the brass lecterns, and copper-gilt candlesticks,
and angels, ' as monuments of idolatry,' with an injunction,
which one is glad to read, that the proceeds are to be devoted
' to the Library and buying of books.' 2 In like manner,
' Communion ' is silently substituted for ' mass,' and ' surplices
' and hoods ' for the ancient vestments.
The institution passed into its new stage at once, and its
progress is chiefly marked by the dismemberment and recon-
struction of the mighty skeleton,3 which was to be slowly reani-
mated with a new life. Here, as at Canterbury and elsewhere,
in the newly-constructed Chapters, a School was founded, of
which the scholarships were, in the first instance, given away
by ballot of the Dean and Prebendaries.4 Twenty Oxford an d
1 The value of the property accord- and ' the Long House,' adjoining to
ing to Speed was ±3,977, according to the Cloisters. This last was probably
Dugdale £3,471. the line of buildings on the east side of
* Chapter Book, 1547-1549. Dean's Yard. (Chapter Book, 1542-
3 Amongst the buildings thus men- 1552.) The tapestries and furniture of
tioned are ' the old Dovehouse,' ' the the Jerusalem Chamber were bought at
' Hall wherein the tomb is,' ' Patch's low prices by the Bishop and Dean.
' House ' (qu. for Wolsey's Fool), (Inventory.)
' Eow's House,' ' Canterbury,' ' door * Chapter Book, 1547-1549.
' from the Plumbery into the Abbey,'
396 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
Cambridge scholars, and the payment of the Eoyal Professor-
ships, were charged on the Chapter.
The Abbot was converted into a Dean. The Monks were
succeeded by twelve Prebendaries, each to be present daily in
the Choir, and to preach once a quarter.1 Every Saturday in
the year there was to be a meeting in the Chapter House.2
The cathe- But now> ^or *ne ^rs^ ^me smce the Abbey had estab-
th^RJshop n'sned its original independence, the head of the Chap-
minlter" ^er was subjected to a bishop, who resided in the
Dec. is, 1540. ancient Abbot's House, the Dean living amongst the
ruins of the old Misericorde.3 This prelate was entitled
* the Bishop of Westminster,' and his diocese included the
whole of Middlesex, except Fulham ; so that he was, in fact,
Thiriby, the chief prelate of the metropolis.4 The consecration
1540-50. Of Thiriby to this newly-created see may be taken as
the starting-point of the new series of episcopal consecrations
in the Abbey. Cranmer had indeed been dedicated to his
consecrated omce close by, in the Eoyal Chapel of St. Stephen — 5
Dec. 19,1540. characteristically within the immediate residence of
the Eeforming Sovereign. But, from that time till recent days,
all such consecrations as took place in Westminster were in
the Chapel of Henry VII. That gorgeous building, just clear
from the hands of the workmen, — ' St. Saviour's 6 Chapel,' as
it was called, to avoid the now questionable name of ' the
' Lady Chapel,' — was henceforth destined to play the same
part which St. Catherine's Chapel had played hitherto, as a
sacred edifice belonging to the Abbey and yet not identical
with it, used not for its general worship, but for all special
consecration solemnities. Here Thiriby was consecrated in what
Mays?/^'- now became his own cathedral to the see of West-
NovG2°2dwin> minster, and the time-serving Kitchin and his suc-
cessor Godwin to the see of Llandaff. But the one
solitary episcopate of Westminster is not of good omen for its
revival. Thiriby was a man of amiable but feeble character,
1 Chapter Book, 1547. are not ' metropolitan,' but ' metropo-
2 Ib. 1549. See Chapter V. ' litical,' as being the seats of the two
3 Ashburnham House was called of Metropolitans.
old time, doubtless from this occupa- 5 Courtenay was consecrated there
tion, ' the Dean's House.' to Exeter, Nov. 8, 1476 ; Oliver King to
4 From this temporary see arose Exeter, Feb. 3, 1493 ; and Shaxton to
the title of ' the city ' of Westminster. Salisbury, April 11, 1535.
(Dugdale, i. 321, 322.) The Abbey of 6 ' In St. Saviour's Chapel, near the
Westminster and Cathedral of St. ' sepulchre of Henry VII.' Strype,
Paul are ' metropolitan,' as being the Cranmer, c. 23. So St. Mary's, in
chief churches of the metropolis. The Southwark, became St. Saviour's.
Cathedrals of Canterbury and York
mderth
CHAP. vi. THE CATHEDRAL UNDER EDWARD VI. 397
and the diocese, after ten years, was merged in the See of
London.1 Thirlby was translated, first to Norwich2 in 1550
and then to Ely in 1554 ; and after the accession of Elizabeth
lived partly as guest, partly as prisoner, at Lambeth, where he
lies buried in the chancel of the parish church3 with his cross
in his hand, and his hat under his arm.4
It was on this occasion that, out of the appropriation of
the estates 5 of Westminster to fill up the needs of London
one of the the proverb arose of ' robbbing Peter to pav Paul ' 6 a
two metro- . , . . . , n . , r J
proverb which, indeed, then carried with it the fullest
significance that the words can bear. The old, origi-
nal, venerable Apostle of the first ages had lost his
Bobbing hold, and the new independent Apostle of the comino-
Peter to pay . , . , . . . .. _,
Paul. ages was riding on the whirlwind. The idea of a
Church where the Catholic Peter and the Eeforming Paul could
both be honoured, had not yet entered into the mind of man.
Let us hope that the coexistence of St. Peter's Abbey and St.
Paul's Cathedral, each now so distinct not only in origin but
in outward aspect, is a pledge that the dream has been in part
realised.
It was by a hard struggle in those tempestuous times that
the Abbey was saved. Its dependency of the Priory of St.
The dangers Martin's-le-Grand 7 was torn to pieces, and let out to
oftheAbbey. individuals.8 Its outlying domains to the east of
Westminster, it is said, were sacrificed to the Protector
Somerset, to induce him to forbear from pulling down the
Abbey itself.9 The Chapter Book of these years is filled with
grants and entreaties to the Protector himself, to his wife, to
his brother, and to his servant. Twenty tons of Caen stone,
1 He was with Bonner, on the me- Lord Chatham in St. Paul's, which,
lancholy commission for the degrada- as a person said to me, would literally
tion of Cranmer, and did his utmost to be " robbing Peter to pay Paul." I
moderate his colleague's violence. wish it could be so, that there
2 When Bishop of Norwich he had might be some decoration of that
the house in the Westminster Precincts, nudity.' (Walpole, vii. 69. See Chap-
which the Dean had occupied, and ter IV.) Canon Robertson points out to
which was afterwards occupied by Sir me that a similar, though not exactly
R. Cotton. (Chapter Book, 1552.) the same expression is found generally
3 Neale, ii. 105, 107. applied, as far back as the twelfth cen-
4 So he was found in 1783 on making tury, ' tanquam si quis crucifigeret
Archbishop Cornwallis's grave. (Sir ' Paulum ut redimeret Petrum.' (Her-
H. M. Nichols's Privy Purse Expenses, bert of Bosham, 287.) Compare also a
H. viii. p. 357.) letter of Alexander III. to Henry II.
s Westbourne and Paddington were (Letters of Becket, Giles, iv. 116.)
then transferred from the see of West- 7 See Chapter V. p. 340.
minster to London. * Chapter Book, 1549.
6 Collier, ii. 324 ; Widmore, p. 133. 9 Fourteen manors are said to have
So afterwards, ' the City wants to bury been given to him. Dart, i. 66.
898 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. YI.
evidently from the dilapidated monastery, were made over to
him, ' if there could be so much spared,' ' in the hope that he
' would be good and gracious.' l According to one version, the
inhabitants of Westminster rose in a body, and prevented the
demolition of their beloved church.2 According to another,
and perhaps more authentic 3 tradition, the Protector's designs
had not reached further than the destruction of St. Margaret's
Church, and portioning out the nave of the Abbey for the
ejected congregation. 'But no sooner had the workmen
' advanced their scaffolds, when the parishioners gathered
' together in great multitudes, with bows and arrows, staves
' and clubs . . . which so terrified the workmen that they ran
' away in great amazement, and never could be brought again
• upon that employment.'
On the extinction of the Bishopric, the Abbot's House was
sold to Lord "Wentworth, the Lord Chamberlain. He lived in
Lord went- it only for a year, and was buried in the Chapel of St.
ftmerai, Blaize or the Islip Chapel,4 with much heraldic pomp,
155CML7' the children, priests, and clerks attending in surplices.
Miles Coverdale, the translator of the Bible, preached his
Arrange- funeral sermon. The Dean had occupied the buildings
™uudfngs.e where the Misericorde or Smaller Refectory had stood,
adjoining the garden.5 The Great Refectory was pulled down
* by his servant Guy Gaskell,' 6 and the vacant ground granted
to one of the Prebendaries (Carleton, also Dean of Peterborough),
who was allowed to take the lead from St. Catherine's Chapel.
A Library was set up in the North Cloister. The ' Smaller
' Dormitory ' 7 was cleared away, to open a freer passage to the
Dean's House by the Dark Entry. The conventual Granary
was portioned out for the corn of the Dean and Prebendaries.8
The Plumbery and Waxchandlery were transferred to its vaults.
The ' Anchorite's House ' 9 was leased to a bellringer appointed
by the little Princess Elizabeth.
BPnsson In the midst of these changes Dean Benson,10 once
Abbot Boston, died, it is said, of vexation over the
1 Chapter Book, 1546, 1547. called the ' Dean's House.'
2 Gent. Mag. 1799, vol. Ixix. pt. i. 6 Chapter Book, Nov. 5, 1544.
p. 447. ' A name of which the peculiar
8 Heylin's-Hwtf. Ref. 72 ; Hayward's meaning is well known to antiquaries.
Life of Edward VL, 205. * Chapter Book, 1546.
" 4 Machyn's Diary, March 7, 1550-1. 9 See Chapter V. p. 350.
' In the same chapel that the old abbot 10 His surname as Abbot had been,
' (query Islip or Benson) was buried.' from his birthplace, Boston.
4 Chapter Book, 1545. — It was long
CHAP. vi. THE CONVENT UNDER QUEEN MARY. 399
financial difficulties of his house,1 and was buried at the
entrance of St. Blaize's Chapel. His successor, Eichard Cox,
cox. 1549- wno was duly installed in « the Chapter House,' had
been one of the three tutors2 of Edward VI., and
was accordingly transferred from a canonry at Windsor to the
Deanery of Westminster. Whilst there he attended the Pro-
tector Somerset on the scaffold. After four years he was
compelled to fly, from his complicity in the attempt to place
Lady Jane Grey on the throne. Almost immediately on his
return from Germany, on the accession of Elizabeth, he was
appointed to succeed Thirlby at Ely in 1559,3 where he died in
extreme old age in 1581. His venerable white beard renders
him conspicuous among the portraits of the Bishops of Ely, in
the Library of Trinity Hall at Cambridge.
Hugh Weston (a man, it is said, of very questionable charac-
ter) succeeded, but was removed, after three years, to Windsor,
we«ton, *° make way for the change which Mary had so much
at heart. It was gradually effected. The Preben-
ofhtheevival Caries, one by one, conformed to her faith. Philip's
Abbacy. father-confessor was lodged in the Precincts. But the
College dinners became somewhat disorderly. ' Forks ' and
' knives ' are tossed freely to and fro, and ' Hugh Price breaks
' John Wood's head with a pot.' 4 The Chapter Book here
abruptly closes, and a few blank leaves alone indicate the period
of the transition.
In that interval the Abbey bore its part in scenes which at
the time must have seemed to be fraught with incalculable con-
is54 NOV sequences for England and for Europe. On the 12th
of November was celebrated the mass of the Holy
Ghost at the altar of Westminster Abbey, in the presence of
King Philip and Queen Mary, to inaugurate the Parliament
which met to repeal the attainder of Cardinal Pope, and welcome
him on his mission of reuniting the Church of England to the
1 The loss from the fall of money Froude's Hist. vol. xi. pp. 5, 6, 7. To
made it necessary to sell plate and the period of his exile belongs the
stuff. (Chapter Book, 1552.) An in- remarkable poem ascribed to him, on
ventory of the Abbot's plate is in the ' Say well and do well,' published in
Record Office. (Land Revenue Ac- vol. xiii. of the Percy Society. He was
counts, No. 1114.) the ' proud Prelate ' whom Elizabeth
* This seems to have been a frequent threatened to ' unfrock.'
function of the Deans of Westminster. 4 Chapter Book, 1554. — Against the
See Doyne Bell's Tower Cliapcl, pp. 152, names of Hugh Griffiths and T. Rey-
172. nolds is written, in a later hand,
3 For Cox's conduct, see Aikin's ' turncoats ; ' and against six others,
Elizabeth, i. 154; and Strype's Annals, ' new Prebendaries of tlie Romish per-
il, pt. ii. p. 267 ; iii. pt. i. p. 37 ; also ' suasion.'
400 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
Church of Rome. The Cardinal arrived, and now the great day
itself was come on which the reconciliation was to be accom-
plished. The Feast of St. Andrew was chosen,1 as
being the festivalt of Philip's highest order — the
Golden Fleece. From the Holbein gate of Whitehall Palace
issued the Spanish King, escorted by six hundred Spanish
courtiers, dressed in their court costumes of white velvet,2
striped with red, which they had not worn since their first
entrance into England; and which were now reassumed to
mark the auspicious event. The Knights of the Garter joined
the procession with their badges and collars. In the presence
of this gorgeous assembly the High Mass of the Order of the
Golden Fleece was sung in the Abbey. The service lasted till
two in the afternoon. The Queen and the Cardinal were
absent, she reserving herself, in expectation of the anticipated
heir to her throne, from any unnecessary fatigue : the Cardinal
also, perhaps, from his weak health, or to give greater effect to
his appearance for the final and yet grander ceremony in West-
minster Hall. Thither he was brought from Lambeth in state
by the Earl of Arundel and six other knights of the Garter,
whom the King despatched for him as soon as they left the
Abbey. There, ' in the fast waning light of that November
' evening,' took place the solemn reconciliation of the English
Church and nation with the see of Eome — so enthusiastically
received at the time, so totally reversed within the next few
years, so vainly re- attempted since. WTe leave to the general
historian the description of this scene and of its consequences,
and return to the Abbey and its officers. The last appearance
of Weston as Dean of Westminster was at the head of one of
the numerous processions which marched through the streets of
London to hasten the fulfilment of the eager wishes of the
childless Queen. In the place of the Chapter, almost alone of
the monastic bodies, the convent of Westminster was restored.
Abbot John Howman,3 of the Forest of Feckenham in Wor-
1555-60. ' cestershire, the last mitred Abbot of England, ' a short
' man, of a round visage, fresh colour, affable, and pleasant,' 4 is
one of the few characters of that age who, without any power-
1 Descriptio Reductionis Anglice in birthplace. (Fuller's Worthies.)
the Appendix to Pole's Letters ; Froude, 4 Harpsfield. (Seymour's Stow, ii.
vi. 283. 611.) He was to be re-elected every
* Machyn's Diary, Nov. 12, 30, 1554. three years, without a conge d'elire.
3 He is the last instance of a (Widmore, 136.) Hook's Life of Pole,
Englishman taking his name from his 403.
CHAP. TI. THE CONVENT UNDEE QUEEN MAKY. 401
ful abilities, commands a general respect from his singular
moderation and forbearance. Some hasty words against Eidley,
and a quarrel with a young man at the Bishop of Winchester's
table about fasting,1 are the only indications that his life fur-
nishes of the harsh temper of those times.
His early years had been spent in Evesham Abbey, and
then, after disputes with Cranmer and Hooper which lodged
him in the Tower, he was raised by Mary first to the Deanery
of St. Paul's, and then to the restored Abbacy of Westminster.
1555. We can best imagine the scene when the new Abbot,
with his thirteen monks (four from Glastonbury),
reoccupied the deserted buildings, by reading the description
of the like event2 in the ruins of Melrose, depicted by the
wonderful genius which was able at once to recall the past,
and to hold the balance between the conflicting parties of that
time. It was in November, on St. Clement's eve, that ' the
' Lord Abbot with the convent, thirteen monks " shorn in,"
' went in procession after the old fashion in their monks'
* weeds, in cowls of black serge, with two vergers carrying two
' silver rods in their hands, and at evening time the vergers went
' through the cloisters to the Abbot, and so went into the
' church afore the altar, and then my Lord kneeled down, and
' his convent, and, after his prayer made> was brought into the
' quire with the vergers, and so into his place.' In the follow-
ing week ' my Lord Abbot was consecrated in the Abbey, and
' there was great company, and he was made abbot, and did
' wear a mitre, and my Lord Cardinal (Pole) was there, and
' many Bishops, and my Lord Chancellor (Gardiner) did sing
* mass, and the Abbot made the sermon, and my Lord Treasurer
' was there.' A few days afterwards, on December 6
(the Feast of St. Nicholas3), the Abbot marched in
procession ' with his convent. Before him went all the monas-
' tery men with cross keys upon their garments, and after went
' three homicides,' as if ostentatiously paraded for the sake of
showing that the rights of sanctuary were in full force.4 The
young nobleman, Lord Dacre, walked with a sheet about him,
and was whipped as he went. With him was the lowborn
murderer of the tailor in Long Acre, and the small Westmin-
ster scholar, who had slain a ' big boy ' that sold papers and
1 Strype's Annals, i. Ill ; ii. 179. 3 Machyn's Diary, Nov. 22, 29; Dec.
* The scene of the election of the 6,1555.
last mitred Abbot of Scotland, in Scott's 4 See Chapter V. p. 352.
Abbot, ch. xiii., xiv., xv.
D D
402 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. TI.
printed books in Westminster Hall, by hurling a stone which
hit him under the ear — earliest hero of the long-sustained con-
flicts between the Westminster scholars and the ' skys ' of
London, as the outside world was called. The ruins of the
Confessor's Shrine were repaired, so far as the taste of the age
1556-r. would allow. On the 5th of January, 1557, the anni-
jan.5. versary of the Confessor's death, 'the Shrine was
* again set up, and the Altar with divers jewels that the Queen
' sent hither.' ' The body of the most holy King Edward,
' though the heretics had power on that wherein the body was
' enclosed, yet on that sacred body had they no power,' he
found and restored to its ' ancient sepulture.' * On the
20th of March, with a hundred lights, King Edward
the Confessor ' was reverently carried from the place that he
' was taken up where he was laid when the Abbey was spoiled
' and robbed, and so he was carried, and goodly singing and
' censing as has been seen, and mass sung.' 2 By the
21st of April the Shrine was ' set up ' and was visited
* after dinner ' by the Duke of Muscovy,3 who went up to see
it and saw the place through. The marks of this hasty re-
storation are still visible in the displaced fragments,
and plaster mosaic, and novel cornice.4 A wooden
canopy was placed over it, perhaps intended as a temporary
structure, to supply the place of its splendid tabernacle, but
which has remained unaltered and unfinished to this day — a
memorial the more interesting from the transient state of the
Church which it represents. Above, and instead of the old in-
scription, was written a new one round the Shrine, and like
inscriptions were added to each of the Eoyal Tombs.5 The
ancient Charters were, it was believed, preserved as if by a
miracle, being found, by a servant of Cardinal Pole, in the
hands of a child playing in the streets. And by appealing to
these, as well as to Lucius's foundation and St. Peter's visit,
1 I owe the sight of this speech original cornice was found in 1868 built
of Feckenham to the kindness of Mr. into the wall of the School, and has
Froude. been restored to its place.
2 Chronicle of Grey Friars, 94 ; s See Chapter III. It may be
Machyn's Diary, March 21, 1557. observed that the inscription on Edward
3 Machyn's Diary, April 21, 1557. III.'s tomb — ' Tertius Edvardus, fama
Malcolm, p. 237. ' super asthera notus, Pugna pro Pat-
4 The lower part of the shrine, in- ' rid' is the same as that written,
eluding the arches, seems to have been probably at the same date, under the
left undisturbed. All the upper part statue of Edward III. on the inner
was broken, probably for the removal gateway of Trinity College, Cambridge.
of the coffin. A fragment of the
sHRIJTE OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR.
D D 2
404 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
the relics of the saints, the graves of kings, and ' the commodity
' of our ancestors,' the Abbot pleaded earnestly before the
House of Commons for the Westminster right of sanctuary.1
For the whole of that year the enthusiasm continued. ' On
' Passion Sunday my Lord Abbot did preach as goodly a sermon
' as has been heard in our time.' ' On Ascension Day the King
' and Queen went in procession about the Cloister, and heard
Noy 30 ' mass.' On St. Andrew's Day, the anniversary of the
less. ' Reconciliation, a procession went about the Abbey.
Philip, Mary, and Cardinal Pole were all present, and the
Abbot ' sang the mass.' On the next Easter Eve the ' Paschal
' candle was installed upon the High Altar with a great enter-
' tainment of the master and wardens of the wax-chandlers.'
One curious incident reveals the deeply-seated infirmity of
monastic and collegiate establishments even in the
1 1SS
glow of a religious revival. It was in the August of
that year that the funeral of Anne of Cleves took place. The
next day was the requiem. Bonner sang mass in his
mitre, and Feckenham preached, and both in their
mitres incensed the corpse, and afterwards she was carried to her
tomb, ' where she lies with a hearse cloth of gold. But
' within three weeks the monks had by night spoiled
' the hearse of all its velvet cloth and trappings, the which was
' never 2 seen afore or so done.'
It was a brief respite. Feckenham had hardly been estab-
lished in the Abbot's House for more than a year, when the
death of Mary dispersed the hopes of the Eoman Church in
England. It depended on the will of the sovereign of the time,
and with her fall it fell. Feckenham 3 had preached as Dean
of St. Paul's at Paul's Cross before her coronation, and now at
her death he delivered two sermons, which were remarkable for
their moderation, on the text, ' I praised the dead more than
March si, ' the living ' (Eccl. iv. 2).4 It was in the closing period
The Vest- of his rule in Westminster that the Abbey witnessed
conference, the first of those theological conflicts which have
since so often resounded in its precincts. Then took place the
1 Speech from the Rolls' House. to the communion table, where it has
2 Machyn's Diary, Aug. 2, 3, 21, since remained.
1557. See Chapter III. The tomb was 3 Ibid. Sept. 21, 1552.
not finished till the time of James I., 4 Fuller's Church History, JL'.T>. 1558.
and has suffered since from successive The sermon at her funeral had been
changes. Even as late as 1820 it lost preached by Bishop White. (Machyn,
its marble covering, which was removed Dec. 13, 1558.)
CHAP. vi. THE CHAPTER UNDER QUEEN ELIZABETH. 405
pitched battle between the divines of the old religion and of
the new.1
On the 31st of March, 1559, there was held in Westminster Abbey
a theological tournament. Eight champions on either side were
chosen for the engagement. Sir Nicholas Bacon and the Archbishop
of York kept the lists : the Lords and Commons were the audience —
for whose better instruction the combat was to be conducted in
English.
This was the last fight face to face between the Church of
Eome and the Church of England. It was the direct prepara-
tion for the Liturgy as it now stands, as enjoined in Elizabeth's
first Act of Uniformity. Against that Liturgy and against the
Royal Supremacy the chief protest was uttered by Feckenham
from his place in the House of Lords — on ' the lowest place on
' the Bishops' form ' — where he sate as the only Abbot.2 The
battle was however lost, and it only remains, as far as West-
minster is concerned, to tell, in Fuller's words, the closing scene
of the good Abbot's sojourn in our precincts : — ' Queen Eliza-
coming to the Crown, sent for Abbot Fecken-
^° come to her, whom the messenger found
Garden. < setting of elms in the orchard [the College Garden]
' of Westminster Abbey. But he would not follow the messenger
' till first he had finished his plantation, which his friends im-
' pute to his being employed in mystical meditations — that as
' the trees he then set should spring and sprout many years after
' his death, so his new plantation of Benedictine monks in
' Westminster should take root and flourish, in defiance of all
' opposition. . . . Sure I am those monks long since are ex-
' tirpated, but how his trees thrive at this day is to me un-
' known. Coming afterwards to the Queen, what discourse
' passed between them they themselves know alone. Some
' have confidently guessed she proffered him the Archbishopric
' of Canterbury on condition he would conform to her laws,
' which he utterly refused.' 3
He was treated with more or less indulgence, according to
the temper of the times — sometimes a prisoner in the Tower ; 4
1 Strype's Annals, i. 116, 128, 196 ; remain. There was till 1779 a row of
ii. 465 (No. 15) ; Fuller's Church trees in the middle of the garden, which
History, ii. 447 ; Worthies, ii. 357. was then cut down. (Chapter Book,
* Strype's Annals, ii. 438, app. ix. ; March 17, 1779.)
Cardwell's Conference., p. 98. 4 He was deprived Jan. 4, 1559-60,
3 Fuller's Church Hist. ix. 6, 8, 38. and sent to the Tower May 22, 1560.
— The elms, or their successors, still (Machyn's Diary.)
406 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
sometimes a guest in the custody of Home, Bishop of Win-
chester ; afterwards in the same capacity in the palace of Coxe,
his former predecessor at Westminster, and now the old Bishop
His death, of Ely; and finally in the castle of Wisbeach.1 There
1585; buried ~ . , „ , . ,, . , .
he left a memorial ot himselt m a stone cross, and in
the more enduring form of good deeds amongst the poor. His
last expressions breathe the same spirit of moderation which
had marked his life,2 and, contrasted with the violence of most
of his co-religionists at that time, remind us of the forbearance
and good sense of Ken amongst the Nonjurors.
The change in Westminster Abbey was now complete. A
Protestant sermon was preached to a ' great audience.' 3 The
The change stone altars were everywhere destroyed.4 The massy
Euzabeth?en oaken table which now stands in the Confessor's
Chapel was substituted, probably at that time, for the High
Altar,5 and was placed, as it would seem, at the foot of the
steps.6 St. Catherine's Chapel was finally demolished, and its
materials used for the new buildings.7
The interest of Queen Elizabeth in the institution never
flagged. Even from her childhood she had taken part in its
affairs. A certain John Pennicott had been appointed to the
place of bellringer at the request of the ' Lady Elizabeth,
' daughter of our Sovereign Lord the King,' 8 when she was
only thirteen. Almost always before the opening of Parliament
she came to the Abbey on horseback, the rest of her train on
foot. She entered at the Northern door, and through the west
end of the Choir, receiving the sceptre from the Dean, which
she returned to him as she went out by the Southern Transept.
Carpets and cushions were placed for her by the Altar.9 The
day of her accession (November 17), and of her coronation
(January 15), were long observed as anniversaries in the Abbey.
On the first of these days the bells are still rung, and, till
within the last few years, a dinner of persons connected with
Westminster School took place in the College Hall.10 Under
'Seymour's Stow, p. 611. -The s Ibid. November 5, 1544.
monks had annuities granted them. 9 Ibid., 1562, 1571, 1572, 1584, and
(Chapter Book, 1569.) 1597 ; Malcolm, p. 261 ; Strype's An-
2 Strype's Annals, ii. 528, No. xxxi. ; nals, i. 438 ; State Papers, 1588. Her
pt. ii. pp. 177, 381, 678. father had come in like manner in
3 Machyn, November 1561. 1534.
4 Strype's Annals, i. 401. See 10 See Monk's Bentley. p. 535. The
Chapter III. two last centenaries of the foun-
5 Malcolm, p. 87. dation were celebrated with much
6 Wiffin's House of Russell, ii. 514. pomp in 1760, and again in 18(JO.
1 Chapter Book, 1571. Chapter Book, June 3, 1700.— On this
CHAP. vi. THE CHAPTER UNDEK QUEEN ELIZABETH. 407
her auspices the restored Abbey and the new Cathedral l both
vanished away. One of the first acts of her reign 2 was to erect
a new institution in place of her father's cathedral and her
sister's convent.
' By the inspiration of the Divine clemency ' [so she describes her
motive and her object], 'on considering and revolving in our mind
' from what various dangers of our life and many kinds of death with
' which we have been on every side encompassed, the great and good
' God with His powerful arm hath delivered us His handmaid, destitute
' of all human assistance, and protected under the shadow of His wings,
' Lath at length advanced us to the height of our royal majesty, and by
' His sole goodness placed us in the throne of this our kingdom, we
'think it our duty in the first place .... to the intent that true
' religion and the true worship of Him, without which we are either
' like to brutes in cruelty or to beasts in folly, may in the aforesaid
' monastery, where for many years since they had been banished, be
'restored and reformed, and brought back to the primitive form of
' genuine and brotherly sincerity ; correcting, and as much as we can,
' entirely forgetting, the enormities in which the life and profession of
' the monks had for a long time in a deplorable manner erred. And
' therefore we have used our endeavours, as far as human infirmity can
' foresee, that hereafter the documents of the sacred oracles out of which
' as out of the clearest fountains the purest waters of Divine truth may
' and ought to be drawn, and the pure sacraments of our salutary
' redemption be there administered, that the youth, who in the stock
' of our republic, like certain tender twigs, daily increase, may be
' liberally trained up in useful letters, to the greater ornament of the
' same republic, that the aged destitute of strength, those especially
' who shall have well and gravely served about our person, or otherwise
' about the public business of our kingdom, may be suitably nourished
' in things necessary for sustenance ; lastly, that offices of charity to
' the poor of Christ,' and general works of public utility, be continued.
She then specially names the monumental character of the
The church, and especially the tomb of her grandfather,
church ' the most powerful and prudent of the kings of the
st. Peter. < age,' as furnishing a fit site, and proceeds to establish
occasion the wax effigy of Elizabeth, excluded ' from the Cathedral Church.'
now amongst the waxworks of the (State Papers, 1562 ; see ibid. 1689.)
Abbey, was made by the ' gentlemen of It appears as late as in the dedication of
' the Choir.' (Chapter Book, June 3, South's Sermon to Dolben ; and even
1760.) on Lord Mansfield's monument.
1 The name ' cathedral ' lingered in 2 Her portrait in the Deanery,
the Abbey for some time. It is called traditionally said to have been given by
so at Elizabeth's coronation and her to Dean Goodman, was really (as
funeral, and by Shakspeare (see appears from an inscription at the
Chapter II.) An injunction of Eliza- back) given to the Deanery by Dean
beth orders women and children to be Wilcocks.
408 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
the Dean and twelve Prebendaries, under the name of the
College, or Collegiate Church of St. Peter, Westminster.
Henceforth the institution became, strictly speaking, a great
academical as well as an ecclesiastical body. The old Dormi-
tory of the monks had already been divided into two compart-
ments. These two compartments were now to be repaired and
furnished for collegiate purposes, ' upon contribution of such
' godly- disposed persons as have and will contribute thereunto.'
The chapter The smaller or northern portion was devoted to the
' Library.' The Dean, Goodman, soon began to form
a Library, and had given towards it a ' Cornplutensian Bible,'
and a 'Hebrew Vocabulary.'1 This Library was apparently
intended to have been in some other part of the conventual
1517 buildings, and it is .not till some years later that it
was ordered to be transferred to ' the great room
* before the old Dorter.' 2 Its present aspect is described in a
well-known passage of Washington Irving : —
I found myself in a lofty antique ball, tbe roof supported by massive
joists of old English oak. It was soberly lighted by a row of Gothic
windows at a considerable height from the floor, and which apparently
opened upon tbe roofs of the Cloisters. An ancient picture, of some
reverend dignitary of the Church in his robes,3 hung over the fireplace.
Around tbe hall and in a small gallery were tbe books, arranged in
carved oaken cases. They consisted principally of old polemical
writers, and were much more worn by time than use. In the centre
of the Library was a solitary table, with two or three books on it, an
inkstand without ink, and a few pens parched by long disuse. The
place seemed fitted for quiet study and meditation. It was buried
deep among the massive walls of the Abbey, and shut up from the
tumult of the world. I could only bear now and then the shouts of
the schoolboys faintly swelling from the Cloisters, and tbe sound of a
bell tolling for prayers, that echoed soberly along the roofs of the
Abbey. By degrees the shouts of merriment grew fainter and fainter,
and at length died away. The bell .ceased to toll, and a profound
silence reigned through the dusky hall.4
It was, however, long before this chamber was fully appro-
1587. priated to its present purpose. The century had well
nigh run out its sands, and Elizabeth's reign was all but
1 Chapter Book, 1571. 4 Irving's Sketch Book, i. 227-229-
2 The successive stages of the for- See Botfield's Catliedral Libraries of
ination of the Library appear in the England (pp. 430-464), which gives a
Chapter Book, Dec. 2. 1574, May 26, general account of the contents of
1587, Dec. 3, 1591. the Westminster Library.
3 Dean Williams. (See p. 417.)
CHAP. vi. THE CHAPTER UNDER QUEEN ELIZABETH. 409
closed, when the order, issued in the year before the Armada,
was carried out, and then only as regards the southern and
larger part of the original Dormitory, which had been devoted
TUG school- ^0 the Schoolroom.1 Down to that time the School-
room, like the Library, had been in some other
chamber of the monastery. But this chamber, wherever it
was, became more evidently unfit for its purpose — ' too low
1599. ' and too little for receiving the number of scholars.' 2
Accordingly, whilst the Library was left to wait, the School-
room was pressed forward with ' all convenient speed.' New
' charitable contributions ' were ' gathered ; ' and probably by
the beginning of the seventeenth century it was prepared for
the uses to which it has ever since been destined. Although
in great part rebuilt in this century, it still occupies the same
space. Its walls are covered with famous names, which in long
hereditary descent rival, probably, any place of education in
England. Its roof is of the thirteenth century, one of its win-
dows of the eleventh. From its conchlike3 termination has
sprung in several of the public schools the name of ' shell,' for
the special class that occupies the analogous position. The
monastic Granary, which under Dean Benson had still been
retained for the corn of the Chapter, now became, and
The old continued to be for nearly two hundred years, the
Dormitory. Scholars' Dormitory. The Abbot's Eefectory became
Han. ° ' the Hall of the whole establishment.4 The Dean and
Prebendaries continued to dine there, at least on certain days,
till the middle of the seventeenth century ; 5 and then, as they
gradually withdrew from it to their own houses, it was left to
the Scholars. Once a year the ancient custom is revived, when
on Rogation Monday the Dean and Chapter receive in the Hall
the former Westminster Scholars, and hear the recitation of
the Epigrams, which have contributed for so many years their
1 I have forborne here, as else- September 1866, and since republished
where, to go at length into the history with other essays under the name of
of the School. It opens a new field, The Public ScJiools of England.
which one not bred at Westminster has - Chapter Book, May 7, 1599. This
hardly any right to enter, and which and the previous order are given at
has been elaborately illustrated by length in Lvsus Wcstmonast. ii. 3.52.
Westminster scholars themselves in the 3 This arose from the accidental re-
Ccnsus Alumnomm Wcstmonastcricn- pair of the building after a fire. The
siitm, and L«sws Alteri Wcstmonast- apse was removed in 1868, but the
cricnses. Fora brief and lively account trace of it still remains on the floor,
of its main features I may refer to two 4 See Chapter IV.
articles on 'Westminster School' (by 5 Strype's Annals, vol. L part ii.
an old schoolfellow of my own), in (No. 10).
Blackivood' s Magazine for July and
410 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
lively comments on the events of each passing generation.1
The great tables, once believed to be of chestnut-wood, but now
known to be elm, were, according to a doubtful tradition, pre-
sented by Elizabeth from the wrecks of the Spanish Armada.
The round holes in their solid planks are ascribed to the
cannon-balls of the English ships. They may, however, be the
traces of a less illustrious warfare. Till the time of Dean
Buckland, who substituted a modern stove, the Hall was
warmed by a huge brazier, of which the smoke escaped through
the open roof. The surface of the tables is unquestionably
indented with the burning coals thence tossed to and fro by the
scholars ; and the hands of the late venerable Primate (Arch-
bishop Longley) bore to the end of his life the scorching traces
of the bars on which he fell as a boy in leaping over the
blazing fire.
The collegiate character of the institution was still further
kept up, by the close connection which Elizabeth fostered
its connec- between the College of Westminster and the two great
curistith collegiate houses of Christ Church and Trinity, founded
orfo'rctand or 1'efoundcd by her father, at Oxford and Cambridge,
college', Together they formed 'the three Royal Colleges,' as
Cambridge, jf ^o jjeep ajjve Lorc[ Burleigh's scheme of making
Westminster ' the third University of England.' The heads of
the three were together to preside over the examinations of the
School. The oath of the members of the Chapter of Westmin-
ster was almost identical with that of the Masters and Fellows
of Trinity 2 and Queen's Colleges, Cambridge ; couched in the
magnificent phraseology of that first age of the Reformation,
that they ' would always prefer truth to custom, the Bible to
' tradition ' — (' vera consuetis, scripta non scriptis, semper ante-
1 habiturum ') — ' that they would embrace with then* whole soul
' the true religion of Christ.' The constitution of the body was
that not so much of a Cathedral as of a College. The Dean
was in the position of ' the Head ; ' the Masters in the position
its coiiegiate °^ *ne College Tutors or Lecturers. In the College
constitution. ^^ fae j)ean ^ the prebendaries dined, as the
Master and Fellows, or as the Dean and Chapter at Christ
1 The present custom in its present of Graduates in Divinity and Masters
form dates from 1857. See Lusus of Arts. From the oath in the Eliza-
West. ii. 262. beth Statutes of St. John's, in other
- It is also found in King Edward's respects identical, this clause is curious-
statutes for the University of Cam- ly omitted,
bridge, as part of the oath to be required
CHAP. vi. THE CHAPTEE UNDER QUEEN ELIZABETH. 411
Church, at the High Table; and below sate all the other
members of the body. If the Prebendaries were absent, then,
and seemingly not otherwise, it was the duty of the Head-
master to be present.1 The Garden of the Infirmary, which
henceforth became ' the College Garden,' was, like the spots so
called at Oxford and Cambridge, the exclusive possession of
the Chapter, as there of the Heads and Fellows of the Colleges.2
So largely was the ecclesiastical element blended with the
scholastic, that the Dean, from time to time, seemed almost
to supersede the functions of the Headmaster. In the time of
Queen Elizabeth he even took boarders into his house. In the
time of James I., as we shall see, he became the instructor of
the boys. ' I have placed Lord Barry,' says Cecil, ' at the Dean's
' at Westminster. I have provided bedding and all of my own,
' with some other things, meaning that for his diet and resi-
' dence it shall cost him nothing.'
As years have rolled on, the union, once so close, between
the different parts of the Collegiate body, has gradually been
disentangled ; and at times the interests of the School may
have been overshadowed by those of the Chapter. Yet it may
be truly said that the impulse of that first impact has never
entirely ceased. The Headmasters of Westminster have again
and again been potentates of the first magnitude in the colle-
giate circle. They were appointed3 to preach sermons for the
Prebendaries. They not seldom were Prebendaries themselves.
The names of Camden and of Busby were, till our own times, the
chief glories of the great profession they adorned ; and of all the
Schools which the Princes of the Eeformation planted in the
heart of the Cathedrals of England, Westminster is the only one
which adequately rose to the expectation of the Eoyal Founders.
As in the Monastery, so in the Collegiate Church, the for-
tunes of the institution must be traced through the history,
partly of its chiefs, partly of its buildings. William
THE DEANS. ^.^ the firgt Elizabethan Dean, lived only long enough
i™!12111' to complete the Collegiate Statutes, which, however,
°2nindthely were never confirmed by the Sovereign. He was
Chapei of st. buried,4 among his predecessors the Abbots, in the
Chapel of St. Benedict. There also, after forty years,
was laid his successor, Gabriel Goodman,5 the Welshman, of
1 Chapter Book, 1563. 4 Machyn's Diary, July 22, 1561.
- Ibid. 1564 and 1606. 3 See Memoirs of Dean Goodman
s Ibid. Kov. 14, 1564. by Archdeacon Mewcome (liuthin, 181(5).
412 THE ABBEY SIXCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
whom Fuller says, ' Goodman was his name, and goodness was
Gabriel ' ^is nature.' He was the real founder of the present
i • establishment — the ' Edwin ' of a second Conquest.
*fsthapel Under him took place the allocation of the monastic
Benedict, buildings before described. Under him was rehabili-
tated the Protestant worship, after the interregnum of Queen
Mary's Benedictines. The old copes were used up for canopies.
The hangings were given to the college.1 A waste place found
at the wrest end of the Abbey was to be turned into a garden.2
A keeper was appointed for the monuments.3 The order of the
Services was, with some slight variations, the same that it has
been ever since. The early prayers were at 6 A.M. in Henry
VII.'s Chapel, with a lecture on Wednesdays and Frida}Ts.
The musical service was, on week days, at 9 A.M. to 11 A.M. and
at 4 P.M., and on Sundays at 8 A.M. to 11 A.M. and from 4 P.M.
to 5 P.M. The Communion was administered on the Festivals,
and on the first Sunday in the month. To the sermons to be
preached by the Dean at Christmas, Easter, and All Saints,
were added Whitsunday and the Purification. The Preben-
daries at this time were very irregular in their attendance—
some absent altogether — ' some disaffected 4 — and would not
' come to church.' When they did come, they occupied a pew
called the ' Knight's Pew.'
Goodman's occupation of the Deanery was, long after his
death, remembered by an apartment known by the name of
' Dean Goodman's Chamber.' 5 He addressed the House of
Commons in person to preserve the privileges of sanctuary to
his Church, and succeeded for a time in averting the change.
He was the virtual founder of the Corporation of Westminster,
of which the shadow still remains in the twelve Burgesses, the
High Steward, and the High Bailiff of Westminster --the last
relic of the ' temporal power ' of the ancient Abbots. His High
Steward was no less a person than Lord Burleigh.6
To the School he secured ' the Pest House ' or ' Sanatorium '
The Pest on the river-side at Chiswick,7 and planted with his
ciuswick. own hands a row of elms, some of which are still
standing in the adjacent field. It is on record that Busby
1 Chapter Book, 15GG and 1470. ' Gabriel Goodman Decantis, 1598.'
• Ibid. 1593. 6 Strype's Mem. of Parker. See
3 Ibid. 1607. Chapter IV.
1 State Papers, 1635-36. ' There had before been a house for
5 Archives.— He gave two of the the ' children ' [at Wheethampsted and
bells, which still bear the inscription, at Putney. (Chapter Book, 1513, 1561.)
' Patrcin laudate sonantibus cultum.
CHAP. TI. THE CHAPTER UNDEE JAMES I. 413
resided there, with some of his scholars, in the year 1657. When
in our own time, this house was in the tenure of Mr. Berry and
his two celehrated daughters, the names of Montague Earl of
Halifax, John Dryden, and other pupils of Busby, were to be
seen on its walls. Dr. Nicolls was the last Master who fre-
quented it. Till quite recently a piece of ground was reserved
for the games of the Scholars. Of late years its use has been
superseded by the erection of a Sanatorium in the College
Garden.
Goodman might already well be proud of the School, which
had for its rulers Alexander Nowell and William Camden.
Noweii, Nowell, whose life belongs to St. Paul's, of which he
Headmaster, „. , , . , -,-.
1453. afterwards became the Dean, was remarkable at WTest-
minster as the founder of the Terence Plays.1 The illustrious
Camden, after having been Second Master,2 was then, though
camden, a layman, by the Queen's request, appointed Head-
Headmaster, ,. , ., ,' .1,1
1593-99. master, and in order that ' he might be near to her
' call and commandment, and eased of the charge of living,'
was to have his ' food and diet ' in the College Hall.3 ' I know
' not,' he proudly writes, ' who may say I was ambitious, who
' contented myself in Westminster School when I writ my
' " Britannia." ' 4
Lancelot Andrewes, the most devout and, at the same time,
the most honest 5 of the nascent High Church party of that
Lancelot period, lamented alike by Clarendon and by Milton,
1601-5? es was Dean for five years. Under his care, probably in
the Deanery, met the Westminster Committee of the Author-
ised Version of James I., to which was confided the translation
of the Old Testament, from Genesis to Kings, and of the
Epistles in the New. In him the close connection of the
Abbey with the School reached its climax. ' The Monastery of
' the West ' (TO E7rt&(f>vpiov) was faithfully remembered in his
well-known ' Prayers.' Dean Williams, in the next generation,
' had heard much what pains Dr. Andrewes did take both day
' and night to train up the youth bred in the Public School,
' chiefly the alumni of the College so called ; ' and in answer to
his questions, Hacket, who had been one of these scholars,
1 Alumni Westmonast. p. 2. misfortunes, and his rebuke to Neale.
2 Chapter Book, 1587. Andrewes was appointed Bishop of
3 State Papers, 1594. Chichester 1605, translated to Ely
4 Alumni Westmonast. p. 13. (For 1609, and to Winchester 1619; died
Camden's tomb see Chapter IV. p. 271.) September 25, 1626 ; buried in St.
5 SCP his conduct to Abbot in his Saviour's, Southwark.
414 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
told him how strict that excellent man was to charge our masters that
they should give us lessons out of none but the most classical authors ;
that he did often supply the place both of the head-schoolmaster and
usher for the space of an whole week together, and gave us not an
hour of loitering-time from morning to night : how he caused our
exercises in prose and verse to be brought to him, to examine our
style and proficiency; that he never walked to Chiswick for his re-
creation without a brace of this young fry ; and in that wayfaring
leisure had a singular dexterity to fill those narrow vessels with a
funnel. And, which was the greatest burden of his toil, sometimes
thrice in a week, sometimes oftener, he sent for the uppermost scholars
to his lodgings at night, and kept them with him from eight to eleven,
unfolding to them the best rudiments of the Greek tongue and the
elements of the Hebrew Grammar ; and all this he did to boys without
any compulsion of correction — nay, I never heard him utter so much
as a word of austerity among us.1
In these long rambles to Chiswick he in fact indulged2 his
favourite passion from his youth upwards of walking either by
himself or with some chosen companions,
with whom he might confer and argue and recount their studies : and
he would often profess, that to observe the grass, herbs, corn, trees,
cattle, earth, water, heavens, any of the creatures, and to contemplate
their natures, orders, qualities, virtues, uses, was ever to him the
greatest mirth, content, and recreation that could be : and this he held
to his dying day.
