WESTMINSTER ABBEY THE FOUNDATION : — THE CORONATIONS - THE ROYAL TOMES — THE MONUMENTS In ,tmBm THE CORONATION CHAIR. HISTORICAL MEMORIALS OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY BY ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D. ILale Oran pf ffliEIrstmiuGlrr CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE IN 1I1UTE OF FRANCE Elittsttatrt) lEbfttott VOLUME I. THE FOUND \TION OF THE AT.BEY— THE CORONATIONS- TIIE ROYAL TOMBS- THE MONUMENTS PHILADELPHIA GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 103-105 South 15TH Street Copyright 1899, by Geokge W, Jacobs & Co. TO HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF LOYAL AND RESPECTFUL GRATITUDE Is Drtiicatcti THIS HUMBLE RECORD OP THE ROYAL AND NATIONAL SANCTUARY WHICH HAS FOR CENTURIES ENSHRINED THE VARIED MEMORIES OF HER AUGUST ANCESTORS AND THE MANIFOLD GLORIES OF HER FREK AND FAMOUS KINGDOM AND WHICH WITNESSED THE SOLEMN CONSECRATION OF HER OWN AUSPICIOUS REIGN TO ALL HIGH AND HOLY PURPOSES NOTE TO THE SIXTH EDITION. This volume is printed from the copy left by the Dean at his death, and containing his final corrections and additions. Easter, 1882 ", ' PEEFACE. THE following Work was undertaken, in great meas ure, in consequence of the kind desire expressed by many friends, chiefly by my honoured colleagues in the Chapter of Westminster, on occasion of the Eight Hundredth Anniversary of the Dedication of the Abbey, that I would attempt to illustrate its history by Memo rials similar to those which, in former years, I had published in connection with Canterbury Cathedral Such a proposal was in entire consonance with my own previous inclinations ; but I have undertaken it not without much misgiving. The task was one which involved considerable re search, such as, amidst the constant pressure of other and more important occupations, I was conscious thatt 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 Becord Office, whose careful arrangement of our Archives! during the last three years has given him ample oppor- viil PREFACE. tunities for bringing any new light to bear on the subject ; the lamented Joseph Robertson, of the Reg ister House, Edinburgh, who was always ready to supply, from his copious stores, any knowledge bearing on the Northern Kingdom ; the Rev. 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, Buckingham Palace; and Colonel Chester, a distinguished antiquarian of the United States,1 who, with a diligence which spared no labour, and a disinterestedness which spared no ex penditure,, has at his own cost edited and illustrated with a copious accuracy which leaves nothing to be desired, the Registers 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 "Westminster and whose deeper acquaint ance 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 preten sions to more than a rearrangement of already existing 1 For the verification of statements and references in the earlier Chapters, I am in a great measure indebted to Mr. Frank Scott Hay- don and Mr. Edward Rhodes, of the Public Record Office ; and for tlie Index to my friend Mr. George Grove, and to Mr. Henry F. Turle. PREFACE. IX 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 Archives 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 Record Office (see Archceological 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 1662, under the Commissioners of the Commonwealth. 3. The Registers of Baptisms, Marriages, and Burials, mentioned p. 136. 4. The Precentor's Book, containing a partial record of customs during the last century. 5. The ' Consuetudines' of Abbot Ware, and 6. The MS. History of the Abbey by Flete, both men tioned vol. iii. p. 2. 7. The MSS. in the Heralds' and Lord Chamberlain's Offices. 8. The ' Inventory of the Monastery,' lately discovered at the Land Revenue Record Office by the Rev. Mackenzie E. C. Walcott, and printed i n the Transactions of the London and Middlesex Archseological Society, vol. iv, II. The chief printed authorities are : — 1. lieges, Regime et Nobiles in Ecclesia Beati Petri West- monasteriensis Sepidti, by William Camden (1G00, 1603, and 1606). 2. Monmnenta Westmonasteriensia, by Henry Keepe (usu ally signed H. K.), 1683. X PREFACE. 3. Antiquities of St. Peter's, by J. Crdll (usually signed J. C, sometimes H. S.) [These three works relate chiefly to the Monuments.] 4. History and Antiquities of the Abbey Church of West minster, 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 Richard Widmore, Libra rian to the Chapter and Minor Canon of Westminster 1 750 (carefully based on the original Archives). 6. History of the Abbey, by E. Akerman (2 vols, royal 4to, 1812). 7. History and Antiquities of tlie 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 super vision of George Gilbert Scott (2d 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. Ridgway's Gem of Thorney Island; and the elaborate treatises of Stow, Malcolm, and Maitland, on Loudon ; of Smith, Brayley, and Walcott, on Westminster ; and of Carter, Gough, and Weever, on sepulchral monu ments 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 architectural and purely antiquarian details to those who have treated them in the works to which I have already referred.1 1 Documents of this kind, not before published, or not generally accessible, were printed in the Appendix to the earlier editions of this work. TREFACE. xi But the History of Westminster Abbey differs essen tially from that of Canterbury Cathedral, or, indeed, of any other ecclesiastical edifice in England. In Canter bury 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 re produced, in all its parts, as a separate incident. In Westminster no such single act has occurred. The in terest 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 Roviaine d 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 a 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 indiscriminate 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 tlie Abbey,1 growing out of the 1 Chapter I. Xll PREFACE. physical features of the locality, the legendary tradi tions, 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 circumstances 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 curi ous, 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.1 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 intimate, 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 2 accordingly contains the key of the whole. From the Burials of the Kings followed, in continu ous order, the interments of eminent men. These I have endeavoured to track in the successive groups of Courtiers, Warriors, and Statesmen, through the marked epochs of Richard II., of Elizabeth, and of the Common wealth, ending with the Statesmen's Corners in the North Transept and the Nave. In like manner the 1 Chapter II. 2 Chapter III. PREFACE. xiii Men of Letters, and of Arts and Sciences, are carried through the various links which, starting from the Grave of Chaucer in Poets' 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, al though 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 reminis cences of the Convocations that have been held within the Precincts. The History of Westminster School, which opened a larger field than could be conveniently 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 build- J Chapter IV. 2 Chapter V. 3 Chapter VI. XIV PREFACE. ings, 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 inci dents 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 explanation, would lose their significance. I have also not scrupled to quote at length many passages — some times celebrated, sometimes, perhaps, comparatively un known — 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 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 suggestions which were made, by those in terested 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, PREFACE. XV 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 Com mission, 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. Tlie erection of a new Reredos, more worthy of so august a sanctuary, has at length been completed, untler 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 suggested that none would add so much to the external beauty of the Building, without changing its actual proportions, or its relations to past history, as the resto ration 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 oc casioned by a Report presented in 1854, by the distin guished 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 xvi PREFACE. completed for the Plantagenet tombs under his suc cessor Mr. Ayrton. The Private Monuments of the sixteenth and seven teenth centuries offer less difficulty. I