He was succeeded by Neale, who thence ascended the longest
ladder of ecclesiastical preferments recorded in our annals.3
Eichard Years afterwards they met, on the well-known occa-
1 605^io. sion when Waller the poet heard the witty rebuke
which Andrewes gave to Neale as they stood behind the chair
of James I. Neale was educated at Westminster, and pushed
forward into life by Dean Goodman and the Cecils. He was
installed as Dean on the memorable 5th of November, 1605 ;
and after his elevation to the See of Lichfield and Coventry, he
was deputed by James I. to conduct to the Abbey the remains
of Mary Stuart from Peterborough.4 It was in his London
1 Hacket's Life of Williams; Rus- translated to Lichfield and Coventry
sell's Life of Andrewes, pp. 90, 91. — 1(510, to Lincoln 1614, to Durham 1617,
Brian Duppa, who succeeded Andrewes to Winchester 1627, and to York 1631.
in the See of Winchester, learned He was buried in All Saints' Chapel,
Hebrew from him at this time. in York Minster, 1640.
(Duppa's Epitaph in the Abbey.) 4 Le Neve's Lives ii. 143. See
- Fuller's Abel Bcdivivus. Chapter III. A statement of the
3 Neale was appointed to the See of Abbey revenues in his time is in the
Rochester in 1608, and was thence State Papers, vol. Iviii. No. 42.
CHAP. vi. DEAN WILLIAMS. 415
residence, as Bishop of Durham, that he laid the foundation of
the fortunes of his friend Laud. To him, as Dean, and Ireland,1
as Master, was commended young George Herbert for West-
minster School, where ' the beauties of his pretty behaviour
' and wit shined and became so eminent and lovely in this his
4 innocent age, that he seemed marked out for piety and to
' have the care of heaven, and of a particular good angel to
' guard and guide him.' 2
The two Deans who succeeded, Monteigne 3 (or Montain) and
Tounson,4 leave but slight materials. It would seem that a
George suspicion of Monteigne's ceremonial practices was the
Monteigne, £rg^. beginning of the transfer of the worship of the
TovmTol House of Commons from the Abbey to St. Margaret's.
It is recorded that they declined to receive the Com-
munion at Westminster Abbey, ' for fear of copes and wafer
' cakes.' 5 The Dean and Canons strongly resented this, but
gave way on the question of the bread. Tounson, as we have
seen, was with Ealegh in the neighbouring Gatehouse twice on
the night before his execution, and on the scaffold remained
with him to the last, and asked him in what faith he died.6 On
his appointment to the See of Salisbury he was succeeded by
the man who has left more traces of himself in the office than
any of his predecessors, and than most of his successors. The
last churchman who held the Great Seal — the last who occupied
at once an Archbishopric and a Deanery— one of the few
eminent Welshmen who have figured in history, — John
John WILLIAMS — carried all his energy into the precincts
i62o-5as> of Westminster. He might have been head -of the
Deanery of Westminster from his earliest years; for he was
educated at 7 Euthin, the school founded by his predecessor and
countryman Dean Goodman. His own interest in the Abbey
was intense.8 Abbot Islip and Bishop Andrewes were his two
1 Ireland went abroad in 1610, and buried at Cawood, 1628.
nominally for ill health, really under 4 Tounson was appointed Bishop of
suspicion of Popery. (Chapter Book, Salisbury 1620. Buried at the entrance
1010.) of St. Edmund's Chapel, 1621. He
2 Walton's Life, ii. 24. Amongst was uncle 1 3 Fuller.
the Prebendaries at this time were 5 State Papers, 1614, 1621.
Eichard Hakluyt, the geographer, and 6 See Chapter V.
Adrian Saravia, the friend of Hooker. 7 See Notices of Archbishop Wil-
It has been sometimes said that Casau- liams by B. H. Beedham, p. 8.
bon held a stall at Westminster, but of 8 He had the usual troubles of im-
this there is no evidence. perious rulers. Ladies with yellow
3 Monteigne was appointed Bishop ruffs he forbade to be admitted into his
of Lincoln 1617, translated to London church. (State Papers, vol. cxiii. No.
1621, Durham 1627, York 1628. Died 18, March 11, 1620-21.) He also
416 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
models amongst his predecessors — the one from his benefac-
tions to the Abbey, the other from his services to the School : —
The piety and liberality of Abbot Islip to tbis domo came into Dr.
Williams by transmigration ; who, in bis entrance into tbat place, found
the Church in such decay, that all tbat passed by, and loved the hon-
our of God's house, shook their heads at the stones that dropped down
from the pinnacles. Therefore, that the ruins of it might be no more
a reproach, tbis godly Jehoiada took care for the Temple of the Lord,
to repair it, ' set it in its state, and to strengthen it.' He
tionstothe began at the south-east part, which looked the more de-
formed with decay, because it was coupled with a later
building, the Chapel of King Henry VII., which was tight and fresh.
The north-west part also, which looks to the Great Sanctuary, was far
gone in dilapidations : the great buttresses, which were almost crumbled
to dust with the injuries of the weather, he re-edified with durable
materials, and beautified with elegant statues (among whom Abbot
Islip had a place), so that £4500 were expended in a trice upon the
workmanship. All tbis was his cost : neither would be impatroiiise
bis name to the credit of that work which should be raised up by
other men's collatitious liberality.1 For their further satisfaction, who
will judge of good works by visions and not by dreams, I will cast up,
in a true audit, other deeds of no small reckoning, conducing greatly
to the welfare of that college, church, and liberty, wherein piety and
totjje benficence were relucent in despite of jealousies. First, that
choir, GO(J might be praised with a cheerful noise in His sanctuary,
be procured the sweetest music, both for the organ and for the voices
of all parts, that ever was heard in an English choir. In those days
tbat Abbey, and Jerusalem Chamber, where he gave entertainment
to his friends, were the volaries of the choicest singers that the land
bad bred. The greatest masters of that delightful faculty frequented
him above all others, and were never nice to serve him; and some
of the most famous yet living will confess he was never nice to re-
ward them : a lover could not court his mistress with more prodigal
effusion of gifts. With the same generosity and strong propensiou of
tothe mind to enlarge the boundaries of learning, be converted
Library, a waste room, situate in the east side of the Cloisters, into
Plato's Portico, into a goodly Library:2 modelled it into decent shape,
carried on the war with the House of the Temple, by the King's order at last
Commons which his predecessors had returned to St. Margaret's. (State
begun. They claimed to appoint their Papers, Feb. 22, 1821-22).
own precentor at St. Margaret's, ' Dr. ' A Chapter account, signed by the
' Usher, an Irishman,' doubtless the Dean and eight of the Canons, re-
futnre Primate. Williams claimed the pudiates the calumny that the Dean
right of nomination on the ground that had made the repairs ' out of the diet
St. Margaret's was under his cure. ' and bellies of the Prebendaries.'
The Commons, after threatening migra- (Chapter Book, December 8, 1628.)
tion to St. Paul's, Christ Church, and 2 For the first formation of this
CHAP. vi. DEAN "WILLIAMS. 417
furnished it with desks and chairs, accoutred it with all utensils, and
stored it with a vast number of learned volumes ; for which use he
lighted most fortunately upon the study of that learned gentleman,
Mr. Baker, of Highgate, who, in a long and industrious life, had col-
lected into his own possession the best authors of ah1 sciences, in their
best editions, which, being bought at £500 (a cheap pennyworth for
such precious ware), were removed into this storehouse. When he
received thanks from all the professors of learning in and about
London, far beyond his expectations, because they had free admittance
to suck honey from the flowers of such a garden as they wanted before,
it compelled him to unlock his cabinet of jewels, and bring forth his
choicest manuscripts. A right noble gift in all the books he gave to
this Serapeum, but especially the parchments. Some good authors
were conferred by other benefactors, but the richest fruit was shaken
from the boughs of this one tree, which will keep green in an unfading
memory in despite of the tempest of iniquity. I cannot end with the
erection of this Library : for this Dean gratified the College with many
other benefits. When he came to look into the state of the house, he
found it in a debt of £300 by the hospitality of the table. It had then
a brotherhood of most worthy Prebendaries— Mountford, Sutton, Laud,
Cassar, Eobinson, Darell, Fox, King, Newell, and the rest ; but ancient
frugal diet was laid aside in all places, and the prices of provisions in
less than fifteen years were doubled in all markets, by which enhance-
ment the debt was contracted, and by him discharged. Not long after,
to the to the number of the forty scholars he added four more, dis-
schooi, tinguished from the rest in their habit of violet -coloured
gowns, for whose maintenance he purchased lands.1 These were
adopted children ; and in this diverse from the natural children, that
the place to which they are removed, when they deserve it by their
learning, is St. John's College, in Cambridge ; and in those days, when
good turns were received with the right hand, it was esteemed among
to the the praises of a stout and vigilant Dean, that whereas a
Burgesses. great limb of the liberties of the city (of Westminster) was
threatened to be cut off by the encroachments of the higher power
of the Lord Stewart of the King's household, and the Knight-
Marshal with his tipstaves, he stood up against them with a wise and
confident spirit, and would take no composition to let them share
in those privileges, which by right they never had; but preserved
Library, see p. 408.— The order for its ' so in the well ordering of the books,'
repair and furniture, May 16, 1587, was made Librarian, ' with a place and
seems to have been imperfectly carried ' diet at the Dean and Prebendaries'
out ; and, accordingly, when Williams ' table in the College Hall.' (Chapter
1 re-edified it,' it required a new order Book, January 22, 1625-26.)
to arrange it properly. Williams re- ' Both here and at St. John's, the
plenished it with books to the value of funds which he left for these purposes
£2000, and Richard Goulard, 'for his were wholly inadequate to maintain
' very great and assiduous pains for the them.
' last two years past, as in the choice
EE
418 THE ABBEY SINCE THE EEFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
the charter of his place in its entire jurisdiction and laudable im-
munities.1
In 1621 Williams succeeded Bacon as Lord Keeper. It is
in this capacity that he is known to us in his portraits,2 with
LordKeeper, m's official hat on his head, and the Great Seal by his
1621 -1 re- side. The astonishment produced by this unwonted
HiS16™1"™ elevation — his own incredible labours to meet the
seni, ucu, ou,
exigencies of the office — must be left to his biographer.
For its connection with Westminster, it is enough to record
that on the day when he took his place in Court, ' he set out
' early in the morning with the company of the Judges and
' some few more, and passing through the Cloisters, he carried
' them with him into the Chapel of Henry VII., where he
' prayed on his knees (silently, but very devoutly, as might
' be seen by his gesture) almost a quarter of an hour ; then
' rising up very cheerfully, he was conducted with no other train
' to a mighty confluence that expected him in Westminster
' Hall, whom, from the Bench of the Court of Chancery [then
' at the upper end of the Hall], he greeted ' with his opening
speech.3
In that same Chapel, following the precedents of the Refor-
mation, he had, a short time before, been consecrated Bishop —
Bishop of n°t (as usual) at Lambeth,4 because of the scruple
NoTi",' which he professed to entertain at 'receiving that
' solemnity ' from the hands of Archbishop Abbot, who
had just shot the gamekeeper at Bramshill. It was the See of
Lincoln which was bestowed on him — ' the largest diocese in
' the land, because this new elect had the largest wisdom to
' superintend so great a circuit. Yet, inasmuch as the revenue
' of it was not great, it was well pieced out with a grant 5 to
' hold the Deanery of Westminster, into which he shut himself
' fast, with as strong bars and bolts as the law could make.'
In answer to the obvious objections that were made to this
accumulation of dignities, the locality of Westminster plays a
considerable part : —
The port of the Lord Keeper's place must be maintained in some
convenient manner. Here he was handsomely housed, which, if he
quitted, he must trust to the King to provide one for him. . . . Here
1 Hacket, pp. 45, 46. 3 Hacket, p. 71.
2 There are two portraits of him in 4 So Laud (Nov. 18, 1621) was con-
the Deanery, one in the Chapter secrated in the Chapel of London House.
Library, which was repainted 1823. 5 As long as he held the Great Seal.
(Chapter Book, June 23, 1823.) (State Papers, 1621.)
CHAP. vi. DEAN WILLIAMS. 419
he had some supplies to his housekeeping from the College in bread
and beer, corn and fuel. ... In that College he needed to entertain
no under-servants or petty officers, who were already provided to his
hand. . . . And it was but a step from thence to Westminster Hall,
where his business lay ; and it was a lodging which afforded him mar-
vellous quietness, to turn over his papers and to serve the King. He
might have added (for it was in the bottom of his breast) he was loth
to stir from that seat where he had the command of such exquisite
music.1
These arguments were more satisfactory to himself than
to his enemies, in whose eyes he was a kind of ecclesiastical
monster, and who ironically describe him as having thus be-
come ' a perfect diocese in himself ' 2 — Bishop, Dean, Prebend,
Residentiary, and Parson.3
The scene which follows introduces us to a new phase in the
history of the Jerusalem Chamber — its convivial aspect, which,
from time to time, it has always retained since : —
When the conferences about the marriage of Prince Charles with
Henrietta Maria were gone so far, and seemed, as it were, to be over
_, . . . the last fire, and fit for prelection, his Majesty would have
Entertain- . .
merits in the the Lord Keeper taken into the Cabinet; and, to make
chamber. him known by a mark of some good address to the French
Dec. is, 1624. Up0n the return of the Ambassadors to London,
he sent a message to him to signify that it was his pleasure that
his Lordship should give an entertainment to the Ambassadors and
their train on Wednesday following— it being Christmas day with
them, according to the Gregorian prse-occupation of ten days before
our account. The King's will signified, the invitement at a supper
was given and taken ; which was provided in the College of West-
minster, in the room named Hierusalem Chamber ;4 but for that night
it might have been called Lucullus his Apollo. But the ante-past
1 Hacket, p. 62.— He also kept the from all residence for a year. (Chapter
Rectory of Walgrave, which he justi- Book, January 27, 1625.)
fied to Hacket by the examples of 3 Heylin's Cyprianus, p. 86. _ There
' Elijah's commons in the obscure vil- was a strong belief that during the
' lage of Zarepheth,5 Anselm's Cell at Spanish journey he had made interest
' Bee, Gardiner's Mastership of Trinity with Buckingham to add to his honour
' Hall, Plautus's fable of the Mouse yet another dignity— that of Cardinal.
' with many Holes.' ' Walgrave,' he (See Sydney Papers, Note A.)
said, ' is but a aiousehole ; and yet it 4 The first distinct notice of the
' will be a pretty fortification to enter- Jerusalem Chamber being used for the
' tain me if I have no other home to Chapter is in Williams's time. (Chap-
' resort to.' For a description of ter Book, December 13, 1638.) It was
Walgrave, see Beedham's Notices of probably in commemoration of this
Archbishop Williams, p. 23. His next French entertainment that Williams
neighbour (at Wold) was his immediate put up in the Chamber the chimney-
predecessor, Dean Tounson. piece of cedar-wood which has his arms
* He was dispensed by the Chapter and the heads of King Charles and
Queen Henrietta Maria.
K £ 2
420 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
was kept in the Abbey; as it went before the feast, so it was beyond
it, being purely an episcopal collation. The Ambassadors, with the
nobles and gentlemen in their company, were brought in at the
north gate of the Abbey, which was stuck with flambeaux every-
where both within and without the Quire, that strangers might cast
their eyes upon the stateliness of the church. At the door of the
Quire the Lord Keeper besought their Lordships to go in and to take
their seats there for a while, promising, on the word of a bishop, that
nothing of ill relish should be offered before them, which they accepted ;
The first and a^ their entrance the organ 1 was touched by the best
Musical finger of that age —Mr. Orlando Gibbons. While a verse
Festival in *•
the Abbey, was played, the Lord Keeper presented the Ambassadors,
and the rest of the noblest quality of their nation, with our Liturgy,
as it spake to them in their own language ; and in the delivery of it
used these few words, but pithy : ' that their Lordships at leisure
' might read in that book in what form of holiness our Prince wor-
' shipped God, wherein he durst say nothing savoured of any corrup-
' tion of doctrine, much less of heresy, which he hoped would be so
' reported to the Lady Princess Henrietta.' The Lords Ambassadors
and their great train took up all the stalls, where they continued
about half an hour ; while the quiremen, vested in their rich copes,2
with their choristers, sang three several anthems with most exquisite
voices before them. The most honourable and the meanest persons
of the French all that time uncovered with great reverence, except
that Secretary Villoclare alone kept on his hat. And when all
others carried away the Books of Common Prayer commended to
them, he only left his in the stall of the Quire, where he had sate,
which was not brought after him (Ne Margarita, etc.) as if he had
forgot it.3
Another scene, which brings before us Christmas Day as
then kept in the Abbey and in the College Hall, belongs to
this time. Amongst the guests was a French Abbot, ' but a
' gentleman that held his abbacy in a lay capacity.' He ex-
pressed a desire to be present upon our Christmas Day in the
morning : —
The Abbot kept his hour to come to church upon that
Day with High Feast ; and a place was well fancied aloft, with a
Abbot!DDec. lattice and curtains to conceal him. Mr. William Boswell,
25,1624. nke pi^ip ri^g with the treasurer of Queen Candace in
the same chariot, sat with him, directing him in the process of
1 For Williams's delight in music at is worth noting, as showing in what
Buckdon, see Cade's Sermon on Con- sense these vestments were then applied
science (quoted in Notices, p. 31). in the Abbey.
2 The mention of the rich copes of 3 Bernard's Heylin, pp. 162, 194.
the ' quiremen ' (i.e. of the lay vicars)
CHAP. vi. DEAN WILLIAMS. 421
all the sacred offices performed, and made clear explanation to all
his scruples.1 The church-work of that ever-blessed day fell to
the Lord Keeper to perform it, but in the place of the Dean of that
Collegiate Church. He sung the service, preached the sermon, conse-
crated the Lord's Table, and (being assisted with some of the Pre-
bendaries) distributed the elements of the Holy Communion to a
great multitude meekly kneeling upon their knees. Four hours and
better were spent that morning before the congregation was dismissed
with the episcopal blessing. The Abbot was entreated to be a guest
at the dinner provided in the College Hall, where all the members of
that incorporation feasted together, even to the Eleemosynaries, called
the Beadsmen of the Foundation ;. no distinction being made, but high
and low eating their meat with gladness together upon the occasion
of our Saviour's nativity, and it might not be forgotten that the poor
shepherds were admitted to worship the Babe in the Manger as well as
the potentates of the East, who brought rich presents to offer up at
the shrine of His cradle. All having had their comfort both in
spiritual and bodily repast, the Master of the Feast and the Abbct,
with some few beside, retired into a gallery.2
In this gallery — whether that above the Hall, or the corridor
—or possibly the long chamber in the Deanery, we must
conceive the conversation, as carried on between the Lord
Keeper and ' his brother Abbot,' on the comparison, suggested
by what the Frenchman had seen, between the Church of
England and the Continental Churches, both Roman Catholic
and Protestant. Let them part with the concluding remark of
the Lord Keeper :— ' I used to say it often, that there ought to
' be no secret antipathies in Divinity or in churches for which
' no reason can be given. But let every house sweep the dust
' from their own door. We have done our endeavour, God be
' praised, in England to model a Churchway which is not afraid
' to be searched into by the sharpest critics for purity and
' antiquity. But, as Pacatus said in his panegyric in another
' case, Pantm est quando cceperit termimtm non habebit. Yet I
' am confident it began when Christ taught upon earth, and I
' hope it shall last till He comes again.' ' I will put my attes-
' tation thus far to your confidence ' (said the Abbot), ' that I
' think you are not far from the Kingdom of Heaven.' So,
with mutual smiles and embraces, they parted.
This was the last year of Williams's power and favour at
1 Probably in the organ-loft. Bos- in some respects similar was given to
well was Williains's secretary. the Greek Archbishop of Syra in the
- Hacket, pp. 211, 212. A reception Jerusalem Chamber in 1870.
422 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
Court. Within three months from this entertainment King
runerai of James died. The Dean was present during his last
James I. . . 1-11 111
1625. hours, and at his funeral in the Abbey preached the
famous sermon, on the text (2 Chron. ix. 31), ' Solomon slept
* with his fathers, and he was buried in the city of David his
* father ; ' and (as his biographer adds) ' no farther ' (i.e. with a
studious omission of ' Rehoboam his son '). ' He never studied
' anything with more care, taking for his pattern Fisher's ser-
* mon at the funeral of Henry VII., and Cardinal Peron's sermon
* for Henry IV. of France.' l
Then the power of Williams in Westminster suddenly waned.
His rival Laud,2 who was his bitter antagonist amongst the
Quarrels Prebendaries of Westminster, was now in the ascen-
I'rebe'uda- dant. The slight put upon him at the Coronation of
Charles I. has been already mentioned, and hence-
forth he resided chiefly at his palace near Lincoln, only coming
up to Westminster at the times absolutely required by the Statutes
of the Abbey. Two scenes in the Abbey belong to this period.
The first is in the early morning of Trinity Sunday, 1626, in
Henry VII. 's Chapel. It was the ordination of the saintly lay-
man Nicholas Ferrar to his perpetual Diaconate by Laud as
Bishop of St. David's, to whom he was brought by his tutor,
Laud's friend, Dean Linsell. Apparently they three alone
were present. Laud had been prepared by Linsell ' to receive
* him there with very particular esteem, and with a great deal
* of joy, that he was able to lay hands on so extraordinary a
* person. So he was ordained deacon and no more, for he
' protested he durst not advance one step higher.' . . . . * The
* news of his taking orders quickly spread all over the city and
* the court.' 3 Some blamed him, but others, with Sir Edwin
Sandys, approved. Another less edifying incident takes us to
the Cloisters at night.4 It is Lilly the astrologer who speaks, in
the year 1637 :—
Davy Kamsey, Iris Majesty's clock-maker, had been informed that
1 Two other sermons were preached Cambridge in the Seventeenth Century,
by him in the Abbey before the House p. 226.) The same incident is told in
of Lords ; one on Ash Wednesday, Feb. the life by his brother. (Ibid. p. 24.)
18, 1628, the other on April 6, 1628 ' They two went to Westminster Chapel,
(on Gal. vi. 14). ' his tutor having spoken to Bishop
2 For the attention which Laud de- ' Laud ... to persuade him to be
voted to the School, see the interesting ' there, and to lay his hands upon him
regulations of its hours and studies ' to make him Deacon.'
preserved in his handwriting. (Lusus * This doubtless suggested a well-
West., ii. 330.) known passage in the Antiquary.
* Jebb's Life of Ferrar. (Mayor's
CHAP. vi. DEAN WILLIAMS. 423
there was a great quantity of treasure buried in the Cloyster of West-
minster Abbey ; he acquaints Dean Williams therewith, who was also
then Bishop of Lincoln ; the Dean gave him liberty to search after it,
with this proviso, that if any was discovered, his church should have a
share of it. Davy Eamsey finds out one John Scott, who lived in
Pudding Lane, and had sometime been a page (or such like) to the
Lord Norris, and who pretended the use of the Mosaical Rods, to assist
him herein ; I was desired to join with him, unto which I consented. One
winter's night Davy Eamsey with several gentlemen, myself, and Scott,
entered the Cloysters ; Davy Eamsey brought an half-quartern sack
to put the treasure in ; we played the hazel-rod round about the
Cloyster ; upon the west side of the Cloysters the rods turned one over
another, an argument that the treasure was there. The labourers
digged at least six foot deep, and then we met with a coffin ; but in
regard it was not heavy, we did not open, which we afterwards much
repented. From the Cloysters we went into the Abbey- Church, where,
upon a sudden (there being no wind when we began), so fierce, so high,
so blustering and loud a wind did rise, that we verily believed the west
end of the church would have fallen upon us ; our rods would not move
at all ; the candles and torches, all but one, were extinguished, or burned
very dimly. John Scott, my partner, was amazed, looked pale, knew not
what to think or do, until I gave directions and command to dismiss
the daemons ; which when done, all was quiet again, and each man re-
turned unto his lodging late, about 12 a clock at night ; I could never
since be induced to joyn with any in such like actions. The true mis-
carriage of the business was by reason of so many people being present
at the operation, for there was above thirty, some laughing, others
deriding us ; so that if we had not dismissed the daemons, I believe
most part of the Abbey- Church had been blown down ; secrecy and
intelligent operators, with a strong confidence and knowledge of what
they are doing, are best for this work.1
Amongst the thirty-six articles of complaint raised against
Williams by his enemies in the Chapter, many had direct refer-
ence to his Westminster life — such as, ' that he came too late
' for service,' ' came without his habit on,' etc. The ' articles,'
says Hacket (speaking almost as if he had seen their passage
over the venerable pinnacles), ' flew away over the Abbey, like a
' flock of wild geese, if you cast but one stone amongst them.' 2
Williams was also expressly told that ' the lustre in which he
' lived at Westminster gave offence to the King, and that it
' would give more content if he would part with his Deanery,
' his Majesty not approving of his being so near a neighbour
1 Lilly's History of his Life and Times, 1602-1681, pp. 32, 33. London, 1715.
" Hacket, pp. 91, 92.
424 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
* to Whitehall.' One great prelate (evidently Laud) plainly said,
in the presence of the King ' that the Bishop of Lincoln lived
' in as much pomp as any Cardinal in Kome, for diet, music,
' and attendance.' l But, in spite of his love for music and the
occasional splendour of the services, it would seem that the
peculiar innovations of the Laudian school never permanently
prevailed in the Abbey. At the time when other churches
were blazing with hundreds of wax tapers on Candlemas Day,
it was observed that in the Abbey there were none even in the
evening.2 His enemies at last succeeded in procuring his fall
His first im- and imprisonment, and a Commission still remains on
1637-40. ' the Chapter Books, authorising the Chapter to carry
on the business in his absence. Peter Heylin, Laud's chaplain,
was now supreme as treasurer and subdean.3 A petition from
him to the King describes the difficulty which he experienced
in keeping up the ancient custom of closing the gates at 10 P.M.4
ussher at ^^e Deanery was made over to Ussher. A letter 5 to
the Deanery. jjjm from LaUcl curiously connects the past history of
Westminster with the well-known localities of the present
day :—
As I was coming from the Star-Chamber this day se'nnight at
night, there came to me a gentlemanlike man, who, it seems, some
way belongs to your Grace. He came to inform me that he had re-
ceived some denial of the keys of the Dean of Westminster's lodgings.
I told him that I bad moved bis Majesty that you migbt bave the use
of tbese lodgings tbis winter-time, and that bis Majesty was graciously
pleased that you should have them ; and tbat I bad acquainted Dr.
Newell, the Subdean of the College, with so much, and did not find
him otherwise tban willing thereunto. But, my Lord, if I mistake not,
the error is in tbis : tbe gentleman, or somebody else to your use, de-
manded the keys of your lodging, if I misunderstood bim not. Now
tbe keys cannot6 be delivered, for the King's scholars must come hither
daily to dinner and supper in tbe Hall, and tbe butlers and otber
officers must come in to attend them. And to tbis end tbere is a
porter, by office and oatb, tbat keeps tbe keys. Besides, tbe Prebends
must come into tbeir Chapter House, and, as I tbink, during tbe
Chapter-time bave tbeir diet in tbe Hall. But tbere is room plentiful
1 Fuller's Church History. ' the roof thereof to be raised to the
2 Catalogue of superstitious obser- ' same height as the rest of the Church.'
vances, printed for Hinscott, 1642, p. (Bernard's Heylin, p. 173.)
27- « State Papers, vol. 1837.
3 He repaired the West and South 5 Ussher's Works, xvi. 536, 537.
Aisle ; and ' new vaulted the curious 6 This implies a gate between the
' arch over the preaching place, which Cloister and the Deanery.
' looketh now most magnificently, and
CHAP. vi. DEAN WILLIAMS. 425
enough for your Grace besides this. I advised this gentleman to speak
again with the Subdean, according to this direction, and more I could
not possibly do. And by that time these letters come to you, I presume
the Subdean will be in town again. And if he be, I will speak with
him, and do all that lies in me to accommodate your Grace. Since this,
some of the Bishop of Lincoln's friends whisper privately that he hopes
to be in Parliament, and, if he be, he must use his own house. And
whether the Subdean have heard anything of this or no, I cannot tell.
Neither do I myself know any certainty, but yet did not think it fit to
conceal anything that I hear in this from you.
On the meeting of the Long Parliament Williams was
released, and ' conducted into the Abbey Church, when he
wiiiiams-s ' officiated, it being a day of humiliation, as Dean of
return. < Westminster, more honoured at the first by Lords
' and Commons than any other of his order.'
The service at which he attended was, however, disturbed
by the revival of an old feud between himself and his Preben-
daries. Each had long laid claim to what was called ' the
' great pew ' on the north side of the Choir, near the pulpit,
and immediately under the portrait of Richard II.1 Williams
insisted, by a tradition reaching back to Dean Goodman, that
this pew was his own by right, and by him granted to noblemen
and ' great ladies,' whilst the Prebendaries were to sit in their
own stalls, or with the Scholars. Here he sate on the occasion
of his triumphant return. It so chanced that his old enemy
Peter Heyiin Peter Heylin, in the newly adorned pulpit, was
in the puipit. < preaching his course,' and when, at a certain point,
the Royalist Prebendary launched out into his usual invectives
against the Puritans, the Dean, ' sitting in the great pew,' and
inspired, as it were, by that old battlefield of contention,
knocked aloud with his staff on the adjacent pulpit, saying,
' No more of that point — no more of that point, Peter.' ' To
' which the Doctor readily answered, without hesitation, or
' without the least sign of being dashed out of countenance,
' I have a little more to say, my Lord, and then I have done.' 2
He then continued in the same strain, and the Dean afterwards
sent for the sermon.
The tide of events which flowed through Westminster Hall
1 State Papers, 1635. See Chapter " Bernard's Heylin, 193. The pulpit
III. p. 124. It seems to have been used was moved to the north side, as now,
as the seat of the Lord Keepers and in the last century. (Chapter Book,
Chancellors on occasion of their coming June 27, 1779.)
to service in the Abbey.
426 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
in the next year constantly discharged itself into the Abbey.
The Subcommittee, composed partly of Episcopalians, partly
of Presbyterians, to report on the ecclesiastical questions of
conferences the day, sate under Williams' s presidency in his
Jerusalem beloved Jerusalem Chamber, now for the first time
1640? e passing into its third phase, that of the scene of
ecclesiastical disputations. There they ' had solemn debates six
' several days,' — ' always entertained at his table with such
' bountiful cheer as well became a Bishop. But this we beheld
' as the last course l of all public episcopal treatments.' Some
have thought the mutual conferences of such men as Sanderson
and Calamy, Prideaux and Marshall, 'might have produced
' much good,' in spite of the forebodings of the Court Prelates.
But what the issue of this conference would have been
1641.
is ' only known to Him who knew what the men of
' Keilah would do.' ' The weaving of their consultations
' continued till the middle of May, and was fairly on the loom
' when the bringing in of the bill against Deans and Chapters
' cut off all the threads, putting such a distance between the
' aforesaid divines, that never their judgments and scarce their
' persons met after together.' Meantime the fury of the
London populace rose to such a pitch, that Williams — who
meantime had just received from the King the prize so long
wmiams's coveted, but now too late for enjoyment, of the See of
York, Dec. 4. York — was as much in danger from the Parliamen-
tarian mob as he had been a year before from Laud and
Strafford.
Eyewitnesses have thus informed me of the manner thereof. Of
those apprentices who coming up to the Parliament cried, ' No bishops !
Attack on ' ^° kisn°Ps ! ' some, rudely rushing into the Abbey church,
the Abbey, were reproved by a verger for their irreverent behaviour
therein. Afterwards quitting the church, the doors there-
of, by command from the Dean, were shut up, to secure the organs
and monuments therein against the return of the apprentices. For
though others could not foretell the intentions of such a tumult, who
could not certainly tell their own, yet the suspicion was probable,
by what was uttered amongst them. The multitude presently assault
the church (under pretence that some of their party were detained
therein), and force a panel out of the north door, but are beaten back
by the officers and scholars of the College. Here an unhappy tile was
cast by an unknown hand, from the leads or battlements of the church,
1 Fuller's Church History, 1640.
CHAP. vi. DEAX WILLIAMS. 427
which so bruised Sir Richard Wiseman, conductor of the apprentices,
that he died thereof, and so ended that day's distemper.1
All the Welsh blood in Williams's veins was roused, and, as
afterwards he both defended and attacked Con way Castle, so
now he maintained the Abbey in his own person, ' fearing lest
' they should seize upon the Regalia, which were in that place
' under his custody.' 2 The violence of the mob continued to
rage so fiercely, that the passage from the House of Lords to
the Abbey became a matter of danger. Williams was with
difficulty protected home by some of the lay lords, as he
returned by torch-light.3 He was accompanied by Bishop Hall,
who lodged in Dean's Yard. In a state of fury at these insults,
he once more had recourse to the Jerusalem Chamber. Twelve
Meeting of °^ *^e Bishops, with "Williams at their head, met
there to protest against their violent exclusion from
chT^be?1 the House of Lords, and were in consequence com-
mitted to the Tower. Williams was released after
the abolition of the temporal jurisdiction of the clergy. The
Chapter Book contains only two signatures of Williams as
\viiiiams-3 Ai'chbishop of York — one immediately before his
prisonment, second imprisonment, December 21, 1641 ; one im-
i64i; ana mediately after his release, May 18, 1642. This must
release, May . , ' , . - , , .
is, 1642. have been his last appearance, in the scene of so
many interests and so many conflicts, in Westminster. He left
the capital to follow the King to York, and never returned.4
The volume in which these signatures are recorded bears
witness to the disorder of the times. A few hurried entries on
torn leaves are all that mark those eventful years, followed by
a series of blank pages, which represent the interregnum of the
Commonwealth. During this interregnum the Abbey itself, as
we have seen, not only retained still its honour, as the burial-
place of the great,5 but received an additional impulse in that
direction, which since that period it has never lost. Many a
Royalist, perhaps, felt at the time what Waller expressed after-
wards—
When others feU, this, standing, did presage
The Crown should triumph over popular rage ;
Hard by that ' House ' where all our ills were shap'd,
The auspicious Temple stood, and yet escap'd.6
1 Fuller's Church History, 1641. * Buried at Llandegay Church, 1650.
2 Racket, p. 176. * See Chapter IV.
3 Hall's Hard Measure. (Words- ' Weller on St. James's Park,
worth's Eccl. Biog. pp. 318, 324.)
428 THE ABBEY SINCE THE KEFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
But the religious services were entirely changed, and whilst
the monuments and the fabrics received but little injury, the
Puritan furniture and ornaments of the Church suffered
Arlrff't materially. A Committee was appointed, of which
icjs. gir Robert Harley wras the head, for the purpose of
demolishing ' monuments of superstition and idolatry,' in the
Abbey Church of Westminster, and in the windows thereof.
The Altar, which, in the earlier part of Williarns's rule, had,
contrary to the general practice since the Eeformation, been
placed at the east end of the Choir,1 was brought into the cen-
tre of the Church, for the Communion of the House of Com-
mons.2 The copes, which had been worn at the Coronations
by the Dean and Prebendaries, and probably, on special occa-
sions, by all the members of the Choir, were sold by order of
Parliament, and the produce given to the poor of Ireland. The
tapestries representing the history of Edward the Confessor
were transferred to the Houses of Parliament. The
plate belonging to the College was melted down, to
pay for the servants and workmen, or to buy horses.3 The
brass and iron in Henry VII.'s Chapel was ordered to be sold,
and the proceeds thereof to be employed according to the
directions of the House of Commons. But this apparently was
not carried out ; as the brass still remains, and the iron gratings
were only removed within this century.
In July 1643 took place the only actual desecration to which
the Abbey was exposed. It was believed in Royalist circles
Desecration that soldiers 4 were quartered in the Abbey, who burnt
juiy 1643. ' the altar-rails, sate on benches round the Communion
Table, eating, drinking, smoking, and singing — destroyed the
organ, and pawned the pipes for ale in the alehouses — played
at hare and hounds in the Church, the hares being the soldiers
dressed up in the surplices of the Choir — and turned the
Chapels and High Altar to the commonest and basest uses.5
It is a more certain fact that Sir Robert Harley, who under his
commission from the Parliament took down the crosses at
Charing and Cheapside, destroyed the only monument in the
Abbey which totally perished in those troubles — the highly -
1 Bernard's Heylin, p. 171. 4 ' Some soldiers of Washborne and
2 Nalson, i. 563. (Robertson on ' Cawood's companies, perhaps because
The Liturgy, p. 160.) ' there were no houses in Westminster.'
3 Widmore, p. 156. Commons' Jour- 5 Crull, vol. ii. app. ii. p. 14 ;
nals, April 24, 28, 1643; April 24, Mercitrius Rusticus. February 1643,
May 8, 1644. p. 153.
CHAP. YI. UNDER THE COMMONWEALTH. 429
decorated altar which served as the memorial of Edward VI.' '
Destruction ail(^ which doubtless attracted attention from Torre-
viE<s'me-d giano's terra-cotta statues. On a suspicion that
Williams, with his well-known activity, had carried
away the Regalia, the doors of the Treasury, which down to
intuits that time had been kept by the Chapter, were forced
Eegaiia. open,2 that an inventory of what was to be found
there might be presented to the House of Commons. Henry
Marten (such was the story) had been entrusted with the
welcome task ; and England has never seen a ceremony so
nearly approaching to the Eevolutions of the Continent, as
when the stern enthusiast, with the malicious humour for
which he was noted, broke open the huge iron chest in the
ancient Chapel of the Treasury, and dragged out the crown,
sceptre, sword, and robes, consecrated by the use of six hundred
years ; and put them on George Wither the poet, ' who, being
* thus crowned and royally arrayed, first marched about the
' room with a stately garb, and afterwards, with a thousand
' apish and ridiculous actions, exposed those sacred ornaments
' to contempt and laughter.' 3 The English spirit of order still,
however, so far presided over the scene, that, after this verifica-
tion of their safety, they were replaced in the Treasury, and not
sold till some time afterwards.
The institution itself was greatly altered, but its general
stability was guaranteed. A special ordinance, in 1643, pro-
vided for the government of the Abbey, in default of
the Dean and Chapter, who were superseded. The
School, the almsmen, and the lesser offices still continued ; and
The com- over ^ were placed Commissioners consisting of the
missioned. Earl of Northumberland and other laymen, with the
Master of Trinity, the Dean of Christ Church, and the Head-
master of Westminister.4
Seven Presbyterian ministers were charged with the duty
The Pres- of having a ' morning exercise ' in place of the daily
Preachers, service, and the Subdean, before the final dissolution
1 ' Paul's and Westminster were 2 See Chapter V. p. 367.
1 purged of their images.' (Neal's Puri- * Wood's Ath. iii. 1239, col. 1817 ;
tans, ii. 136.) This seems to have been Heylin, Presbyt. 452, ed. 1672, but
the only instance. See Chapter III. p. not in ed. 1670. (Mr. Forster, States-
150, and Mercuriris Rnsticus, p. 154. men, v. 252, doubts the story.) _
Fragments probably belonging to them 4 Stoughton's Eccl. Hist. i. 488. —
were found in the Western Tower in The ordinance vesting the government
1866, and part of the cornice under the of the Abbey in Commissioners is given
pavement of Edward VI.'s vault in 1869. in Widmore, p. 214.
430 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
of the Chapter, was ordered to permit them the use of the
pulpit. These were — Stephen Marshall, chief chaplain of the
Parliamentary army, and (if we may use the expression)
Primate of the Presbyterian Church; l William Strong,2 who
became the head of an Independent congregation in the Abbey,
of which Bradshaw 3 was a principal member ; Herle, the
second Prolocutor of the Westminster Assembly ; Dr. Stanton,
afterwards President of Corpus, Oxford, called the 'walking
' Concordance ; ' Philip Nye, who, though an uncompromising
Independent, was the chief agent in bringing the Presbyterian
' Covenant ' across the Border ; John Bond, a son of Denis
Bond, who afterwards became Master4 of the Savoy Hospital,
and of Trinity Hall at Cambridge ; and Whitaker, Master of
St. Mary Magdalen, Bermondsey. At one of these ' morning
' exercises ' was present a young Eoyalist lady, herself after-
wards buried in the Abbey, Dorothy Osborne, beloved first by
Henry Cromwell, and then the wife of Sir William Temple.
' I was near laughing yesterday when I should not. Could you
' believe that I had the grace to go and hear a sermon upon a
* week day ? It is true, and Mr. Marshall was the preacher.
' He is so famed that I expected vast things from him, and
' seriously I listened to him at first with as much reverence
' and attention as if he had been S. Paul. But, what do you
' think he told us ? Why, that if there were no kings, no
' queens, no lords, no ladies, no gentlemen or gentlewomen in
' the world, it would be no loss at all to the Almighty. This
' he said over forty times,5 which made me remember it whether
' I would or not.'
Besides these regular lectures there were, on special occa-
1 ' Without doubt the Archbishop to Lady Elizabeth Reid, who tran-
' of Canterbury had never so great an scribed it. For his funeral, see Chapter
' influence upon the counsels at Court IV. p. 272.
' as Dr. Burgess or Mr. Marshall had * This congregation, which some-
' then upon the Houses.' (Clarendon.) times also met in the House of Lords,
Both Marshall and Strong were buried was continued after him by John Rowe,
in the South Transept, and disinterred who remained there till 1661. Dr.
in 1661. (See Chapter IV.) Watts as a student belonged *to it, but
2 Thirty-one select sermons were after it had left the Abbey. (Christian
published after his death, ' preached Witness, 1868, p. 312.)
' on special occasions by William 4 In the original scheme (Commons'
' Strong, that godly, able, and faithful Journals, Feb. 28, 1643), Palmer,
' minister of Christ, lately of the Abbey Pastor of the New Church, West-
' of Westminster.' Of these the first minster, and Hill, afterwards Master
was preached on Dec. 9, 1650, when of Emmanuel, Cambridge, are men-
he was chosen pastor of this Church, tioned.
on Col. ii. 5, ' Gospel order a church's 5 From a private letter, quoted in
' beauty.' He was also the author of a the Christian Witness of 1868, p. 310.
work on the Two Covenants, dedicated
CHAP. vi. THE WESTMINSTER ASSEMBLY. . 431
sions, sermons delivered in the Abbey by yet more remarkable
men. Owen, afterwards Dean of Christ Church, preached on
Jan. si, tne day aftev Charles's execution, and on ' God's work
JjJJJ^Jr ' in Zion ' (Isaiah xiv. 32) on the opening of Parlia-
ment on Sept. 17, 1656. Goodwin, President of
Magdalen College, Cambridge, preached in like manner before
Oliver Cromwell's First Parliament,1 and Howe, on 'Man's
duty in Glorifying God,' before Eichard Cromwell's last
Parliament.2 Here too was heard Baxter's admi-
Sept. 4, 1654. 111. i • i
rabie discourse, which must have taken more than two
hours to deliver, on the ' Vain and Formal Eeligion of the
' Hypocrite.'
But the most remarkable ecclesiastical act that occurred
within the precincts of the Abbey during this period was the
sitting of the Westminster Assembly. Its proceedings belong
to general history. Here is only given enough to connect it
with the two scenes of its operations.
The first was in the Church itself. There, doubtless in the
Choir of the Abbey, on July 1, 1643, the Assembly met. There
Assembly were the 121 divines, including four actual and five
juiy i, 1643. future bishops. Some few only of these attended, and
' seemed the only Nonconformists for their conformity, whose
' gowns and canonical habits differed from all the rest.' The
rest were Presbyterians, with a sprinkling of Independents,
' dressed in their black cloaks, skull-caps, and Geneva bands.
' There were the thirty lay assessors,3 to overlook the clergy . . ,
' just as when the good woman puts a cat into the milkhouse to
' kill a mouse, she sends her maid to look after the cat lest the
' cat should eat up the cream.' 4 Of these Selden was the most
conspicuous, already connected with Westminster as Registrar
of the College, an office which, apparently, had been created
specially for him by Williams.5 Both Houses of Parliament
assisted at the opening. So august an assembly had not been
in the Abbey since the Conference which ushered in the re-
establishment of the Protestant Church under Elizabeth. The
sermon was preached by the Prolocutor, Dr. Twiss, on the text,
' I will not leave you comfortless.' On its conclusion the
divines ascended the steps of Henry VII. 's Chapel. There the
roll of names was called over. Out of the 140 members,
1 Carlyle's Croimcell, ii. 413. Westminster Assembly, p. 109.
2 Ibid. ii. 252, 254. 4 Selden's Table Talk.
3 The list is given iu Hetherington's 5 Hacket, p. 69.
432 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
however, only 69 were present.1 On the 6th of July they
in Henry assembled again, and received their instructions from
chapli 1643, the House of Commons. Then, from August to
juiy e. October, they discussed the Thirty-nine Articles, and
had only reached the sixteenth when they were commanded by
the Parliament to take up the question of the Discipline and
Liturgy of the Church. On the 17th of August, ' with tears of
' pity and joy,' the Solemn League and Covenant was brought
into the Tudor Chapel. On the 15th of September, with a
short expression of delight from Dr. Hoyle, one of the only
inst ^wo Irish Commissioners, Ireland was incorporated
Caret's jn jf;. On the 25th, for a single day they left the
sept. 25. Abbey, to meet the Commons in St. Margaret's
Church, and there sign it. On the 15th of October, with a
sermon from the other Irish divine,2 Dr. Temple —doubtless in
the Abbey, it was subscribed by the Lords. There was one 3
spectator outside, who has left on record his protest against
the Assembly, in terms which, whilst they apply to all attempts
at local ecclesiastical authority, show that the reminiscences of
the Abbey touched a congenial chord in his own heart. ' Neither
* is God appointed and confined, where and out of what place
' His chosen shall be first heard to speak ; for He sees not as
' man sees, chooses not as man chooses, lest we should devote
' ourselves again to set places and assemblies and outward
' callings of men, planting our faith one while in the Convoca-
' tion House,4 and another while in the Chapel at Westminster ;
' when all the faith and religion that shall there be canonized
* is not sufficient without plain convincement and the charity
' of patient instruction to supple the least bruise of conscience,
' to edify the meanest Christian who desires to walk in the
* spirit and not in the letter of human trust, for all the number
' of voices that can be there made, no, though Harry VII. himself
( there, with all his liege tombs about him, should lend their voices
'from the dead to swell their number.1
It was not till the end of September that the extreme cold
of the interior of the Abbey compelled the Divines to shift their
quarters from Henry VII. 's Chapel to the Jerusalem Chamber ;
as before, so now it was the warm hearth that drew thither
1 This is about the average relative i. 407-409 ; Stoughton's Eccl. Hist, of
attendance of the Lower House of the England, i. 272, 294.
Convocation of Canterbury. s Milton's Areopagitica, 1644.
2 Eeid's Presbyterianism in Ireland, * See, farther on, the account of
Convocation.
CHAP. vi. THE WESTMINSTER ASSEMBLY. 433
alike the (tying l King and the grave Assembly. It is at this
point that we first have a full picture of their proceedings
from one of the Scottish 2 Commissioners who arrived at this
juncture : 3 —
On Monday morning we sent to both Houses of Parliament for a
warrant for our sitting in the Assemblie. This was readilie granted,
and by Mr. Hendersone presented to the Proloqutor, who sent out
three of their number to convoy us to the Assemblie. Here no mortal
man may enter to see or hear, let be to sitt, without ane order in wryte
from both Houses of Parliament. When we were brought in, Dr.
Twisse had ane long harangue for our welcome, after so long and
hazardous a voyage by sea and land, in so unseasonable a tyme of the
year. When he had ended, we satt down in these places, which since
we have keeped. The like of that Assemblie I did never see, and, as
we hear say, the like was never in England, nor anywhere is shortlie
lyke to be. They did sitt in Henry VII. 's Chappell, in the place of
Kemovai the Convocation ; 4 but since the weather grew cold, they
Jerusalem ^ 8° to Jerusalem Chamber,5 a fair roome in the Abbey
Chamber. of Westminster, about the bounds of the Colledge fore-
hall,6 but wyder. At the one end nearest the doore, and both sydes, are
stages of seats, as in the new Assemblie- House at Edinburgh, but not so
high ; for there will be roome but for five or six score. At the upmost
end there is a chair set on ane frame, a foot from the earth, for the Mr.
Proloqutor, Dr. Twisse. Before it on the ground stands two chairs,
for the two Mr. Assessors, Dr. Burgess and Mr. Whyte. Before
these two chairs, through the length of the roome, stands a table,
at which sitts the two scribes, Mr. Byfield and Mr. Eoborough. The
house is all well hung,7 and has a good fyre, which is some dainties
at London. Foranent the table, upon the Proloqutor's right hand,
there are three or four rankes or formes. On the lowest we five doe
1 See Chapter V. p. 360. Professor Mitchell's Minutes of the
2 One Irish divine only was present, Westminster Assembly, p. Ixxix.
Dr. Hoyle, Professor of 'Divinity from 7 The tapestry with which the cham-
Dublin. (Reid's Presbyterianism in ber is now hung, and which, though
Ireland, i. 405.) different, represents its appearance at
3 Letters and Journals of Robert the time of the Assembly, consists of
Baillie, vol. ii. pp. 107-109. five pieces : 1. A fragment, apparently
4 For the Convocation, see p. 464. representing Goliath challenging the
5 Fuller (Church History, iii. 449) Israelites. 2. The circumcision of
says : ' And what place more proper Isaac. (These two were hung in the
' for the building of Sion (as they pro- Abbey at the coronation of James II.
' pounded it) than the Chamber of See Chapter II.) 3. (Probably of the
' Jerusalem (the fairest in the Dean's same period.) The adoration of the
' lodgings, where King Henry IV. died), Wise Men. The two latest additions
' where these divines did daily meet were the gift of Lord John Thynne
' together ? ' from his residence at Haynes, consist-
6 Probably not the Forehall of ing of (4.) The interview of Eliezer
Glasgow (destroyed in 1867), which and Rebekah. (5.) Peter and John at
was much larger, but another forehall the Beautiful Gate of the Temple.
of the college (destroyed in 1662). See
F F
434 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
sit ; upon the other, at our backs, the members of Parliament deputed
to the Assemblie.1 On the formes foranent us, on the Proloqutor's
left hand, going from the upper end of the house to the chimney, and
at the other end of the house and backsyde of the table, till it
come about to our seats, are four or five stages of formes, whereupon
their divines sitts as they please ; albeit commonlie they keep the same
place. From the chimney to the door there is no seats, but a voyd, about
the fire. We meet every day of the week, but Saturday. We sitt com-
monlie from nine to one or two afternoon. The Proloqutor at the be-
ginning and end has a short prayer. The man, as the world knows, is
very learned in the questions he has studied, and very good, beloved of
all, and highlie esteemed ; but merelie bookish, and not much, as it
seems, acquaint with conceived prayer [and] among the tmfittest of all
the company for any action ; so after the prayer, he sitts mute. It was
the cannie convoyance of these who guides most matters for their own
interest to plant such a man of purpose in the chaire. The one assessour ,
our good Mend Mr. Whyte, has keeped in of the gout since our
coming; the other, Dr. Burgess, a very active and sharpe man, supplies,
so farr as is decent, the Proloqutor's place. Ordinarilie, there will
be present about three-score of their divines. These are divided in
three committees, in one whereof every man is a member. No man is
excluded who pleases to come to any of the three. Every committee, as
the Parliament gives orders in wryte to take any purpose to considera-
tion, takes a portion ; and in their afternoon meeting prepares matters
for the Assemblie, setts doune their minde in distinct propositions, backs
their propositions with texts of Scripture. After the prayer, Mr. Byfield,
the scribe, reads the proposition and Scriptures, whereupon the Assem-
blie debates in a most grave and orderlie way. No man is called up to
speak ; but who stands up of his own accord, he speaks so long as he
will without interruption. If two or three stand up at once, then the
divines confusedlie calls on his name whom they desyre to hear first.
On whom the loudest and maniest voices calls, he speaks. No man
speaks to any hot to the Proloqutor. They harangue long and very
learnedlie. They studie the questions well beforehand, and prepares
their speeches ; but withall the men are exceeding prompt and well
spoken. I doe marvell at the very accurate and extemporall replyes
that many of them usuallie doe make. When, upon everie proposition
by itself, and on everie text of Scripture that is brought to confirme it,
every man who will has said his whole minde, and the replyes, and
duplies, and triplies are heard ; then the most part calls, ' To the
question.' Byfield the scribe rises from the table, and comes to the
Proloqutor's chair, who, from the scribe's book, reads the proposition,
1 ' The Prince Palatine, constantly ' Heidelberg), though otherwise in his
' present at the debates, heard the ' own judgment no favourer thereof.
' Erastians with much delight, as wel- ' But other Parliament-men listened
' coming their opinions for country's ' very favourably to their arguments,'
' sake (his natives, as first born in etc. (Fuller, iii". 468.)
NAVE OF ABBEY
1. Prolocutor.
2. The two Assessors.
3. The two Scribes.
4. The Scottish Divines.
5. The M-P.'s.
6. The English Divines.
7. The Fireplace.
8. The Table.
FLAN OF THE MODERN' DEANERY, INCLUDING THE ' ABBOT'S PLACE,' AND
REPRESENTING THE JERUSALEM CHAMBER AT THE TIME OF THE WEST-
MINSTER ASSEMBLY.
F F 2
436 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vr.
and says, ' As many as are in opinion that the question is well stated
« in the proposition, let them say I ; ' when I is heard, he says, ' As
' many as think otherwise, say No.' If the difference of I's and No's be
cleare, as usuallie it is, then the question is ordered by the scribes, and
they go on to debate the first Scripture alleadged for proof of the pro-
position. If the sound of I and No be near equall, then sayes the
Proloqutor, ' As many as say I, stand up ; ' while they stand, the scribe
and others number them in their minde ; when they sitt downe, the
No's are bidden stand, and they likewise are numbered. This way
is clear enough, and saves a great deal of time, which we spend in
reading our catalogue. When a question is once ordered, there is no
more debate of that matter ; but if a man will raige, he is quicklie
taken up by Mr. Assessor, or many others, confusedlie crying, ' Speak
' to order — to order ! ' No man contradicts another expresslie by name,
bot most discreetlie speaks to the Proloqutor, and at most holds on the
generall, ' The Keverend brother who latelie or last spoke,' ' on this
4 hand,' ' on that syde,' ' above,' or ' below.' I thought meet once for all to
give you a taste of the outward form of their Assemblie. They follow
the way of their Parliament. Much of their way is good, and worthie
of our imitation : only their longsomenesse is wofull at this time, when
their Church and Kingdome lyes under a most lamentable anarchy
and confusion. They see the hurt of their length, but cannot get it helped;
for being to establish a new plattforme of worship and discipline to
their Nation for all time to come, they think they cannot be answerable
if solidlie, and at leisure, they dc not examine every point thereof.
Here took place those eager disputes between Selden
and Gillespie.1 Here Selden would tell his adversaries,
' Perhaps in your little pocket-bibles with gilt leaves (which
' they would often take out and read) the translation may be
' thus, but the Greek and Hebrew signifies thus and thus,'
and so would silence them. He came ' as Persians used,
' to see wild asses fight.' ' When the Commons tried him
' with their new law, these brethren refreshed him with their
' new Gospel.' 2 Here Herle, rector of Winwick, delivered
his philippics against the Bishops, after one of which he
exultingly said to an acquaintance, ' I'll tell you news. Last
' night I buried a Bishop in Westminster Abbey.' ' Sure,'
was the shrewd reply, 'you buried him in the hope of re-
' surrection.' 3 For five years, six months, and twenty-two
clays, through one thousand one hundred and sixty-three
sessions, the Chapel of Henry VII. and the Jerusalem Chamber
1 Lightfoot, i. 68 ; Hetherington, p. legists' Society, 1878-79, p. 80-86). A
252. 2 Hetherington, p. 326. relative, apparently a daughter, Mar-
3 Life of a Lancashire Rector (Man- garet Herle, was buried in the Cloisters,
Chester Field Naturalists' and Archaeo- 1646-47 (Register).
CHAP. vi. THE WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. 437
witnessed their weary labours. Out of these walls came the
Directory, [(the Longer and Shorter Catechism, and that
famous Confession of faith which, alone within these Is-
lands, was imposed by law on the whole kingdom; and
which, alone of all Protestant Confessions, still, in spite of
its sternness and narrowness, retains a hold on the minds of
its adherents, to which its fervour and its logical coherence
in some measure entitle it. If ever our Northern brethren are
constrained by a higher duty to break its stringent obligation,
they may perhaps find a consolation in the fact, that the
' Westminster Confession ' bears in ita very name the sign that
it came to them not from the High Church or Hall of Assembly
in Edinburgh, but from the apartments of a prelatical dig-
nitary at Westminster, under the sanction of an English Par-
liament, and under the occasional pressure of the armies of an
English king.
Whilst the Jerusalem Chamber was thus employed, the
Deanery itself was inhabited by a yet more singular occupant.
The office had, on Williams's retirement, been given by the
Bichard King to Dr. Kichard Stewart ; but he never took
uo-ti. possession, and died in. exile at Paris, where he was
buried in a Protestant cemetery near St. Germain des Pres.
John The house, meantime, had been granted l on lease to
Bradshaw, President of the High Court of Justice.
He belonged to a small Independent congregation, gathered in
the Abbey under the- ministry, first of Strong, and then of
Eowe. Here, according to tradition, he loved to climb by the
winding stair from the Deanery into ' some small chamber ' in
the South-western Tower. It is, doubtless, that which still
exists, with traces of its ancient fireplace, but long since in-
habited only by hawks 2 or pigeons. A round piece of timber
was long shown here as Bradshaw's rack ; and the adjacent
gallery was haunted,3 as the Westminster boys used to believe,
1 It was ordered on the 25th of ' London pigeon fanciers, from the
January, i.e. five days before the King's 'great havoethey make in their flights.'
death, ' that the dean's house in West- (Sir John Sebright on Hawking, 1826.)
minster Abbey be provided and fur- 3 A distinguished old Westminster
nished for the lodging of the Lord scholar (the late Lord de Kos), who for
President and his servants, guards, a wager passed a night in the Abbey
and attendants.' — S late Trials,iv. 1100. to confront the ghost, long retained a
2 ' Peregrine falcons take up their lively recollection of the unearthly
abode from October or November sounds of birds and rats through his
until the spring upon Westminster cold, dark imprisonment. The ' rack,'
Abbey and other churches in the or rather ' wheel,' was merely a part of
metropolis : this is well known to the Wren's machinery for building the
438 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. TI.
by his ghost. ' This melancholy wretch,' so writes the royalist
antiquarian, ' it is said, ended his days in the blackest despera-
' tion ; but that a church-roof was the nest of such an unclean
* bird, I have not before heard. Certain it is that he ended his
' days near this church, but that he spent them in it we have
' no authority but tradition. Yet it is not improbable that, in
* some of his fits, he might retire to a place very well suited to
' such a temper.' l The more authentic accounts of his death
do not exhibit any such remorse. ' Not on the tribunal only,'
said Milton, in his splendid eulogy on his character, ' but
' through his whole life, he seemed to be sitting in judgment
* on Eoyalty.' ' Had it to be done over again,' were amongst
his last words, speaking of the King's execution, ' I would do
' it.' He was present at the Council of State in 1659. When
the proceedings of the army were discussed and justified, and,
' though by long sickness very weak and much exhausted,
' yet, animated by his ardent zeal and constant affection
' to the common cause, he stood up and interrupted Colonel
' Sydenham, declaring his abhorrence of that detestable action,
' and telling the Council that, being now going to his God,
' he had not patience to sit there to hear His great name
« so openly blasphemed, and thereupon departed to his lodg-
' ings, and withdrew himself from public employment.' In
those lodgings at the Deanery he died,2 and was, as we have
seen, buried with his wife in the course of the same year in
Henry VII. 's Chapel, to be disinterred in a few months by the
Royalists.
The Prebendaries' houses were given to the seven preachers,
and all members of the Capitular and Collegiate body who had
not taken the Covenant were removed. Two alone remained,
osbaidiston, ^ne was Lambert Osbaldiston, who had been for six-
buried86ct. ^een Jears Headmaster, and suffered alternately from
Laud 3 and from the Puritans. But he was spared in
the general expulsion of the Prebendaries by the Long Parlia-
ment, and, probably through his influence, the School was
South-western Tower, and remained 2 Ludlow, 317. See Chapter IV.
there till 1867. Piles of skeletons of a He had narrowly escaped standing
pigeons killed by the hawks were found in the pillory in Dean's Yard, before
there, as well as fragments of ordinary his own door, for calling Laud ' Hocus
meals. A recess called Cromwell's seat, ' Pocus ' and the 'Little Vermin.' He
probably from some confusion with was buried in the South Aisle of the
Bradshaw, exists in the vaults beneath Abbey, October 3, 1659. (See Alumni
the College Hall. Westmonast., p. 82.)
1 Dart, i. 65.
CHAP. vi. THE WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. 439
spared also. In the School his successor \vas the celebrated
Busbv, Busby, a man not commonly suspected of too much
compliance, but who, nevertheless, kept his seat un-
shaken during the contentions of Williams and Laud within
the Chapter, through the fall of the monarchy and the ruin of
the Church, both whilst the Abbey was at its highest flight
of Episcopal ritual, and whilst it was occupied by Presbyterian
preachers, through the Restoration, and through the Revolu-
tion, into the reign of William III. ; thus having served three
dynasties and witnessed three changes of worship. Dr. Busby's
history belongs to that of the School rather than of the Abbey ;
but some of the most striking incidents of his reign are closely
connected with the localities of Westminster, and with the
passions l which were heaving round the Cloisters through this
eventful period. One of these is recalled by the bar which ex-
tends across the Great School. It is the famous bar over which
on Shrove-Tuesday it is the duty of the College cook to throw
a pancake, to be scrambled for by the boys and presented to
the Dean.2 On this bar —
Every one who is acquainted with Westminster School knows that
there is a curtain3 which used to be drawn across the room, to separate
Giynne the upper school from the lower. A youth happened, by
and wake. some mischance, to tear the above-mentioned curtain. The
severity of the Master [Busby] was too well known for the criminal
to expect any pardon for such a fault ; so that the boy, who was of a
meek temper, was terrified to death at the thoughts of his appearance,
when his friend who sate next to him bade him be of good cheer, for
that he would take the fault on himself. He kept his word accordingly.
As soon as they were grown up to be men, the Civil War broke out,
in which our two friends took the opposite sides ; one of them followed
the Parliament, the other the Royal party.
1 For the long quarrel between Busby cry was revived, and a shower of books
and Bagshawe, see Narrative of tlie was discharged at the head of the
Difference between Mr. Busby and Mr. offending minister ; he, in return,
Bagshawe (1659) ; also Alumni West- hurled the fryingpan into the midst,
monast., p. 125. which cut open the head of one of the
- For many years it was torn to scholars, who was then allowed by the
pieces in the scuffle. But a tradition Dean to carry off the pan in triumph,
existing that if any one carried it whole The whole incident was commemorated
to the Dean, he would receive a guinea, in a humorous Homeric poem, entitled
the boys at last agreed that a certain Mageiropcedomachia, since published in
champion should be allowed to secure Lusus Westmonasterienses, ii. p. 304 ;
it as if in fair tight, and from that time see ibid. 201. In the Gent. Mag. 1790
the pancake, when presented, has re- the 'cook' is called the 'under clerk.'
ceived its proper reward. In later days Brand (i. 83) mentions the custom as
the failures of an unsuccessful cook, having once existed at Eton,
year after year, had nearly broken the 3 ' Dr. Busby admitted me above
custom; till, in 1864, an ancient war- ' the curtain.' (Taswell, p. 9.)
440 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
As their tempers were different, the youth who had torn the curtain
endeavoured to raise himself on the civil list, and the other, who had
borne the blame of it, on the military. The first succeeded so well that
he was in a short time made a judge under the Protector. The other
was engaged in the unhappy enterprise of Penruddock and Groves in
the West. Every one knows that the Eoyal party was routed, and
all the heads of them, among whom was the curtain champion, im-
prisoned at Exeter. It happened to be his friend's lot at the time to
go the Western Circuit. The trial of the rebels, as they were then
called, was very short, and nothing now remained but to pass sentence
on them; when the judge, hearing the name of his old friend, and
observing his face more attentively, which he had not seen for many
years, asked him if he was not formerly a Westminster scholar. By
the answer, he was soon convinced that it was his former generous
friend ; and, without saying anything more at that time, made the best
of his way to London, where, employing all his power and interest
with the Protector, he saved his friend from the fate of his unhappy
associates.1
Two incidents illustrate the general loyalty of the School,
well known through the remark of the Puritan Dean of Christ
Loyalty oi Church, John Owen, who himself preached (on Jer. xv.
the school. 19^ 20) in the Abbey the day after the execution : ' It
' will never be well with the nation till Westminster School is
' suppressed.' One occurred at the funeral of the Protector,
•pveaaieat ' Robert Uvedale, one of the scholars, in his boyish in-
Cromwell's . .
funeral. ' dignation against the usurper, snatched one oi the
' escutcheons from the hearse.' 2 The other is recorded by the
famous Robert South, who was amongst Busby's
January 10, scholars, and lies by his side 3 in the Chancel. ' I see
' great talents in that sulky boy,' said Busby, ' and I
' shall endeavour to bring them out.' ' On that very day ' (says
South, in one of his sermons4), ' that black and eternally in-
' famous day of the King's murder, I myself heard, and am
' now a witness, that the King was publicly prayed for in this
' school but an hour or two at most before his sacred head was
1 Spectator, No. cccxiii., by Eustace in Henry VII. 's Chapel. (Register.)
Budgell, a Westminster scholar. See z Gent. Mag. Ixii. pt. 1, p. 114.
Alumni Westmonast., p. 568. The s See Chapter IV. p. 274.
Royalist was Colonel William Wake, 4 South's Sermon on Virtuous Eclu-
f ather of Archbishop Wake ; the Par- cation, 1685. The version usually given
liamentarian was John Glynne, Serjeant {Alumni West. p. 136) is that South
and Peer under Cromwell, ancestor of himself read the prayers. But this
the Glynnes of Hawarden. He is contradicts his own testimony, and,
buried in St. Margaret's Church moreover, he was not ' senior ' till
(Alumni West p. 569), and his grand- 1650-51.
niece (1732-33) Ellen in Monk's vault
CHAP. vi. THE WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. 441
' struck off.' l ' The school,' says the old preacher, rousing
himself with the recollection of those stirring days of his boy-
hood, ' made good its claim to that glorious motto of its royal
' foundress, Semper Eadem ; the temper and genius of it being
' neither to be tempted with promises nor controlled with
« threats. . . . And, as Alexander the Great admonished one
' of his soldiers of the same name with himself still to re-
' member that his name was Alexander, and to behave him-
' self accordingly, so, I hope, our School has all along behaved
' itself suitably to the royal name and title it bears. . . . We
' really were King's scholars, as well as called so. It is called
' " the King's School," and therefore let nothing arbitrary or
' tyrannical be practised in it, whatever has been practised
' against it. ... It is the King's2 School, and therefore let
' nothing but what is loyal come out of it or be found in it.'
This fervour of loyalty was the more remarkable when we
remember that not only were the Governors Parliamentarians,
but that the ministrations of the Abbey itself, which the boys
frequented, were Presbyterian or Independent. 'I myself — it
is South again who speaks in his old age — ' while a scholar here,
' have heard a prime preacher ' (William Strong) ' thus address-
' ing himself from this very pulpit, to the leading grandees
' of the faction in the pew under it ' (doubtless sitting in the
Chancellor's pew, so long contested between Williams and the
Chapter) : ' " You stood up," says he, " for your liberties, and
' "you did well." The two are brought face to face in the
touching relation between the Eoyalist Pedagogue and his
pinup Nonconformist pupil, Philip Henry, as they sit to-
Heury. gether in the well-known picture in the Hall of Christ
Church — the one boy whom he never chastised, but once with
the words, ' And thou, my child ; ' whose absence from school
he allowed, in order that the young Puritan might attend the
daily lecture in the Abbey, between 6 and 8 A.M.,3 and whom
1 On that same day Phineas Payne, larly as ' the King's School.' It is
of the Mermaid, near the Mews, one of employed in the dedication of an edi-
the doorkeepers of Westminster Hall, tion of the Septuagint in 1653 to the
dined ' at Westminster College ' (pro- Inclyta Schola Regia, which also bears
bably in the Hall). Colonel Humphreys the Eoyal Arms.
' came in and said the work was done.' s This was the hour fixed by Parlia-
According to others, Payne boasted ment for the lectures (Commons' Jour-
that ' his hands had done the work.' nals, Feb. 20, 1648.) During those
(State Papers, 1660.) hours all walking in the Abbey, Clois-
- The use of this word seems to ters, or Churchyard was forbidden,
imply that, as at Canterbury, the col- (Ibid. May 28, 1648.)
legiate school was here known popu-
442 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFOEMATION. CHAP. TI.
he prepared for the Presbyterian celebration of the Sacrament
with a care that the boy never forgot. ' The Lord recompense
' it a thousand-fold into his bosom ! ' ' What a mercy,' was
Henry's reflection many years after, ' that at a time when the
' noise of wars and of trumpets and clattering of arms was
' heard there. . . . that then my lot should be where there
' was peace and quietness, where the voice of the truth was
' heard, and where was plenty of Gospel opportunities ! '
' Prithee, child/ said Dr. Busby to him, after the Eestoration,
' who made thee a Nonconformist ? ' — ' Truly, sir, you made me
' one, for you taught me those things that hindered me from
' conforming.' '
With the Restoration the Abbey naturally returned to its
former state.2 Dr. Busby was still there,3 to carry the ampulla
THE RE- °^ ^ne new ^egalia a^ Charles II.'s coronation, and to
STORATIOX. escort the King round Dean's Yard, hat on head, lest
the boys should else think there was any greater man in the
world than himself. Heylin too came back, now that
' his two good friends, the House of Commons and the
' Lord of Lincoln, were out of Westminster.' He began again
his buildings and his studies ; ' erected a new dining-room,
' and beautified the other rooms of his house ' ; rejoiced that
' his old bad eyes had seen the King's return ' ; was visited by
the Bishops of the new generation as an oracle of ancient
times ; and turned to a good omen the thunderstorm which
broke over the Abbey as he and his friends were at supper after
the Coronation, — ' The ordnance of Heaven is answering the
' ordnance of the Tower.'4 On the night before his last sick-
ness he dreamed that he saw ' his late Majesty ' Charles L, who
said to him, ' Peter, I will have you buried under your seat in
' church, for you are rarely seen but there or at your study.'
This, with the shock of the accidental burning of his surplice,
Buried July prepared him for his end ; and he died on Ascension
10, 1662. Day, 1662, and was buried under his Subdean's seat,
according to his dream and his desire.5 His monument
1 Wordsworth's Eccl. Biog. vi. 127, necessary to procure a certificate to his
128, 134. loyalty from Cosin, Sanderson, and
2 The distinction of stalls was now Earles. (State Papers, 1660.)
abolished (Le Neve, iii. 359). An order 4 Evelyn heard him preach at the
remains for £2000 to be paid to His Abbey on Feb. 29, 1661, on friendship
Majesty, in "the name of the Dean and and charity. ' He was quite dark.'
Chapter, as a humble testimony of their (Memoirs, Feb. 29, 1661.)
gratitude for restoring of the Church. s Bernard's Heylin, pp. 200, 248,
(Chapter Book, Aug. 8, 1661.) 249, 280, 292.
3 It seems to have been thought
CHAP. vi. UNDER CHAELES IT. 443
is not far off, in the North Aisle, with an epitaph by Dean
Earles.
In the North Transept, where now stands the monument of
the Three Captains, a Font was then ' newly set up ' ; and two
young men l were baptized publicly by the Dean. One of them,
Paul Thorndyke, was the son of the emigrant to New England,
and had been probably baptized at Boston. The repetition of
the ceremony was no doubt caused by his uncle, Herbert
Thorndyke the Prebendary. The other, Duell Pead, was
perhaps an instance of those whose baptism had been delayed
in the troubled time of the Commonwealth — one of many
instances which are said to have caused the addition to the
Prayer Book, in 1662, of a form for the ' Baptism of Persons
' of Eiper Years.'
Through the eyes of Pepys we see the gradual transition :—
Pepys's July 1) 1660. — In the afternoon to the Abbey, where a
remarks. good sermon by a stranger — but no Common Prayer yet.
July 15. — In the afternoon to Henry VII. 's Chapel, where I heard a
service and a sermon.
Sept. 23. — To the Abbey, where I expected to hear Mr. Baxter or
Mr. Kowe preach their farewell sermon, and in Mr. Symons's pew. I
heard Mr. Eowe.2 Before sermon I laughed at the reader, who in his
prayer desires of God that he would imprint His word on the thumbs
of our right hands, and on the right great toes of our right feet. In
the midst of the sermon some plaster fell from the top of the Abbey,
that made me and all the rest in our pew afraid, and I wished myself
out.
Oct. 2. — To the Abbey, to see them at Vespers. There I found but
a thin congregation.
Oct. 4. — To Westminster Abbey, where we saw Dr. Frewen trans-
lated to the Archbishopric of York. There I saw the Bishops of Win-
chester [Duppa] , Bangor [Roberts], Rochester [Warner], Bath and
Wells [Pierce], and Salisbury [Henchman], all in their habits, in Henry
VII.'s Chapel. But, Lord ! at their going out, how people did look
again at them, as strange creatures, and few with any kind of love and
respect !
4 Paul Thorndyke, aged about 20 ; funeral, November 2, 1G59 (see p. 209).
Duell Pead, aged 16, April 18, 1663. He was of a tall dignified deportment,
(Kegister.) and a good Greek scholar. When
- John Eowe, the successor of Wil- young he kept a diary in that language,
Ham Strong (see p. 430), as the pastor and was much devoted to Plato. He
of the Independent congregation in had for his assistant in the Abbey Seth
the Abbey. He had preached on Wood. A saying of his on the School-
the Thanksgiving for the victory over men is worth preserving, ' They had
the Spanish fleet, October 8, 1656, on ' great heads, but little hearts.' (Chris-
Job xxxvi. 24, 25, and on Bradshaw's tian Witness, 1868, p. 316.)
444 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
Oct. 7. — After dinner to the Abbey, where I heard them read the
Church Service, but very ridiculously. A poor cold sermon of Dr.
Lamb, one of the Prebendaries, came afterwards, and so all ended.
Oct. 28. — To Westminster Abbey, where with much difficulty going
round by the Cloisters, I got in ; this day being a great day, for the
consecrating of five bishops, which was done after sermon ; but I could
not get into Henry VII. 's Chapel.
Nov. 4. — In the morning to our own church, where Dr. Mills did
begin to nibble at the Common Prayer. . . . After dinner ... to the
Abbey, where the first time that ever I heard the organs in a cathe-
dral. My wife seemed very pretty to-day, it being the first time I had
given her leave to wear a black patch.1
By the autumn of the next year the restored Church in the
Abbey was established on a surer basis, and is described by a
graver witness, ' On October 10, 1661,' says Evelyn —
In the afternoone preach 'd at the Abbey Dr. Basire, that greate
travailler, or rather French Apostle who had been planting the Church
of England in divers parts of the Levant and Asia. He shew'd that
the Church of England was for purity of doctrine, substance, decency,
and beauty, the most perfect under Heaven ; that England was the
very land of Groshen.
The Episcopal ceremonies, to which Pepys referred, showed
how closely the ecclesiastical feeling of the Eestoration attached
itself to the Abbey. The ' confirmation ' of the elections was
probably transferred hither from its usual place in
Bow Church for the sake of more solemnity. The
consecration which he describes was the first of a long series,
in order to fill up the havoc of the Civil Wars. First came the
five Bishops, whom Pepys vainly tried to see ; 2 Sheldon, the
Latitudinarian of Falkland's days, the High Churchman
Oct 28
of the Eestoration ; Sanderson, the learned casuist ;
Morley, Henchman, and Griffith, — for the Sees of London,
Lincoln, Worcester, Salisbury, and St. Asaph's. Then a month
later came seven more : Lucy, Lloyd, Gauden, author
of the ' Icon Basilike ' ; Sterne ; Cosin, the chief Ritualist
of his day ; Walton, of the Polyglott ; and Lacey ; for the Sees
1 Pepys's Diary, i. 110-150. ' case of the Scotch Bishops, King
2 Two consecrations had occurred ' James I was present at the
in Henry VII.'s Chapel in the stormy ' consecration in Westminster Abbey.'
years of Williams's period— of Prideaux This is a mistake. They were.conse-
to Worcester, Dec. 19, 1641 ; of Brown- crated in London House. But it shows
ing to Exeter, May 15, 1642. Beve- the sentiment of Beveridge's own time
ridge, in the Debates of tJie Commission with regard to the Abbey.
of 1689 (p. 102), said that, 'in the
CHAP. vi. UNDER CHARLES II. 445
of St. David's, Llandaff, Exeter, Carlisle, Durham, Chester,
and Peterborough. Then again, in the next month, Ironside,
1660_61) Nicolson, the moderate Eeynolds, and Monk, the
jau. e. brother of the General, were consecrated to the Sees
of Bristol, Norwich, Gloucester, and Hereford.1 The year
closed with the ill-omened consecration of the four
new Scottish Bishops : Fairfoul of Glasgow, Hamilton
of Galloway, the apostolical Leighton of Dunblane, the worldly
and unfortunate Sharpe of St. Andrews. ' Once a day,' he had
said in describing his preliminary stay in London, ' I go to the
' Abbey.' 2
These crowded consecrations were afterwards succeeded by
isolated instances down to the beginning of the next century.
Earles, on November 30, 1662, to the See of Worcester ;
Barrow,3 July 5, 1663, to Sodor and Man ; Eainbow, July 10,
1664, to Carlisle; Carleton, February 11, 1672, to Bristol. The
first of these names leads us back to the Deanery. John Earles,
John Earies author of the ' Microcosm,' had attended the Eoyal
dted'at3 ' Family in their exile, and returned with them.4 ' He
burildin666' ' was *ke man °f a^ ^e clerSy f°r wnom the King
Merton < jja(j ^ie greatest esteem, and in whom he could never
College '
chapei. < hear or see any one thing amiss.' 5 He held the
Deanery only two years, before his promotion to the Sees of
Worcester and Salisbury.6 His dear friend Evelyn was present
at his consecration : —
Invited by the Deane of Westminster to his consecration dinner and
ceremony, on his being made Bishop of Worcester. Dr. Bolton preach'd
in the Abbey Church ; then follow'd the consecration by the Bishops
of London, Chichester, Winchester, Salisbury, &c. After this was one
of the most plentiful and magnificent dinners that in my life I ever
saw ; it cost near £600 as I was inform'd. Here were the Judges,
Nobility, clergy, and gentlemen innumerable, this Bishop being univer-
sally beloved for his sweete and gentle disposition. He was author of
those Characters which go under the name of Blount. He translated
his late Ma*?'8 Icon into Latine, was Clerk of his Closet, Chaplaine,
Deane of Westmr, and yet a most humble, meeke, but cheerful man, an
excellent scholar, and rare preacher. I had tlie honour to be loved by
1 Dr. Allestree preached. (Evelyn, 5 Burnet's Own Time, i. 225 ; Wal-
jj igQ \ ton's Lives, i. 415.
- Burton's Hist, of Scotland, vii. 409. 6 He died, to the ' no great sorrow
3 His more famous nephew and ' of those who reckoned his death was
namesake preached the sermon. ' just for labouring against the Five
4 Clarendon's Life, i. 57, 58 ; Pepys, ' Mile Act.' (Calamy's Baxter, i. 174.
i. 96.
446 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
him. He married me at Paris, during his Majesties and the Churches
exile. When I tooke leave of him he brought me to the Cloisters in
his episcopal habit.
Dolben followed ; himself a Westminster student of Christ
Church, and famous in the Civil Wars for his valour at Marston
Moor and at York, and for his keeping up the service
of the Church of England, with Fell and Allestree at
?6°66hester' Oxford. He was the first Dean who, by a combina-
ofrCYorij*°P tion which continued through nine successive incum-
B6urfed at bencies, united the See of Eochester with the Deanery,
York, lose. an(j gave fa that poor and neighbouring bishopric
at once an income and a town residence. He held it till his
translation to York, where he died and was buried. His
daughter Catherine lies in St. Benedict's Chapel. ' He was an
' extraordinary lovely person, though grown too fat ; of an
' open countenance, a lively piercing eye, and a majestic
' presence. Not any of the Bishops' Bench, I may say not all
' of them, had that interest and authority in the House of
' Lords which he had.' During the twenty years of his office,
* he was held in great esteem by the old inhabitants of West-
' minster,' and spoken of as 'a very good Dean.' '
Both in his time, and in his predecessor's, much was spent
by the Chapter on repairs of the church. Dolben persuaded
them, on the day of his installation, to assign an equal portion
of their dividends to this purpose.2 ' That Christ Church,
' Oxford, stands so high above ground, and that the Church of
' Westminster lies not flat upon it,' says South, in dedicating his
Sermon to him, ' is your lordship's commendation." 3
The Plague of 1665 drove the School to Chiswick,4 where
it long left its memorials in the names of the boys written on
the walls of the old College House, including Dryden and
Montague, whose monuments in the Abbey derive additional
interest from their connection with the School.
1 Widmore, pp. 162, 1 64. ' man - my special loving friend and
2 ' Went to see an organ with Dr. ' excellent neighbour ' [at Bromley] .
Gibbons, at the Dean of Westminster's (Evelyn, Memoirs, iii. 206.) ' Dined at
lodgings at the Abbey, the Bishop of ' the Bishop of Rochester's at the
Rochester (Dolben), where he lives ' Abbey, it being his marriage day,
like a great prelate, his lodgings being 'after twenty-four years.' (iii. 58,
very good. I saw his lady, of whom January 14, 1681-82.)
the Terra Filius at Oxford was once 3 South's Sermon on Dolben's con-
so merry, and two children, whereof secration to Rochester,
one a very pretty little boy, like him, 4 Taswell, 9. See Life of Miss
so fat and black.' (Pepys, iv. 51. — Berry, i. 6.
February 24, 1667.) ' A corpulent
CHAP. vi. UNDEK CHARLES II. 447
' Not to pass over that memorable event, the Fire of London,
' September 2 (says a Westminster scholar of that time), it
' happened between my election and admission. On Sunday,
' between one and eleven forenoon, as I was standing upon the
' steps which lead up to the pulpit in Westminster Abbey, I
' perceived some people below me running to and fro in a
' seeming disquietude and consternation.' ' Without any cere-
' mony, I took my leave of the preacher, and ascended Parlia-
' ment Steps near the Thames. The wind blowing strong
' eastward, the flakes at last reached Westminster.' l The
next day, 'the Dean, who in the Civil Wars had frequently
' stood sentinel, collected his scholars together, marching with
' them on foot to put a stop, if possible, to the conflagration.
' I was a kind of page to him, not being of the number of the
' King's scholars. We were employed many hours fetching
' water from the backside of St. Dunstan's in the East. The
' next day, just after sunset at night, I went to the King's
' Bridge.2 As I stood with many others, I watched the gradual
' approaches of the fire towards St. Paul's. About eight
' o'clock the fire broke out on the top of the church .... and
' before nine blazed so conspicuous as to enable me to read
' very clearly a 16mo edition of Terrence which I carried in my
' pocket.' 3
Sprat was the most literary Dean since the time of
Andrewes. His eagerness against the memory of Milton in
Thomas the Abbey, and his liberality towards Dryden, have
Sin of been already mentioned.4 The shifty character which
1084-17U.' he bore in politics is illustrated by his conduct in the
Precincts on the accession of James II. The Prebendaries
were summoned by him to the Deanery in the middle of the
night to be reassured by his account of the new King's speech
at the first Council. They were alarmed, however, at his
coronation to observe that whilst the Queen expressed much
devotion, the King showed little or none, and that at the
responses he never moved his lips.5 The Abbey was almost the
only6 Church in London where James II.'s Declaration of
Indulgence was read. 'I was at Westminster School' (says
Lord Dartmouth) ' at the time, and heard it read in the Abbey.
1 Taswell, 10, 12. See Chapter IV. of Whitehall. (Clarendon's Life, iii. 91.)
- The pier by New Palace Yard. 4 See Chapter IV.
3 Charles II. feared for the Abbey Patrick's Works, ix. 488, 490.
even more than for his own Palace 6 Evelyn, iii. 243.
448 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
' As soon as Bishop Sprat (who was Dean) gave orders for
Reading the * reading it, there was so great a murmur and noise
Seindui-°n * in the Church, that nobody could hear him ; but
2o,ni688Ma7 ' before he had finished, there was none left but a
' few Prebends in their stalls, the choristers, and the West-
' minster scholars. The Bishop could hardly hold the pro-
' clamation in his hands for trembling, and everybody looked
' under a strange consternation.' 1 ' He was surprised on the
' day when the seven Bishops were dismissed from the King's
' Bench to hear the bells of his own Abbey joining in the many
' peals of the other London Churches, and promptly silenced
1 them, not without angry murmurs.' 2 He died in his palace at
' Bromley — where was laid the Flowerpot Conspiracy against
Buried May him — but was buried in the Abbey in the Chapel of
aged??.' St. Nicholas.3 ' The monument was afterwards moved,
* for the sake of greater publicity, to its present position in the
' Nave.' 4 In his time began the expensive repairs 5 which
were carried on for many years under Sir Christopher Wren,
with the help of a Parliamentary grant from the duty on coal,
on the motion of Montague, Earl of Halifax, once a scholar at
Westminster — ' a kind and generous thing in that noble person
' thus to remember the place of his education.' 6
It was through Sprat that Barrow preached7 twice in the
Abbey. The Dean ' desired him not to be long, for that
Barrows ' auditory loved short sermons, and were used to them.
tbT'Abbe™ ' He replied, "My lord, I will show you the sermon,"
' and pulling it out of his pocket, put it into the Bishop's
' hands. The text was, Proverbs x. 18, He that uttereth slander
* is a liar. The sermon was accordingly divided into two parts :
' one treated of slander, the other of lies. The Dean desired
' him to content himself with preaching only the first part ; to
* which he consented not without some reluctancy ; and in
' speaking that only it took an hour and a half. Another
' time, upon the same person's invitation, he preached at the
' Abbey on a holiday. It was a custom for the servants of the
1 Note in Burnet's Own Time, i. 218. 4 Widmore, p. 160.
According to Patrick (ix. 412) he sent it 5 Neale, i. 179. In 1694 a fire in the
' to one of the Petty Canons to read.' Cloisters burnt the MSS. in Williams's
2 Macaulay, ii. 368. Library. (Widmore, p. 164.)
3 His son Thomas, Archdeacon of 6 Widmore, p. 165.
Rochester (1720), and his infant son 7 He also preached, at the consecra-
George, were buried (1683) in the tion of his uncle to the See of Man in
same vault. The latter has a monu- 1663 (see p. 445), a fine sermon on the
ment in the Chapel of St. Benedict. advantages of an established religion.
CHAP. vi. UNDEE JAMES II. 449
' Church on all holidays, Sundays excepted, betwixt the sermon
' and evening prayers, to show the tombs and effigies of the
' Kings and Queens in wax to the meaner sort of people who
' then flock from all the corners of the town to pay the twopence
* to see the play of the dead folks,1 as, I have heard, a Devon-
' shire clown not improperly called it. These persons seeing
* Dr. Barrow in the pulpit after the hour was past, and fearing
' to lose that time in hearing 'which they thought they
' could more profitably employ in viewing, these, I say, became
' impatient, and caused the organ to be struck up against
' him, and would not give over playing till they had blowed
' him down.' 2 The example of Barrow shows that the preaching
in the Abbey was not then confined to the Chapter. Another
instance is recorded by Evelyn : —
In the afternoone that famous proselyte, Monsr- Brevall, preach'd
at the Abbey, in English, extremely well and with much eloquence.
He had ben a Capuchine, but much better learned than most of that
order.3
But the Precincts themselves were well occupied. We
catch a glimpse of them through John North, afterwards Master
John North, of Trinity, who, as Clerk of the Closet, had a stall at
1673-83, . •'/
Prebendary. Westminster,
which also suited him well because there was a house, and accom-
modations for living in town, and the content and joy he conceived in
being a member of so considerable a body of learned men, and dignified
in the Church, as the body of Prebends were — absolutely unlike an
inferior college in the university. Here was no faction, division, or
uneasiness, but, as becoming persons learned and wise, they lived truly
as brethren, quarrelling being never found but among fools or knaves.
He used to deplore the bad condition of that collegiate church, which
to support was as much as they were able to do. It was an extensive
and industrious mariagery to carry on the repairs. And of later time
so much hath been laid out that way as would have rebuilt some part
of it. This residence was one of his retreats, where he found some
ease and comfort in his deplorable weakness.4
Another Prebendary of this time, for sixteen years (1672-
1689), was Symon Patrick, at that time Eector of St. Paul's,
1 See the note at the end of Chap- Nathaniel Hardy, on Feb. 24, 1646 ;
ter iv. Bishop Lloyd, Nov. 5, 1680 ; Bishop
2 Pope's Life of Seth Ward, pp. 147, Hough, Nov. 5, 1701 ; Bishop Beve-
148. ridge, Nov. 5, 1704. These three last,
» Memoirs, February 11, 1671-72. no doubt, were appointed by the House
To these may be added the famous of Lords.
sermons of Fuller, on March 27, 1643 ; 4 Lives of the Norths, iii. 325.
G G
450 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
Covent Garden, afterwards Dean of Peterborough, and Bishop of
symon Chichester and of Ely. A touching interest is added
pr^ndary, to the Precincts by the record of his joys and sorrows.
He first resided there shortly after his singular mar-
riage in 1676, 'in a house new built in the Little Cloisters,
* that he might attend to the office of Treasurer.' 'Here,' he
says, ' we enjoyed many happy days, and my wife thought it the
' sweetest part of our lives which we spent here.' Here he
finished his commentary on the Psalms, ' concluding with the
' last words " Allelujah ! Allelujah ! " 'He had the greater
' reason to be thankful, because God had lately taken away
' an excellent neighbour, Dr. Outram,1 a far stronger man he
' thought than himself.' ' From not preaching in the afternoon
' he had the more leisure for his composures.' In these
cloisters he lost one son, and had another born. ' On that day
' the hymn at evening prayer in the quire of "Westminster was
' the thirty-third Psalm, " Rejoice in the Lord, ye righteous ;
' " for it becometh well the just to be thankful." ' On November
10, 1680, he preached ' a sermon to Convocation in Henry
' VII.'s Chapel, of which the Archbishop (Sancroft) desired to
' have a copy, he being so deafish that he could not hear it.
' On March 24th he had the most pleasant day that he had of
' a long time enjoyed.' He had fasted that day (it was the
vigil of the Annunciation), and found his ' spirit so free, so
' clear, so pleased, that to be always in that blessed temper he
' thought he could be content to be poor, ready to lie under
' any misery .... and could have been contented to eat and
' drink no more, if he could have continued in that sweet disposi-
' tion, which he wished his little one might inherit more than all
' the riches in this world.' The anthem at the evening prayer
was the third Psalm, which he heard with great joy, as applicable
to the Popish Plot. He concluded his meditations with these
words, ' 0 Lord, if it please Thee, give me many more such
' happy days, and make me very thankful, if I have them but
' seldom.' These ' gracious tempers ' returned to him on the
31st at evening prayer, particularly he felt ' what it is to have
' a soul lifted up to God (as the words of the anthem were,
' Psalm Ixxxvi.) above the body, above all things seen in this
' world.' 2
1 See Chapter IV. Sunday, Patrick preached, persuading
2 In this time, when, at the instance to frequent Communion. (Patrick's
of Archbishop Sancroft, the Communion Works, ix. 508.) The quiremen and
was celebrated in the Abbey every servants of the Church were required
CHAT>. YI. UNDER JAMES II. 451
Amidst the troubles of 1687 he lost a little girl, Penelope,
' of very great beauty— very lovely,' he adds, ' in our eyes, and
' grew every day more delightful.' On the 20th of September at
3 A.M. she died, and was buried the same day by the monument
of Dean Goodman. ' It was no small difficulty to keep my wife
' from being overcome with grief. But I upheld and comforted
* her, as she did me, as well as we were able. And the Psalms
* for the day suited us admirably, the first being very mournful,
' and the next exceeding joyful, teaching us to say, " Bless
' " the Lord, 0 my soul," and " Forget not all his benefits." '
In the troubled days of 1688 the Little Cloisters witnessed
more than one interesting interview. On the 7th of August,
Dr. Tenison (writes Patrick) ' came to my house at Westmin-
' ster, where he communicated an important secret to me, that
' the Prince of Orange intended to come over with an army,
' and therefore desired me to carry all my money and what I
' had valuable out of London.' ! On the close of the day
(December 17) on which the Prince of Orange arrived at St.
James's, ' it was a very rainy night, when, Dr. Tenison and I
' being together, and discoursing in my parlour in the Little
' Cloisters, one knocked hard at the door. It being opened, in
' came the Bishop of St. Asaph, to whom I said, " What makes
' " your lordship come abroad in such weather, when the rain2
' " pours down as if heaven and earth would come together ? "
' To which he answered, " He had been at Lambeth, and was
* " sent by the Bishops to wait upon the Prince and know when
' " they might all come and pay their duty to him." ' Well may
that stormy night have dwelt in Patrick's memory. Immediately
afterwards followed his preparation of the Comprehension Bill,
his introduction to the Prince, and his elevation to the see of
Chichester.3
Amongst the Prebendaries of this period we have already
Thomdyke, noticed Horneck, Thorndyke, Triplett, and Outram.
Horneck, Another is Bichard Lucas, who felt in his blind-
TriS, ness that he was not truly released from his duty
oiuram, to that body of which he was still a member, but, as
iffii'in*. < it were " fighting on his stumps," continued to study
' and to write.' But the most conspicuous is Kobert South.
to attend at the three festivals. (Chap- weather. ' Would have me kill my-
ter Book, 1686.) self — Do TOU not see what a cold I
1 Patrick's Works, ix. 513. have ? (and indeed he had a sore one).'
2 The Archbishop, who had con- Patrick, ix. 515.
sented to go, put his refusal on the 3 Patrick, ix. 514-518.
G G 2
452 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
We last saw him as a sturdy Eoyalist boy in the School.
Robert In 1663, by the influence of Lord Clarendon, he received
i663-iVi6. a stall at Westminster, and in 1670 another at
Christ Church. He was presented in 1677 with the living of
Islip, the Confessor's birthplace, one of the choicest pieces of
Westminster preferment, where, in honour of the Founder, he
rebuilt both chancel and rectory. But we here are concerned
south's with him only in connection with Westminster. Of
the Abbey, his famous sermons, some of the most remarkable
were heard in the Abbey, and of these two or three have a
special local interest.1 One was that discourse, marvellous
for its pugnacious personalities, on ' All Contingencies under
' Divine Providence,' which contained the allusions to the
sudden rise of Agathocles ' handling the clay and making
' pots under his father ; ' ' Masaniello, a poor fisherman, with
' his red cap and angle ; ' and ' such a bankrupt, beggarly
' fellow as Cromwell, entering the Parliament House with a
' threadbare torn cloak and a greasy hat, and perhaps neither
' of them paid for.' 2 At hearing which the King fell into a
violent fit of laughter, and turning to the Lord Rochester, said,
4 Ods fish, Lory, your chaplain must be a bishop, therefore
' put me in mind of him at the next death.' But the King
himself died first, and his death prevented the delivery of the
only one of South's sermons which had express reference to the
institution with which he was so closely connected. ' It was
4 planned and proposed to have been preached at Westminster
' Abbey at a solemn meeting of such as had been bred at West-
* minster School. But the death of King Charles II. happening
' in the meantime, the design of this solemnity fell to the ground
4 with him.' 3 It was, however, published at the command of ' a
4 very great person (Lord Jeffries), whose word then was law ns
4 well as his profession,' in the hope that hereafter ' possibly some
* other may condescend to preach it.' It is this discourse which
1A11 Contingencies under Divine as preached at 'Westminster Abbey,
Providence, Feb. 22, 1684-85 ; Wisdom ' on Feb. 22, 1684-85.' This date is
of this World, April 30, 1676 ; Sacra- three wseks after Charles's death, and
mental Preparation, April 18, 1688 ; the story, as above given, is told by
Doctrine of Merit, Dec. 5, 1697 : The Curll (Life of South, p. Ixxiii.) as
Restoration, May 29, 1670; Christian having taken place apparently in the
Mysteries, April 29, 1674; Christian Chapel Royal in 1681. Either this is
Pentecost, 1692 ; Gunpowder Plot, a mistake, or the sermon was preached
Nov. 5, 1663 (at this Evelyn was pre- twice.
sent— Memoirs, ii. 213), 1675, 1688 ; » With the usual deference to royal
Virtuous Education of Youth, 1685, etiquette which has always marked the
all preached ' at Westminster Abbey.' solemnities of the Royal School.
• This sermon is in its title denoted
CHAP. vi. UNDER QUEEN ANNE. 453
abounds in those striking reminiscences of his early school days
already quoted. Had he preached it, he would have had ample
revenge on his severe old preceptor Busby, who would doubtless
have been sitting under him, when he launched out against ' those
' pedagogical Jehus, those furious school- drivers, those plagosi
1 Orbilii, those executioners rather than instructors or masters,
' persons fitter to lay about them in a coach or cart, or to dis-
' cipline boys before a Spartan altar, or rather upon it, than
' to have anything to do in a school.' The sermon would have
impressed his hearers with the seeming unconsciousness of
coming events with which, on the very eve of James II.'s acces-
sion, he ridiculed the ' old stale movements of Popery's being
' any day ready, to return and break in upon us.' And, in
fact, on the very next occasion on which he is recorded to have
preached in the Abbey, on November 5, 1688, we are
startled as we look at the date, and think of the
feelings which must have been agitating the whole congrega-
tion, to find not the faintest allusion to the Kevolution which
that very day was accomplishing itself in William's landing at
Torbay. He had not, however, been insensible to the changes
meditated by James ; and one story connected with his stall at
Westminster exhibits his impatience of the King's favour to
Dissenters. ' Mr. Lob, a Dissenting preacher, being much at
' favour at Court, and being to preach one day, while the
' Doctor was obliged to be resident at Westminster, ... he
' disguised himself and took a seat in Mr. Lob's conventicle,
' when the preacher being mounted up in the pulpit, and
' naming his text, made nothing of splitting it up into twenty-
' six divisions, upon which, separately, he very gravely under-
' took to expatiate in their order ; thereupon the Doctor rose
' up, and jogging a friend who bore him company, said, " Let
' " us go home and fetch our gowns and slippers, for I find this
' " man will make night work of it." '
He was offered the Deanery of Westminster on the death
of Sprat, but replied, ' that such a chair would be too uneasy
Refusal of ' for an old infirm man to sit in, and he held himself
theDeauery, , ^^ ^^ gatisfied ^jfa ^fog upon the eaV6S-
•' dropping of the Church than to fare sumptuously by being
' placed at the pinnacle of it ' (alluding to the situation of
his house under the Abbey). He was now, as he expressed it,
' within an inch of the grave, since he had lived to see a
' gentleman who was born in the very year in which he was
454 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
' made one of the Prebendaries of this Church appointed to be
' the Dean of it.' This feeling was increased on the death of
Queen Anne, ' since all that was good and gracious, and the
' very breath of his nostrils, had made its departure to the
* regions of bliss and immortality,1 In 1715 he dedi-
cated his sixth volume of Sermons to Bromley,
Secretary of State, as ' the last and ibest testimony he can
' render ... to that excellent person.' One of his last public
appearances was at the election in the -Chapter to the office of
High Steward, the candidates being the Duke of Newcastle
Peb 92 anc^ *ne Earl of Arran, the Duke of Ormond's brother,
ins-is. < Wjj0 bad ]os^ his election had not Dr. South, who
' was in a manner bedridden, made the voices of the Prebend-
1 aries equal, when he was asked who he would vote for, Heart
' and soul for my Lord of Arran.' l
He still, as ' for fifty years,' was ' marked for his attention
' to the service in the Abbey ; ' but was at last ' by old age
' reduced to the infirmity of sleeping at it.' It was in this
state that he roused himself to fire off a piece of his ancient wit
against a stentorian preacher at St. Paul's : ' the innocence of
' his life giving him a cheerfulness of spirit to rally his own
' weakness. Brother Stentor, said he, for the repose of the
' Church hearken to Bickerstaff ' [the Tatler], ' and consider
' that while you are so devout at St. Paul's, we cannot sleep
' for you at St. Peter's.' 2
He died on July 8, 1716. Four days after his decease the
corpse was laid in the Jerusalem Chamber, and thence brought
into the College Hall, where a Latin oration was made
over it by John Barber, Captain of the School.
Thence it was conveyed into the Abbey, attended by the
whole Collegiate body, with many of his friends from Oxford ;
and the first part of the service immediately preceded, the
second succeeded, the evening prayers, with the same anthem
of Croft that had been sung at the funeral of Queen Anne.3
He was then laid at the side of Busb}-, by the Dean, at his
1 Chapter Book, Feb. 22, 1715. 2 Tatler, No. 61.
' Ordered that a Patent of the High 3 A ludicrous incident connects this
' Stewardship of Westminster and St. grave ceremony with the lighter tradi-
' Martin le Grand be now handed to the tions of the School. Barber's oration
' Earl of Arran.' Amongst the other was pirated and published by Curll,
names, in a very decrepit hand, is who in revenge was entrapped by the
Robert South, Senr. Freeh, and Arch- boys into Dean's Yard, whipped, tossed
deacon. He was present at one more in a blanket, and forced on his knees to
Chapter, but this is his last signature. apologise. (Alumni West. 268.)
CHAP. vi. UNDEK QEEEN ANNE. 455
special request, 'reading the burial office with such affection
' and devotion as showed his concern ' for the departed.1
The Dean who thus committed South to his grave was
Atterbury, the name which in that office, next after Williams,
Francis occupies the largest space in connection with the
iiiShoPUof' Abbey. We have already, in the account of the Monu-
izTs-fs.61' ments of this period, observed the constant intervention
of Atterbury's influence.2 We must here touch on his closer
associations with the Abbey through the Deanery. He was a
Westminster scholar, and Westminster student at Christ
Church, so that he was no stranger to the place to which, in
later life, he was so deeply attached.
There was something august and awful in the Westminster elec-
tions, to see three such great men presiding —Bishop Atterbury as
Dean of Westminster, Bishop Smalridge as Dean of Christ Church,
and Dr. Bentley as Master of Trinity ; and ' as iron sharpeneth iron,'
so these three, by their wit, learning, and liberal conversation, whetted
and sharpened one another.3
He plunged, with all his ardour, into the antiquarian
questions which his office required. ' Notwithstanding that
His re ' wnen ^G &rs^ was obliged to search into the West-
searches. < minster Archives, such employment was very dry and
' irksome to him, he at last took an inordinate pleasure in it,
' and preferred it even to Virgil and Cicero.' 4
He superintended with eagerness the improvements of the
Abbey, as they were then thought, which were in progress.
His re airs ^^e grea^ North Porch received his peculiar care.
oftheAbbey. 'j['ne great rose window in it, curiously combining
faint imitations of mediaeval figures with the Protestant Bible
in the centre, was his latest interest. There is a charming
tradition that he stood by, complacently watching the work-
men as they hewed smooth the fine old sculptures over Solomon's
Porch, which the nineteenth century vainly seeks to recall to
their vacant places.
Hig His sermons in Westminster were long remem-
. bered :_
The Dean we heard the other day together is an orator. He has
so much regard to his congregation, that he commits to his memory
what he is to say to them ; and has so soft and graceful a behaviour,
' Life, p. 6. a Life of Bislwp Newton.
- Chapter IV. pp. 225, 231, 260, 262, 4 Spectator, No. 447 ; Letters,ii. 157.
263.
456 THE ABBEY SINCE THE EEFOEMATION. CHAP. vi.
that it must attract your attention. His person, it is to be confessed,
is no small recommendation ; but he is to be highly commended for
not losing that advantage, and adding to the propriety of speech
(which might pass the criticism of Longinus) an action which would
have been approved by Demosthenes. He has a peculiar force in his
way, and has many of his audience who could not be intelligent hearers
of his discourse, were there not explanation as well as grace in his
action. This art of his is used with the most exact and honest skill ;
he never attempts your passions, until he has convinced your reason.
All the objections which he can form are laid open and dispersed,
before he uses the least vehemence in his sermon ; but when he thinks
he has your head, he very soon wins your heart ; and never pretends
to show the beauty of holiness, until he hath convinced you of the
truth of it.1
In the School he at once became interested through his
connection with the Headmaster. ' I envy Dr. Freind,' writes
Dean Swift to his brother Dean, ' that he has you for his in-
* spector, and I envy you for having such a person in your
' district and whom you love so well. Shall not I have the
' liberty to be sometimes a third among you, though I am but
' an Irish Dean ? ' 2
This concern in the School has been commemorated in a
memorial familiar to every Westminster scholar. Down to his
His interest time the Dormitory of the School had been, as we
school. have seen, in the old Granary of the Convent, on the
west side of Dean's Yard. The wear-and-tear of four centuries,
The New which included the rough usage of many generations
Dormitory. Of schoolboys, had rendered this venerable building
quite unfit for its purposes. The gaping roof and broken
windows, which freely admitted rain and snow, wind and sun ;
the beams, cracked and hung with cobwebs ; the cavernous
walls, with many a gash inflicted by youthful Dukes and Earls
in their boyish days ; the chairs, scorched by many a fire, and
engraven deep with many a famous name3 — provoked alter-
nately the affection and the derision of Westminster students.
1713 At last the day of its doom arrived. Again and again
the vigorous Dean raised the question of its rebuild-
ing in the College Garden. He and his friends in the Chapter
urged its ' ruinous condition,' its ' liability to mob ; ' the temp-
1 Taller, vol. ii. (No. 66). p. 116. (Sermons, ii. 265 ; iii. 3-221.)
The sermons on Matt. vi. 34, Acts xxvi. 2 Swift's Works, xvi. 55.
26, 1 Pet. ii. 21, Acts i. 3, Mark xvi. 20, 3 Lusus Alteri West. i. pp. 45, 280,
•were preached ' at Westminster Abbey.' 281, 282.
CHAP. vi. UNDEK QUEEN ANNE. 4.57
tations to which, from its situation, the scholars were every
day exposed ; the ' great noise and hurry,' and the ' access of
' disorderly and tumultuous persons.' * The plan was constantly
frustrated by the natural reluctance of those Prebendaries
whose houses abutted on the garden, and who feared that their
privacy would be invaded. The question was tried in Chancery,
and carried on appeal to the House of Lords. There, partly
no doubt by Atterbury's influence, an order was procured that
' every member of the Chapter, absent or present, should give
' their opinion, either viva voce or in writing, which
* place they think the most proper to build a new
' Dormitory in, either the common garden, or where the old
' Dormitory stands.' 2 After a debate, which has left the
traces of its fierceness in the strongly-expressed opinions of
both parties, each doubtless coloured by the local feelings of
the combatants, it was carried, by the vote of the Dean, in
favour of rebuilding it in the garden. The original plan had
been to erect it on the eastern side ; 3 but it was ultimately
placed where it now stands, on the west. Wren designed a
1/22. plan for it,4 which was in great part borrowed by
Lord Burlington, who, as architect, laid the first stone
in the very next year ; and it proceeded slowly, till in 1730 it
was for the first time occupied. The generation of boys to
which Welbore Ellis, Lord Mendip, belonged, slept in both
Dormitories.5 The old building remained till 1758.6 The new
one became the scene of all the curious customs and legends
of the College from that day to this, and, in each successive
winter, of the ' Westminster Play ' of Terence or Plautus.7
But, long before the completion of the work Atterbury had
been separated from his beloved haunts. In that separation
Westminster bore a large part. A remarkable prelude
Eall< to it has been well described by an eyewitness,8 a
printer concerned in the issue of a book by a clergyman re-
flecting on the character of some nobleman : —
1 Chapter Book, Jan. 3, 1713; Dec. 5 Alumni West. pp. 277, 300 ; Lustis
18 and Dec. 29, 1718 ; April 4, 1721 ; West. i. p. 57.
and March 2, 1718 (19). 6 See a picture of it of that date,
- Ibid. April 4, 1721. prefixed to Alumni Westmonasterienses ;
3 Ibid. March 3, 1718 (19). The also in Gent. Mag. [Sept. 1815], p. 201.
undermaster's house was to have been ' See the description of the Theatre
at the south end. When this plan was of earlier days in Lusus West. ii. 29.
changed, the space was left waste till 8 Life of Mr. Tlwmas Gent, p. 88.
ccupied by the present sanatorium. A slightly different version is given in
4 This remains in All Souls' Library. Davies's Memoir of the York Press, 149.
4,58 THE ABBEY SINCE THE [REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
The same night, my master hiring a coach, we were driven to
Westminster, where we entered into a large sort of monastic building,
scene in the Soon were we ushered into a spacious hall, where we sate
college Haii. near a }arge table, covered with an ancient carpet of curious
work, and whereon was soon laid a . bottle of wine for our enter-
tainment. In a little time we were visited by a grave gentleman in
a black lay habit, who entertained us with one pleasant discourse
or other. He bid us be secret ; ' for,' said he, ' the imprisoned divine
4 does not know who is his defender ; if he did, I know his temper ;
4 in a sort of transport he would reveal it, and so I should be blamed
4 for my good office ; and, whether his intention was designed to show
4 his gratitude, yet, if a man is hurt by a friend, the damage is the
4 same as if done by an enemy ; to prevent which is the reason I
' desire this concealment.' ' You need not fear me, sir,' said my
' master ; ' and I, good sir,' added I, ' you may be less afraid of ;
4 for I protest I do not know where I am, much less your person ;
4 nor heard where I should be driven, or if I shall not be drove
4 to Jerusalem before I get home again ; nay, I shall forget I ever
4 did the job by to-morrow, and, consequently, shall never answer
4 any questions about it, if demanded. Yet, sir, I shall secretly re-
' member your generosity, and drink to your health with this brimful
4 glass.' Thereupon, this set them both a-laughing ; and truly I was
got merrily tipsy, so merry that I hardly knew how I was driven
homewards. For my part, I was ever inclined to secresy and fidelity ;
and, therefore, I was nowise inquisitive concerning our hospitable
entertainer ; yet I thought the imprisoned clergyman was happy,
though he knew it not, in having so illustrious a friend, who privately
strove for his releasemeiit. But, happening afterwards to behold a
state-prisoner in a coach, guarded from Westminster to the Tower,
God bless me, thought I, it was no less than the Bishop of Eochester,
Dr. Atterbury, by whom my master and I had been treated ! Then
came to my mind his every feature, but then altered through in-
disposition, and grief for being under royal displeasure. Though I
never approved the least thing whereby a man might be attainted,
yet I generally had compassion for the unfortunate. I was more
confirmed it was he, because I heard some people say at that visit
that we were got into Dean's Yard ; and, consequently, it was his
house, though I then did not know it ; but afterwards learned that
the Bishop of Eochester was always Dean of Westminster. I
thanked God from my heart that we had done nothing of offence,
at that time, on any political account — a thing that produces such
direful consequences.
It was from the Deanery that Atterbury prepared to go in
lawn-sleeves, on Queen Anne's death, and proclaim James III.
CHAP. vi. UNDER THE HANOVERIAN DYNASTY. 459
at Charing Cross.1 ' Never,' he exclaimed, ' was a better cause
' lost for want of spirit.' On the staircase of the Deanery his son-
jacobite in-law Morrice met Walpole leaving the house.2 Atter-
DeanerV!116 bury received him with the tidings that the Minister had
May 1722. jusi made, and that he had just refused, the tempting
offer of the particular object of his ambition,3 the See of Win-
chester (with £5,000 a year till it became vacant), and the
lucrative office of a Tellership in the Exchequer for his son-in-
law. Another visitor came with more success. The Westmin-
ster scholars, as they played and walked in Dean's Yard, had
watched the long and frequent calls of the Earl of Sunderland.4
In the Deanery, in spite of his protestations, we must believe
his conspiracy to have been carried on. ' Is it possible,' he
asked, in his defence before the House of Lords, ' that when I
' was carrying on public buildings of various kinds at Westmin-
' ster and Bromley, when I was consulting all the books of the
* church of Westminster from the foundation that I should
' at the very time be directing and carrying on a conspiracy ? Is
' it possible that I should hold meetings and consultations to
' form and foment this conspiracy, and yet nobody living knows
' when, where, and with whom they were held? — that I, who always
' lived at home, and never (when in the Deanery) stirred out of
' one room, where I received all comers promiscuously, and
' denied not myself to any, should have opportunities of
' enacting such matters ? ' 5 In answer to these questions, a
vague tradition murmured that behind the wall of that ' one
' room,' doubtless the Library, there was a secret chamber, in
which these consultations might have been held. In 1864, on
the removal of a slight partition, there was found a long empty
Atterburys closet, behind the fireplace, reached by a rude ladder,
hidiug-piace. perfectly dark, and capable of holding eight or ten
persons, but which, as far back as the memory of the inmates
of the Deanery extended, had never been explored.6 It had
probably been built for this purpose in earlier times, against
the outer wall (which still remains intact) of the antechamber
1 Coxe's Walpole, i. 167. 4 Bishop Newton's Life, ii. 20.
2 Atterbury Papers ; His Memoir, 5 Letters, ii. 158.
by the Eev. E. Morrice, pp. 11, 12. 6 The venerable Bishop Short (of
3 It was suspected that he looked St. Asaph), who knew the house well
higher still. ' He had a view of Lam- in the time of his uncle, Dean Ireland,
' beth from Westminster.' That was a assured me that there was at that time
great temptation (Calamy's Life, ii. 270). no suspicion of its existence.
460 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. TI.
to the old Refectory. In this chamber, which may have
harboured the conspiracy of Abbot Colchester against Henry
IV., it is probable that Atterbury was concealed in plotting
against George I.1 It was in one of the long days of August,
when he had somewhat reluctantly come to London for the
funeral of the Duke of Marlborough, that he was sitting in the
Deanery in his nightgown, at the hour of ' two in the afternoon '
— a very unusual hour, one must suppose, for such a dress —
Arrest of when the Government officers came to arrest him ;
Au^stU22,' ' and though they behaved with some respect to him,
* they suffered the messengers to treat him in a very
' rough manner — threatening him, if he did not make haste to
' dress himself, that they would carry him away undrest as he
* was.' 2
Atterbury's defence and trial belong to the history of
England. We here follow his fall only by its traces in West-
minster. The Chapter, deprived of their head, had to arrange
their affairs without him. The Subdean and Chapter Clerk
were, by an order from the Secretary of State, ad-
mitted at the close of the year to an interview with him
in the Tower, in the presence of the Lieutenant of the Tower.3
Early in the following year he, by a special act, ' divers good
' causes and considerations him thereto moving,' appointed the
Subdean to transact business in Chapter, ' in as full and ample
* a manner as he himself could do or perform if present in
' Chapter.' 4 During the time of his imprisonment, he was still
remembered in his old haunts (whether in the Abbey or not, is
doubtful), being prayed for under pretence of being afflicted
with the gout, in most churches in London and Westminster.5
After his trial, his last wish, which was denied to him, was to
walk from the House of Lords through the Abbey and see the
great rose-window which Dickinson the surveyor had put up,
in the beginning of the previous year, under his direction, in
the North Transept.6 The Westminster election was going on
at the time, and the Westminster scholars came afterwards, as
1 Here also Dr. Fiddes may have Life of Erasmus : Fiddes's Answer to
been ' entertained ' with materials, Britannicus, 1728.)
matter, and method for his ' Life of - Biog Brit. i. 272. See Chapter IV.
' Wolsey,' as their enemies suggested, 3 Warrant from the Records of the
thus ' laying a whole plan for forming Tower, Dec. 22, 1722. Communicated
' such a life as might blacken the Re- by the kindness of Lord De Ros.
« formation, cast lighter colours upon 4 Chapter Book, April 17, 1723.
'Popery, and even make way for a s Coxe's Walpole, i.170.
Popish pretender.' (Dr. Knight's 6 Akerman, ii. 3.
CHAP. vi. UNDER THE HANOVEKIAN DYNASTY. 461
usual, to see ' the Dean ' — in the Tower. It was then that he
quoted to them the last two lines of his favourite ' Paradise
1 Lost '—
The world is all before me, where to choose
My place of rest — and Providence my guide.1
He embarked immediately after from the Tower in a ' navy
' barge.' Two footmen in purple liveries walked behind. He
himself was in a lay habit of gray cloth. The river was
crowded with boats and barges. The Duke of Grafton pre-
sented him with a rich sword, with the inscription, ' Draw me
' not without reason. Put me not up without honour.'2 The
Chapter meantime were sitting in the Jerusalem Chamber, still
fighting for the payments of moneys, disputed by their late
imperious master, even at these last moments of departure.3
They afterwards gained a poor revenge by reclaiming all the
perquisites of George I.'s coronation and of Marlborough's
funeral, which he, tenacious of power to the end, had carried
off.4 ' The Aldborough man of war, which lay in Long Eeach,
* took the Bishop. Another vessel carried his books and
' baggage.' 5 His ' goods ' were sold at the Deanery, and
' came to an extraordinary good market, some things selling
' for three or four times the value — a great many of his
' Lordship's friends being desirous to have something in re-
' membrance of him.'
His interest, however, in the Abbey and School never
flagged. He still retained in exile a lively recollection of his
His exile, enemies in the Chapter. He was much concerned at
im! ' the death of his old but ungrateful friend, the Chapter
Clerk.6 The controversy as to the jurisdiction of the West-
minster Burgesses pursued him to Montpellier.7 The plans of
Death of his the Dormitory ' haunted his mind still, and made an
N^ajmt; ' impression upon him.' 8 The verses of the West-
2T,ri73oFeb' minster scholars on the accession of George II. were
sent out to him.9 His son-in-law, Dr. Morrice, long kept
the office of High Bailiff.10 He busied himself, as of old, in
the Westminster epitaphs.11 When at last he died at Paris,12
' See Chapter IV. ' ^id. iv. 214, 221.
* Hearne's BeUqmee, 498. Ibid. iv. 219.
3 Chapter Book, June 18, 1723. ' Ibid iv 270 296.
4 Ibid Jan. 28, 1723-24. " IQ the Mural Book. copied from
5 Weekly Journal, March 15, 1723. the plate, it is Feb. 22.
« Letters, iv. 135, 136. " See Chapter IV.
7 Ibid. iv. 202, 211.
462 THE ABBEY SINCE THE KEFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
his body was brought, 'on board the ship Moore,' from
His death Dieppe, to be interred in the Abbey. The coffin
fzsVana was searched at the custom-house, nominally for
M^vTz' lace» reaHy f°r treasonable papers. The funeral took
1732- ' place at night, in the most private manner. He had
long before caused a vault to be made, as he expressed it, ' for
' me and mine,' ' not in the Abbey, because of my dislike to the
' place; but at the west door of it, as far from Kings and
' Caesars ' (at the eastern extremity) ' as the space will admit
' of.' l In this vault had already been interred his youngest
daughter Elizabeth, and his wife, before his exile, and his best
beloved daughter Mary, who died in his arms at Toulouse, and
whose remains, in spite of the long and difficult journey, were
conveyed hither. By her side his own coffin was laid, with the
simple inscription of his name and title, and the dates of his
birth and death, and on the urn containing his heart : — ' In
' hac urna depositi sunt cineres Francisci Atterbury, Episcopi
' Boffensis.' A monument was talked of, but never erected.2 He
had himself added a political invective, which was not permitted
to be inscribed.3
The influences which Atterbury had fostered long lingered
in the Precincts. The house of the Undermaster is inscribed
with the name of Walter Titley, who was preceptor to Atter-
bury's son in the Deanery at the time of the Bishop's arrest,
and who, after many years spent in the diplomatic service in
Copenhagen, left £1,000 to the School, with which the Chapter
restored this house. Samuel Wesley, elder brother
of John and Charles, who inherited his mother's
strong Jacobite tendencies, was attracted to a mastership at
Westminster by his friendship for Atterbury ; and in his house
was nurtured his brother Charles, ' the sweet Psalmist ' of the
1 Atterbury Papers, April 6, 1772. XATUS MARTII vi. MDCLXII.
fWilliarrm's Attfrburv i 373 ^ IN CARCEREM COXJECTUS AUG. xxiv. MDCCXXII.
(\\ima.ms,sAtterOiiry, 1.613.) xoxo POST MEXSE ix JUDICIUM ADDI-, n ,
J-ietters, i. 485. Ine vault was XOVOQUE CRIMIXUM ET TESTIUM GENERE
seen in 1877. The coffins of the IMPETITUS.
Bishop and Mrs. Morrice rested on the ACTA DEIN 1>EB SEP™injM CAUSA
i • mi *3 j_i ™ E VERSI8
two earlier ones. Ihey were evidently TTIM VHTSXTIUM TUM MORTUORUM TESTI-
of foreign make, the interval between MOXIIS,
the lead and the wood was in that of XE DEESSET LEX> QUA PLECTI POSSET,
, . j , , , a j .,, LATA EST TAXDEM MAII XXVII. MDCCXXIII.
his daughter stuffed with straw, evi- CAVETE POSTERI !
dently for the long journey ; in his own, HOC FACINORIS
the straw was gone, probably thrown EPI^°OPORUM' PR^RRSSUS EST' PERPETRAVIT'
away when the coffin was searched at 3EUROBPE^rsPKTES^iLPoGLES A
the Custom House. QUEM XUT.LA XESCIET POSTEP.ITAS.
8 Letters i. 362 : — Epitaphs on Atterbury were composed
CHAP. vi. ATTERBUEY. 463
Church of those days — who went from thence as a Westminster
student to Christ Church.1
The name of Atterbury makes it necessary to pause at this
point, to sum up the local reminiscences of the ecclesiastical
assemblies of the English Church, of which Westminster has
The convo- keen *De scene- ^e nave already traced the con-
catuus at nection of St. Catherine's Chapel with ' The Councils
minster. < of Westminster ' — of the Abbey itself with the great
Elizabethan Conference, and of the Jerusalem Chamber with
the meeting of the Presbyterian divines under the Common-
wealth. It remains for us to point out the growth of the local
association which has been gradually formed with the more
regular body, known as the Convocation of the Province of
' Canterbury.'
The convenience, no doubt, of proximity to the Palace of
Westminster, the seat of Parliament, of which the Convoca-
tions of Canterbury and York were the supplement,
would naturally have pointed to the Abbey. But the
st. Pani's. Primate doubtless preferred to avoid the question of
the exempt jurisdiction of Westminster, and the clergy did not
care to be drawn thither either by the Archbishop or the King.2
Accordingly, whilst the Convocation of York has always
been assembled in the Chapter House of York Minster, the
proper seat of the Convocation of Canterbury is the Chapter
House of the Cathedral of St. Paul's. There the Bishops
assembled in the raised chamber, and the inferior clergy in the
crypt beneath. From this local arrangement have been derived
the present names of ' the Upper ' and ' Lower House.' There
they met throughout the Middle Ages. There the Prolocutor
is still elected, and thence the apparitor comes who waits upon
them elsewhere.
The change at last arose out of the great feud between the
southern and northern Primacies, which had cost Becket his
Transference life, and which had caused so many heartburnings at
•£dS£. the Coronations, and such violent contentions in St.
Catherine's Chapel.3 The transfer of the Convocation from St.
by Samuel Wesley and Crull. (See * Wake's .State of tfo Church, p 42.
Williams's Atterbury, ii. 468, 469.) ' See Chapters II. and V. The
1 Southey's Life of Wesley, i. 19.— rivalry between the Sees of St. Andrews
A special boarding-house for the recep- and Glasgow, in like manner, prevented
turn of the sons of Nonjuring parents for many years the convocation of any
was kept at that time by a clergyman Scottish Councils,
of the name of Bus sell.
464 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. *i.
Paul's to Westminster is the memorial of the one moment of
VuAei English History when, in the pre-eminent grandeur
woisey.1523. Of "Wolsey, the See of York triumphed over the See of
Canterbury. Wolsey, as Legate, convened his own Convocation
of York to London ; 1 and in order to vindicate their rights
from any jurisdiction of the Southern Primate, and also that
he might have them nearer to him at his palace of Whitehall,2
they met, with the Canterbury Convocation, under his Legatine
authority, in the neutral and independent ground of the Abbey
of Westminster. It was in allusion to this transference, by
the intervention of the great Cardinal, that Skelton sang :
Gentle Paul, lay down thy sword,
For Peter of Westminster hath shaved thy beard.3
A strong protest was made against the irregularity of the
removal : but the convenience being once felt, and the charm
once broken, the practice was continued after Wolsey's fall.
Convocation, till the dissolution of the monastery, met at
Westminster, usually in the ancient Chapter House, where
the Abbot, on bended knees, protested (as the Deans in a
less reverent posture since) against the intrusion. It was
Act of sub- *na^ veiT submission to Wolsey's alleged illegal au-
thority as Legate which laid the clergy open to the
Penalties of Praemunire ; and thus, by a singular
House. chance, in the same Chapter House where they had
placed themselves within this danger, they escaped from it by
acknowledging the Royal Supremacy.4 On the occasion of the
appointment of the thirty-two 5 Commissioners to revise the
jui 7-10 Canon Law, it assembled first in St. Catherine's and
154°- then St. Dunstan's Chapel.6 When both Convoca-
tions7 were called to sanction the dissolution of Henry's
marriage with Anne of Cleves, they met in the Chapter House.
Both Primates were present. Gardiner expounded the case,
and the next day they ' publicly and unanimously, not one dis-
' agreeing,' declared it null. From that time onwards, the
adjournment from St. Paul's to the Precincts of Westminster
has gradually become fixed, but always on the understanding
that ' the Convocation is obliged to the Dean and Chapter of
1 Wake, p. 392, App. p. 317 ; Joyce's in the Chapter House and recanted.
English Synods, p. 297. (Ibid. 247.)
2 Strype's E. M. i. 74-76. 5 Ibid. 749.
3 Skelton's Poems. See Chapter V. • See Chapter V.
4 Wilkins, iii. 724, 746, 762. On 7 Wilkins,749.
that occasion Latimer ' kneeled down '
CHAP. vi. THE CONVOCATION OF CANTERBURY. 465
' Westminster, and not to the Archbishop, for their convenient
' accommodation in that church.' l The history of the Convo-
cations under the reigns of Edward and Mary is too slight to
give us any certain clue to the place of their assembling. But
under after the accession of Elizabeth, we find that (in 1563)
flnf^Aprii the Bishops met,2 in the Chapel of Henry VII., some-
in Henry times ' secretly,' Dean Goodman making the usual
chapei. protest.3 The Lower House were placed either in a
chaneis of chapel on the south side of the Abbey, apparently the
It! Andrew! ' Consistory Court,'4 or in the Chapel of St. John and
consistory St. Andrew on the north,5 which came to be called
TherThirty- ' the Convocation House;'6 'sitting amongst the
jSfsJwK?* ' tombs,' as on one occasion Fuller describes them, « as
under James ' once one of their Prolocutors said of them, viva
' cadavera inter mortuos, as having no motion or
' activity allowed them.'7 Of these meetings little beyond
mere formal records are preserved. In them, however, were
signed the Thirty-nine Articles.8
The Convocation under James I. met partly at St. Paul's,
and partly at Westminster. It would seem that its most im-
under portant act — the assent to the Canons of 1603 — was
April i7-' at St. Paul's.9 The first Convocation of whose pro-
1840." ' ceedings we have any detailed account is the unhappy
assembly under Charles I., which, by its hasty and extravagant
career, precipitated the fall both of King and Clergy, and pro-
voked the fury of the populace against the Abbey itself. Both
Houses met in Henry VII. 's Chapel on the first day of their
assembling, and there heard a Latin speech from Laud of three-
quarters of an hour, gravely uttered, ' his eyes ofttimes being
' but one remove from weeping.' 10 Then followed the question-
able continuance of the Convocation after the close of the
Parliament ; the short-lived Canons of 1640 ; the oath, ' which
' had its bowels puffed up with a windy et cetera ; ' the vain
attempt, in these ' troublesome times,' on the part of a worthy
Welshman to effect a new edition of the Welsh Bible; and
1 Narrative of Proceedings [1700, • Burial Register, Nov. 24, 1671.
1701] , p. 41. 7 Fuller's Church History, A.D.
2 Gibson, pp. 150-167. 1621. The erection of the scaffolding
3 Ibid. p. 150. — He had already on these occasions is described in
made a protest at St. Paul's. (Ibid. Keepe, p. 180.
p. 147.) 8 Strype's Parker, i. 242, 243.
4 ' A vestry.' (Expedient, p. 11.) 9 Wiikins, iv. 552-554.
s Gibson, pp. 264, 265. ' A little 10 Fuller's Church History, iii. 409.
' chapel below stairs.' (Expedient, p. 11.)
H H
466 THE ABBEY SINCE THE EEFORMATION. CHAP. TI.
finally the conflict between Laud and Godfrey Goodman, Bishop
of Gloucester. Alone of all the dissentients he had the
courage openly to refuse to sign the Canons. ' Whereupon the
' Archbishop being present with us in Henry VII. 's Chapel,
* was highly offended at him. " My Lord of Gloucester," said
' he, " I admonish you to subscribe ; " and presently after, " My
' " Lord of Gloucester, I admonish you the second time to sub-
' " scribe ; " and immediately after, " I admonish you the third
' " time to subscribe." To all which the Bishop pleaded
* conscience, and returned a denial.' In spite of the re-
monstrance of Davenant, Bishop of Salisbury, he was com-
mitted to the Gatehouse, and for the first time became
popular.1
In the Abbey, after the Restoration, the Convocation met
again, with the usual protest from Dean Earles.2 Their first
tinder occupation was the preparation of the Office for the
mi, May IB. Baptism of Adults, and the Form of Thanksgiving for
the 29th of May. On November 21 they reassembled, and
Revision of entered on the grave task assigned to them by the
Boeokraxov ^m§ of Devising the Prayer Book. In fact, it had
21, i66i. already been accomplished by a committee of Bishops
and others in the Great Hall of the Savoy Hospital, and there-
fore within a week the revision was in their hands,
and within a month the whole was finished. A few
days after the completion of the larger part, the Lower House
was joined by the unusual accession of five deputies from the
Northern Province, by whose vote, under the stringent obliga-
tion of forfeiting all their goods and chattels, the
Lower House of the Convocation of York bound it-
self to abide.3 The Calendar, the Prayers to be used at Sea,
the Burial Service, and the Commination rapidly followed. Xo
record remains of their deliberations. On December 20
were affixed the signatures of the four Houses, as they
now appear in the Manuscript Prayer Book. This no doubt was
in Henry VIL's Chapel. But as the Bishops, by meeting there,
in the had led the way thither for the Assembly of Divines,
dumber? so the Assembly of Divines, by meeting in the Jerusa-
lem Chamber, led the way thither for the Bishops. In
that old monastic parlour the Upper House met, for the first
1 Fuller's Church History. On ' opened.' But it was too late. (Hey-
Nov. 4 of the same year there was ' an lin's Laud, p. 460.)
endeavour, according to the Levitical '- Wilkins, iv. 564, 565.
' laws, to cover the pit which they had s Ibid. 568, 569.
CHAP. vi. THE CONVOCATION OF CANTERBURY. 467
time, on February 22, 1662, and there received the final altera-
tions made by Parliament in the Prayer Book. The attraction
to the Chamber was still, as in the time of Henry IV., the
greater comfort * (pro meliori usu) and the blazing fire. From
1665 to 1689 formal prorogations were made in Henry YII.'s
Chapel, and Convocation did not again assemble till
'
William and
n - /»/->« 1-1 ' •* AI T
XOT. 1689. Even if the precedent of the important Con-
iic89. ' vocation of 1661 had not sufficed for the transfer from
St. Paul's to Westminster, the great calamity which had in the
interval befallen the ancient place of meeting would have pre-
vented their recurrence to it.2 St Paul's Cathedral was but
slowly rising from the ruins of the Fire, and accordingly, after
the appointment of Compton by the Chapter of Canterbury to
fill the place of President, vacant by Sandcroft's3 suspension,
the opening of Convocation took place at Westminster. A
table was placed in the Chapel of Henry VII. Compton was
in the Chair. On his right and left sate, in their scarlet robes,
those Bishops who had taken the oaths to William and Mary.
Below the table were assembled the Clergy of the Lower House.
Beveridge preached a Latin sermon, in which he warmly
eulogised the existing system, and yet declared himself in
favour of a moderate reform. The Lower House then pro-
ceeded to elect a Prolocutor, and, in the place of the temperate
and consistent Tillotson, chose the fanatical and vacillating
Jane. On his presentation to the President, he made his
famous speech against all change, concluding with the
well-known words — taken from the colours of Compton's
regiment of horse — Nolumus leges Anglice mutari. It was on
this occasion that the change of place for the Upper House,
which had been only temporary in 1662, became permanent.
* It being in the midst of winter, and the Bishops being very
' few,' 4 they accepted of the kindness of the Bishop of
Piochester (Dean Sprat) in accommodating them with a good
* room in his house, called the Jerusalem Chamber; and left
' the lower clergy to sit in Henry VII.'s Chapel, and saved
' the trouble and charge of erecting seats where they used to
* meet.1 5
This change was probably further induced by the experience
that some of the Bishops had already had of the Jerusalem
1 Gibson, p. 225. 4 Gibson, p. 225.
- Macaulay, iii. 488. s Expedient proposed by a Country
* Wilkins, Cone. iv. 618. Divine (1702), p. 11. Wilkins, iv. 620.
H H 2
468 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vt.
Chamber, where they had sat in the Commission for revising
commission the Liturgy for eighteen sessions and six weeks,
ot the l beginning on October 3, and ending on November
18. The Commission consisted of ten prelates, six
deans, and six professors. Amongst them were the
distinguished names of Tillotson, Tenison, Burnet,
Beveridge, Stillingfleet, Patrick, Fowler, Scott, and Aldrich.
Larnplugh, Archbishop of York, presided, in the absence of
Bancroft. Sprat, as host, received them ; but after the first
meeting withdrew, from scruples as to its legality. Their dis-
cussions are recorded by Dr. Williams, afterwards Bishop of
Chichester, who took notes ' every night after he went home.'
The imperfect acoustics of the Chamber were felt even in that
small assembly ; ' being at some distance at first, he heard not
' the Bishops so well.' Their work, after lying in the Lambeth
Library for two centuries, was printed in 1854 by order of the
House of Commons. It was the last attempt to improve the
Liturgy and reconcile Nonconformists to the National Church.
But from it directly sprang the revised Prayer Book of the Pro-
testant Episcopal Church of America, and the remembrance of
it will doubtless influence any changes that may be in store for
the English Liturgy itself.
' In this Jerusalem Chamber,' writes one whose spirit was
always fired by the thought of this lost opportunity, ' any
' new Commissioners might sit and acknowledge the genius
' of the place ' — ' kindly spirits, whose endeavours to amend
' our Liturgy might also bring back to the fold such wanderers
' as may yet have the inclination to join our Establishment.'1
That wish has not yet been fulfilled.2 The Convocation, which in
Disputes *ne wul^er °f titm^ vear succeeded to the place of the
between the Commissioners.3 was far otherwise employed in the
LWO X1OUS63 •*• *'
"f^*0jc grave disputes between the Upper and Lower House,
meeting. rphe few Bishops who met in the Jerusalem Chamber
were unable to cope with the determined resistance of the
1 Hull's Church Inquiry, p. 241 that venerable friend of Arnold for the
(1827). happy result of their labours be ful-
" Thus far I had written before July filled. (1867.) It has been frustrated
17, 1867, when another Royal Com- by obstacles similar to those raised in
mission, the first that has been ap- 1689.
pointed for the Revision of the Prayer * See Narrative of Proceedings
Book since the days of Tillotson, as- of Lower House of Convocation, by
sembled in the Jerusalem Chamber to Hooper (1701, 1702) ; An Expedient,
examine the Ritual and Rubric of the by Binckes (1701;; Tfie Pretended
Church of England. May the pious Expedient, by Sherlock (1702).
aspiration breathed forty years ago by
CHAP. vi. THE CONVOCATION OF CANTERBURY. 469
Jacobite majority of the Lower House. « The change of place,
' though merely accidental, made very great alterations in the
' mode of proceeding in Convocation,' chiefly turning on the
complications which ensued on adjournments being read, as
from the Upper House, in Henry VII.'s Chapel, which had now
by use become the place of the Lower House. There they
refused even to consider the proposals of the Bishops, and
were accordingly prorogued till 1700. By that time they were
able again to open their meeting in the restored St. Paul's.
But their discussions took place, as before, in the Chamber
and the Chapel at Westminster. There the Lower House, by
continuing their assemblies in the Chapel of Henry VII., as
independent of the prorogation of the Bishops, ' inflicted ' —
say the injured rprelates — ' the greatest blow to this Church
* that hath been given to it since the Presbyterian Assembly
* that sate in Westminster in the late times of confusion.'
A paper, containing a passage defamatory of the Bishops,
was by their orders fixed, with a kind of challenge, ' over
' several doors in Westminster Abbey.' l The anteroom 2 to
Dispute in the Jerusalem Chamber became the scene of angry
Room. chafings on the part of the Lower House, which had
been made to wait there — according to one version a few
minutes, according to another two hours? — whilst the Upper
House was discussing their petition; by the insolence of the
Upper House according to one version, by the mistake of the
door-keeper according to another. In this small antechamber
it was that the Prolocutor met the Bishop of Bangor
June 6, 1702. , . , , . , , , • j i i • * -» r
(Evans), ' putting on his habit, and said to mm, ' My
' Lord of Bangor, did you say in the Upper House that I lied ? ' 4
To which the Bishop replied in some disorder — ' I did not say
' you lied ; but I said, or might have said, that you told me a
' very great untruth.' 5 In the Chamber itself,, the Prolocutor
encountered a still more formidable antagonist in Bishop
Burnet, fresh from reading the condemnation of his work by
the Lower House. ' This is fine indeed ; this is according to
' your usual insolence.' ' Insolence, my Lord ! ' said the Pro-
locutor ; ' do you give me that word ? ' 'Yes, insolence ! '
1 History of Convocation in 1700, after first assembling in the Consistory
p. 75. Court. (Atterbury, ir. 342, 381.)
2 It -was then as now called 'the Or- * History of Convocation in 1700,
' gan Chamber.' (Ibid. p. 169.) On one p. 110.
occasion, March 7, 1702, the Lower Ibid. p. 166.
House met there (Cardwell, p. xxxiii.), s Ibid. p. 204- ; Narrative, pp. 67-69.
470 THE ABBEY SINCE THE EEFOKMATION. CHAP. vt.
replied the Bishop ; ' you deserve that word, and worse. Think
' what you will of yourself ; I know what you are.' l Here
Feb 12 ' My Lord's grace of Canterbury ' interfered. On
another occasion, after the prorogation had been read
and signed in the Upper House, as the clergy were departing
out of the Jerusalem Chamber, Dr. Atterbury, towards the
door, was pushing on some members, and saying, ' Away to
' the Lower House ! — away to the Lower House ! ' The Chan-
cellor of London, turning back to him, asked ' if he was not
' ashamed to be always promoting contention and division ; '
and they continued their altercation in still stronger language.2
It is not necessary here to follow up those altercations
which turned the Chapel of Henry VII. and the Jerusalem
Chamber into two hostile camps, with the Organ-room for an
intermediate arena — the discussion of Dodwell's work on Bap-
tism, and of Brett's work on Sacrifice ; the condemnation of
Bishop Burnet's 'Exposition of the Articles,' and of Bishop
Hoadley's 'Sermon on the Kingdom of Christ;' of "Winston's
work on the * Apostolical Constitutions ; ' of Clarke's work on
the ' Scriptural Doctrine of the Trinity.' We can imagine the
fierce eloquence of Atterbury as Prolocutor of the Lower House
in Henry VII. 's Chapel ; and in the Jerusalem Chamber the
impetuous vehemence of Burnet ; the stubborn silence of the
' old rock,' Tenison ; the conciliatory mildness of Wake. We
can see how, when Archbishop Tenison suddenly produced in
the Chamber the letter from Queen Anne, reprimanding the
Lower House, and enjoining the Archbishop to prorogue them,
* they ran away indecently towards the door, and were with
' some difficulty kept in the room till the prorogation was
' intimated to them.' 3 But hardly any permanent fruits remain ; 4
and, except in the allusions of innumerable pamphlets, hardly
any record of the disputes, which were for the most part bitter
Prorogued personal recriminations. They were finally prorogued
in 1717, and did not meet again for business till our
own time.5 Formal citations, however, seem to have brought
them together from time to time in the Abbey; and on one
occasion, in 1742, an attempt was made, by Archdeacon
1 History of Convocation in 1700, p. ' and Churchyards,' sanctioned by the
Convocation of 1711, in consequence
2 Biog. Brit. i. 269. of the building of fifty new churches
3 Burnet's Own Time, ii. 413. in London and Westminster. (Bur-
4 The only permanent result was net's Own Time, ii. 603.)
' the Office for Consecrating Churches 5 Wilkins, iv. 670-676.
CHAP. vi. THE CONVOCATION OF CANTERBUKY. 471
Reynolds, to read a paper on Ecclesiastical Courts. But,
being of a latitudinarian tendency, it was not acceptable to the
House, and it was stopped by the Prolocutor, who 'spoke
' much of Praeniunire, and that word was echoed and re-
' verberated from one side of good King Henry's Chapel to the
' other.' '
The time has not yet come when we can safely enter even
on the local associations of the proceedings of the Convocation
of Canterbury, when its discussions were renewed under the
administration of Lord Derby. Its formal openings took
place, as before and since, in the precincts of St. Paul's. Its
Revived first meeting for business was on the 12th of November,
1852,2 accompanying the Parliament assembled for the
Duke of Wellington's funeral. Sixteen Bishops were present.
The proceedings began, as has been the case ever since, in the
Jerusalem Chamber, which was given up to the Lower House,
after their names had been called over in the Abbey; the
Upper House retiring to the Library of the Deanery, the ' one
' room ' inhabited by Atterbury, and at this time vacant by the
illness of Dean Buckland. In this room the Prelates virtually
determined the framework of the future proceedings of the
body in an animated discussion which lasted three days. At
the next meeting the Bishops occupied the Jerusalem Chamber,
the Lower House assembling in such scanty numbers as to be
accommodated in the Organ-room. Subsequently the Bishops,
after a formal opening in the Jerusalem Chamber, adjourned
to the office of Queen Anne's Bounty in Dean's Yard — leaving
the Lower House in the Jerusalem Chamber, as on a former
occasion they had left it in Henry VII. 's Chapel. In that
historic Chamber it has sat without interruption, but without
any permanent fruits. The only exception to its occupation
of the Chamber has been when, to accommodate a larger at-
tendance (with the sanction, in later days, of the Governors of
Westminster School), the College Hall has been granted for
that purpose by the Dean.
A work of more enduring interest than any decrees of
Convocation has been connected with the Precincts of West-
minster. When the royal commission was issued by James I.
1 Letter to Dr. Lisle, p. 11 ; Bey- all its details, is well described in the
nolds's Historical Essays, p. 207 ; com- Christian Remembrancer, vol. xxv. 163-
municated by Dr. Fraser. 187.
• The scene of this opening, with
472 THE ABBEY SINCE THE KEFOKMATION. CHAP. vi.
for the revision of the precious translations of the Bible,
Translation which issued in the Authorised Version of 1611, the
Engifsh translators were divided into three companies. Of the
Bible, leu. Oxford and Cambridge companies we need not here
speak. But we cannot doubt that the ' Westminster Company,'
of which the chief was Dean Andrewes, met under his auspices,
probably in the Jerusalem Chamber, and it is certain that the
Welsh translation, which immediately preceded this,1 was
carried on in the Deanery. The Dean at that time (Andrewes'
predecessor) was the Welshman Gabriel Goodman. For a
whole year his countryman Bishop Morgan, the chief translator,
was lodged at the Deanery (in preference to an invitation
which he had received from the Primate), on the ground that
at Lambeth the Thames would have inconveniently divided
him from the printing-press.
This early connection of the translation of the Bible with
Westminster was revived when in our own time, on the motion
of Convocation, and ultimately under the control of the Uni-
versity Presses, a new revision was undertaken. The companies
of translators, drawn from both Universities, and from all
sections of ecclesiastical life in England, met for this work,
always at Westminster, usually in the Jerusalem Chamber ;
sometimes in the Chapter Library, occasionally in the Deanery.
Its first beginning was inaugurated by a scene which, though
it afterwards gave rise to some acrimonious discussion, at the
time impressed all those who witnessed it, and most of those
who heard it, with a sense of solemn and edifying pathos.
The west- ' Preparatory to their entrance on their important
communion. ' work, a notice had been issued to each of the
* revisers, to the effect that the Sacrament would be administered
' in Henry VII.'s Chapel, on the day of their first meeting, to
' such of the body as should feel disposed to attend. The Dean
' read the service from the Communion Table at the head of
' Henry VII.'s tomb. It so happened that this Table thus
' received its first use. It had within a few days past, as the
* inscription round it records, been erected in the place of the
' ancient altar which once indicated the spot where Edward VI.
' was buried. On the marble slab which covers its top was
' placed the recovered fragment of the beautifully carved frieze
' of the lost altar, together with other fragments of ruined
1 Preface to Morgan's Translation of the Bible.
CHAP. vr. THE CONVOCATION OF CANTERBURY. 473
' altars which happened to be at hand for a like purpose.1 In
' front of this table, thus itself a monument of the extinct
' strifes of former days, and round the grave of the youthful
' Protestant King, in whose reign the English Bible first
' received its acknowledged place in the Coronation of the
' Sovereign, as well as its free and general circulation through-
' out the people, knelt together the band of scholars and divines,
' consisting of representatives of almost every form of Christian
' belief in England. There were Bishops of the Established
' Church, two of them by their venerable years connected with
' the past generation ; there were delegates from our historic
' Cathedrals and Collegiate Churches, our Universities, our
' parishes, and of our chief ecclesiastical assembly; and with
' these, intermingled without distinction, were ministers of the
' Established and of the Free Church of Scotland, and of almost
' every Nonconformist Church in England — Independent,
' Baptist, Wesley an, Unitarian. It is not to be supposed that
' each one of those present entered with equal agreement into
* every part of the service ; but it is not without a hopeful sig-
' nificance that, at the time, such various representatives of
' British Christendom partook, without difficulty, on such an
' occasion in the sacred ordinance of the Christian religion.'
It was called by a devout theologian, since departed, ' a true
' Elevation of the Host.'
We return to the general history of the Abbey.
The School during this period had reached its highest pitch
of fame. Knipe, who had been second Master under Busby,
Knipe Head- and succeeded him as Headmaster, after fifty years'
JSSJSru. labour in the School, was buried in the North Cloister,
He^dmWer anc^ commemorated by a monument in the South Aisle
buriedU ' °f the Choir. Freind is especially connected with the
wituey. Abbey by his numerous inscriptions,2 by his steadfast
friendship with Atterbury, and by his establishment of the
Westminster dinners on the anniversary of the accession of the
Foundress.
It was at this time that an alarming fire took place in the
Fire in the Precincts. On the site of the Old Kefectory was a
mif*"' stately house built by Inigo Jones,3 and illustrated
by Sir J. Soane. A beautiful staircase of this period still
1 From the High Altar at Canter- sinian altar at Magdala, brought home
bury, burnt in 1174 : from the altar in 1866.
of the Greek Church at Damascus, ~ See Chapter IV.
destroyed in 1860 ; and from an Abys- 3 Gleanings, 228.
474 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFOKMATIOX. CHAP. vi.
remains. It has gone through various changes. In 1708, it
was occupied by Lord Ashburnham, and from him took the
name of Ashburnham House. In 1739, it reverted to the
Chapter, and was divided into two prebendal houses, of which
the larger was in later years connected with the literature of
England, when occupied first as a tenant by Fynes
Clinton, the laborious author of the ' Fasti Hellenici,' l
and then by Henry Milman, poet, historian, and divine, as
Canon of Westminster. In the intervening period it
1 QQ^_I 849
had become the property of the Crown, and in 1712
received what was called the King's Library, and in 1730 the
Library of Sir Eobert Cotton. Dr. Bentley happened to be in
town at the moment when the house took fire. Dr. Freind,
the Headmaster, who came to the rescue, has recorded how
he saw a figure issuing from the burning house, into Little
Dean's Yard, in his dressing-gown, with a flowing wig on his
head, and a huge volume under his arm. It was the great
scholar carrying off the Alexandrian MS. of the New Testament.
The books were first placed in the Little Cloisters, in the
Chamber of the Captain, and in the boarding-house in Little
Oct. s, i73i. Dean's Yard, and then on the following Monday
Bradford, removed to the Old Dormitory, just vacated, till, in
1757, they reached their present abode in the British
Museum.2
Bradford, who had already been prebendary of
of wlstoin- Westminster for nearly twenty years, took Atterbury's
sfshop'of place in the Chapter, whilst Atterbury was still in the
juuafms. Tower. His conciliatory character recommended him
wficock« as a n^ person to end the feuds which, in Atterbury's
De3ano6f time, had raged between the Dean and Canons, and
MdSBw"oper did, in fact, tend to assuage the strife between West-
of Rochester. mmster and Bentley.3 He was the first Dean of the
Order of the Bath.4 He lies near his monument in the North
Transept.
Wilcocks, who had been elected Fellow of Magdalen Col-
lege, in the ' golden election,' with Addison and Boulter, dis-
tinguished himself by his courageous devotion to the sick
whilst chaplain at Lisbon, and afterwards as preceptor to the
Princesses of the Eoyal Family. It was in this period that
1 Clinton's Literary Remains, 262- Nichols's Anecdotes, ix. 592.
295. s Monk's Life of Bentley, p. 535.
- Walcott's Westminster, p. 90 ; 4 See Chapter II. p. 84.
Monk's Life of Bentley, p. 577 ;
CHAP. vi. IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 475
the neighbourhood of the Abbey, as the eighteenth century
advanced, began to be gradually cleared of the incumbrances
which closed it in. Then was commenced the most important
change in the architectural and topographical history of West-
minster since the building of the Abbey and Palace. Amidst,
much opposition the attempts which had been fruitlessly made
in the several reigns of Elizabeth, James I., Charles I., Charles
II., and George I., to secure another bridge over the Thames
besides that of London, at last succeeded. All the arts that
old monopoly and prejudice could bring to bear were used,
but in vain, and Westminster Bridge, after a brief but fierce
Buiuuns? of discussion whether it should start from the Horseferry
Bridge, i73s. Pier or the ancient pier by New Palace Yard, was at
last fixed where it now stands, and the first stone was laid in
1738 by the Earl of Pembroke. This great approach at once
prepared the way for further changes. The ancient Woolstaple,
or Pollen stock, of Edgar's charter was swept away to make
room for the western abutment of the bridge in 1741. On the
site of the small courts and alleys l which surrounded the Abbey,
rose Bridge Street and Great George Street. By the side of
the narrow avenue of King Street was opened, as if for the
growth of the rising power whose name it bore, the broad way
of Parliament Street. St. Margaret's Lane, between the Church
and Palace, was widened — having been before so constructed as
to require high pales to protect the foot passengers from the
mud splashed on all sides by the horses. With thoses changes
the administration of the Abbey by Wilcocks, in great measure,
coincided. During the twenty-five years in which he presided
over it, the heavy repairs, which had been in progress almost
since the Eestoration, were completed.2 He, ' being a gentle-
' man of taste and judgment, swept away ' 3 two prebendal
houses in the Cloisters, and two others 'between4 the north
' door and west end ' of the Nave, as well as two others on the
side of Henry VII. 's Chapel.5 The present enclosure of
Dean's Yard was now formed partly from the materials of the
1 Westminster Improvements, 20-22. 5 This was at the suggestion of Par-
- He restored, as is described in his liament. (Chapter Book, March 11,
epitaph, the monthly residence of the 1731 ; March 23, 1735 ; February 17,
Prebendaries. 1738.) Out of the money granted by
3 Gwyn's London and Westminster, Parliament for this purpose was bought
p. 90. Ashburnham House, which was divided
4 It appears from the Chapter Order, into two prebendal houses, to compen-
December 2, 1741, that there were two sate for the loss of the others. (Ibid,
gates opening from one of these houses Oct. 29, 1739 ; June 14, 1740.) See
into the churchyard. P- 474.
476 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION CHAP. vi.
old Dormitory and Brewhouse.1 Six new elms were planted.
For the first time there appears a scruple against
putting up a monument in Henry YII.'s Chapel, ' as it
' will necessarily hide or deface some of the curious workman-
The western ' ship thereof.' 2 Above all, whilst the projected Spire
1738-9?' was finally abandoned, the Western Towers of Sir
Christopher Wren were finished.3 It is interesting to mark
the extreme pride which the aged Dean took in commemo-
rating, as a glory of his office, that which the fastidious taste
of our time so largely condemns. On his monument in the
Abbey, in his portrait in the Deanery, in the picture of the
Abbey 4 by Canaletti — which he caused to be painted evidently
for their sake — the Towers of Wren constantly appear. He
was buried under the southern of the two, in a vault made for
himself and his family, as recorded in an inscription still
remaining ; and his tablet was erected near his grave, by his
son Joseph, called by Pope Clement XIII., who knew him well
during his residence at Eorne, ' the blessed heretic.' 5 Both
father and son were admirable men. Over the Dean's bier, in the
College Hall, was pronounced the eulogium, 'Longum esset persequi
' sanctissimi senis jucunditatem.' Each took for his motto, in a
slightly different form, the expression, ' Let me do all the good
' I can.' The son, whenever he came to London, ' always went
' to the Abbey for his first and last visit ; 6 in particular that part
' of it where his father's monument stands, and near which the
' Bishop, with his mother and sister and himself, rests in peace.'
Zachary Pearce was one of the numerous fruits of Queen
Caroline's anxiety to promote learning. From the Deanery of
zachary Winchester and the See of Bangor, he was advanced,
iTseMis. by his friend Lord Bath, to the Deanery of West-
minster and the See of Rochester, although with great reluc-
tance on his part, which ultimately issued, after vain attempts
1 Chapter Order, May 28, 1756. towers and made a design for the whole.
The materials were given to Dr. Mark- But after his death in 1723, the upper
man (then Headmaster), and Mr. Salter part was completed by Hawksmore,
— one of the Prebendaries alone pro- and after his death in 1736 probably
testing, Dr. Wilson, son of the good by James. (See Longman's St. Paul's,
Bishop of Man. His solitary ' I dis- p. 86.)
' sent ' appears in the Chapter Book, 4 It was his son who left to the
and he published a pamphlet against Deanery the bust and the picture of
it, with the motto from Micah ii. 2 the Abbey. (Chapter Book, June 27,
(1757). 1793, March 3, 1795.)
" Chapter Order, May 1, 1740. ° Preface to Wilcocks's Roman
(Monk's monument.) Conversations, p. xli.
3 Chapter Book, Feb. 17, 1738-39. « Ibid. p. xxxiv.
Wren restored the lower part of the
CHAP. vi. IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 477
to resign the Bishopric, in his retirement from the Deanery,
in his seventy- fourth year. This is the sole instance of such
an abdication. 'His exultation at the accomplishment of his
' long disappointed wish, the Bishop expressed ' in a soliloquy
entitled ' The Wish, 1768, when I resigned the Deanery of
' Westminster,' which begins, ' From all Decanal cares at last
' set free.' l In 1774, in his eighty-fourth year, he died at
Bromley, where he is buried with an inscription dictated by
himself, which, after recording his various preferments, con-
cludes by saying, ' He resigned the Deanery of Westminster,
' and died in the comfortable hope of (what had been his chief
' object in life) being promoted to a happier sphere hereafter.'
It agrees with the gentle self-complacency of a remark, in
answer to an inquiry how he could live on so scanty a diet —
' I live upon the recollection of an innocent and well-spent
' life, which is my only sustenance.' His disastrous proposals
for the Monuments in the Abbey have been already noticed.2
He is commemorated there by a cenotaph in the Nave, of which
the inscription was composed by his successor, and ascribes 3
' the uncommon resolution ' of his resignation, to his desire to
finish his commentary on the Gospels and Acts. In his
time was celebrated the Bicentenary of the Foundation,
by a sermon from the Dean in the Choir on Prov. xxxi. 31, and
by English verses and an English oration from the Scholars in
the Gallery of the College Hall.4
John Thomas was the third of these octogenarian Deans.
He was promoted to the Deanery through the interest of his
joim predecessor Zachary Pearce, and held it for six years
n68mBSishop al°ne 5 then, on Pearce's death, he received also the
ira°°dfeder> See of Rochester. He was buried in his parish,
^uBi™ley> Bletchingley, but has a monument in the South Aisle
1793. ' Of ^e Nave, next to his patron Pearce, and copied by
Bacon from a protrait by Reynolds. The King was overheard
to say on his appointment, ' I am glad to prefer Dr. Thomas,
' who has so much merit. We shall now be sure of a good
* sermon on Good Friday.' 5 This alludes to the long-
Scrmons on ^ . l
Good Friday, established custom, by which the Dean of West-
minster (probably from the convenience of his being in town
at that season) preaches always in the Chapel Royal on that
1 Life of Dean Thomas, p. Ixxxiii. 4 Chapter Book, June 3, 1705.
2 See Chapter IV. Gent. Mag. xxx. 297.
3 Life of Dean Thomas, p. Ixxxv. * Life of Dean Thomas, p. Ixxxi.
478 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
day.1 Nine of these are published. He was remarkable for per-
forming his part at the Installations of the Bath ' with peculiar
' address and adroitness.' 2 ' Which Dr. Thomas do you mean ? '
asked some one shortly before his promotion, in allusion to two
of that name. — ' Dr. John Thomas.' ' They are both named
' John.' — ' Dr. Thomas who has a living in the city.' ' They
' have both livings in the city.' — ' Dr. Thomas who is chaplain
' to the King.' ' They are both chaplains to the King.' — ' Dr.
* Thomas who is a very good preacher.' ' They are both very
* good preachers.' — ' Dr. Thomas who squints.' ' They both
' squint.' — They were both afterwards Bishops.3
A remarkable scene is related in connection with his office,
by one who was at the time a Westminster scholar. He was,
Tumnitin i11 the days of its highest unpopularity, an advocate
the cloisters. £or fae removal of the disabilities of Roman Catholics.
Accordingly, when returning from the Abbey he was met in the
cloisters ' by a band of tumultuous and misguided enthusiasts,
' who seized him by his robes, and demanded " how he meant
' " to vote in the House of Lords ? " To which with great
' presence and firmness the Bishop replied, " For your interests
' " and my own." "What then? you don't mean to vote for
1 " Popery?" — "No," said he, "thank God, that is no part of
' " our interests in this Protestant country." Upon hearing
' which one of the party clapped his Lordship on the back, and
' cleared the passage for him, calling out, " Make way for the
' " Protestant Bishop." ' 4 To his turn for music the Abbey
doubtless owed the refitting of the Choir in his time, and also
Handei the Festival on the centenary of Handel's birth.5 It
1784.™ was suggested by Lord Fitzwilliam, Sir Wat-kin
Williams Wynne, and Joah Bates. The Nave was arranged
by James WTyatt. The orchestra was at the west end. Burney
remarks on the fitness with which, in the Hallelujah Chorus,
the orchestra seemed 6 ' to unite with the saints and martyrs
* represented on the stained glass in the west window, which
' had ah1 the appearance of a continuation of it.' The King
and Royal family, and the chief personages, sate at the east
end. The School were in the Choir behind. The organ, just
1 The custom appears in Evelyn's replace the fund left by Titley.
Memoirs, iii. 79, 158. So the three 3 Life of Bishop Newton.
Good Friday sermons of Andrewes 4 Life of Dean Thomas, p. Ixxxvi.
when Dean of Westminster. (Life of * Xeale, i. 211.
Andrewes, 97.) 6 Barney's Account of the Handel
2 Life of Dean Thomas, p. Ixxxix. Commemoration, part vi. p. 84.
He made a bequest to the school to
CHAP. vi. IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 479
built by Green of Islington for Canterbury, was put up in the
Abbey, ' before its departure for the place of its destination.' l
All the music was selected from Handel's own compositions,
and it is said that at the Hallelujah Chorus George III. rose,
affected to tears, and the whole assembly stood up at the same
moment. Hence the custom, now universal, of standing at the
Hallelujah Chorus. It was originally intended to have been on
the 20th, 21st, and 22nd of April, so as to coincide with the
day of Handel's funeral in the Abbey, but was postponed till
the 26th, 27th, and 29th of May, to which the 3rd and 5th of
June were afterwards added. The success of this experiment,
before an audience of 10,480 persons, encouraged the per-
formance of similar meetings on a larger scale, under the title
of ' Great Musical Festivals,' in 1785, 1786, 1787, and 1791,
when the performers are said to have amounted, though not on
any one occasion, to 1,068 persons. They were discontinued
during the war, and not revived till 1834, when a similar
festival took place, which, though occurring at the exact
interval of half a century from the first commemoration of
Handel, did not bear that name, and included the works of
nine other composers besides those of the great musician. It
was suggested by Sir George Smart, and adopted, somewhat
against the wishes of the Dean and Chapter, at the request or
command of William IV., who wished to imitate his father's
example. Its effect, however, was considerable, and it may be
regarded as the parent of the concerts of the Sacred Harmonic
Society in London.2
Sir Joshua Eeynolds has immortalised for us the features
of the venerable Headmaster, Dr. Nicoll, who occupies the
, last half of the century. It was under him that
p< icon. Head- "
i733-C88 Warren Hastings and Elijah Impey were admitted3
in the same year, unconscious of the strange destiny
i747.in which was afterwards to bring them together in
India. They, with twenty-one other Westminster Scholars,
in that distant land (in which so many of this famous School
have made their fame or found their grave), commemorated
their recollection of their boyish days in Dean's Yard and on
the Thames by determining to present to the Scholars' Table a
silver cup,4 which, inscribed with their names, and ornamented
, p. 8. 3 1747 : see Alumni Wcstmonast.
2 Handel Festival of 1859, at the pp. 342, 345.
Crystal Palace, p. v. 4 For the cup see Alumni West.
480 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vr.
by handles in the form of elephants, is still used on the solemn
festive occasions of the collegiate body. Contemporary with
Hastings was another boy, of a gentler nature, on whom also,
cowper in spite of himself, Westminster left a deep impression.
1745-49, ( Thai I may do justice,' says the poet Cowper, ' to
' the place of my education, I must relate one mark of religious
' discipline which was observed at Westminster : I mean the
* pains which Dr. Nicoll took to prepare us for Confirmation.
' The old man acquitted himself of this duty like one who had
' a deep sense of its importance ; and I believe most of us were
' struck by his manner and affected by his exhortations. Then,
' for the first time, I attempted to pray in secret.' Another
serious impression is still more closely connected with the
locality. * Crossing St. Margaret's Churchyard late one
' evening, a glimmering light in the midst of it excited his
' curiosity, and, instead of quickening his speed, he, whistling
* to keep up his courage the while, went to see whence it pro-
' ceeded. A gravedigger was at work there by lantern-light,
' and, just as Cowper came to the spot, he threw up a skull,
' which struck him on the leg. This gave an alarm to his con-
' science, and he reckoned the incident as among the best
' religious documents which he received at Westminster.' l
Amongst his other schoolfellows were Churchill, Lloyd, Cole-
man, and Cumberland (who was in the same house with him),
and Lord Dartmouth (who sate side by side with him in the
sixth form), and the five Bagots, ' very amiable and valuable
' Loys they were.' 2 Doubtless much of the severe indignation
expressed in the ' Tirocinium ' was suggested by his recollection
of those days ; but when he wished for comfort in looking
backward, 'he sent his imagination upon a trip thirty years
' behind him. She was very obedient and very swift of foot ;
' and at last sat him down in the sixth form at Westminster '
— ' receiving a silver groat for his exercise, and acquiring fame
Markham, ' at cricket and football.'3 Nicoll was succeeded by
1753, buried' Markham, also known to us through Eeynolds's
ISO/. ' portrait, friend of Hastings4 and of Mansfield. He
became tutor to George IV., and rose to the see of York. He
was buried in his old haunts in the North Cloister, where a
monument is erected to him by his grandchildren. Of the
346 ; Lusus Westm. i. 326 ; ii. pp. vii. - Ibid. v. 114.
viii. s Ibid. i. 15, 17-20.
1 Southey's Cowper, i. 13, 14. 4 Alumni West. 318.
CHAP. vi. IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 481
Prebendaries of this period some notice may be given. In the
eyiin. South Transept lies John Heylin, the mystic friend of
Butler» and preacher of the sermon (on 2 Tim. ii. 15, 16)
at nis consecration.1 Another was Thomas Wilson,
son of the good Bishop, whose strenuous and solitary
opposition to the formation of Dean's Yard has been already
Kennicott. noticed.2 A stall at Westminster was the first reward
i77o. ' of Dr. Kennicott for his lectures on the Old Testament,
so fiercely attacked, and afterwards so highly valued.
The eighteenth century closes with Horsley. He won, it is
said, his preferment to the Deanery and the See of Eochester
kj a sermon which, as Bishop of St. David's, he
preached in the Abbey on January 30, 1793, before the
House of Lords, on the anniversary of the execution of Charles
I., and a few days after the execution of Louis XVI. It was
customary, on these and on like occasions, for the House of
Lords to attend Divine Service in the Abbey, and for the House
of Commons in St. Margaret's Church. The Temporal Peers
sate on the south side, with the Lord Chancellor at their head
—originally in the pew under Eichard II.'s picture, in later
times near the Dean's or in the Subdean's stall. The Bishops
were on the north side. The solemn occasion, no doubt, of
Horsley's sermon added to the grandeur of those sonorous
utterances. ' I perfectly recollect,' says an eye-witness, * his
* impressive manner, and can fancy that the sound still vibrates
' in my ears.'3 Wlien he burst into the peroration connecting
together the French and English regicides — ' 0 my -country !
' read the horror of thy own deed in this recent heightened imi-
' tat ion, and lament and weep that this black French treason
' should have found its example in that crime of thy unnatural
' sons ! ' — the whole of the august assembly rose, and remained
standing till the conclusion of the sermon. The Deanery of
Westminster fell vacant in that same year, and it was given to
Horsley, who held it, with the See of Eochester, till his trans-
lation to St. Asaph, in 1802. ' He wore the red ribbon of the
' Bath in every time and place, like Louis XIV., who went to
' bed in his wig.' 4 His despotic utterances remain in the tones
1 His Theological Lectures to the under the Act which was recently re-
King's Scholars have been published. vived against the Dean and Chapter of
2 He wrote a preface to a pamphlet Exeter for the removal of images from
defending the east window in St. Mar- Exeter Cathedral.
garet's from a process instituted against * Nichols, iv. 685.
the churchwardens of the parish by 4 Lambetkiana, iii. 203. The por-
the Dean and Chapter of Westminster, trait of him at the Deanery without
I I
482 THE ABBEY SINCE THE EEFOKMATION. CHAP. vi.
of his Chapter Orders — 'We, the Dean, do peremptorily com-
' mand and enjoin,' etc. He marked his brief stay in office by
special consideration of the interests of the Precentor, Minor
Canons, and Lay Clerks of Westminster. When, four years
afterwards, he died at Brighton, and was buried at St. Mary's
Newington, which he held with the See of St. Asaph, ' the Choir
' of Westminster Abbey attended his funeral, to testify their
1 gratitude.' l
Horsley was succeeded by Vincent, who had profited by his
superior's classical criticisms whilst Horsley2 was Dean, and
wiiiiam he Headmaster. His long connection with the Abbev,
Vincent
1802-15.' and his tomb in the South Transept, have been al-
ready noticed.3 Of his own good qualities, both as a teacher
and scholar, ' the sepulchral stone ' (as the inscription written
by himself records) ' is silent.' His appointment was marked
by a change in the office, which restored the Deanery of West-
minster to its independent position. The See of Eochester, for
almost the first time for 140 years, was parted from it. It is
said that, shortly after his nomination, he met George III. on
the terrace of Windsor Castle. The King expressed his regret
at the separation of the two offices. The Dean replied that he
"was perfectly content. ' If you are satisfied,' said the King, ' I
' am not. They ought not to have been separated — they ought
' not to have been separated.' However, they were, happily,
never reunited, and Vincent continued his Westminster career
in the Deanery till his death. ' If he had had the choice of all
' the preferments in his Majesty's gift, there is none,' he said,
' that he should rather have had than the Deanery of West-
' minster.' His name is perpetuated in Westminster by the
conversion into Vincent Square of that part of Tothill Fields
which had been appropriated to the playground of the School.4
From his exertions was obtained the Parliamentary grant for
the reparation of the exterior of Henry VII. 's Chapel. His
scholars long remembered his swinging pace, his sonorous
quotations, and the loud Latin call of Eloquere, puer, eloquere,
with which he ordered the boys to speak out. They testified
that at his lectures preparatory to the Holy Communion there
was never known an instance of any boy treating the disquis i-
the badge of the Order was evidently 2 Pref. to Vincent's Sermons, p.
taken after his translation to St. xxxiv.
Asaph. 3 Chapter IV.
1 Nichols, iv. 681. Gent. Mag. * See Litsus Westmonast. i. p. 296.
Ixxii. 586. For his death, see ibid. p. 239.
CHAP. vi. IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 483
tion with levity, or not showing an eagerness to be present at, or
inhL, to profit by' the lesson-1 To Vincent succeeded Ireland,
1815-42. whose benefactions at Oxford will long preserve his
name in the recollection of grateful scholars. He is the last
Dean buried in the Abbey. He lies in the South Transept, with
his schoolfellow Gifford, translator of Juvenal, and first editor
of the ' Quarterly.'
' With what feelings,' says that faithful friend, ' do I trace the
' words — " the Dean of Westminster." Five-and-forty springs have
' now passed over my head since I first found Dr. Ireland, some years
' my junior, in our little school, at his spelling-book. During this
' long period, our friendship has been without a cloud ; my delight in
' youth, my pride and consolation in age. I have followed with an
' interest that few can feel, and none can know, the progress of my
' friend from the humble state of a curate to the elevated situation
' which he lias now reached, and in every successive change have seen,
' with inexpressible delight, bis reputation and the wishes of the
' public precede bis advancement. His piety, his learning, his con-
' scientious discharge of bis sacred duties, his unwearied zeal to pro-
' mote the interests of all around him, will be the theme of other
1 times and other pens ; it is sufficient for my happiness to have wit-
' nessed at the close of a career, prolonged by Infinite Goodness far
' beyond my expectations, tbe friend and companion of my heart in
' that dignified place, which, while it renders his talents and bis
' virtues more conspicuous, derives every advantage from their wider
' influence and exertion.' 2
The remaining years of this century are too recent for
detailed remarks. The names of Carey, Page, Goodenough,
Williamson, and Liddell will still be remembered, apart from
the other spheres in which they each shone, in their benefac-
tions or improvements of Westminster School — even of the
Thomas Westminster play. To Ireland succeeded Turton, for
1842^5'; a brief stay, before his removal to the See of Ely.
slmue8!64' Then came one whose government of Westminster,
wuberforce, Chough overclouded at its close, has left deep traces
Sfa^d, on the place. If the memory of the eagles, serpents,
Sfrd and monkeys, which crowded the Deanery in Dean
SluchT Buckland's geological reign, awake a grotesque remi-
niscence, his active concern in the welfare of the School,
his keen interest in the tombs — we must add, the very stones
and soil— of the Abbey, have been rarely equalled amongst
1 Gent. Mag. ~s.lv. 633.
2 Preface to the Memoirs of Ben Jonson, by William Gifford, p. 72.
I i 2
484 THE ABBEY SINCE THE KEFOKMATION. CHAP. vi.
his predecessors. The two remaining Deans became Prelates,
whose names belong to the history and to the literature of
England. But their memory is too fresh to be touched.
There are a few occasional solemnities to be noticed before
we part from the general history. Baptisms and marriages
have been comparatively rare. Marriages, which were occa-
sionally celebrated in Henry VII. 's Chapel, were discontinued
after the passing of Lord Hardwicke's Act in 1754, and were
only revived within the last ten years. Confirmations have
been confined to the celebration of that rite for the Westmin-
ster School, by some Bishop connected with "Westminster,
appointed for the purpose by the Dean. Ordinations have very
rarely1 taken place in the Abbey. Of episcopal consecrations
the most notable instances have been mentioned as we have
proceeded. After their sudden and striking accumulation at
the Eestoration, they gradually died away.2 It was reserved
cen^m'y to witness the reintroduction of the
a more imposing form, not as before in the
Bishops. Chapel of the Infirmary, or of Henry VII., but in the
Choir of the Abbey itself. This change coincides with the ex-
tension of the Colonial Episcopate3 which marked the ad-
ministration of Archbishop Howley, a movement which doubt-
less contained from the beginning a germ of future mischief,4
but which was projected with the best intentions, and often
with the best results. The first of these, in 1842, included
the Bishops of Barbadoes, Antigua, Guiana, Gibraltar, and Tas-
mania. This was followed in 1847 by the consecration of three
Australian Bishops, and the first Bishop of South Africa,
Eobert Gray, Bishop of Capetown, and in 1850 by that of
Francis Fulford, Bishop of Montreal, who both became sub-
sequently known from the controversies, political and theological,
in which they were involved. On Ascension Day, 1858, was
consecrated George Lynch Cotton, Bishop of Calcutta. Years
1 Besides that of Ferrar by Laud, (Peploe), April 12, 1726, took place at
there was one by the Bishop of Bangor Westminster, not in the Abbey, but in
(Koberts), Sept. 4, 1660, in Henry the parish church of St. Margaret.
VII.'s Chapel (Evelyn's Memoirs, ii. 3 Its main promoter, Ernest Haw-
153), and by Sprat in 1689 (Statutes of kins, for many years Secretary of the
King's College, Cambridge, p. xxv.) Society for the Propagation of the
2 The only one in the last century Gospel, after finding a few years'
was Bishop Dawes of Chester on respite from his labours in the Pre-
February 8, 1708 ; and the discontinu- cincts of Westminster, now lies in the
ance of the ceremony is rendered more East Cloister.
significant from the fact, that the con- 4 See the last letter of Dr. Arnold,
secration of another Bishop of Chester May 22, 1842; Life, p. 604.
CHAP. vi. IN THE NINETEENTH CENTUHY. 485
afterwards, from the shores from which he never returned, he
wrote with a touching fervour of the scenes he had known so
well to the friend who had meanwhile become the head of ' that
' noblest and grandest of English Churches, the one to which
' in historical and religious interest even Canterbury must
' yield, the one in which,' he adds, ' I worshipped as a boy, in
' which I was confirmed, and in which I was consecrated to
' the great work of my life.' In 1859, the first Bishops of
Columbia, Brisbane, and St. Helena, and, in 1863, two mission-
ary Bishops of Central Africa and of the Orange Kiver Free
State, were consecrated. It was not till 1859 that the practice
of consecrating in the Abbey the Bishops of English sees was re-
vived, in the case of Bangor. In 1864 and 1868 followed those
of Ely and Hereford. The year 1869 began and ended with a
remarkable consecration. On Feb. 24, a distinguished Canon
and benefactor of Westminster (Dr. Wordsworth), attended by
the two houses of Convocation then sitting, was consecrated to
the See of Lincoln in the same Precincts where his illustrious
predecessor, St. Hugh, had been raised to the same office. On
Dec. 21, under protest from the same Prelate, and three
others, was consecrated to the See of Exeter, the worthy suc-
cessor of Arnold at Rugby (Dr. Temple), who, after an
opposition similar to that which, no doubt, would have met his
predecessor's elevation, entered on his Episcopal duties with a
burst of popular enthusiasm such as has hardly fallen to the lot
of any English Prelate since the Reformation. In the interval
between those two (on Oct. 28),. Dr. Moberly was consecrated
to the See of Salisbury. On St. Mark's Day (April 25), 1879,
was consecrated to the See of Durham the scholar who has
erected the modern Cambridge school of theology — Joseph
Lightfoot. No Bishop of Durham had been consecrated in the
South since Ralph Flambard, in 1099, in St.. Paul's.
We must cast a glance backwards over the history of the
whole fabric during this period. The aversion from mediaeval
Decline of architecture and tradition had indeed been allowed
usteffiva here, as elsewhere in Europe, its full scope. Not only
in the monuments, as we have already seen, but in the general
neglect of the beauty of the fabric, had this sentiment made
itself manifest. The Westminster boys were allowed ' to skip
' from tomb to tomb in the Confessor's Chapel.' l On Sundays
the town boys sate in the Sacrarium, doubtless net without
1 Malcolm, p. 167.
486 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
injury to the precious mosaic pavement. There was also
' playing at football, in some of the most curious parts of the
' Abbey, by the men appointed to show them.'1 The scenery of
the Westminster Play was kept in the Triforium of the North
Transept.2 There was a thoroughfare from Poets' Corner to
the western door, and to the Cloisters.3 The South Transept
was a ' newswalk ' for the singing men 4 and their friends. The
poor of St. Margaret's begged in the Abbey even during
Prayers,5 as they had, ever since the time of Elizabeth, had
their food laid out in the South Transept during the sermon,
till within the memory of man.6 Before the Eestoration the
right and emoluments of showing the tombs was conferred by
patent for life on private individuals. After the Eestoration,
this was made dependent on the pleasure of the Chapter.
From 1697 down to 1822, the right was transferred to the
Minor Canons and Lay Vicars, who thus eked out their in-
sufficient incomes. The memory of old inhabitants of the
Cloisters still retains the figure of an aged Minor Canon, who
on Sundays preached two-thirds of the sermons in the course
of the year, and on week-days sate by the tomb of the Princess
Catharine, collecting from the visitors the fee of two shillings
a head, with his tankards of ale beside him.7 The income of
the Minor Canons was further assisted by the candles which
they carried off from the church services. The Waxworks
formed a considerable part of the attraction.8
The statues over Henry "STL's Chapel had been taken down,
lest they should fall on Members of Parliament going to their
duties.9 Those which had stood on the north side were stowed
away in the roof.10 ' Nothing could be more stupid ' (so it was
thought by the best judges), ' than laying statues on their
' backs ' — nothing more barbarous and devoid of interest than
the Confessor's Chapel.11 Atterbury, as we have seen, regarded
' Gent. Mag. Ixxi. pt. ii. pp. 101, e Eye's England as seen by Fo-
623. reigners, p. 132.
2 Till April 27, 1829, when they ' For the fees see Chapter Book, Jan.
caught fire. From this dates the in- 28 and May 6, 1779, May 29, 1823,
stitution of the nightly watchmen. May 6, 1825, June 2, 1826; Gent.
(Gent. Mag. pt. i. pp. 363, 460.) Mag. 1801, pt. i. p. 328 ; 1826, pt. i.
3 Malcolm, pp. 163, 167. The iron p. 343.
gate which now stands by Andre's 8 See Note at end of Chapter IV.
monument originally stood by that of 9 Akerman, ii. 6.
Bell, and was opened after the service 10 Ibid. ii. 2. See Gent. Mag. Ixxiii.
to allow the thoroughfare. pt. ii. p. 636 ; Neale, i. 214.
4 Dart, i. 41. »' See the continuator of Stow.
5 London Spy, p. 179.
CHAP. vi. GENERAL SUMMARY. 487
with pleasure the debasement of the Northern Porch. The
Wren family regarded the immense superiority of the Whitehall
Banqueting House to Henry VII.'s Chapel as incontestable.1
All manner of proposed changes were under discussion. One
was to remove entirely the interesting Chapel of the Revestry,
with the monuments of Argyll, Gay, and Prior.2 Another was
to fill up the intercolumniations in the Nave with statues. The
two first were already occupied by Captain Montague and
Captain Harvey.3 The Chapter, in 1706, petitioned Queen
Anne for the Altarpiece once in Whitehall Chapel, then at
Hampton Court, which later on in the century was condemned
as ' unpardonable, tasteless, and absurd ; ' and in erecting it,
the workmen broke up a large portion of the ancient mosaic
pavement,4 and, but for the intervention of Harley, Earl of
Oxford, would have destroyed the whole. It was then pro-
posed to remove the screen of the Confessor's Chapel, and to
carry back the Choir as far as Henry VII.'s Chapel, ' huddling
' up the royal monuments to the body of the Church or the
' Transepts.'5
The venerable Sanctuary disappeared in 1750. The Gate-
house, hardly less venerable, but regarded as ' that very dismal
' horrid gaol,' 6 fell in 1777, before the indignation of Dr.
Johnson, ' against a building so offensive that it ought to be
' pulled clown, for it disgraces the present magnificence of the
' capital, and is a continual nuisance to neighbours and
' passengers.' 7 The Clock-tower of Westminster Palace was a
heap of ruins.8 In 1715 the Great Bell, which used to remind
the Judges of Westminster of their duty, was purchased for
St. Paul's Cathedral. On its way through Temple Bar, as if
in indignation at being torn from its ancient home,9 it rolled
off the carriage, and received such injury as to require it to be
recast. The inscription round its rim still records that it came
from the ruins of Westminster. The mullions of the Cloisters
would have perished but for the remonstrance of the inhabi-
tants of the neighbourhood.10 We have seen how narrowly the
tomb of Aynier de Valence escaped at the erection of Wolfe's
1 Parentalia, p. 308. (1766), p. 90. Chapter Order, July 10,
" Gent. Mag. 1772, xlii. 517. 1776.
3 Malcolm, p. 175. ' See Chapter Book, March 3, 1708.
4 Seymour's Stow, ii. 541 ; Wid- " See London Spy, p. 187.
more, p. 165. ' Westminster Improvements, p. 15.
5 Gent. Mag. 1799, pt. ii. p. 115 ; See Chapter V. p. 346.
"Walpole, vi. 223. 10 Six windows were already gone.
» Owyn'l London and Westminster (Gent. Mag. 1799, pt. i. p. 447.)
488 THE ABBEY SINCE THE [REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
monument, and how, at the funeral of the Duchess of North-
umberland, the tomb of Philippa, Duchess of York, was removed
to make way for the family vault of the Percys, and the screen
of the Chapel of St. Edmund and the canopy of John of Eltham
were totally destroyed.1
Yet, amidst all this neglect and misuse, as we think it, a
feeling for the Abbey more tender, probably, than had existed
Gradual ^ ^e ^me °^ ^s higne8^ splendour and wealth, had
mIdi«Vafi keen gradually springing up. From the close of the
art sixteenth century we trace the stream of visitors,
which has gone on flowing ever since. Already in the reign of
Elizabeth and James I., distinguished foreigners were taken
' in gondolas to the beautiful and large Eoyal Church called
' Westminster,' and saw the Chapel ' built eighty
' years ago by King Henry VII.,' the Eoyal Tombs,
the Coronation Stone, the Sword of Edward III., and ' the
' English ministers in white surplices such as the Papists wear,'
singing alternately while the organ played. Camden's printed
book on the Monuments was sold by the vergers.2 Possibly
(we can hardly say more), it was in Westminster 3 that the
youthful Milton let his
Due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloisters pale,
And love the high-embowed roof,
With antick pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.
It is certain that, in the beginning of the next century, the
feeling had generally spread. The coarse ' London Spy,' when
he was conveyed from the narrow passage which brought him
in sight of ' that ancient and renowned structure of the Abbey '
to which he was an utter stranger, could not behold the out-
side of the awful pile without reverence and amazement. ' The
' whole seemed to want nothing that could render it truly
' venerable.' After going to ' afternoon prayers ' in the Choir,
1 amongst many others, to pay with reverence that duty which
' becomes a Christian,' and having ' their souls elevated by the
' divine harmony of the music, far above the common pitch of
' their devotions,' they ' made an entrance into the east end of
1 Gent. Mag. 1799, pt. ii. p. 733. s The choice lies between Westmin-
2 Eye's England as seen by Fo- ster, Old St. Paul's, or King's College,
reigners, pp. 9, 10, 132, 139. Cambridge.
CHAP. vi. GENERAL SUMMARY. 489
' the Abbey, which was locked, and payed a visit to the
' venerable shrines and sacred monuments of the dead nobility ; '
and then ' ascended some stone steps, which brought them to a
' Chapel, that looks so far exceeding human excellence, that a
' man would think it was knit together by the fingers of angels,
1 pursuant to the directions of Omnipotence.' ' The testimony
of Addison, Steele, and Goldsmith need not be repeated. Lord
Hervey was taken by a Bishop ' to Westminster Abbey to show
' a pair of old brass gates to Henry VII.'s Chapel,' on which
he enlarged with such ' particular detail and encomium ' before
George II. and Queen Caroline, that the intelligent Queen
was ' extremely pleased and the King stopped the conversation
' short.' Burke ' visited the Abbey soon after his arrival in
' town,' and ' the moment he entered he felt a kind of awe
' pervade his mind, which he could not describe ; the very
' silence seemed sacred.' 2 Then arose the decisive verdict from
an unexpected quarter. In Horace Walpole the despised
mediaeval taste found its first powerful patron.
Oh ! happy man that shows the tombs, said I,
was a favourite quotation of the worldly courtier.3 ' I love
' Westminster Abbey,' he writes, ' much more than levees and
' circles, and — no treason, I hope — am fond enough of kings as
' soon as they have a canopy of stone over them.' He was
consulted by the successive Deans on the changes proposed in
the Abbey. He prevented, as we have seen, the destruction
of Valence's tomb, and ' suggested an octagon canopy of open
' arches, like Chichester Cross, to be elevated on a flight of
' steps with the Altar in the middle, and semicircular arcades
' to join the stalls, so that the Confessor's Chapel and tomb
' may be seen through in perspective.' 4 In the whole building
he delighted to see the reproduction of an idea which seemed
to have perished. ' In St. Peter's at Rome one is convinced
' that it was built by great princes. In Westminster Abbey
1 London Spy, p. 178. The original in Donne is this :—
2 Prior's Life of Burke, i. 39. ' At Westminster,'
3 The line is from Pope's Imitation Sai<J ^ '««» man that keeps the Abbey-tombs,
, r. , 0 , . And, for his price, doth with whoever comes
Of Donne S batire. of aU our Harrys and our Edwards talk,
'Then, happy man who shows the Tombs!* From king to king and all their kin can walk.
jaid i Your ears shall hear nought but Kings ; your
' He dwells amidst the royal family ; .. e>'es ,mee*
He every day from king to king can walk, King* only ', the way to it is King s Street.
Of all our Harries, ail our Ed \vardswik; 4 Suggested to Dean Pearce (Wal-
Aud get, bv sueakiug truth of monarch* dead, r»«o.
What few cauot thl living-ease and bread.' pole's Letters, vi. 223), and to Dean
Thomas (ibid. vii. 306.)
490 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
* one thinks not of the builder ; the religion of the place makes
' the first impression, and, though stripped of its shrines and
' altars, it is nearer converting one to Popery than all the
' regular pageantry of Eoman domes. One must have taste to
' be sensible of the beauties of Grecian architecture : one only
' wants passion to feel Gothic. Gothic churches infuse super-
' stition, Grecian temples admiration. The Papal See amassed
' its wealth by Gothic cathedrals, and displays it in Grecian
* temples.' l
In the last years of the eighteenth century, John Carter,
the author of ' Ancient Sculptures and Paintings,' was the Old
carter the Mortality of the past glories of Westminster. There
antiquary. js a mixture of pathos and humour in the alternate
lamentations over the ' excrescences which disfigure and destroy
' the fair form of the structure,' and ' the heartfelt satisfaction '
with which he hangs over the remnants of antiquity still un-
changed. He probably was the first to recognise the singular
exemption of the Abbey from the discolouring whitewash
which, from the close of the Middle Ages, swept over almost
all the great buildings of Europe.2 ' There is one religious
' structure in the kingdom that stands in its original finishing,
' exhibiting all those modest hues that the native appearance
' of the stone so pleasingly bestows. This structure is the
' 'Abbey Church of Westminster. . . . There I find my happi-
' ness the most complete. This Church has not been white-
* washed.' 3 In his complaints against the monuments setting
at nought the old idea ' that the statues of the deceased should
' front the east,' 4 and against the ' whimsical infatuation of
' their costumes ; 5 in his ideal of the architect who should
' watch with anxious care the state of the innumerable parts of
' the pile ; ' 6 in his protest against Queen Anne's altar-screen,
' as ill-calculated for its place as a mitre in the centre of a salt-
' cellar ; ' 7 in his enthusiastic visions of ' religious curiosities,
1 Walpole, i. 108.
* The practice of whitewashing was,
however, not peculiar to modern times
or Protestant countries. Even the
Norman nave of the Abbey was white-
washed in the time of Edward III.
(Gleanings, 53.) The pompous inscrip-
tion over the door of Toledo Cathedral
the Most Reverend Lord Don Pedro
Gonzales de Mendoza, Cardinal of
Spain, and all the Jews driven out
from all the kingdoms of Castille,
Arragon, and Sicily, this holy church
was .... repaired and wlutewaslied
by Francis Ferdinand of Cuencja,
Archdeacon of Calatrava.'
records that in the year after that in 3 Gent. Mag. 1799, pt. ii. p. 66.
which ' Granada was taken with the 4 Ibid. pp. 669, 670.
' whole kingdom, by the King our 5 Ibid. p. 1016.
' Lord Don Ferdinand and Donna 6 Ibid. pt. ii. p. 735.
' Isabella in the Archiepiscopate of 7 Ibid. p. 736.
CHAP. vr. GENERAL SUMMARY. 491
' myriads of burning tapers, clouds of incense, gorgeous vest-
' ments, glittering insignia, Scriptural banners ' '—we see the
first rise of that wave of antiquarian, aesthetic, architectural
sentiment which has since overspread the whole of Christen-
dom. Its gradual advance may be detected even in the dry
records of the Chapter,2 and has gone on, with increasing
volume, to our own time. The Chapel of Henry VII., on the
appeal of Dean Vincent, was repaired by Parliament. The
houses on the north side of the Chapel were pulled down.3 He
too removed the huge naval monuments which obstructed the
pillars of the Nave.4 The North Transept, at the petition of
the Speaker, was for a time used 5 for a service for the children
of the school in Orchard Street. Free admission was given
to the larger part of the Abbey under Dean Ireland.6 The
Transepts were opened to the Choir under Dean Buckland.
The Nave was used for special evening services under Dean
Trench. The Reredos, of alabaster and mosaic, was raised
under the care of the Subdean (Lord John Thynne), to whose
watchful zeal for more than thirty years the Abbey was so
greatly indebted. Future historians must describe the vicissi-
tudes of taste, and the improvements of opportunities, which
may mark the concluding years of the nineteenth century.
Two general reflections may close this imperfect sketch of
Westminster Abbey before and since the Reformation : —
I. It would. ill become those who have inherited the mag-
nificent pile which has been entrusted to their care to under-
value the grandeur of the age which could have produced an
institution capable of such complex development, and a building
of such matchless beauty. Here, as often, 'other men have
' laboured, and we have entered into their labours.' But-
comparing the Abbots with the Deans and Headmasters of
Westminster, the Monks with the Prebendaries, and with the
Scholars of the College — the benefits which have been con-
1 Gent. Mag. 1799, pt. ii. p. 861. tomb. (Gent. Mag. 1799, pt. i. p.
2 No monument was to be erected 880.)
before submitting a draught of it io s Chapter Book, 1804. Conti's West-
the Chapter. (Chapter Book, May 16,, minster, p. 268.
1729.) The erection of Monk's monu- 4 Vincent's Sermons, vol. i. Pref. p.
ment was at first ' unanimously ' j)re- liii.
vented, ' as hiding the curious work- 5 Dec. 28, 1812.
' manship of Henry VII.'s Chapel.' 6 Authorised guides were first ap-
(Ibid. January 1, 1739.) No monu- pointed in 1826, and the nave and
ment was henceforth to be attached to transepts opened, and the fees lowered
any of the pillars. (Ibid. June 6, 1807.) in 1841, at the suggestion of Lord John
The shield and saddle of Henry V. were Thynne. ,
restored to their place over the King's
492 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
ferred on the literature and the intelligence of England since
compensa- ^ne Reformation may fairly be weighed in the balance
tion of gifts, against the architectural prodigies which adorned the
ages before. Whilst the dignitaries of the ancient Abbey, as
we have seen, hardly left any moral or intellectual mark on
their age, there have been those in the catalogue of former
Deans, Prebendaries, and Masters — not to speak of innumer-
able names among the scholars of Westminster — who will
probably never cease to awaken a recollection as long as the
British commonwealth lasts. The English and Scottish Con-
fessions of 1561 and 1643, the English Prayer Book of 1662,
and the American Prayer Book of 1789 — which derived their
origin, in part at least, from our Precincts — have, whatever be
their defects, a more enduring and lively existence than any
result of the mediaeval Councils of Westminster. And if these
same Precincts have been disturbed by the personal contests of
Williams and Atterbury, and by the unseemly contentions of
Convocation, more than an equivalent is found in the violent
scenes in St. Catherine's Chapel, the intrigues attendant on
the election of the Abbots, and the deplorable scandals of the
Sanctuary. Abbot Feckenham believed that,1 ' so long as the
' fear and dread of the Christian name remained in England,
' the privilege of sanctuary in Westminster would remain un-
' disturbed.' We may much more confidently say, that ' as
* long as the fear and dread of Christian justice and charity
' remain,' those unhappy privileges will never be restored,
either here or anywhere else.'2 These differences, it is true,
belong to the general advance of knowledge and power which
has pervaded the whole of England since the sixteenth century.
But not the less are they witnesses to the value of the Refor-
mation— not the less a compensation for the inevitable loss of
those marvellous gifts, which passed away from Europe,
Catholic and Protestant alike, with the. close of the Middle
Ages.
What is yet in store for the Abbey none can say. Much,
1 See Appendix to Chapter VI. ment published in 1850, by Sir William
2 For the moral state of the district Page Wood (afterwards Lord Hather-
surrounding the Abbey before and since ley), with a Preface on the Westminster
the ^Reformation, a brief sketch has been Spiritual Aid Fund, which was then
given by one whose lifelong residence, set on foot and. since kept up by the
and persevering promotion of all good unwearied energy of Dr. Christopher
works in the neighbourhood, well en- Wordsworth, then. Canon of Westruin-
title htm to the name of ' the Lay ster, now Bishop of Lincoln.
' Bishop of Westminster.' See a state-
CHAP. vi. CONCLUSION. 493
assuredly, remains to be done to place it on a level with the
increasing demands of the human mind, with the changing
wants of the English people, with the never-ending 'enlarge-
' ment of the Church,' for which every member of the Chapter
is on his installation pledged to labour.1
It is the natural centre of religious life and truth, if not to
the whole metropolis, at least to the city of Westminster. It
is the peculiar home of the entire Anglo-Saxon race, on the
other side of the Atlantic no less than on this. It is endeared
both to the conforming and to the nonconforming members of
the National Church. It combines the full glories of Mediaeval
and of Protestant England. It is of all our purely ecclesias-
tical institutions the one which most easily lends itself to union
and reconciliation, and is with most difficulty turned to party
or polemical uses. By its history, its position, and its indepen-
dence, it thus becomes in the highest and most comprehensive
sense — what it has been well called — ' the Fortress of the
' Church of England,' 2 if only its garrison be worthy of it.
"Whilst Westminster Abbey stands, the Church of England
stands. So long as its stones are not sold to the first chance
purchaser ; so long as it remains a sanctuary, not of any
private sect, but of the English people ; so long as the great
Council of the nation which assisted at its first dedication
recognises its religious purpose — so long the separation between
the English State and the English Church will not have been
accomplished.
II. This leads us to remember that the one common element
which binds together, ' by natural piety,' the past changes
continuity an(* ^e future prospects of the Abbey, has been the
of worship, intention, carried on from its Founder to the present
day, that it should be a place dedicated for ever to the worship
of God. Whilst the interest in the other events and localities
of the building has slackened with the course of time, the
interest connected with its sacred services has found expression
1 ' That those things which he hath wise foreign King in speaking to a
' promised, and which his duty requires, modern Dean of Westminster. ' In
4 he may faithfully perform, to the ' vain has this splendid church been
1 praise and glory of the name of God, ' built and sculptured anew,' was the
' and the enlargement of His Church.' like saying, though in a somewhat differ-
— Prayer at the Installation of a Dean ent mood, of Henry III. to its conten-
or a Canon. tious Abbot, ' if the living stones of its
2 ' Westminster Abbey is the fortress ' head and members are engaged in
' of the Church of England, and you ' unseemly strife.' (Matt. Paris, A.D.
' are its garrison,' was the saying of a 1250.)
494 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. vi.
in all the varying forms of the successive vicissitudes which
have passed over the religious mind of England. The history
of the ' Altar ' l of Westminster Abbey is almost the history
of the English Church. The Monuments and Chapels have
remained comparatively unchanged except by the natural
decay of time. The Holy Table and its accompaniments alone
have kept pace with the requirements of each succeeding period.
The aitw The simple feeling of the early Middle Ages was
century,* represented in its original position, when it stood, as
in most churches of that time, at the eastern extremity. In
the changes of the thirteenth century, which so deeply
3th< affected the whole framework of Christian doctrine,
the new veneration for the local saint and for the Virgin
Mother, whilst it produced the Lady Chapel and the Confessor's
Shrine, thrust forward the High Altar to its present place in
front of St. Edward's Chapel. The foreign art of the period
left its trace in the richly-painted frontal,2 the only remnant
of the gorgeous Mediaeval Altar.3 When, in the fifteenth cen-
tury, reflecting the increasing divisions and narrowing
5th> tendencies of Christendom, walls of partition sprang
up everywhere across the Churches of the West, the Screen
was erected which parted asunder the Altar from the whole
of the Refer- eastern portion of the Abbey. At the Reformation
mation, an(j during the Commonwealth, the wooden movable
Table 4 which was brought down into the body of the Church,
reproduced, though by a probably undesigned conformity, the
of the Re- primitive custom both of East and West. Its return
to its more easterly position marks the triumph of the
Anne!*11 Laudian usages under the Stuarts. Its adornment
by the sculptures and marbles of Queen Anne follows the
1 The popular name of ' Altar ' is still more emphatically of human hearts
nowhere applied to the Holy Table in and lives — then there is a certain fitness
the Liturgy or Articles. But it is used in this one application of the name of
of the Table of Westminster Abbey in Altar. For here it signifies the place
the Coronation Service issued by order and time in which are offered up the
of the Privy Council at the beginning Sacrifice of the Prayers and thanks-
of each reign. It is there preserved givings of the whole English nation,
with other antique customs which have and the Sacrifice of the highest life in
disappeared everywhere else. In no this church and realm, to the good of
other place, and on no other occasion, man and the honour of God.
could the word be applied so con- - The fate of the Altar and the
sistently with the tenor of the Re- Table in Henry VII.'s Chapel has been
formed Liturgy. If an Altar be a already described in p. 472.
place of Sacrifice, and if (as is well a Gleanings, 105-111.
known) the only Sacrifices acknow- 4 This Table is probably the one now
ledged in the English Prayer Book are in the Confessor's Chapel,
those of praise and thanksgiving, and
CHAP. vi. CONCLUSION. 495
development of classical art in that our Augustan age.1 The
plaster restoration of the original Screen by Bernasconi, in
1824, indicates the first faint rise of the revival of Gothic
art. At its elevation was present a young architect,2 whose
of the isth name has since been identified with the full develop-
ceutury. ment of the like taste in our own time, and who in the
design of the new Screen and new altar, erected in 1867, has
united the ancient forms of the fifteenth century with the
simpler and loftier faith of the nineteenth. And now the con-
trast of its newness and youth with the venerable mouldering
forms around it, is but the contrast of the perpetual growth of
the soul of religion with the stationary or decaying memories
of its external accompaniments. We sometimes think that it
is the Transitory alone which changes, the Eternal which
stands still. Rather the Transitory stands still, fades, and falls
to pieces : the Eternal continues, by changing its form in accor-
dance with the movement of advancing ages.
The successive Pulpits of the Abbey, if not equally expres-
sive of the changes which it has witnessed, carry on the sound
The Pulpit of many voices, heard with delight and wonder in
Abbots, their time. No vestige remains of the old mediaeval
platform whence the Abbots urged the reluctant court of Henry
of the Tudor III. to the Crusades. But we have still the fragile
?f1thees' structure from which Cranmer must have preached at
SmS the coronation and funeral of his royal godson ; 3 and
the more 4 elaborate carving of that which resounded with the
passionate appeals, at one time of Baxter, Howe, and Owen, at
1 This Altarpiece, once at Whitehall, larger niches with St. Peter and St.
and then at Hampton Court, was then, Paul as the patron saints of the Church,
through the influence of Lord Godol- and Moses and David as representing
phin, given by Queen Anne to the the lawgivers and the poets; the
Abbey, where it remained till the reign smaller niches with the four Prophets,
of George IV. (See Xeale, ii. 38; supporting the four Evangelists. The
Plate xlii.) The order for its removal mosaic of the Last Supper is by Salviati,
appears in the Chapter Book, May 29, from a design of Messrs. Clayton and
c March 23 1 Ti Bell. The cedar table was carved by
1823 ; j "JFJ" ~' | 1824. It was Farmer and BrindleVi ^ biblic/!
then given by Dr. King, Bishop of subjects suggested by Archdeacon (since
Eochester, who had been Prebendary of Bishop) Wordsworth. The black marble
Westminster, to the parish church of slab (originally ordered March 23, 1824,
Burnham, near Bridgewater, of which and apparently taken from the tomb
he had been vicar, and in which it still of Anne of Cleves) is the only part of
remains. *ne former structure remaining. The
- This was Sir Gilbert Scott's earliest work was erected chiefly from the pay-
recollection of Westminster Abbey. ments of the numerous visitors at the
The frieze in the new Screen has been Great Exhibition of 1862.
rilled bv Mr. Annstead with groups re- 3 Now in Henry VII.'s Chapel,
presenting the Life of our Lord ; the 4- Now in the Triforium.
496 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFORMATION. CHAP. n.
other times of Heylin, Williams, South, and Barrow. That
from which was poured forth the oratory of the Deans of the
of the i8th eighteenth century, from Atterbury to Horsley, is now
century, jn Trotterscliffe ' church, near Maidstone. The marble
pulpit in the Nave, given in 1859 to commemorate the begin-
of the isth ning of the Special Services, through which West-
the^-a^e? minster led the way in re-animating the silent naves
of so many of our Cathedrals, has thus been the chief vehicle
of the varied teaching of those who have been well called ' the
' People's Preachers : ' ' Vox quidem dissona, sed una religio.' 2
It may be said that these sacred purposes are shared by
the Abbey with the humblest church or chapel in the kingdom.
But there is a peculiar charm added to the thought here, by
the reflection that on it, as on a thin (at times almost invisible)
thread, has hung every other interest which has accumulated
around the building. Break that thread ; and the whole struc-
ture becomes an unmeaning labyrinth. Extinguish that sacred
fire ; and the arched vaults and soaring pillars would assume
the sickly hue of a cold artificial Valhalla, and ' the rows of
' warriors and the walks of kings ' would be transformed into
the conventional galleries of a lifeless museum.
By the secret nurture of individual souls, which have found
rest in its services 3 or meditated 4 in its silent nooks, or been
inspired, whether in the thick of battle, or in the humblest 5
1 In its stead, in 1827, was erected ' He walked in, looked about him, and
in the Choir another, which in 1851 was ' burst into tears.' (English Poets, ii.
removed to Shoreham, to give place to p. 231.)
the present. * See the touching story of the
2 St. Jerome, Opp. i. p. 82. famous Baptist Missionary Marshman,
3 ' I went,' wrote De Foe, on Sept. who began his career as a bookseller's
24, 1725, ' into the Abbey, and there shop-boy : —
I found the Royal tombs and the ' The labour of trudging through the
Monuments of the Dead remaining ' streets, day by day, with a heavy parcel
and increased ; but the gazers, the ' of books, became at length dishearten-
readers of the epitaphs, and the ' ing ; and having been one day sent to
country ladies to see the tombs were ' the Duke of Grafton with three folio
strangely decreased in number. Nay, ' vols. of Clarendon's History, he began
the appearance of the Choir was ' to give way to melancholy, and as lie
diminished; for setting aside the 'passed Westminster Abbey laid down
families of the clergy resident and a ' the load and sobbed at the thought
very few more, the place was for- ' that there was no higher prospect before
saken. " Well,'" said I, " then a man ' him in life than that of being a book-
" may be devout with the less dis- ' seller's porter ; but looking up at the
" turbance ; " so J went in, said my ' building, and recalling to mind the
prayers, and then took a walk in the ' noble associations connected with it, he
park.' (Works, iii. 427.) ' brushedaway his tears, replaced theload
4 So, amongst others, the poet- ' on his shoulders, and walked on with
painter Blake. Sir Henry Taylor de- ^ alighfheart, determined tobide his time.'1
scribes the first visit of Webster, the — The story of Carey, Marshman, and
American orator, to Westminster Abbey. Ward, by John Clark Marshman, p. 47.
CHAP. vi. CONCLUSION. 497
walks of life, by the thought or the sight of its towers ; by the
devotions of those who in former times, it may be in much
ignorance, have had their faith kindled by dubious shrine or
relic ; or, in after days, caught here the impassioned words of
preachers of every school ; or have drunk in the strength of
the successive forms of the English Liturgy:— by these and
such as these, one may almost say, through all the changes of
language and government, this giant fabric has been sustained,
when the leaders of the ecclesiastical or political world would
have let it pass away.
It was the hope of the Founder, and the belief of his age,
that on St. Peter's Isle of Thorns was planted a ladder, on
which angels might be seen ascending and descending from
the courts of heaven. What is fantastically expressed in that
fond dream has a solid foundation in the brief words in which
the most majestic of English divines has described the nature
of Christian worship. « What,' he says, ' is the assembling of
' the Church to learn, but the receiving of angels descended
' from above — what to pray, but the sending of angels upwards ?
1 His heavenly inspirations and our holy desires are so many
' angels of intercourse and commerce between God and us. As
' teaching bringeth us to know that God is our Supreme Truth,
' so prayer testifieth that we acknowledge Him our Sovereign
' Good.' '
Such a description of the purpose of the Abbey,, when un-
derstood at once in its fulness and simplicity, is, we may
humbly trust, not a mere illusion. Not surely in vain did the
architects of successive generations raise this consecrated
edifice in its vast and delicate proportions, more keenly appre-
ciated in this our day than in any other since it first was built ;
designed, if ever were any forms on earth, to lift the soul
heavenward to things unseen. Not surely in vain has our
English language grown to meet the highest ends of devotion
with a force which the rude native dialect and barbaric Latin
of the Confessor's age could never attain. Not surely for idle
waste has a whole world of sacred music been created, which
no ear of Norman or Plantagenet ever heard, nor skill of
Saxon harper or Celtic minstrel ever achieved. Not surely
for nothing has the knowledge of the will of God steadily
increased, century by century, through the better understanding
of the Bible, of history, and of nature. Not in vain, surely,
1 Hooker's Eccl. Pol. v. 23.
E E
498 THE ABBEY SINCE THE REFOKMATION. CHAP. vi.
has the heart of man kept its freshness whilst the world has
been waxing old, and the most restless and inquiring intellects
clung to the belief that ' the Everlasting arms are still beneath
' us,' and that ' prayer is the potent inner supplement of noble
' outward life.' Here, if anywhere, the Christian worship of
England may labour to meet both the strength and the weak-
ness of succeeding ages, to inspire new meaning into ancient
forms, and embrace within itself each rising aspiration after all
greatness, human and Divine.
So considered, so used, the Abbey of Westminster may
become more and more a witness to that one Sovereign Good,
to that one Supreme Truth, a shadow of a great rock in a
weary land, a haven of rest in this tumultuous world, a break-
water for the waves upon waves of human hearts and souls
which beat unceasingly around its island shores.
APPENDIX.
ACCOUNT OF THE SEARCH FOR THE GRAVE OF
KING JAMES I.
IT is obvious that the interest of a great national cemetery like West-
minster Abbey depends, in great measure, on the knowledge of the
exact spots where the illustrious dead repose. Strange to say, this
was not so easy to ascertain as might have been expected, in some of
the instances where certainty was most to be desired. Not only, as
has been already noticed, has no monument, since the time of Queen
The Royal Elizabeth, been raised over any regal grave, but the Royal
The' vault of vaults were left without any name or mark to indicate their
George ii. position. In two cases, however — the Georgian vault in the
centre of the Chapel, and that of Charles II. in the south aisle — the
complete and exact representation in printed works, and hi the Burial
Registers, left no doubt ; and over these accordingly, hi 1866, for the
first time, the names of the Royal personages were inscribed imme-
diately above the -sites of their graves.
It also happened that both of these vaults had been visited within
the memory of man. Whilst the Georgian vault had been seen in
1837, when it was opened by Dean Milman,1 for the removal of an
infant child of the King of Hanover ; the vault of Charles II. was
1 See Chapter III. There is an was necessarily taken up, much of it
interesting description of this vault in must have been broken and otherwise
Knight's Windsor Guide (1825), pp. injured. (This has been found experi-
187, 188, as seen on the removal of mentally to be the unavoidable conse-
Prince Alfred and Prince Octavius. quence of removing any of the pave-
In connection with this vault it may ment.) ID order to utilise the parts
be remarked that the central part of that were so injured, it would be neces-
the marble floor is unlike the ends east sary to reduce the size of the broken
and west. Perhaps the following con- lozenges, and thereby alter the design,
jecture (furnished by Mr. Poole) may Therefore, the original uninjured
explain this irregularity. Presuming lozenges were relaid at each end, and
that in 1699, when, as recorded on the the broken ones reduced and relaid to
pavement, it was arranged for Prebend- what was necessarily a different design,
ary Killigrew, the whole of the area in the middle of the floor and above the
was formed of the same large lozenges direct descent into the vault. The
of black and white marble as are now at number of reduced lozenges nearly coin-
the ends only, and that in 1737, when cides with the original number of large
the large vault was formed by King lozenges displaced.
George II. , and nearly all the marble
500 APPENDIX.
accidentally disclosed in 1867, in the process of laying down the
apparatus for warming the Chapel of Henry VII.
In removing for this purpose the rubbish under the floor of the
fourth or eastern bay of the south stalls a brick arch was found.
The vault of From its position it was evident that it was the entrance to
Charles n. a vaui^ made prior to the erection of the monument of Gene-
ral Monk, as well as of the stalls of the eastern bays in 1725. A small
portion of the brickwork was removed, so as to effect an entrance suffi-
ciently large to crawl in a horizontal posture into the vault.
There was an incline toward the south, ending on a flight of five
steps terminating on the floor of the chamber. Underneath a barrel
vault of stone, laid as close as possible, side by side, and filling the
whole space of the lower chamber from east to west, were the coffins
of Charles II., Mary II., William III., Prince George of Denmark,
and Anne,1 with the usual urns at the feet, exactly corresponding with
1 (1) COFFIN-PLATE OF KING CHARLES II.
Depositum
Augustissimi et Serenissimi Principis
Carol! Secundi
Anglise, Scotise, Franciae et Hibernias Regis,
Fidei Defensoris, etc.
Obiit sexto die Febr anno Dni 1684,
2Etatis suae quinquagesimo quinto,
Regnique sui tricesimo septimo.
(2) COFFIN-PLATE OF QUEEN MARY II.
Maria Regina
Gulielmi III.
M.B. F.H.R. F.D.
Conjux et Regni Censors
Obiit A. R. vi.
Dec. xxvm.
Mt. xxxn.
On the urn : —
Depositum
Reginae Mariae II.
Uxoris
Gulielmi III.
(3) COFFIN -PLATE OF WILLIAM III.
Gulielmus III.
Dei Gra :
M.B. F.H.R. F.D.
Obiit A.R. xiv.
A.D. MDCCI. Mar. vni.
^Et. LII. ineunte.
THE EOYAL VAULTS.
501
the plan in Dart's ' Westminster Abbey.' The wooden cases were
decayed, and the metal fittings to their tops, sides, and angles were
mostly loose or fallen. The lead of some of the coffins, especially that
of Charles II., was much corroded ; and in this case the plate had thus
(4) COFFIN-PLATE OF PRINCE GEORGE OF DENMARK.
Depositnm
Illustrissimi et Celsissimi Principis
Georgii, Danise et Norvegiae, necnon
Gothorum et Vandalorum Principis
Hereditarii Slesveci Holsatiae, Stor-
rnarise Dithmarsiae et Cumbriae ducis,
Oldenburgi Delmenhorsti et Candaliae
Comitis : Ockinghamiae Baronis, Seren-
issimi ac Potentissimi Christian!, ejus
nominis Quinti, nuper Danise et Nor-
vegia?, etc. Regis Fratris unici : ac Se-
renissimae et Excellentissimae Principis
Annie, Dei gratia Magnae Britanniae,
OENEPAL rtONK't
MONUMENT
Franciae, et Hiberniae Reginae, Fidei
Defensoris, etc. Mariti praecharissimi :
omnium Reginas exercituum tarn mari
quam terris Praefecti Supremi, Magnas
Britanniaa et Hibernias, etc. Summi
Admiralli, Regalis Castri Dubris Con-
stabularii et Gubernatoris, ac Quinque
Portuum Custodis, Regiae Majestati a
sanctioribus consiliis, nobilissimique
Ordinis Aureaa Periscelidis Equitis.
Nati Hafniae, Daniae Metrop. II. Aprilia
1653, Denati Kensingtoniffi 28 Octo-
bris 1708, aetatis suae 56.
(5) COFFIN-PLATE OF QUEEN ANNE.
Depositum
Serenissimaa Potentissimae et
Exeellentissimas Principis Annas
Dei Gratia Magnae Britanniae
Franciae et Hiberniaa Reginae
Fidei Defensoris, etc.
Nataa in Palatio Sti. Jacobi die
Februarii 166|, denataa
Kensingtoniae primo die August!
1714, aetatis suae quinqua-
gesimo, regnique decinio tertio.
502 APPENDIX.
fallen sideways into the interior of the coffin. The inscriptions were
examined and found to agree almost exactly with those in the Burial
books, and with those in Neale's ' Westminster Abbey.' The plates
are of copper gilt, except that of Charles II., which was of solid silver.
The ornamental metal fittings are expensively and tastefully wrought,
especially those of Queen Mary.
It is curious to observe the extreme simplicity of the inscriptions
of William III. and his Queen — in which, doubtless by the King's wish,
the barest initials were deemed sufficient to indicate the grandest
titles — and also to contrast this with the elaborate details concerning
the insignificant consort of Queen Anne.
This accidental disclosure was the only opportunity which had
been obtained of verifying the exact positions of any of the Royal
graves ; and the process of placing inscriptions in the other parts
of the Chapel was suspended, from the uncertainty which was en-
countered at almost every turn.
It was in the close of 1868, that Mr. Doyne C. Bell, of the Privy
Purse Office, Buckingham Palace, who was engaged in an investigation
of the Eoyal interments, called my attention to the singular discre-
pancies of the narratives and documents relating to the grave of
Perplexity James I. and his Queen. According .to Keepe,1 writing in
tuep^avegof 1681, only fifty-six years after the burial of James, they
jam«s i. were interred together ' in a vault on the north side of
' the tomb of King Henry VII.' Crull,2 in 1722, repeats the same
statement. Dart, in 1723, is more precise, but not consistent with
himself. In one passage 3 he describes them as ' deposited in a vault
' at the east end of the north aisle ' (apparently beside the monuments
of their two infant daughters) ; in another,4 that they ' rest in a
' vault by the old Duke of Buckingham's [Sheffield's] tomb,' he
writes ' 8 ft. 10 in. long, 4 ft. 1 in. wide, 3 feet high.' The urn of
Anne of Denmark he describes as being in Monk's vault, and con-
jectures that it was ' placed there when this vault was opened for
' the bones of Edward V. and his brother.' The Great Wardrobe
Accounts speak generally of their interment in Henry VII.'s Chapel —
but with no specific information, except what is furnished by an
account ' For labour and charges in opening the vault wherein His
' Majesty's body is laid, and for taking down and setting up again the
' next partition in the Choir, and divers great pews of wainscot and
' divers other seats.' These arrangements seemed to point to the
north aisle, where the partitions might have been removed for the
sake of introducing the coffins. The MSS. records at the Heralds'
College, usually so precise, are entirely silent as to the spot of the
King's interment, but state that the Queen was buried in ' a little
' chapel at the top of the stairs leading into King Henry VII.'s Chapel,
1 P. 103. 2 P. 113. » I. p. 167. * II. p. 54.
THE ROYAL VAULTS. 503
called ' ,' (and here the clerk, having carefully ruled two pencil
lines in order to insert the correct description of the chapel, has left
them blank).
These accounts, though provokingly vague, all pointed to a vault
common to the King and Queen, and on the north side of the Chapel,
though diverging in their indications either of a vault at the entrance
of the north aisle ; or at the east end of the same aisle ; or hi the
chapel by the Sheffield monument. The only statement to the
contrary was one brief line in the Abbey register, to the effect that
King James I. was buried ' in King Henry VII.'s vault.' Even this
was contradicted by an entry in 1718, apparently indicating the place
of the coffin of Anne of Denmark as on the north side of the Chapel,
in a vault of the same dimensions as those given in Dart. Therefore,
when compared with the printed narratives, this meagre record was
naturally thought to indicate nothing more than either Henry VII.'s
Chapel generally, or else some spot at the north-east, adjoining the
Tudor vault, where, accordingly, as the nearest approach to reconciling
the conflicting statements, the names of James I. and his Queen had
in 1866 been conjecturally placed. When, however, my attention was
thus more closely called to the ambiguity of the several records, I
determined to take the opportunity of resolving this doubt with several
others, arising, as I have already indicated, from the absence of
epitaphs or precise records. In the anticipation of some such neces-
sity, and at the same time in accordance with the long-established
usage of the Abbey, as well as from a sense of the sacredness of the
responsibility devolving on the guardian of the Eoyal Tombs, I had
three years before entered into communication with the then Secretary
of State, and obtained from him a general approval of any investiga-
tion which historical research might render desirable. I further re-
ceived the sanction on this occasion of the Lord Chamberlain, and also
of the First Commissioner of Public Works, as representing Her
Majesty, in the charge of the Eoyal monuments. The excavations
were made under the directions of Mr. Gilbert Scott, the architect,
and Mr. Poole, the master mason of the Abbey, on the spots most
likely to lead to a result.
The first attempt was at the north-eastern angle of Henry VII.'s
tomb, which, as already mentioned, had been selected as the most
The Argyll probable site of the grave of James I. The marble pavement
vault. wag iifted up, and immediately disclosed a spacious vault,
with four coffins. But they proved to be those of the great Duke of
Argyll and his Duchess, side by side ; and resting on them, of their
daughters, Caroline Campbell Countess of Dalkeith, and Mary Coke,
widow of Viscount Coke, son of the Earl of Leicester.1
1 These are the two daughters men- supposed to have been seen by Jeannie
tioned in The Heart of Midlothian. Deans, when she said that a lady had
Caroline was the one whom Mrs. Glass appeared of the name of Caroline.
504 APPENDIX.
This discovery, whilst it was the first check to the hope of verifying
the grave of James I., was not without its own importance, even irre-
spectively of the interest attaching to the illustrious family whose
remains were thus disclosed. The Burial Kegister described the Duke
of Argyll as having been originally interred in the Ormond Vault, and
afterwards removed to a vault of his own. This vault had hitherto
been supposed to have been in the Sheffield Chapel close by. But it
now appeared that when the Sheffield vault was filled and closed, and
the steps leading to it had become useless, the Argyll vault was made
in their place.1
The search was now continued in the space between Henry VII. 's
tomb and the Villiers Chapel ; but the ground was found to be
Empty unoccupied and apparently undisturbed. Westward and
southward, however, three vaults were discovered, two lying
side by side opposite the eastern bay of the north aisle, and one having
a descent of steps under the floor opposite the adjoining bay. The
vaults were covered with brick arches, and the descent with Purbeck
stone slabs. That nearest to the dais west of Henry VII. 's tomb,
which it partly underlies, was found to contain one coffin of lead rudely
shaped to the human form, and attached to it was the silver plate
containing the name and title of Elizabeth Claypole, the favourite
daughter of Oliver Cromwell. This exactly tallied with the
Elizabeth description given in the Burial Book discovered by Dean
Bradford in 1728. 2 The lead coffin is in good order, and the
silver plate perfect. The letters in the inscription exactly resemble
Mary was the lively little girl of twelve ' Rochester and Dean of Westminster.'
years old, who taunted her father with The inscription is then given in English,
the recollection of Sheriffmuir ; and and the following notice is added : —
who, at the extreme age of eighty-one, ' N.B. — The said body lays at the end
was the last of the family interred in ' of the step of the altar, on the north
the vault in 1811. ' side, between the step and the stalls.'
1 It is curious that the coffin of the In accordance with this indication,
Duke is placed on the northern, instead the name was inscribed on the stone
of the southern, or dexter side ; perhaps in 1867. Since discovering this, by a
from the fact that the Duchess was reference of Colonel Chester to Noble's
interred before the removal of his Cromwell, i. 140 (3rd ed.), I found the
coffin from the Ormond vault. The same inscription in Latin, with the
walls are brick, and the covering stone additional fact that in 1725, during
only a few inches below the surface. alterations previous to the first installa-
The lead coffin of the first interment is tion of the Bath, the workmen dis-
divested of its wooden case, that of the covered, forced off, and endeavoured to
second partly so ; but the two upper conceal the plate. The clerk of the
coffins with the velvet coverings are in works, Mr. Fidoe, took it from them
good condition. and delivered it to the Dean [erroneously
2 In 1866, on first studying the called Dr. Pearce], who said he should
Burial Books of the Abbey, I had been not take anything that had been de-
startled to find, on a torn leaf, under posited with the illustrious dead, and
the date of 1728, the following entry : ordered it to be replaced. The authority
' Taken off a silver plate to a lead was Noble's ' friend, Dr. Longmete, who
' coffin, and fixed on again by order ' had it from Mr. Fidoe himself.'
' of Dr. Samuel Bradford, Bishop of
THE EOYAL VAULTS. 50-3
those on the plate torn from her father's coffin, and now in the posses-
sion of Earl De Grey.1
The vault 2 of Elizabeth Claypole was probably made expressly to
receive her remains ; and it may be that, from its isolation, it escaped
notice at the time of the general disinterment in 1661. But it is
remarkable that the adjoining vaults were quite empty, and until now
quite unknown. Probably they were made in the time of Dean
Bradford, as indicated by the Eegister of 1728, perhaps for the Koyal
Family ; but when, at the death of the Queen of George II. in 1787,
the extensive Georgian vault was constructed, these, having become
superfluous, may then have been forgotten.
It was now determined to investigate the ground in the Sheffield
Chapel, which hitherto had been supposed to contain the Argyll vault.
vault of Although, as has been seen, the MS. records in Heralds'
£"im°rk College distinctly state that Anne of Denmark was buried
in a little Chapel at the top of the stairs leading into Henry
VII. 's Chapel, there was a memorandum in the Abbey Burial Book,
dated 1718, from which it might be inferred that the Queen was
buried in the north-east corner of the Chapel. The pavement, which
had evidently been disturbed more than once, was removed, and a
slight quantity of loose earth being scraped away below the surface, at
a few inches the stone-covering to a vault was found. A plain brick
vault beneath was disclosed of dimensions precisely corresponding
with the description given by Dart, as the vault of James I. and his
consort. And alone, in the centre of the wide space, lay a long leaden
coffin shaped to the form of the body, on which was a plate of brass, with
1 The actual inscription is as follows, and exactly agrees with the transcript in
Noble, with the exception of equitis for equitvvi, which arose from a misunder-
standing of the old characters : —
Depositum
Illustrissimas Dominro D. Elizabeths nuper uxoris Honoratissimi
Domini Johannis Claypoole,
Magistri Equitum
necnon Filias Secundse
Serenissimi et Celsissimi
Principis
Oliveri, Dei Gratia
Angliae, Scotiae, et Hibernias,
&c.
Protectoris.
Obiit
Apud /Edes Hamptoniensea
Sexto die Augusti
Anno ffitatis sure Vicesimo Octavo
Annoque Domini
1658.
- The wooden centering used in forming the last section of the vault had
been left in it and had fallen down.
506 APPENDIX.
an inscription l exactly coinciding with that in the Burial Book of
1718, 2 and giving at length the style and title of Anne of Denmark.
The wooden case had wholly gone, and there were no remains of
velvet cloth or nails. The vault appeared to have been carefully swept
out, and all decayed materials removed, perhaps in 1718, when the
inscription was copied into the Abbey Register, and the measurement
of the vault taken, which Dart has recorded ; or even in 1811, when
the adjoining Argyll vault was last opened, when the stone (a York-
shire flag landing 3) which covered the head of the vault, may have
been fixed ; and when some mortar, which did not look older than
fifty years, may have fallen on the coffin-plate. The length of the
leaden chest (6 feet 7 inches) was interesting, as fully corroborating
the account of the Queen's remarkable stature. There was a small
hole in the coffin, attributable to the bursting and corrosion of the
lead, which appeared also to have collapsed over the face and body.
The form of the knees was indicated.
On examining the wall at the west end of this vault, it was evident
that the brickwork had been broken down, and a hole had been made,
as if there had been an endeavour to ascertain whether any other vault
existed to the westward. The attempt seems to have been soon aban-
doned, for the aperture was merely six or eight inches in depth. It
had been filled in with loose earth. On turning out and examining
this, two leg bones and a piece of a skull were found. It was thought,
and is indeed possible, that these had been thrown there by accident,
either when the Parliamentary 4 troops occupied the Chapel, or on
either of the more recent occasions already noticed. But in the con-
templation of this vault, evidently made for two persons, and in which,
according to the concurrent testimony of all the printed accounts, the
King himself was buried with the Queen, the question arose with ad-
1 Serenissima
Begina Anna
Jacobi, Magnse Britannise
Franciae et Hiberniaa Kegis,
Conjux, Frederici Secundi
Regis Danise Norvigise
Vandalorum et Gothorum, filia,
Christian! IIII soror ac multorum
Principum mater, hie deponitur.
Obiit apud Hampton Court, anno
Salutis MDCXvni, nn Nonas
Martis, anno Nata XLIH
Menses nn
dies xviii.
* It had probably been opened with s These Yorkshire stones have only
a view of interring Lady Mansel, whose been in use during the present cen-
burial (in the Ormond vault) immedi- tury.
ately precedes the notice of the Queen's * Chapter III. and Chapter IV.
coffin.
THE ROYAL VAULTS. 507
ditional force what could have become of his remains ; and the thought
occurred to more than one of the spectators, that when the Chapel was
in the hands of the Parliamentary soldiers, some of those concerned
may well have remembered the spot where the last sovereign had been
buried with so much pomp, and may have rifled his coffin, leaving the
bare vault and the few bones as the relics of the first Stuart King.
With so strange and dark a conclusion as the only alternative, it
was determined to push the inquiry in every locality which seemed to
afford any likelihood of giving a more satisfactory solution. The first
attempt was naturally in the neighbourhood of the Queen's grave. A
wall was found immediately to the east, which, on being examined,
opened into a vault containing several coffins. For a moment it was
thought that the King, with possibly some other important personages,
Sheffield was discovered. But it proved to be only the vault of the
Sheffield monument.1 The discovery was a surprise, because
the Burial Eegister spoke of them as deposited in the Ormond vault.2
The coffins were those of the first 3 Duke and Duchess of Buckingham-
shire and three of their children, and also the second and last Duke, at
' whose death, lamented by4 Atterbury and Pope, and yet more deeply
' by his fantastic mother, all the titles of his family became extinct,' the
vault was walled up, although ' where the steps were there was room
' for eight more.' 5 This ' room ' was afterwards appropriated by the
Argyll family, as before stated.
Amongst the places of sepulture which it was thought possible that
James I. might have selected for himself was the grave which with so
much care he had selected for his mother, on the removal of her re-
mains from Peterborough to Westminster ; and as there were also some
contradictory statements respecting the interments in her vault, it was
determined to make an entry by removing the stones on the south
side of the southern aisle of the Chapel, among which one was marked
WAY. This led to an ample flight of stone steps trending obliquely
vault of under the Queen of Scots' tomb. Immediately at the foot
Queen of of these stePs appeared a large vault of brick 12^ ft. long, 7
Scots- ft. wide, and 6 ft. high. A startling, it may almost be said
an awful, scene presented itself. A vast pile of leaden coffins rose from
the floor ; some of full stature, the larger number varying in form from
that of the full-grown child to the merest infant, confusedly heaped
upon the others, whilst several urns of various shapes were tossed about
in irregular positions throughout the vault.
The detailed account of this famous sepulchre given by Crull
and Dart at once facilitated the investigation of this chaos of royal
1 This vault (from the absence of an buried in the Ormond vault, and after-
escape air-pipe through the covering) wards removed to this one.
was the only one in which the atmo- s See Chapter IV.
sphere was impure. 4 See Icid.
2 Perhaps the Duke was at first * Burial Register.
508 APPENDIX.
mortality. This description, whilst needing correction in two or three
points, was, on the whole, substantiated.
The first distinct object that arrested the attention was a coffin in
the north-west corner, roughly moulded according to the human form
and face. It could not be doubted to be that of ' Henry Frederick
Henry Prince of Wales. The lead of the head was shaped into rude
Prmee of r
Wales. features, the legs and arms indicated, even to the forms of
the fingers and toes. On the breast was soldered a leaden case evi-
dently containing the heart, and below were his initials, with the Prince
of Wales's feathers, and the date of his death (1612). In spite of the
grim 2 and deformed aspect, occasioned by the irregular collapsing of
the lead, there was a life-like appearance which seemed like an en-
deavour to recall the lamented heir of so much hope.
Next, along the north wall, were two coffins, much compressed and
distorted by the superincumbent weight of four or five lesser coffins
heaped upon them. According to Crull's account, the upper one of
these two was that of Mary Queen of Scots, the lower that of Arabella
Arabella Stuart. But subsequent investigation led to the reversal of
stuart. f-^is conclusion. No plate could be found on either. But
the upper one was much broken, and the bones, especially the skull,
turned on one side, were distinctly visible — thus agreeing with Crull's
account of the coffin of Arabella Stuart. The lower one was saturated
with pitch, and was deeply compressed by the weight above, but the
lead had not given way. It was of a more solid and stately character,
and was shaped to meet the form of the body like another presently to
Mary Queen be noticed, which would exactly agree with the age and rank
of scots. 0£ ]\jai.y Stuart. The difficulty of removing the whole weight
of the chest would of itself have proved a bar to any closer examination.
But, in fact, it was felt not to be needed for any purpose of historical
verification, and the presence of the fatal coffin which had received the
headless corpse at Fotheringay was sufficiently affecting, without en-
deavouring to penetrate farther into its mournful contents.3 It cannot
be questioned that this, and this alone, must be the coffin of the Queen
of Scots. Its position by the north wall ; close to Henry Prince of
Wales, who must have been laid here a few months after her removal
hither from Peterborough ; its peculiar form ; its suitableness in age
and situation, were decisive as to the fact. On the top of this must
have been laid Arabella Stuart in her frail and ill-constructed recep-
tacle. And thus for many years, those three alone (with the exception of
Henry of Charles I.'s two infant children 4) occupied the vault. Then
oatiands. came the numerous funerals immediately after the Eesto-
ration. Henry of Oatiands 5 lies underneath Henry Prince of Wales.
1 See Chapter III. p. 157. could not be identified.
2 A cast was taken and is preserved. s For Henry of Oatiands, Mary of
3 See Chapter III. p. 154. Orange, Elizabeth of Bohemia, and
4 See Chapter III. p. 158. These Prince Rupert, see Chapter III. p. 162-3.
THE ROYAL VAULTS. 509
There is no plate, but the smaller size of the coffin, and its situation,
coincide with the printed description. It may be conjectured that
whilst Mary lies in her original position, Henry Prince of Wales must
have lain in the centre of the vault by her side, and removed to his
present position when the introduction of the two larger coffins now
occupying the centre necessitated his removal farther north. Of these
two larger coffins, the printed account identified the lower one as that
Mary of of Mary Princess of Orange ; the plate affixed to the upper
one proved it to contain Prince Eupert, whose exact place in
the Chapel had been hitherto unknown. Next to them, against the
south wall, were a'gain two large coffins, of which the lower one, in
like manner by the printed account, was ascertained to be
>de> that of Anne Hyde, James II. 's first wife, and that above
was recognised by the plate, still affixed, to be that of Elizabeth Queen
Elizabeth of Bohemia.1 Her brother Henry in his last hours had
of Bohemia. crie(j out; « Where is my dear sister ? ' and she had vainly
endeavoured, disguised as a page, to force herself into his presence.
Fifty eventful years passed away, and she was laid within a few feet
of him in this — their last home.
Spread over the surface of these more solid structures lay the small
coffins, often hardly more than cases, of the numerous progeny of that
Thechi'dren unhappy family, doomed, as this gloomy chamber impressed
of James n. on a}J wno gaw j^ wftn a more than ordinary doom— infant
after infant fading away which might else have preserved the race —
first, the ten 2 children of James II., including one whose existence
was unknown before — ' James Darnley, natural son ' — 3 and
)f Anne. ^gjj ejgn^een children of Queen Anne ; of whom one alone
required the receptacle of a full-grown child — William Duke of
Gloucester. His coffin lay on that of Elizabeth of Bohemia, and had
to be raised in order to read the plate containing her name.
Of these, most of the plates had been preserved, and (with
the two exceptions of those of James Darnley4 and of Prince
1 In Crull's account, Elizabeth of * Mr. Doyne Bell suggests to me that
Bohemia is described as resting on this child was the son of Catherine
Mary (or as he by a slip calls her Sedley, inasmuch as the same name of
Elizabeth) of Orange. This, perhaps, Darnley was granted by letters patent
was her original position, and she may of James II. to her daughter Catherine,
have been subsequently placed upon afterwards Duchess of Buckingham-
Anne Hyde's coffin, in order to make shire, after the date of the death of
room for her son Rupert. James Darnley.
2 See Chapter III. p. 165.
« COFFIN-PLATE OF JAMES DARNLEY.
James Darnley
natural sonn to King James y" second.
Departed this life the 22 of aprill
1685
Aged aBout eight Mounths.
510 APPENDIX.
Rupert !) were all identical with those mentioned in Crull. The rest
had either perished, or, as is not improbable, been detached by the
workmen at the reopenings of the vault at each successive interment.
It was impossible to view this wreck and ruin of the Stuart dynasty
without a wish, if possible, to restore something like order and decency
amongst the relics of so much departed greatness. The confusion,
which, at first sight, gave the impression of wanton havoc and neglect,
had been doubtless produced chiefly by the pressure of superincumbent
weight, which could not have been anticipated by those who made the
arrangement, when the remains of the younger generations were ac-
cumulated beyond all expectation on the remains of their progenitors.
In the absence of directions from any superior authority, a scruple was
felt against any endeavour to remove these little waifs and strays of
royalty from the solemn resting-place where they had been gathered
round their famous and unfortunate ancestress. But as far as could
be they were cleared from the larger coffins, and placed in the small
open space at the foot of the steps.
This vault opened on the west into a much narrower vault, under
the monument 2 of Lady Margaret Lennox, through a wall of nearly 3
The Lennox ^ee^ m thickness by a hole which is made about 8 feet above
yanlt' the floor, and about 2 feet square. A pile of three or four of
the small chests of James II. 's children obstructed the entrance, but
within the vault there appeared to be three coffins one above the other.
The two lower would doubtless be those of the Countess and her son
Charles Earl of Lennox, the father of Arabella Stuart. The upper coffin
wrasthat of Esme Stuart, Duke of Richmond, whose name, with the date
1624,3 was just traceable on the decayed plate. On the south side of
1 PRINCE RUPERT'S INSCRIPTION.
Depositum
Illustr : Principle Ruperti, Comitis Palatini Rheni,
Ducis Bavariae et Cumbrias, Comitis Holdernessiae,
totius Anglise Vice-Admiralli,
Regalis Castri Windesoriensis Constabularii et Gubernatoris,
Nobilissimi Ordinis Periscelidis Equitis,
Et Majestati Regiae a Sanetioribus Conciliis,
Filii tertiogeniti Ser™1 Principis Frederici Regis Bohemiae, etc.
Per Ser*"1 Principiss : Elizabethan!, Filiam unicam Jacobi,
Sororem Caroli Primi, et amitaru Caroli ejus nominis secundi,
Magnae Britanniae, Franciae et Hiberniae Regum.
Nati Pragae; Bohemiae Metrop. |l Decenibr. A° MDCXIX".
Denati Londini XXIX Novembr : MDCLXXXII".
SU83 LXIII.
2 See Chapter III. p. 154. It may * He was the grandnephew of Lady
be observed that the monument must Margaret Lennox, a second brother of
have been erected upon the accession Ludovic, who lies in the Richmond
of James to the English throne, as he Chapel, and whom he succeeded in his
is called in the epitaph on the tomb title, in 1623-24. He died at Kirby,
' King James VI.' on February 14, in the following year
THE ROYAL VAULTS. 511
this vault there was seen to have been an opening cut, and afterwards
filled up with brickwork. This probably was the hole through which,
before 1683, in Keepe's time, the skeleton and dry shrivelled skin of
Charles Lennox, in his shaken and decayed coffin, was visible.
It is remarkable that the position of the vault is not conformable
with the tomb above, the head of the vault being askew two or three
feet to the south. This is evidently done to effect a descent at the
head, which could not otherwise have been made, because the found-
ation of the detached pier at the west end of the chapel would
have barred that entrance ; and no doubt if the pavement were
opened beyond the inclined vault, the proper access would be dis-
covered.
Interesting as these two vaults were in themselves the search for
King James I. was yet baffled. The statements of Dart and Crull still
Em t pointed to his burial in the north aisle. The vault afterwards
vaults. appropriated by General Monk 1 at the west entrance of that
aisle had been already examined, without discovering any trace of royal
personages. But it was suggested that there was every reason for ex-
ploring the space at the east end of the aisle between the tombs of
Queen Elizabeth and those of the King's own infant daughters. This
space had accordingly been examined at the first commencement of the
excavations, but proved to be quite vacant. There was not the slight-
est appearance of vault or grave. The excavations, however, had
almost laid bare the wall immediately at the eastern end of the monu-
ment of Elizabeth, and through a small aperture a view was obtained
into a low narrow vault immediately beneath her tomb. It was in-
stantly evident that it enclosed two coffins, and two only, and it could
not be doubted that these 2 contained Elizabeth and her sister Mary.
The upper one, larger, and more distinctly shaped in the form of the
body, like that of Mary Queen of Scots, rested on the other.
There was no disorder or decay, except that the centering wood
had fallen over the head of Elizabeth's coffin, and that the wood case
had crumbled away at the sides, and had drawn away part
Queen°f of the decaying lid. No coffin-plate could be discovered,
Elizabeth. but £ortunateiy the dim light fell on a fragment of the lid
slightly carved. This led to a further search, and the original inscrip-
tion was discovered. There was the Tudor Badge, a full double rose,3
deeply but simply incised in outline on the middle of the cover ; on
(1624) from the spotted ague, and 327. Communicated by Mr. Doyne Bell,
was 'honourably buried at Westmin- ^ See Appendix to Chapter IV.
• ster.' There were 1000 mourners at See Chapter III. p. loo.
the funeral; the effigy was drawn by 'The prominence of this double rose
six horses The pomp was equal to on the Queen's coftm is illustrated by
that of the obsequies of Anne of Den- one of the Epitaphs given in Nichols's
mark. ' The Lord Keeper ' (Williams) Progresses, p. 251 :—
preached the sermon. — State Papers, ' Here in this earthen pit lie withered,
Lorn., James I. vol. clxiii. pp. 320, 323, Which grew on high the vhite rose and tte red.'
512
APPENDIX.
each side the august initials E E ; and below, the memorable date 1603.
The coffin-lid had been further decorated with narrow moulded panel-
ling. The coffin-case was of inch elm; but the ornamental lid contain-
ing the inscription and panelling was of fine oak, half an inch thick,
laid on the inch elm cover. The whole was covered with red silk
velvet, of which much remained attached to the wood, and it had
covered not only the sides and ends, but also the ornamented oak cover,
as though the bare wood had not been thought rich enough without
the velvet.
WOODEN CASE OF LEADEN COFFIX OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
The sight of this secluded and narrow tomb, thus compressing in
the closest grasp the two Tudor sisters, ' partners of the same throne
' and grave, sleeping in the hope of resurrection ' — the solemn majesty
of the great Queen thus reposing, as can hardly be doubted by her own
desire, on her sister's coffin — was the more impressive from the con-
trast of its quiet calm with the confused and multitudinous decay of
the Stuart vault, and of the fulness of its tragic interest with the
vacancy of the deserted spaces which had been hitherto explored in
the other parts of the Chapel. The vault was immediately closed
again.
THE ROYAL VAULTS.
513
It was now evident that the printed accounts of James's interment
were entirely at fault. The whole north side of the Chapel, where
they with one accord represented him to have been buried, had been
explored in vain, and it remained only to search the spots in the
centre and south side which offered the chief probability of success.
The first of these spots examined was the space between the spot
known to have been occupied by the grave of King Edward VI. and
that of George II. and his Queen. This, however, was unoccupied, and
TOKEEGIANO'S ALTAR, FORMERLY AT THE HEAD OF HENKY VH.'S TOMB,
UNDER WHICH EDWARD VI. WAS BUKIED.
FROM AN ENGRAVING IN SAN'DFORD'S OENEAT.OGICAL HISTORY.
besides was barely sufficient to form even a small vault. But its
exploration led to the knowledge of the exact position of these two
graves.1
The next approach was made to the space under the dais, west of
1 In this and the previous operation
under the marble floor were discovered
two transverse tie-bars of iron bearing
upon blocks of stone resting on the
arch over George II. 's grave. From
that at the head there was a vertical
suspension-bar passing through the
arch into the vault. Its purpose may
perhaps have been to support a canopy
or ceiling over the sarcophagus beneath.
L L
514
APPENDIX.
Henry's VII.'s monument, where Edward VI.'s grave had been already
vault of in 1866 indicated1 on the pavement. A shallow vault
Edward vi. immediately appeared, containing one leaden coffin only,
rent and deformed as well as wasted by long corrosion, and perhaps
injured by having been examined before. The wooden case had
been in part cleared away and the pavement had evidently been at
MARBLK FRAGMENT OF TOREEGIANO 8 ALTAR.
some previous time wholly or partially removed. Over the coffin
were a series of Kentish rag-stones, which had been steps — one or
more shaped with octagon angle ends, and the fronts of them
bordered with a smooth polished surface surrounding a frosted area of
a light grey colour within the border. These were probably the
original steps of the dais, and must have been placed in this position
at the time when, in 1641, the Puritans destroyed the monumental
altar under which Edward VI. was buried. This conclusion was
greatly strengthened by the interesting discovery that the
Torregiaiio's extreme piece of the covering at the foot was a frieze of
white marble 3 feet 8 inches long, 7 inches high, and 6 inches
thick— elaborately carved along the front and each end, while the back
CARVING OF TOUREGIANO'S ALTAR.
was wrought to form the line of a segmental vaulted ceiling ; and the
ends pierced to receive the points of columns. These features at once
marked it as part of the marble frieze of Torregiano's work for this
' matchless altar,' as it was deemed at the time. The carving is of the
best style of the early Renaissance period, and is unquestionably Italian
work. It combines alternations of heraldic badges, the Tudor roses and
1 See Chapter III. p. 150.
L L 2
516 APPENDIX.
the lilies l of France, placed between scrollage of various flowers. It
still retained two iron cramps, which were used to join a fracture oc-
casioned by the defectiveness of the marble, and it also exhibited the
remains of another iron cramp, which was used to connect the marble
with the entire fabric. Deep stains of iron at the ends of the marble
had been left by an overlying bar (probably a part of the ancient
structure), which was placed on the carved2 surface, seemingly to
strengthen the broken parts.
Underneath these fragments, lying across the lower part of the
coffin, was discovered, curiously rolled up, but loose and unsoldered, the
Discovery of leaden coffin-plate. It was so corroded that, until closely in-
p^atr^lth spected in a full light, no letter or inscription was discernible,
inscription. "With some difficulty, however, every letter of this interesting
and hitherto unknown inscription was read. The letters, all capitals
of equal size, one by one were deciphered, and gave to the world, for
the first time, the epitaph on the youthful King, in some points unique
amongst the funeral inscriptions of English sovereigns.3 On the
coffin of the first completely Protestant King, immediately following
the Royal titles, was the full and unabated style conferred by the Eng-
lish Reformation—' On earth under Christ of the Church of England
' and Ireland Supreme Head.' 4 Such an inscription marks the moment
when the words must have been inserted — in that short interval of
nine days, whilst the body still lay at Greenwich, and whilst Lady Jane
Grey still upheld the hopes of the Protestant party. It proceeds to
record, as with a deep pathetic earnestness, the time of his loss — not
merely the year, and month, and day — but ' 8 o'clock, in the evening,'
that memorable evening, of the sixth of July, when the cause of the
Reformation seemed to flicker and die away with the life of the youth-
ful Prince.5
The discovery of this record of the Royal Supremacy — probably
1 A poem of this date — the early been perfectly flat, it was now rolled
years of Henry VIII. — was found be- up and forcibly contracted by the cor-
tween the leaves of the account-book of rosion of the outer surface, which has
the kitchener of the convent, turning expanded, while the inner surface, being
chiefly on a comparison of the roses of much less corroded, has been contracted,
England and lilies of France. and thereby the flat plate has assumed
2 When the vault was finally closed, the appearance of a disproportioned
it was determined to remove and pro- cushion.
perly relay the whole covering, by 4 On the coffin of his father at
placing a corbel plate of three-inch Windsor no inscription exists. By
Yorkshire stone on either side, the the time that his sisters mounted the
middle ends of which were supported throne, the title was slightly altered,
by laying the iron tie-bar before alluded s It may be noted here that when the
to across the grave. By this means the stone covering was removed at the back
effective opening of the width of the of the coffin, the skull of the King be-
grave was reduced, and the short stones came visible. The cerecloth had fallen
of the old covering obtained a good away, and showed that no hair was
support at their ends. And thus the attached to the skull. —Compare the
ancient iron tie-bar of the monument account of his last illness in Froude,
was finally utilised. vol. v. p. 512. ' Eruptions came out
3 Although the plate had originally ' over his skin, and his )utir fell off.'
THE ROYAL VAULTS. 517
the most emphatic and solemn that exists— would have been striking
at any time. At the present moment, when the foundation of this
great doctrine of the Reformed Churches is being sifted to its depths,
it seemed to gather up in itself all the significance that could be given.
It was a question whether this, with the accompanying relic of the
marble frieze, should be returned to the dark vault whence they had
thus unexpectedly emerged, or placed in some more accessible situation.
It was determined that the frieze, as a work of art, which had only by
accident been concealed from view, should be placed as nearly as pos-
sible in its original position ; but that the inscription l should be re-
stored to the royal coffin, on which it had been laid in that agony of
English history, there to rest as in the most secure depository of so
sacred a trust.
The vault of King Edward VI. was too narrow ever to have ad-
mitted of another coffin. It is only 7^ feet long, 2^ feet wide, and its
floor but a few feet below the pavement. It is arched with two rings
of half brick. Immediately on its north side the ground had never
been disturbed ; and on the south side, although a brick vault was
found, it was empty, and seems never to have been used.
It was now suggested that, as Anne of Denmark was alone in the
vault in the north apsidal compartment, or Sheffield Chapel, King
James might have been placed in the southern or dexter compartment
of the Montpensier Chapel ; and as the sunken and irregular state of
the pavement there showed that it had been much disturbed, the ground
was probed. There was no vault, but an earthen grave soon disclosed
itself, in which, at about two feet below the surface, a leaden coffin
was reached. The wooden lid was almost reduced to a mere
unknown film ; and from the weight of the earth above, the leaden lid
had given way all round the soldered edges of the coffin, and
was lying close on the flattened skeleton within. At the foot, and
nearer the surface, there was a large cylindrical urn, indicating that
the body had been embalmed. The position of the urn, which was
lying on its side, would lead to the suspicion that both it and the coffin
1 The inscription is copied word for ment above the King's grave as fol-
word and line for line on the pave- lows : —
Edwardus Sextus Dei gratia Angliae Fran-
ci«e et Hiberniffl Bex Fidei Defensor et in
terra sub Christo Ecclesiae Anglican® et
Hibernicae Supremum Caput migravit ex hac
vita sexto die Julii vesperi ad horam
octavam anno domini MDLIII. et
regni sui septimo aetatis sua decimo
sexto.
The plate itself has been hardened ing of corrosion, and will prevent any
by the application of a solution of increase,
shellac, which has fixed the loose coat-
518 APPENDIX.
had been removed before, especially as the floor above was so irregular
and ill formed.
The skeleton which was thus discovered was that of a tall man,
6 feet high, the femoral bone being two 2 feet long, and the tibia lof
in. The head was well formed but not large. The teeth were fresh
and bright, and were those of a person under middle age. There was
no hair visible. The larger ligatures of the body were still traceable.
At the bottom of the coffin was a tray of wood about three inches
deep, which, it was conjectured, may have been used to embalm the
body. The sides of the wooden coffin were still in place ; here and
there the silken covering adhering to the wood, and to the bones, as
well as pieces of the metal side-plates, with two iron handles of the
coffin, and several brass nails were found in the decaying wood. All
such detached pieces were, after examination, placed in a deal box and
replaced on the coffin. But the most minute search failed to discover
any insignia in the dust ; and not only was there no plate discovered,
but no indication of any such having been affixed. The leaden lid
of the coffin was again placed over the skeleton ; the urn was restored
to its former position ; and the earth carefully filled in.
It was for a moment apprehended that in these remains the body
of James I. might have been identified. But two circumstances were
fatal to this supposition. First, the skeleton, as has been said, was
that of a tall man ; whereas James was rather below than above the
middle stature. Secondly, the Wardrobe Accounts of his funeral,
above quoted, contain the expenses of opening a vault, whereas this
Probabi kody was buried in a mere earthen grave. Another alter-
oenerai native, which amounted very nearly to certainty, was the
suggestion that these remains belonged to General Charles
Worsley, the only remarkable man recorded to have been buried in
the Chapel under the Protectorate who was not disinterred after the
Kestoration. The appearance of the body agrees, on the whole, with
the description and portrait of Worsley. He was in high favour with
Cromwell, and was the officer to whom, when the mace of the House
of Commons was taken away, ' that bauble ' was committed. He died
at the early age of thirty -five, in St. James's Palace (where two of his
children were buried in the Chapel Eoyal), on June 12, 1656.
He was interred the day following in Westminster Abbey, in King Henry
VII.'s Chapel, near to the grave of Sir William Constable, his interment taking
place in the evening at nine o'clock, and being conducted with much pomp.
Heath, in his ' Chronicle ' (p. 381), alluding to his early death, says, ' Worsley died
' before he could be good in his office, and was buried with the dirges of bell,
' book, and candle, and the peale of musquetsp in no less a repository than Henry
' VII.'s Chapel, as became a Prince of the modern erection, and Oliver's great
' and rising favourite.'
It has been recorded, that after the interment of General Worsley had taken
place, Mr. Roger Kenyon, M.P. for Clitheroe, and Clerk of the Peace for the
County, himself a zealous royalist, the brother-in-law of the deceased and one of
THE .ROYAL VAULTS. 519
the mourners, returned secretly to the Abbey, and wrote upon the stone the words,
WHERE NEVER WORSE LAY, which indignantly being reported to Cromwell, so
offended him that he offered a reward for the discovery of the writer.1
Amongst tlie heirlooms of the family at Platt, in Lancashire, is a
portrait of this its most celebrated member. It represents a handsome
man, with long flowing dark hair. This, in all probability, was the
figure whose gaunt bones were thus laid bare in his almost royal
grave, under the stones which had received the obnoxious inscription
of his Eoyalist relative. The general appearance of the body, its ap-
parent youth, and its comely stature, agree with the portrait. The
loss of the hair might perhaps be explained, if we knew the nature
of the illness which caused his death. The embalmment would agree
with his high rank ; whilst the rapidity of the funeral, succeeding to
his decease within a single day, would account for the interment of so
distinguished a personage in an earthen grave. The probable date of
the burial place — as if two centuries old — suits with the period of his
death. It is a singular coincidence that the one member of Cromwell's
court who still rests amongst the Kings is the one of whom an en-
thusiastic and learned Nonconformist of our day has said, that ' no
' one appeared so fit as he to succeed to the Protectorate, and if the
' Commonwealth was to have been preserved, his life would have been
' prolonged for its preservation.' 2
With this interesting, though as far as the particular object of the
search was concerned, futile attempt, which embraced also the adjacent
area — found to be entirely vacant — between Henry VII. 's tomb and
the Richmond Chapel, the examination ceased.
Every conceivable space in the Chapel had now been explored,
except the actual vault of Henry VII. himself. To this the Abbey
Register had from the first pointed ; and it may seem strange that this
hint had not been followed up before. But the apparent improbability
of such a place for the interment of the first Stuart King ; the positive
contradiction of the printed accounts of Keepe, Crull, and Dart ; the
absence of any such indications in the Heralds' Office ; the interment
of the Queen in the spot to which these authorities pointed — thus, as
it seemed, furnishing a guarantee for their correctness ; the aspect of
the stones at the foot of the tomb of Henry VII. as if always un-
broken ; the difficulty of supposing that an entrance could have been
forced through the passage at its head, already occupied by the coffin
of Edward VI. ; it may be added, the reluctance, except under the
extremest necessity, of penetrating into the sacred resting-place of the
august founder of the Chapel — had precluded an attempt on this
vault, until every other resource had been exhausted. That necessity
1 History of Birch Chapel, by the all that could be known of General
Rev. J. Booker, pp. 48, 49; to whom Worsley.
I have to express my obligations for * Dr. Halley's Nonconformity of
his kindness in aiding me to ascertain Lancashire, vol. ii. p. 37.
520
APPENDIX.
had now come ; and it was determined as a last resort to ascertain
whether any entrance could be found. At the east end the previous
examination of the Ormond vault had shown that no access could be
obtained from below, and the undisturbed appearance of the stones at
the foot of the tomb, as just observed, indicated the same from above.
On the north and south the walls of the enclosure was found impene-
trable. There remained, therefore, only the chance from the already
encumbered approach on the west.
In that narrow space, accordingly, the excavation was begun. On
opening the marble pavement, the ground beneath was found very
vault of loose, and pieces of brick amongst it. Soon under the step
Henry vii. an(j enclosure, a corbel was discovered, immediately under
the panelled curb, evidently to form an opening beneath ; and onward
WEST END. HENRY VII.'S VAULT.
to the east the earth was cleared, until the excavators reached a large
stone, like a wall, surmounted and joined on the noiih side with
smaller stones, and brickwork over all. This was evidently an entrance.
The brickwork and the smaller stones on the top were gradually
removed, and then the apex of the vertical end of a flat -pointed arch
of firestone became exposed. It was at once evident that the vault '
of Edward VI. was only the continuation westward of the passage into
the entrance of the Tudor vault, and that this entrance was now in
1 It may be observed that the regular
approach to the vault, though after-
wards disturbed by the grave of Edward
VI., may have been intended to have
given a more public and solemn access,
especially at the time when the trans-
lation of the body of Henry VI. was
still meditated. See Chapter III.
THE COFFINS OF JAMES I., ELIZABETH OF YORK, AND HENRY VII.
AS SEEN ON THE OPENING OF THE VAULT IN 1869.
FROM A DRAWING BY GEORGE SCHARF, ESQ.
522
APPENDIX.
view. It was with a feeling of breathless anxiety amounting to solemn
awe, which caused the humblest of the workmen employed to whisper
with bated breath, as the small opening at the apex of the arch ad-
mitted the first glimpse into the mysterious secret which had hitherto
eluded this long research. Deep within the arched vault were dimly
seen three coffins lying side by side — two of them dark and gray with
age, the third somewhat brighter and newer, and of these, on the
introduction of a light into the aperture, the two older appeared to be
leaden, one bearing an inscription, and the third, surrounded by a case
of wood, bearing also an inscription plate. The mouth of the cavern
was closed, as has been already intimated, by a huge stone, which, as
in Jewish sepulchres, had been rolled against the entrance. Above
this was a small mass of brickwork (which just filled a space of about
twelve inches by nine inches, near the top of the arch). This was
removed, and displayed an aperture (technically a ' man-hole ') which
had been the means of egress for whoever having (as in patriarchal
days) assisted in placing the large stone at the mouth of the sepulchre,
and arranged all within, came out, and finally, at the last interment,
closed up the small point of exit.
PLAN OF VAULTS OF
EDWARD VI. AND
HEXBY VII.
Through this aperture the vault was entered, and the detailed
examination of the vault at once commenced. The third coffin lying
, on the northern side was immediately found to be that of
Discovery of •
King James I., as indicated beyond question in the long
inscription engraved on a copper plate soldered to the lead
coffin.1 It was surrounded with the remains of a wooden case. This
1 If ever there had been a plate of
gilt copper, with inscription, as given
by Dart, vol. i. p. 167, it must have
been taken away when the vault was
closed in 1G25. The inscription on
the coffin is as follows : —
Depositum
Augustissimi
Principis Jacobi Primi, Magnas Britannise,
Franciae et Hibernise Eegis, qui natus apud Scotos xm. Cal. Jul. An0 Salutis
MDLXII. piissime
apud Anglos occubuit v. Cal. Ap.
An0 a Christo nato MDCXXV.
THE ROYAL VAULTS.
523
case bad been made out of two logs of sobd timber, which had been
scooped out to receive the shape of the leaden coffin. The two other
coffins were as indisputably those of Henry VII.
and his Queen. The centre coffin doubtless was
that of Elizabeth of York, although with no in-
scription to mark it ; the larger one on the south
or dexter side was (as might be expected) that
of her royal husband Henry VII., and bore his
name. These two coffins were bare lead, the wooden casing, even
that underneath, being wholly removed. It became evident, on
considering the narrowness of the entrance as well as that of the
vault, that originally the first two coffins had occupied a position on
either side of the central line, but when the vault was invaded to
place the third coffin, the first two were stripped of their cases and
coverings, the coffin of Henry VII. removed more to the south
wall, and that of his Queen then superposed to give convenient entry
to the enormous bulk of the third coffin. The Queen's was then
replaced 011 the floor between them in the little space left.
The leaden coffins of all three Sovereigns, which were all in good
condition, were slightly shaped to the head and shoulders and straight
downward. The Queen's was somewhat
Coffin of
Elizabeth of misshapen at the top, perhaps from having
been more frequently removed.1 It had on
it the mark of the soldering of a Maltese Cross, but
no other vestige remained. That of the King was
indicated by a short inscription on a plate of lead
soldered, about 24 inches long and 4 inches wide,
with raised letters of the period upon it preceded by a broad
capital H of the early type. The inscription
was placed the lengthway of the coffin, and
was read from west to east.2 At
the west end of the coffin-lid was
painted a circular Maltese Cross, as though
to precede the inscription. The pall of silk,
marked by a white cross, which is recorded to have covered the length of
Visit an. LVHI. men. rx. dies rm.
Eegnavit apud
f Scotos a. LVII. m. vn. dies xxix.
X Anglos, an. xxii. d. in.
Coffin of
Henry VII.
fiic cfr
The inscription in Dart runs thus : —
Depositum
Invictissimi Jacobi Primi, MagnaB
Britanniae, Franciae, et Hiberniffi Regis,
qui rerum apud Scotos annos 59,
menses 3, dies 12, et apud Anglos
annos 22 et dies 3, pacitice et feliciter
potitus, tandem in Domino obdormivit
27 die Martii, anno a Christo nato,
1625, aet. vero sure GO.
1 It had been moved at least once
from the side chapel to this vault (see
Chapter III. p. 161) ; and probably
again, as noticed above.
* Hie est Henricus, Rex Angliae et
Francae ac Dominus Hibernise, hujus
nominis septimus, qui obiit xxi. die
Aprilis, anno regni sui xxrm. et incar-
nationis dominicae MVIX.
524 APPENDIX.
Henry VII.'s coffin, must, with every other like object of value, have
been stripped off and taken away when the vault was opened to admit
the Stuart King. A certain John Ware, andone whose initials were
E.G., must have been at least privy to this rifling and violence, for
they have quaintly scratched their names,1 with the date 1625 under
each. These marks clearly show that here in 1625 King James was
interred, and that he has remained unmoved ever since.
It is remarkable that, although the bodies must have been embalmed,
110 urns were in the vault, although they are known to have been buried
with due solemnity soon after death. Perhaps their place may have
been in Monk's Vault, where Dart describes himself to have seen the
urn of Anne of Denmark, and where on the last entrance in 1867
several ancient urns were discovered.
The vault is partly under the floor of the west end of the enclosure
of the tomb, and partly under the tomb itself ; so that the western end
of the arch is nearly coincident with the inside of the Purbeck marble
curb above, and the eastern end about 2| feet west of the eastern
extremity of the tomb above. Thus the vault is not quite conformable
with the tomb, but is so placed that the western face of it abuts against
the thick bonding wall which crosses the chancel.2 This want of
conformity with the direction of the tomb doubtless arose from the
circumstance that the vault was excavated before the tomb above was
designed. The vault is beautifully formed of large blocks of firestone.
It is 8 feet 10 inches long, 5 feet wide, and, from floor to apex, 4^ feet
high. The arch is of a fine four-centred Tudor form ; and the floor,
which is stone, is about 5^ feet below the floor of the tomb. The
masonry is very neatly wrought and truly placed. The stone exhibited
hardly the least sign of decay, and, from its absorptive and porous
nature, there was no appearance of dew-drops on the ceiling.3 To this
cause may be attributed the high preservation of the lead of the coffins
of these three sovereigns ; whereas the lead of Edward VI. 's coffin
(which was under a marble ceiling always dropping water by conden-
sation on its surface) had been fearfully contorted and almost riven
asunder by perpetual corrosion. This was the more remarkable from
1 Another trace of the workmen, press) crumpled up in one of the octa-
curiously significant as found in search- gonal piers at the angle of the tomb,
ing for the grave of the Royal author almost out of reach, headed with two
of the ' Counterblast against Tobacco,' rude woodcuts of S. Anne of Totten-
was the fragment of a tobacco-pipe ham, and S. George, and underneath
thrown out amongst the earth in effect- the emblems of the Passion, with an
ing the entrance. The gravedigger indulgence from ' Pope Innocent to all
may have felt that he could smoke in ' who devoutly say five paternosters
peace, now that the great enemy of the ' and five aves in honour of the Five
Indian weed was gone. ' Wounds,' and ending with an invoca-
1 In speaking of the workmanship of tion of S. George.
Henry VII.'s tomb, it may be worth s Such drops are frequently found on
recording that, in 1857, the Abbey brick arches, and always on the ceilings
mason found a fragment of printed of vaults covered with compact stone
paper (perhaps from Caxton's printing or marble.
THE ROYAL VAULTS. 525
the extreme damp of the vault, as well as the atmosphere within, which
struck a deadly chill when the vault was first opened : whereas on the
same firestone in the cloisters the outer atmosphere when moist tells
with such force that the floor beneath is quite spotted with particles of
stone detached thereby from the groining above.1
The final discovery of this place of interment curiously confirmed
the accuracy of the Abbey Register, whose one brief notice was the sole
written indication of the fact, in contradiction to all the printed accounts,
and in the silence of all the official accounts. But its main interest
arose from the insight which it gave into the deep historical instinct
which prompted the founder of the Stuart Dynasty, Scotsman and
almost foreigner as he was, to ingraft his family and fate on that of
the ancient English stock through which he derived his title to the
Crown. Apart from his immediate and glorious predecessor — apart
from his mother, then lying in her almost empty vault with his eldest
son — apart from his two beloved infant daughters — apart from his
Queen, who lies alone in her ample vault as if waiting for her husband
to fill the vacant space — the first Stuart King who united England and
Scotland was laid in the venerable cavern, for such in effect it is,
which contained the remains of the first Tudor King who, with his
Queen, had united the two contending factions of English mediaeval
history.2 The very difficulty of forcing the entrance, the temporary
displacement of Edward VI. and of Elizabeth of York, the sanctity of
the spot, and the means taken almost as with religious vigilance to
guard against further intrusion — show the strength of the determination
which carried the first King of Great Britain into the tomb of the last
of the Mediaeval Kings, which laid the heir of the Celtic traditions of
Scotland by the side of the heir of the Celtic traditions of Wales, the
Solomon, as he deemed himself, of his own age, by the side of him
whom a wiser than either had already called the Solomon of England.3
It is 4 possible also that the obscurity which has hitherto rested on the
1 In removing the effigies of Henry York and Lancaster rest quietly under
VII. and his Queen from the structure one roof. There does Queen Mary
of their tomb for the purpose of clean- and her sister, Queen Elizabeth, lie
ing. there were found in the hollow close together ; their ashes do not
space beneath some gilt ornaments, part. In the story of Polynices and
evidently belonging to the gilt crown Eteocles. two brothers, rivals for a
which once encircled the head of the crown, we are told their smoke divided
bronze effigy of the Queen, and also the into two pyramids as it ascended from
name of an Italian workman, apparently one funeral pile; but here the dusts
Fr. Ifedolo, which must have been do as kindly mingle, as all the old
scratched on the wall at the time that piques and aversions are soundly
Torregiano erected it. asleep with them. And so shall we
- The following extract from Bishop be ere long — most of us in a meaner
Turner's sermon at the coronation of lodging, but all of us in the dust of
James II., April 23, 1685, shows how death.' (P. 28.)
long this sentiment of the union of the * Bacon's Henry VII., iii. 406.
rival houses lasted : — ' Think how much * For the funeral of Henry VII. see
' Royal dust and ashes is laid up in Chapter III. p. 145, and of James I.
' yonder Chapel. There the Houses of ibid. p. 158.
526 APPENDIX.
place of James's interment may have been occasioned by the reluctance
of the English sentiment to admit or proclaim the fact that the sacred
resting-place of the Father of the Tudor race had been invaded by one
who was still regarded as a stranger and an alien.1
While the vault was yet open there happened to be a meeting of
high dignitaries of Church and State, assembled on a Royal Commission
in the Jerusalem Chamber, under the presidency of the Archbishop of
Canterbury. It seemed but fitting that the first visitor to the tomb of
the Eoyal Scot should have been a Primate from beyond the Tweed,
and it was with a profound interest that the first Scotsman who had
ever reached the highest office in the English Church bent over the
grave of the first Scotsman who had mounted the throne of the English
State. He was followed by the Earl of Stanhope (who, as President
of the Society of Antiquaries, had expressed from the first lively interest
in these excavations), the Earl of Carnarvon, and the Bishops of
St. David's, Oxford, Gloucester, and Chester. The Canons in residence
(Canons Jennings, Nepean, and Conway) were also present ; as was the
Architect of the Abbey, Mr. G. Gilbert Scott, who minutely inspected
the whole locality.2
Such was the close of an inquiry which, after having disclosed so
many curious secrets, ended in a result almost as interesting as that
which attended the discovery of the vault of Charles I. at Windsor. It
was, in fact, observed as a striking parallel, that over the graves of
each of the first Stuart kings ' a similar mystery had hung ; and that
each was at last found in the chosen resting-place of the first Tudor
kings — James I. with Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York ; Charles I.
with Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour. The vault was closed, and at its
entrance was placed a tablet inscribed, ' This vault was opened by the
' Dean, February 11, 1869.'
NOTE. — It appears from the Sacrist's accounts (under the head of Solutiones
pro Serenissimas Dominse Margaretae Comitissaa de Eychmonte missis a Festo
Paschae, anno Regni H. VII. xx.), that £1 Is. 8d. was paid in that year to
Thomas Gardiner pro facturd tumbce Matris Domini Regis. This must have been
in Margaret's lifetime. Mr. Doyne Bell has furnished me with the item for the
payment of the inscription and cross on Henry VII. 's coffin : — ' The Plomer's
' charge for crosse of lead and making of molds of scrypture about the cross,
' £6 13s. 4d.' (5) The appearance of bronze or ' cast brass ' of the effigies of
Henry VII. and his Queen, as well as of the Duke of Buckingham, seems to have
been visible in 1672 (Antiquarian Repertory, iv. 565).
1 Dean Williams only refers generally the historian ; Mr. Doyne Bell, of the
to ' the sepulchre of the kings erected Privy Purse Office, Buckingham Palace ;
' by Henry VII., his great-grandfather, and Mr. Scharf, Keeper of the National
' just as this other Solomon was in the Portrait Gallery, who were present
' city of David his father.' (Serin, p. during a large part of the operations,
75.) See also Chapter IV. which extended, at intervals, over more
2 Throughout I derived considerable than three weeks.
aid from the suggestions of Mr. Froude,
INDEX.
NOTE. — Names of persons buried in the Abbey are in italics, as — Anne of Den-
mark ; those who are buried and have monuments are thus distinguished, as
— °Addison ; those who have monuments and are not buried in the Abbey,
thus — -fAnstey, Christopher ; those who are in the Cloisters, thus — *Agarde.
ABB
A BBACY, abolition of, 395, 396 ; re-
XI vival of under Mary, 399; final
abolition of, 406
Abbey, the, founded by Edward the
Confessor on an ancient chapel of St.
Peter, 14, 17 ; the building, 22, 23 ;
first cruciform church in England,
22 ; the establishment, 23 ; the dedi-
cation, 25 ; effects of the Confessor's
character on the foundation of, 28 ;
connection of with the Conquest, 29 ;
with the English Constitution, 30 ;
foundation of Lady Chapel, 106 ;
rebuilt by Henry III., 105-109;
continued by Henry I., 118 ; nave
built by Henry V., 127 ; plan of,
showing tombs as they appeared in
1509, 142 ; continued by Islip, 335 ;
Henry VII.'s Chapel, 138-143 ; first
musical festival in, 420 ; west towers
built, 476
Abbot, Archbishop, 418
Abbots of Westminster, 329 ; under the
Normans, 331 ; the Plantagenets, 333;
the Tudors, 335 ; their burial-place,
331 ; Place or Palace of, 354 ; privi-
leges of, 40 ; list of, 329-336
Abbott, Peter, his wager, 56 note, 289
note
Actors, the, 283 ; attitude of the Church
towards, 283
Adam, 292
°Addison, funeral, 265, 266, 284 ; grave,
211, 219; monument, 266. See
' Spectator '
*Agarde, antiquarian, 380
Agincourt, Battle of, 127, 132, 179, 298
Albemarle (George Monk), Duke of, 210
Aldred, Archbishop, 21, 26, 38
Alexander III. of Scotland, 49, 115
ARG
Alfonso, son of Edward I., 118
Almonry, the, 147, 353, 393 note
' Altar ' of the Abbey — when and how
so called, 494 ; its history, 494, 495
Amelia, daughter of George II., 169
Ampulla, the, 59
' Anchorite's house,' 361, 383, 398
° Andre, Major, 239
Andrew, St., plan of chapel of, 190
Andrewes, Dean and Bishop, 380 ; in-
terest in the school, 413
Anne, Princess, daughter of Charles I.,
158
°Anne of BoJiemia, Queen of Richard
II., 125
Anne Boleyn, coronation, 63
°Anne of Cleves, 70, 151 ; tomb of, 151
note
Anne of Denmark, 72, 157, 502 ; vault
of, 505, 506
Anne Hyde, Duchess of York, 164, 509
Anne Mowbray of York, 136
Anne of Warwick, 136
Anne, Queen, coronation, 80; children,
166, 509; burial, 166; wax figure,
324, 500
Anne's, St., Chapel and Lane, 354
Anointing in coronation, 35
Anselm, Archbishop, 373, 386
^Anstey, Christopher, 280
' Antioch Chamber,' 357, 374 note
Apollo, temple of, 8
Aquitaine, representatives of Dukes of,
at coronation of George III., 88
Arabella Stuart, 157, 508
Archdeacon of Westminster, his privi-
leges, 329 ; first, 331
° Argyll and Greenwich, John Duke of,
tomb of himself and family, 231, 504,
504 note
528
INDEX.
ARN
Arnold, Benedict, 239 note
°Arnold, Samuel, 290
Arnold, Thomas, quoted, 92 note
Arthur, King, coronation of, 36
Arthur, Prince (son of Henry VII.), 147
Ashburnham House, 396 note, 474
Assembly of Divines, 431-436
Atterbury, Dean and Bishop ; appoint-
ment to the Deanery, 455 ; love for
Milton, 262 ; interest in the Abbey,
455 ; in the School, 456, 461 ; letter
to Pope, 225, 229 ; interest in the
epitaphs, 231, 260, 261, 262, 268; on
Freind, 296 ; interest in burial of
Addison, 263 ; of Marlborough, 225 ;
of South, 455 ; plots, 459 ; exile and
death, 461 ; buried, 276, 462
Augusta, mother of George III., 168
°Aveline, Countess of Lancaster, 117
Aye or Eye Brook, 6, 338
°Ayton, Sir Robert, 256
BACON, sculptor, 243 note
°Bagnall, Nicholas, 303
•tBaillie, Dr. Matthew, 296
^Baker, 236
\Balchen, 236
Bangor, Bishop of, 469
°Banks, Thomas, 292
Baptisms, 484
Barking (or Berking), Abbott, 106 ; in-
stigator of the Lady Chapel, 331, 364 ;
333
°Barrow, Isaac, 272, 274, 448
*Barry, actor, 286
°Barry, Sir Charles, 292
Bath, Knights of the, 58, 59; new
arrangement of, 81-85 ; first Dean of,
474 ; Lord Dundonald's banner, 85,
320
°Bath, Pulteney, Earl of, his funeral,
233
' Battle of Ivry,' 195 note
Baxter, Richard, 74 ; sermon of, 431
Bayeux tapestry, 29, 32, 37 note
•\Bayne, Captain, 238
Beattie, quoted, 314 note
Beauclerk family, 192
•\Beauclerk, Lord Aubrey, 236
Beaumont, 98, 253
Becket, Thomas, 44, 113, 348
*Behn, Apliara, 264
Belfry at Westminster, 346
Bell of Westminster, 340, 487
°Bell, Andrew, 276 note
Bell, Captain H., in the Gatehouse, 344
Benedict, St., 123 ; plan of chapel of,
202
Bennett, Sir William Sterndale, 290
Benson, last abbot and first dean, 398
Bentley, Dr., 474
BUC
Berkeley, Sir William, 214
*Betterton, burial of, 284
Bible presented at coronations, 67, 75, 79
Bible, translation of the English, 472
°Bill, Dean, 411
°Bilson, Bishop, 272 note
^Bingfield, Colonel, 222
\Bingham, Sir R., 195
•\Birkhead, Anne, 306
Bishop of London, 17, 42, 329
Bishop of Westminster, 67, 396
' Black Death ' at Westminster, 333
Blagg, Thos., 213 note
^Blair, Captain, 238
Blaize, St., Chapel of, 334, 337, 399
Blake, Admiral, 207, 208
Blessed heretic, the, 476
Blomfield, Bishop, 92 note, 328 note
*Blounl, G., 321 note
°Blow, Dr. John, 289
°Bohun children, 123
Bond, Denis, 208, 430
Bonner, Bishop, sings Mass in the Ab-
bey, 404
•\Booth, Barton, the actor, 88, 285
Boscawen, Colonel, 208 note
°Boulter, Archbishop, 276 note, 474
Bourbon, Annand and Charlotte de, 309
Bourchier, Cardinal Archbishop, 351
°Bourchier, Humphrey, 179
' Bowling Alley ' and gardens, 338
* Bracegirdle, Mrs., 285
° Bradford, Dean, first Dean of the Order
of the Bath. 474, 504 note
Bradsliatv, John, lives and dies at the
Deanery, 209, 437; burial, 209 ; dis-
interment,163
Bradshaw, Mrs., 209
Bray, Sir Reginald, 62, 144
Bridges, Winy f red, Marchioness of Win-
chester, 185
Brigham, Nicholas, 251
Brithwold, Bishop, 15
°Brocas, Sir Bernard, 179, 183
°Bromley, Sir T)ws., 185
*Broughton, J., 311
Broughton, Sir E., 214
^Brown, Tom, 264
^Brunei, 299
Brydges, Frances, 191
*Buchan, Dr., 296 note
°Bucking)iam, Countess of, 199
°BuckingJiam, G. Villiers, first Duke of,
200 ; death, 200 ; tomb, 200 ; monu-
ment, 200 ; second Duke of, 201
Buckingham House, 228
°Bucking}iamshire, Duchess of, 229 ;
wax figure, 324
°Biickinghamshire, Sheffield, Duke of,
monument, 228 ; epitaph, 229 ; vault
of, 507 ; second Duke of, death, 229 ;
wax figure, 324
INDEX.
529
BUG
^Buckland, Dean, 483, 491
Buckland, Frank, quoted, 256 note, 297
•fBuller, Charles, 249
Burgesses of Westminster, 417, 461
*Burgoyne, General, 239
Burke, 287 note ; visit to the Abbey,
173, 304 note, 313, 489
•fBurlcigh, Lord, 187
Burleiyh, Mildred Cecil, Lady, and
daughter Anne, Countess of Oxford,
187
Burnet, Bishop, 469
•\Burney, Dr. Charles, 290
Burrough, Sir John, 194 note
0 Busby, Dr., 274, 439, 442
^Butler, Samuel, 263
\Buxton, Powell, 248
*Byrcheston, Abbot, 333
Byron, Lord, 281, 315
pADWALLADER, the last British
\J King, 141
Cambridge, connection of Westminster
School with Trinity College, 410
°Camden, 271 ; Headmaster, 380, 413 ;
outrage to his tomb, 206, 271
0 Campbell, Thomas, 281
0 Canning, Earl, 247
°Canning, George, 247
Canon Bow, 5, 378 note
Canterbury, Archbishop of, his rights,
41, 42, 68, 386
Canterbury Cathedral, 123, 127, 348
°Carew, Lord, 179
Carey, Dr., Headmaster, 483
°Carleton, Dudley, 195
Caroline, Queen (of George II.), 166
Caroline, Queen (of George IV.), 90, 91
Caroline, daughter of George II., 169
°Carter, Colonel, 208 note
Carter, the antiquary, 228, 233 note, 237
note, 374 note, 490
°Carteret Family, 304
Gary, Henry, 281
°Cary, Thomas, 204
°Casaubon, Isaac, 270, 271, 315
°Castlcreagh, Viscount, 246
' Cathedral,' applied to Abbey, 54, 67,
396, 406, 407
0 Catherine, Princess, daughter of Henry
III., 116
Catherine of Valois, Queen, 60, 128 ;
her burial, 133 ; tomb of, 144
Catherine, St., chapel of, 30, 386
Caxton, 147, 251, 393, 524 note
° Cecil family, 187, 191
Celtic races, revival of, 141
•\Chamberlen, Hugh, 295
*Chambers, Ephraim, 281 note, 315
0 Chambers, Sir W., 292
Champion at coronations, 58
COL
Channel Row, 5
Chapel of St. Benedict, 201
Chapel of St. Edmund, 189
Chapel of St. John, St. Michael, and
St. Andrew, 190
Chapel of St. John the Baptist, 188
Chapel of St. Nicholas, 188
Chapel of St. Paul, 189
Chapel of St. Faith, 389
Chapter House, 25 note, 149, 371-382 ;
first scene of House of Commons,
374 ; Record Office, 379 ; restoration
of, 371, 379
•^Chardin, 308
Cliarles, son of Charles I., 158
Charles Edward, Prince, at coronation
of George III., 89
Charles I., coronation, 72 ; his intended
tomb, 162 ; 197 note ; execution of,
440; 526
Charles II., coronation, 75-76 ; corona-
tion in Scotland, 75 note ; burial, 163 ;
wax figure, 323 ; vault of, 500, 501
Charles V., Emperor, requiem for him
in the Abbey, 151
°Chatham, Earl, 236, 397 note ; monu-
ment, 243 ; wax figure, 324 ; second
Earl, 243 note
°Chaucer, burial of and monument,
251 ; gravestone, 251
Cheyney Gate Manor, 355
Chiffinch, Tom, 216
Chiswick, house there belonging to
Westminster School, 412, 446
0 Churchill, Admiral, 227
°Cibber, Mrs., 285
Cinque Ports, privileges of, 47
Circumspecte Agatis, statute, 376
' Citizen of the World,' Goldsmith's,
quoted, 56, 185 note
City of Westminster, 328, 418
Civil Wars, close of, 140
Claims of Windsor, Chertsey, and West-
minster for the burial of Henry VI.,
137
Clarendon, Earl, 213
Clavering, 24 note
Claypole, Elizabeth, 159, 210 ; vault of,
504, 505
Cleveland, Duke of, 163
Clifford, Sir Thomas and Lady, 180
Cloisters, the, 321, 331, 361
Cloveshoe, 386 note
°Clyde, Lord, 240
^Cobden, Richard, 249
Cock Inn, in Tothill Street, 16 note
°Colchester, Wm. of, Abbot, 334, 349 ;
conspiracy of, 355
Coleridge, 282
College or Collegiate Church of St.
Peter, Westminster, 16 ; establish-
ment of, 408
M M
530
INDEX.
COL
College Hall, 351, 355, 409, 458
Collier, nonjuring divine, 344
Colonies of rats, 393 note
Columba, Pillow of, 52
Commons, House of, its origin, 110,
374 ; first held in the Chapter House,
375, in Eefectory, 375, and then in
St. Stephen's Chapel, 378 ; removal
of worship of, to St. Margaret's
Church, 415
Commonwealth, the, 159 ; disinterment
of magnates of, 209
Communion Table in Westminster
Abbey has the only authoritative
claim to the name of ' Altar,' 494
note
Compton, 467
°Conduitt, John, 294
Confirmations, 484
°Conqreve, William, 266 ; monument,
267, 315
Consecration of Bishops in the Middle
Ages, 385 note ; after the Reforma-
tion, 396 ; after the Restoration, 433-
435 ; in modern times, 484
Constable, Sir William, 207
Constance, Council of, 334
Convocation of Canterbury, 463-473
*Cooke, Dr. B., 290
•\Coote, Sir Eyre, 236
Cornbury, Lord, 213 note
•fCornewall, Captain, 235
Coronation, its idea and character, 34-
36, 93 ; service, 93
Coronations, connection of, with the
Abbey, 37
Coronations of early English kings, 34,
35
Coronation Oath, 35, 39, 45, 68, 73, 77
note, 78, 89, 93
Coronation privileges of Abbots and
Deans of Westminster, 40
Coronation Stone, 49, 56; representa-
tion of, 52
°Cottington, Lord, 203
Cotton, Sir Robert, 380
•\Cottrell, Clement, 215
Councils of Westminster, 30, 386
*Courayer, P., 307, 315
Courcy, Almeric de, 300 note
Courtney, Ed., Bishop of Norwich, 179
Covent Garden, 339
Coventry, Earl of, 200 note
Coverdale, Miles, 398
°Cowley, Abraham, funeral, 257, 258
Cowper, 248, 480
Coxe, Dean and Bishop, 399, 406
°Craggs, his grave, monument, and epi-
taph, 219, 220
Cranmer, Archbishop, 65 ; address of
at coronation of Edward VI., 68
f Creed, Major, 223, 239 note
DOR
°Crewe, Jane, 233 note
Cripple, legend of the, 20
Crispin, Abbot, 331
0 Croft, Dr., 290
CroJcesley, Abbot, 331, 332 note, 365
Cromwell, installation of, 75 ; death,
159; burial, 160, 440; disinterment,
161, 212 ; interest in the Abbey, 206,
207
Cromwell, Elizabeth, 159
Crucifix over High Altar, 336, 388 ; in
North Transept, 178 note, 388 ; in
Cloister, 363
Crull the Antiquary, 262
Cumberland, Henry Frederick, Duke of,
169
Cumberland, William Augustus, Duke
of, 168
Cumberland, Richard, 280
Curtlington, Abbot, 333
T\ALRYMPLE, Wm., 304
D Dante, Divina Commedia of, 116
Darnley, James, natural son of James
II., 509
°Daubeney, Sir Giles, 180
°Davenant, Sir W., 257
^Davy, Sir Humphry, 296
Dean of Westminster, his office, 40,
41, 395-397
Dean of the Order of the Bath, 83
Deans enumerated, 411-462, 472-483
Dean's Yard, 354, 438 note, 442, 458, 475
Deane, Colonel, 207
Deanery (see Abbot's Palace or Place),
354, 396, 398, 401, 411, 419 ; plan of,
435, 437, 438, 445, 458, 459, 476
f-De Burgh, John, 193
De Castro Novo, Sir Fulk, 177
Declaration of Indulgence, reading of,
447
' Dei Gratia,' origin of, 35
Delaval, Admiral, 224 note, 301
Delaval, Lord, 301 ; Lady, 301
Denham, 258
Dickens, 283
Disbrowe, Jane, 159
Discipline of Monks, 388
Disinterment of the Magnates of the
Commonwealth, 209
* Disney, Colonel (' Duke '), 306
Dissolution of the Monastery, 405
Dolben, Dean, 212, 446 ; Bishoprick of
Rochester first united to Deanery,
446 ; Archbishop of York, 446
Domesday Book, 380
Doncaster, Charles, Earl of, 163
Dorislaus, Isaac, 206, 209
Dormitory of the Monks, 366 ; Old
Dormitory of the School, 409 ; New
Dormitory, 456
INDEX.
531
DRA
°Drayton, MicJiael, 254
°Dryden, funeral, grave, and monument,
258-260, 315
Duck Lane, 339
0 'Dudley, BisJiop of Durham, 179
Dumouriez, author of the epitaph on the
Duke of Montpensier, 170
Dundonald, Earl of, 85, 238, 320
Dunfermline Abbey and Palace, 21, 99,
102 note
Dunstan, St., his charter, 329 ; chapel
of, 353
cDuppa, Bishop, 214, 214 note, 414 note
Duppa, Sir TJiomas, 214 note
Duras, Louis, Earl of Feversham, 309
Durham, Bishop of, 485
Duroure, Scipio and ^Alexander, 234
note
"FABLES, DEAN, 445
Ju Earls Palatine, 35 note
Ebury, 7, 177, 338
Edgar, Foundation of, 110
Edith, Queen, 104, 363
° Edmund Crouchback, 117
Edmund, St., Chapel of, 116 ; plan of,
189
Edmund, son of Henry VII., 146
Edric, the fisherman, legend of, 17
c Edward the Confessor: his appear-
ance, 10, and characteristics, 11, 12,
25, 28 ; last of the Saxons, first of the
Normans, 13 ; devotion to St. Peter,
15, 24, 27 ; veneration for St. John the
Evangelist, 25, 27 ; journey to Borne
to obtain confirmation of privileges,
ordered by, 21 ; his vow, 14, 21 ;
founder and builder of the Abbey, 17,
25 ; death and burial, 27 ; his shrine,
built by Henry III., 110 ; despoiled
by Henry VIII., 148 ; restored by
Mary, 148 ; his body believed to have
been last seen, 28 note translation
by Henry II., 105 ; by Henry III.,
113 ; veneration for his remains,
105 ; last notice of, 167 ; pilgrims
to, 390
°Edicard I., coronation, 49 ; burial and
monument, 119 ; opening of tomb of,
120; 233
Edward II., coronation, 56 ; wasteful-
ness of, 120
° Edward III., election and coronation,
57 ; death, monument, and children,
122
Edward IV., coronation, 61 ; death,
136 ; his courtiers, 179
Edward V., 61 ; his birth, 350 ; burial,
136
Edward VI., coronation, 67 ; his funeral,
149; tomb of, 150; vault of, 514-
FLE
517, 521 ; destruction of his monu-
ment, 429
* Edwin, first Abbot, 23, 330, 371 note
Egelric, BisJiop of Durham, 177, 389
c 'Eleanor of Castille, Queen, coronation,
49 ; death and tomb, 118
Elia, Lamb's, quoted, 240
Elizabeth of Bohemia, 163, 509
°Elizabeth of York, Queen of Henry
VII., 62 ; death of, 144
°Elizabeth, Queen, coronation, 71 ;
death, funeral, tomb, and inscription,
152, 153; her courtiers, 182-195,
wax figure, 323; her interest in the
Abbey, 406 ; vault of, 511
Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of Edward
IV., takes refuge in the Sanctuary,
351
0 Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIL, 144
Elizabethan magnates, 182
Eliot, Lady Harriet, 243 note
Elliot, Sir John, 343
' Elms,' the, in Dean's Yard, 355
°Eltham, John of, tomb, 121, 301
England, beginning of modern, 141
English, growth of, 387
Entertainments in the Jerusalem
Chamber, 419
Erasmus, 147
Essex, Devereux, Earl of, 205, 210 ; his
grave, 335 note
°Esteney, Abbot, 191, 318, 335, 351
Ethelgoda, 9, 102, 371
Evelyn, quoted, 444, 449
Evans, Bishop of Bangor, 469
° Exeter, Elizabeth, Countess of, 191
°Exeter, Thomas Cecil, Earl of, 191
Eye, manor and stream of, 6, 177, 339
*fAIRBORNE, Sir P., 215
Falcons in the Abbey, 437 note
Falmouth, Lord, 214
Fanelli, sculptor, 203 note
°Fanes, the monument of, 195
Fascet, Abbot, 335
Feckenham ; inscription on tomb of
Edward III., 123 note; last Abbot,
400, 404
F eilding family, 199 note
°Ferne, Bishop, 214
Ferrar, Nicholas, ordained by Laud,
422
Festival, first musical, 420 ; Handel,
478
^Ffolkes, Martin, 294
Fiddes, Dr., 460 note
Fire of Houses of Parliament, 381
Fire of London, 447
Fire in the Cloisters, 473
Fisher, Bishop, 145, 146, 422
"Ifleming, General, 234
M it 2
532
INDEX.
FLE
Fletcher, 252, 253 note
Flete, Prior, 335
^Follett, Sir W. W., 244
Fontevrault, 103, 115
*Foote, Samuel, 287
Ford, Abbot, 178
Foreigners, monuments of, 307
°Fox, Charles James, 244
Frederick II., Emperor, 115
Frederick Prince of Wales, 168
fFreind, John, physician, 295
Freind, Dr. Robert, Headmaster, 261,
473
°Freke family, 305
Friends, monuments of, 305
Froude, quoted, 63-65, 68, 69
Fulk de Castro Novo, 177
°Fullerton, Sir James, 210
pALILEE, the, in Westminster Pal-
U ace, 357 note
Garden of Infirmary and College, 384,
405, 457
°Garrick and his widow, 287 ; monu-
ment, 287
Gatehouse, the, 342, 343, 345, 347
°Gay, John, 268 ; his epitaph, 269, 306
Gent, his adventure in the College hall,
457
Geoffrey, Abbot, 331
George of Denmark, Prince, 166, 501
George William, Prince, son of George
II., 165 note
George I., coronation, 81 ; establish-
ment of the Knights of the Bath, 81 ;
death, 166
George II., coronation, 85 ; tomb, 167 ;
funeral, 167 ; vault of, 499
George III., coronation, 86 ; buried at
Windsor, 169
George IV., coronation, 89
*Gervase of Blois, 331
°Gethin, Grace, 305
*Gibbons, Christopher, 289
Gibbons, Orlando, 420
Gi/ord, William, 281, 483
*Gislebert, Abbot, 331
Glanville, William, bequest of, 236 note
°Gloucester, Duke of (TJiomas of Wood-
stock) and Duchess, 126 note, 266 note
Gloucester, William, Duke of, 165
Glynne, anecdote of, when at West-
minster School, 439 ; Mrs. Helen
Glynne, 440 note
* Godfrey, Sir Edmond Berry, 216
°Godolphin, Sidney Earl, 221
Godwin. Bishop, consecrated, 396
Golden Fleece, High Mass of the Order
of the, 400
^Goldsmith, death, 277 ; his epitaph,
278 ; quotations from, 56, 301, 323
HEX
°Golofre, Sir John, 178
Goodenough, Dr., Headmaster, 483
Good Friday, sermons in the Chapel
Eoyal, 477
°Goodman, Gabriel, Dean, 187, 353,
408, 411, 412, 472
^Grabe, 274
Graham, the watchmaker, 297
Granary, the, 354
Grattan, deathbed, 245, 246; grave,
246
Grave of an unknown person, 517
\Gray, 270
Grey, Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, 181
Grossetete, Bishop, 48
°Grote, 283
°Guest, General, 234
fJAKLUYT, 271 note, 415
°Hales, Stephen, 298
"Halifax, Charles Montague, Earl of,
219
"Halifax, George Montague, Earl of,
236
"Halifax, Saville, Marquis of, 219
Hamilton, Colonel, 214
Hampden, 343
°Handel, 167, 290 ; his festival, 478
Hanover, House of, 166
\Hanway, Jonas, 248
\Harbord, Sir C., 215
°Hardy, Sir Thomas and Lady, 235
Hargrave, General, 234
Harley, Anna Sophia, 302 note
Harold Barefoot, 102
Harold, 27 ; his coronation, 37
°Harpedon, Sir John, 179
°Harrison, Admiral, 238
^Harvey, Captain, 238
Haselrig, Thomas, 208 note
^Hastings, Warren, 248 ; cup presented
by and others to Westminster School,
479
Hat, reception of Wolsey's, 390
Hatherley, Lord, 492 note
"Hattons, the, 195
Havering atte Bower, 25
Hawerden, 334, 335 note
*Hawkins, Ernest, 484 note
*Hawkins, Sir John, 290 note
Hawks in the Abbey, 437
°Hawle, murder of, 348
Hay Hill, 6 note
Henderson, John, 287
Henley, Abbot, 333
Henrietta Maria, her suite entertained,
419
Henry I., coronation, 42
Henry II., coronation, 44 ; burial at
Fontevrault, 103
INDEX.
533
HEN
Henry, Prince, son of Henry II., coro-
nation, 44 ; burial, 103
°Henry III., his two coronations, 47,
48; reign, 106; rebuilding of the
Abbey, 107-112 ; his character, 107-
109 ; translates the body of the Con-
fessor, 113; death of, 114 ; tomb,
114 ; burial of his heart at Fonte-
vrault, 115 ; his children, 116
Henry IV., election and coronation,
59 ; death, 127, 358
°Henry V., coronation, 60 ; ' Conver-
sion,' 359 ; death and burial, 128 ;
character, 128 ; tomb, 130 ; saddle,
helmet, statue, 132 ; his courtiers,
179 ; convention of, 377
Henry VI., coronation, 61 ; choice of
tomb, 135 ; death, 135 ; devotion to,
137 ; controversy as to burial, 137 ;
chapel of, 138 ; 521 note
°Henry VII., coronation, 62 ; his devo-
tion, 139 ; his death, 145 ; his burial,
145 ; his effigy, 145 ; his courtiers,
180 ; his chapel, 138-140, 396, 418,
475, 482 ; plan of chapel, 143 ; vault
of, 522 ; account of vault, 520, 522,
523
Henry VIII., coronation, 63 ; his in-
tended tomb, 148, 516 note
Henry of Oatlands, Duke of Gloucester,
son of Charles I., 162, 508
Henry, Frederick, Prince, son of James
I., 157, 508
Henry, Philip, 441
Henry, Prince, son of Henry VIII., 148
Herbert, Abbot, 331
Herbert, George, 415
Herle, rector of Wimvick, 436
Herle, Margaret, 436 note
Hermit of Worcester, legend of, 17
Hermits in Westminster, 123, 350, 361,
383
°Herries, Colonel, 240
Ilcrschel, 295
°Hertford, Frances Hoivard, Countess
of, 182
Hervey, Lord, quoted, 85
Hervey, Lord, 196
Hetherington quoted, 436
Heylin, John, 481
°Heylin, Peter, 424, 442
High Steward of Westminster, 187,
328, 454
Historical Aisle, 270
Holborn Hill, 4
^Holland, Lord, 245
°Holles, Frances, 193 note
°Holles, Sir G., 193
Holmes, 236
Holyrood Abbey and Palace, 21, 99
Hooker, on Christian worship, quoted,
497
JOH
°Horneck, Antony, 275
°Horneck, Captain W., 235
^Horner, Francis, 248
Horsley, Dean and Bishop, 481
House of Commons, rise of the, 374
Howard, Frances, Countess of Hert-
ford, 182
Howe, Earl, 238
Howe, Viscount, 237
Hudson, Sir Geoffrey, 344
Hugh, St., of Lincoln, 385 note, 485
*Hugolin, 13, 20, 24 ; his tomb, 177, 367
*Humez, Abbot, 331, 386
°Hunsdon, Lord, 186
°Hunter, John, 256, 297
^Hutt, Captain, 238
Hyde, Anne, Duchess of York, 164, 509
Hyde Manor, 339
TMPEY, Elijah, 479
± Infirmary, the, 384, 385
Inglis, Sir B. H., quoted, 90
Ingulph, 363
Innocents' Day, 25, 61
Installation of the Kings, 50
Ireland, Dean, 281 note, 382, 483, 491
Ireton, 207
Island of Thorns, the, 5, 7
°Islip, Abbot, 144, 191, 336, 352, 415
Islip, Oxfordshire, 21
JAMES I., coronation, 72 ; court of,
195 ; funeral, 158, 422 ; perplexity
respecting grave of, and account of
search for, 4'.i9-522; discovery of,
522
James II., coronation, 77; burial at
Paris, 176 ; children of, 164, 509
Jane, 467
Jerusalem Chamber, 265, 293, 356, 358,
378, 419, 426, 432-468 ; plan of, 435
Jewel House, 367, 383
Jews, sufferings of the, 46
Joan, Queen, crowned, 60
John, King, coronation, 47 ; buried at
Worcester, 103
John the Baptist, St., plan of chapel of,
188
John the Evangelist; St., beloved by
Edward the Confessor, 25, 27 ; legend
of his appearance, 25 ; plan of chapel
of, 190
Johnson, Dr., his burial, 279 ; criticism
on Craggs' epitaph, 221 ; proposes
epitaph for Newton, 293 note ; writes
Goldsmith's epitaph, 278 ; criticises
Kneller's epitaph by Pope, 292 ; on
Watts, 277 ; on the Gatehouse, 344 ;
on the Abbey, 314 ; on Cowley's epi-
taph by Dean Sprat, 257
534
INDEX.
JOH
° Johnson, William, 257
cjonson, Ben, 254 ; his grave and in-
scription, 255
Julius II., Pope, 138
, 282; quoted, 316; tablet
of, 282
^Kemble, John Philip, 288
•\Kempenfelt, 238
°Kendall, Mary, 305
Kennicott, Dr., 481
° Kerry, Lord and Lady, 304
°Killigrew, General, 222
°King, Dr. Wm., 276
King's Bench, the, 51
King's Evil, 11, 112
Kings, plan showing position of tombs
in chapel of the, 111
King's Scholars' Pond, 7, 339
King's Stone, the, 36
Kingston-on-Thames, 36 note
King Street, 340, 475
Kitchin, Bishop, consecrated, 396
^Kneller, Sir Godfrey, 291
Knightsbridge, 338 note
*Knipe, Headmaster, 473
°Knollys, Lady Catherine, 183, 193
Kydyngton, Abbot, 333
Kyrton, Abbot, 191, 334
T ADIES of the Tudor Court, 181
Jj Lady Chapel, the, 48, 106, 331, 385
Lamb, Charles, quoted, 240, 287 note
Lanfranc, Archbishop, 41, 386
°Langham, Abbot and Cardinal, etc.,
127, 333, 362
Laud, Prebendary of Westminster, 40
note, 72, 73 ; friend of Dean Neale,
415 ; rival of Dean Williams, 422 ; 438
* Lawrence, Abbot, 331
Lavatory of monastery, 364
*Lawes, H., 288
^Lawrence, General, 236
^Lawrence, W., 310
Lecky's History of Eationalism, quoted,
284
Le Couvreur, Adrienne, 284 note
•fLe Neve, Captain, 214
Lennox, Charles, son of Duchess of
Portsmouth, 197
Lennox, Henry Esme, Duke of, 154 note,
196, 510
Lennox, Margaret, 154, 510
Lennox vault, 510
Leofric, 20
Le Sueur, 203 note
t Lewis, Sir G. C., 249
Lewisham, Abbot, 332
Leycester, Walter, 178
MAE
Liber Regalis, 57
Library, formation of the, 395, 398, 408,
416 ; Cotton's, 474
Liddell, Dr., Headmaster, 483
Lightfoot, Joseph, Bishop of Durham,
485
°Ligonier, Lord, 222 note
Lilly, imprisoned in Gatehouse, 343 ;
adventure of in Cloisters, 422
Lincoln, President, 286
Linlithgow, 25 note
*Lister, Jane, 303
Littlington, Abbot, 57, 329, 334, 336,
354, 356, 362
Liturgy, revision of the, 467
Livingstone, 299
f Locke, Joseph, 299
London, Bishop of, 41, 329
London, physical features of, 3
Long Acre, 339
Long Meg of Westminster, 333, 388
Lord High Stewardship, 36 ; abolition
of, 48
Louis, St., 108, 118
Louise, Queen of Louis XVIII., 171
note
Lovelace, 343
Lucas, Kichard, 451
Lucius, Church of, 8 ; King, 353
Ludlow, 24
Luther's ' Table Talk,' 344
Lyell, Sir C., 295
Lyndwood, Bishop, 309
Lytton, Bulwer, 282
llfACAULAY, Lord, quoted, 76, 77,
79, 106, 164, 165, 195 note, 243,
244, 265, 266, 282 ; his grave, 282
^Macaulay, Zacliary, 248
•\Mackintosh, Sir James, 245
Macpherson, James, 280
Mackworth, Colonel, 207
Magna Charta, excommunication of
transgressors of, 387
Magnates of the Commonwealth, 204
•^Malcolm, Sir John, 247
*Mandeville, Geoffrey and Adelaide,
177
f Manners, Lord Robert, 238
°Mansfield, Lord, 243
Margaret, St. Chapel, or Church of, 23 ;
painted window in, 147 ; 196, 342,
343, 393, 415, 432
Margaret of Anjou, coronation, 61
° Margaret Lennox, Countess of Rich-
mond, 154
°Margaret of Richmond, 62, 63 ; her
death, 146, 353
°Margaret of York, 136
°Markliam, Headmaster, afterwaids
Archbishop of York, 480
INDEX.
535
MAR
Marlborough, Duke of, at Monk's
funeral, 211 ; death and funeral, 226 ;
removal of to Blenheim, 226
Marlborough, Earl of, 214
Marlborough, Sarah, Duchess of, 80,
221, 225, 227, 229, 267
Marlborough, Henrietta, Duchess of,
221, 226
Marriages in the Abbey, 98, 484
Marshall, Stephen, 205, 208 note, 273,
430
Marten, Henry, 429
Martin, St., in-the-Fields, 340
Martin, St., Le Grand, 340, 347
Mary L, coronation, 69 ; attends Mass
in the Abbey, 404 ; grave, 151
Mary II., coronation, 78 ; funeral, 165 ;
wax figure, 324, 500
°Mary Queen of Scots, her tomb, 154 ;
miracles wrought by her bones, 155 ;
removal of body of from Peterbo-
rough, 507 ; vault of, 507, 508
Mary of Orange, 163, 509
Mary, daughter of James L, 156
Marylebone, 6
•\Mason, Rev. J., 270
Matilda, Queen, coronation, 41
Matthew Paris, 113
Maude, Queen, coronation, 43 ; burial,
104
May, Thos., burial and disinterment,
208 note, 256 note, 273
cMead, Richard, 296
Meldrum, Colonel, 204 note
Mellitus, first Bishop of London, 17, 18
Mcndip, Lord, 276 note
Men of letters, 277"
°Mcthuen, John, 249 note
Metropolitan and Metropolitical, 396
note
°Mcxborough, Lady, 301
Michael, St., plan of chapel of, 190
"Middlesex, Earl of, 201
Middle Ages, close of, 140
Millbank, 338
°Milling, Abbot, 335
Milrnan, Dean, 248
^Milton, 262, 313 note, 488
' Minster of the West,' 10
Miracles at Chapel of St. Peter, 20 ; at
shrine of St. Edward, 105; at tomb
of Mary Queen of Scots, 155
Monastery, the, 327; possessions of,
338 ; dissolution of, 395
°Monk, Bishop J. H., 276 note
cMonk, Bishop Nicholas, brother of
General Monk, 213
Monk, Christopher, son of General
Monk, 213
cMonk, George, burial, 211 ; effigy, 212 ;
323 ; his cap, 213 ; monument, 213 ;
vault, 323, 502
OLD
Monks, records of the, 336, 337
Monstrelet, quoted, 360
^Montagu, Captain, 238
°Montague. See Halifax
Montandre, Marquis de, 170
Monteigne, Dean, 415
Montfort, Simon de, 115
°Montpensier, Duke of, 170
Monuments, changes of taste with
regard to style of, 316
Monuments, gradual growth of the, 311
Monuments of the young, 302
Moray, Sir Robert, 297
More, Sir Thomas, imprisoned in the
Abbot's House, 361
°Morland, Sir S., wives of, 297
Mosaic pavement, 332
°Mountrath, Lord and Lady, 218 note
Muskerry, Viscount, 214
Musicians, tombs of, 290, 291
\TAVE, 127; plan of, 222, 266, 292,
ll 334, 335, 496
Neale, Dean, 414 ; succession of prefer-
ment, 414 note
Neate Manor, 339
i Nelson, his saying on the Abbey, 325 ;
death of, 238 ; waxwork figure, 325
and note
'Neville, Dorothy, 191
° Newcastle, John Hoiks, Duke of, 193,
218
0 'Newcastle, Margaret, Duchess of ', 217
^Newcastle, W. Cavendish, Duke of, 216
Newton, John, on Sheffield's epitaph,
230
°Newton, Sir Isaac, gravestone and
monument, 293, 294
j Nicholas, St., plan of chapel of, 188
Nicoll, Headmaster, 479
°Nightingale, Lady, 304, 317 note
Noel, H., 195 note
Nonconformists in the Abbey, 207, 315,
429-440, 494
°Normanton, Lord, 276 note
INorris family, 193, 194
North, John, Prebendary, 449
North Transept, plan of, 242
c Northumberland family, vault of, 301
, Northumberland, Elizabeth Percy,
Duchess of, 301
I "Norton family, tomb of, 305
Norwich, Abbot, 335
Nowell, Headmaster, 413
' OFFICE for Consecrating Churches
\) and Churchyards,' 470 note
Old Bourne, 4
Oldfield, Mrs., grave of, 284
' Old Windsor,' 21
536
INDEX.
ORC
' Orchard,' the, 338
Ordinations, 422, 484
Organ room, dispute in the, 469
Ormond, Duke and Duchess of, 212
Ormond vault, 212, 504
Osbaldiston, Headmaster and Preben-
dary, 438
Ossory, Earl of, 212
"Outrain, Sir James, 240
°Outram, Prebendary, 273, 449
Owen, John, Dean of Christchurch,
207, 440
Owen, Professor, 7 note
°0wen, Sir Thomas, 186
0 Oxford, Anne Vere, Countess of, 187
Oxford, connection of Westminster
School with Christchurch, 410
Serva,' inscription, 119
L Page, Dr., Headmaster, 483'
Painted Chamber, 21
Paintings in the Chapter House, 372,
376 ; in the Abbey, 390
Palace Yard, 21
Paleologus, Theodore, his family, 307,
and note
Palgrave, Sir Francis, 380
°Palmerston, Lord, 247
Pancake in Westminster School, 439
•{Paoli, Pascal, 309, 315
Papillon, Abbot, 331
Parker, Archbishop, 380
Parliament Office, 383
°Parr, Thomas, 306
°Parry, Sir Thomas, 180 note
Patrick, Symon, Prebendary, 449
Paul, St., plan of chapel of, 189
Paul's, St., Cathedral, 8, 242, 313 note,
325, 397 note, 463
•fPearce, Zachary, Dean and Bishop,
233, 319, 476
°Pecksall, Sir E., 183
fPeeZ, Sir B., 247
°Pelham's secretary, 233
Pepys quoted, 75-77, 214 note, 443,
446 note ; imprisoned in the Gate-
house, 344
^Perceval, 245
Peter, St., 16-20; favourite saint of
Edward the Confessor, 14, 25, 27,
123 ; ' robbing Peter to pay Paul,'
397
Peter's Eye or Island, 16
'Peter's keys and Paul's doctrine,' 61,
73
' Peter the Roman citizen,' 109
Pew, the Lord Keeper's, 124 note, 425,
441
°Philippa, Queen of Edward III., 57,
122
QUE
f Philips, John, 261
Pickering, keeper of Gatehouse, 345
Piers Plowman's Vision, 376
Pigeons in the Abbey, 437
Pilgrim (John the Evangelist), legend
of the, 24
Pilgrimages, 390
°Pitt, William, burial of, 244 ; monu-
ment, 245
Play, the Westminster, 413, 486
Plymouth, Earl of, 163
Poets' Corner, plan of, 250
Pole, Cardinal, attends Mass in the
Abbey, 404
Pollock, Sir George, 240
Pope, his burial and tablet at Twicken-
ham, 269 ; epitaph on himself at
Twickenham, 269, on Kneller, with
Johnson's criticism, 292, on Newton,
294, on Cragg, with Johnson's
criticism, 220, on Eowe, 263, on
General Withers, 306, on Dryden,
260 ; on Freind's epitaph, 295 note ;
225, 228, 244 note, 260. Epistles of,
quoted, 268 note
°Pop1iam, 206 ; his monument, 209
Popish plot, 344
Portland, Duke of , 218
Postard, Abbot, 331
Prasmunire, statute of, 376
Prayer Book, revision of the, 466
Prebendaries of Westminster not in
Anglican orders, 415
Presbyterian preachers, 429
Prichard, Hannah, 284
Prince Imperial, son of Napoleon III.,
171
°Pringle, 296
°Prior, Matthew, 267; epigram on
Atterbury, 231
Prior's Life of Burke quoted, 173, 304
note, 313 note
Priors and Subpriors, the, 361
Prison, the, 341
Private monuments, 300
Protectorate, the, 159
' Provence ' roses (Provins), 117
Provisions, Statute of, 376
°Puckering, Sir John, 185, 335 note
Pulpits of the Abbey, 425, 495
Pulteney, Earl of Bath, 233
*Pulteney, Daniel, 233 note
°Purcell, H., 289, 290, 354 note
Puritan changes in the Abbey, 428
Puy, Le, 19
Pym, burial of, 205 ; disinterment, 209
Pyx, chapel of the, 367, 379
Pyx, the, 383 note
QUEENS-CONSORT, coronations of,
36 note
INDEX.
537
RAF
f ft APPLES, Sir Stamford, 247
Eaglan, Lord, 240
Ralegh, Sir Walter, 196, 342
Recumbent effigies, 316
Redmayne, Master of Trinity, 272 note
Refectory, the, 365. 375
Reformation in the Abbey, 148; acts
of, 377
Regalia, 39, 40, 371, 429
Reims, consecration of Abbey of St.
Remy, 14
Relics at Westminster, 26, 104, 113,
123, 129, 135, 148, 371, 389
Eennell, the geographer, 299
Restoration, the, 162
Restoration, chiefs of the, 210
Revestry, 369, 389
Revision of the Authorised Version,
468
Revision of the Prayer Book, 466
Richard I., his two coronations, 45, 47 ;
his heart at Rouen, 103 ; his body at
Fontevrault, 103
°Richard II., coronation, 57 ; portrait,
124 ; tomb, 125 ; his courtiers, 178 ;
his devotion to the Abbey, 123, 350
Richard III., coronation, 61
RicJiard of Wendover, 178
°Richardson, Sir Thomas, 204
c 'Richmond and Lennox, Lewis Stuart,
Duke of, 196, 510 note
Richmond, Charles Lennox, Duke of,
natural son of Charles II., 163 note,
196
Richmond, Duchess of, died 1639, 197 ;
wax figure, 324
Richmond, Esme Stuart, Duke of, 154
note, 510
Richmond, George, portrait of Richard
II. restored by, 124
Ricula, sister of Sebert, 9, 371
Robbery of Treasury, 368
' Robbing Peter to pay Paul,' 397
^Roberts (Secretary of Pelham), 233
°Robinson, Sir Thomas, 233, 233 note
°Robsart, Lewis, 179, 298 note
Rochester, diocese of, united to Deanery
of Westminster, 446; severed from,
482
Roman Catholics buried in the Abbey,
315 note
Roubiliac, 192, 235, 291 note, 305
Rouen, 103
Rowe, John, 209, 430 note, 443
°Eowe, Nicholas, 263
Royal exiles, 170
Royal supremacy, recorded on coffin-
plate of Edward VI., 516
Runny-Mede, 21 note
Rupert, Prince, 163, 509
°Russell, Elizabeth, her christening,
death, and monument, 184
SID
'Russell, Lord John, 184
'Ruthell, Bishop, 180
Rymer, Thomas, 380
ACRAMENT, legend of the, 20
O St. Albans, Duke of, natural son of
Charles II., 163 note
°St. Evremond, 264, 315
St. John, Lady Catherine, 195
St. Saviour's Chapel, 396
St. Stephen's Chapel, 378 note, 396
°Salisbury, Elizabeth Cecil, Countess
of, 191
Salwey, Humphrey, 208 note
Sanctuary of Westminster, 346-353,
492
0 Sander son, Sir W., 272 note
Sandwich, Montagu, Earl of, 211
Santa Croce at Florence, 175
%Saumarez, 236
Savage, Richard, 344
Schomberg, Duke of, 218
School, Westminster, 32 ; rights of
scholars, 41, 78 note, 91 note ; first
beginnings, 362 ; founded by Henry
VIII., 395 ; refounded by Elizabeth,
407-411 ; schoolroom, 409 ; benefac-
tions to by Dean Williams, 417 ; in-
terest of Laud in, 422 note ; under
the Commonwealth, 437. See An-
drewes, Atterbury
Scone, Stone of, 49-56
°Scot, Grace, 210
Scott, Sir Gilbert, 292
Scott, Sir Walter, 2, 46, 231 note, 245,
401, 503 note
' Screen ' of the Abbey, 494
0 Sebert, King, 16, 102 ; Church of, 9 ;
grave of, 9, 102, 371
Sedgwick, Adam, 295
Selden, 431, 436
Servants, monuments of, 310
Services of the Abbey, 412, 493
Seven Acres, 339
Seven Sleepers, legend of the, 24
Seymour, Anne, Duchess of Somerset,
182
0 Seymour. Lady Jane, 183
Shackle, 348
IShadwell, 260
\Shakspeare, 55, 56 note, 66, 125, 128,
253, 254, 263, 288, 334, 355
ISharp, Granville, 248, 280, 316
Shaving the monks, 364
Slicffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire,
227 ; grave and epitaph, 229 ; vault,
507
Sheridan, R. B., 280
* Shield, William, 290
0 Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, 223
^Siddons, Mrs., 288
538
INDEX.
SID
Sidney, Frances, Countess of Sussex,
182
Skelton, poet, 352, 464
Smalridge, Dr., 262
Smiles, 299
* Smith, Thomas, 304
' Solomon's Porch,' 124, 455
0 Somerset, Anne Seymour, Duchess of,
181
Somerset, Protector, 149, 397
°Somerset,Sarah Alston, DucJiess of, 296
0 Sophia, daughter of James I., 156
°South, Robert, 274, 440, 451
^Southey, Robert, 282
°Spanheim, 170, 307, 315
Speaker of House of Commons, the
first, 376 note
Spectator, quotations from, 55, 96, 123,
127 note, 179, 185, 187, 223, 224, 274,
297, 311, 354, 439, 455
Spelman, Sir Henry, 272
°Spenser, Edmond, his grave and
monument, 252 ; inscription, 253, 320
' Spies of the Cloister,' 362
Spottiswoode, Archbishop, 74 note, 270
note
Spragge, Sir E., 214
ISprat, Dean, 257,, 259, 262, 467
•\Stanhope family, monuments of, 292
Stanley, Dean, 172
Stanley, Lady Augusta, 172
0 Stanley, Sir Humphrey, 180
Stapleton, Sir Robert, 257
Statutes, 376
cStaunton, Sir G., 247
Steele, 264 ; Mrs. Steele, 264
*Steigerr, of Berne, 309
Stephen, King, coronation, 43 ; buried
at Faversham, 103
°Stephenson, Robert, his grave and
window, 299
°Stepney, George, 261
Stewardship, Lord High, 36 ; abolished
by Henry III., 48
Stewart, Richard, Dean, 437
Stigand, Archbishop, 26, 37, 38
Stone, Nicholas, sculptor, 197
Stonehenge, 36
Stones, sacred, 50, 51
Strathmore, Countess of, 302
°Strathmore, Lady, 302
Strode, Sir W., 205
Strong, the Independent, 208 note, 272,
430
Stuart, Arabella, 157, 508
Stuart, Charles, 154
Submission, Act of, 377
0 Suffolk, Frances Grey, Duchess of, 181
Supremacy, Act of, 377
0 Sussex, Frances Sidney, Countess of,
182
Sword and Shield of State, 57, 123
TWY
fALBOTS, the, 195
Tapestry of Jerusalem Chamber,
78 note, 395 note
Taylor, Jeremy, quoted, 98
^Taylor, Sir Robert, 292
°Telford, 299
Temple Church, 113, 278, 416 note
° Temple, Sir William, and Family,
219 "
Tenison, Archbishop, 470
Tennyson, quoted, 394
Terence plays at Westminster School,
founder of, 413
]Tliackeray, W. M., bust of, 283
Thames, the, 3
' The King's Bench,' 50
Thieving Lane, 347
Thirlby, Bishop of Westminster, 67,
396
Thirlwall, BisJwp, 283
Thirty-nine Articles, 465
^Thomas, Dean and Bishop, 477
* Thomas of Woodstock, 127 note, 266
note
^Thomson, James, 270
*Thorndyke, Herbert, 275
*Thorndyke, John, 275 note
Thorn Ey, 7
Thorns, Isle of, 5, 7, 497
*Tlwrnton, Bonnell, 281 note
Thynne, Lord John, 491
°1hynne, Thomas, 216
°Thynne, William, 195
Tickell, quoted, 173
^Ticrney, 245
Tillotson, Archbishop, 275, 467
Toledo, inscription at, 490 note
Tombs, Eoyal, in Westminster Abbey,
peculiarities of, 97
Tombs, plan of, as they appeared in
1509, 142
°Tompion, the watchmaker, 297
Torregiano, 146, 429, 513, 514
Tosti, 21
Tothill Fields, 339, 482
Tounson, Dean, 342, 343, 415
Townsend, 237 note
Tower of London, 38 ; coronation pro-
cessions from, 57
Transept, North, plan of, 242
Translation of the English Bible, 472
Treasury, Eoyal, 367 ; robbery of, 368
Trench, Dean, 491
°Triplett, Dr., Prebendary, 273
Trussel, William, 178
' Tu autem ' service, 366
Tudor, Owen, 141 note, 337, 352
Tumult in the Cloisters, 478
Turton, Dean, 483
Twiss, 208 note, 272, 431, 433
\Twysdcn, Lieut. Heneage, 223; John
and Josiah, 223
INDEX.
539
TYB
Tyburn, a strsam, 6, 338; the chief
regicides buried at, 161
Tynchare, Philip, 173
Tyrconne.il, Lady, 302
^Tyrrell, Admiral, 235, 317 note
TTNCERTAIN distribution of honours,
LJ 312
Ushborne and his fishpond, 383
UssJier, Archbishop, 209, 416 note, 424
0 VALENCE, Aymer de, 111, 121, 237
0 Valence, William de, 116
' Vaste Moustier,' 360 note
Vaughan, Professor, quoted, 43, 100
Vaughan, Thomas, 180
Vere, Anne, Countess of Oxford, 187
°Vere, Sir Francis, 191
'fVernon, Admiral, 236
*Vertue, G., 292
Victoria, Queen, coronation of, 92
Villiers, Family, 196-201
°Villiers, Sir G., 197
0 Vincent, Dean, 170 note, 238 note, 275 ;
Bishoprick of Rochester separated
from Deanery, 482
Vincent Square, 482
' Vineyard,' the, 338
Virgin, girdle of the, 26 note, 106 note
*Vitalis, Abbot, 331
Voltaire, 284 note, 293
0 J'f/'ADE, Marshal, monument of,
234
•f Wager, 236
Wager, his character, 236
Wake, Colonel, anecdote of when at
Westminster School, 439
Wake, Archbishop, 440 note, 470
°Waldeby, Robert, 179
Waller, the poet, quoted, 98, 414
Walpole, Horace, quoted, 86-88, 94,
120, 167, 168, 397 note, 489
Walpole, Sir Robert, Earl of Orford,
232
1 Walpole, Lady, her statue, 232
Walter, Abbot, 331
°Waltham, John of, 178
Waltham Abbey, 22 note
Walton, Izaak, his monogram, 271
Ware, Abbot, 274, 326, 333
j Warren, Sir Peter, 236
Warren, Bisho2), and wife, 276 note
Washington Irving, quoted, 326, 408
Watchmakers, graves of two, 297
Water supply, 339
] Watson, Admiral, 236
WIT
James, 278 ; inscription on
monument, 299 note
t Watts, Dr., 277, 315
Wat Tyler, 59 ; outrage of, 350
Waxwork effigies, note on, 321
Webster, 496 note
Wenlock, Abbot, 333
Wentworth, Lord, funeral of, 398
Wesley, S., 462
Wesleys, the, 166, 277, 462
Wesley's Journal quoted, 304 note, 317
note
Western Towers, 476
^West, Temple, 236
Westminster, Bishop of, 67, 396
Westminster Bridge, 475
Westminster, City of, 396 note
Westminster Communion, 472
Westminster Conference, temp. Mary
404
Westminster Confession, 431, 432
Westminster, or Westbury, in Worces-
tershire, 386 note
Westminster Palace, 20, 31, 102, 327
Weston, Dean, 399
•fWetenall, 296
°Wharton, Henry, 276, 315
' Whigs' Corner,' the, 245
Whipping the monks, 373, 384
White Hart, badge of Richard II., 124
Whitewashing, the Abbey exempt from,
490
Whittington, architect of the nave, 127
Wilberforce, Dean, 328 note, 483
°Wilberforce, W., 248, 316
°Wikocks, Dean, 274
Wilcocks, Joseph, ' the blessed heretic,'
476
Wild, George, 210
0 William of Colchester, Abbot, 334, 349 ;
his conspiracy, 355
William the Conqueror : coronation, 34,
37 ; buried at Caen, 102
William Rufus : coronation, 41 ; buried
at Winchester, 102
William III. : coronation, 78 ; grave,
165 ; wax figure, 324 ; 500, 502
William IV., coronation, 91
Williams, Dean and Archbishop, 158,
386, 416-427, 510 note
Williamson, Dr., Headmaster, 483
Williamson, Sir Joseph, 219
Willis, Dr., 294 note
° Wilson, Sir Robert, 240
0 Wine hester, Marchioness of, 185
Windsor, 14, 150 ; origin of Castle, 330 ;
royal burials at, 100, 136, 137, 149
note, 149, 169
Windsor, Sir John, 179
Windsor, St. George's Chapel, 136
+ Winteringham, 296
Wither, George, the poet 420
540
INDEX.
WIT
* Withers, General, 306
f Wolfe, General, monument of, 237,
318
Wolfstan, Bishop, 30; miracle of his
crosier, 30, 42, 386
Wolsey, attacked by Skelton, 352;
Legantine Court of, 377 ; reception
of his Hat, 390, 392 note ; convenes
the Convocation of York to London,
464
*Woodfall, Elizabeth, 307
Woodstock, Thomas of, 126 note, 266
note
•fWoodward, John, 295
\Woollett, William, 292
Wordsworth, Christopher, 485, 492 note,
495 note
YOU
t Wordsworth, William, 282
Worsley, General, 207 ; probable grave
of, 518
Wragg, W., 239'nofe '
Wren, Sir Christopher, 476
^Wyatt, James, 292
"V7EOMEN of the Guard, 62
J York Dynasty, withdrawal of
burials of, to Windsor, 136
York, Edward, Duke of, 169
°Yorlc, Philippa, Duchess of, 127 note
York, Archbishop of, his rights, 41, 44,
351, 386
Young, Dr., 296
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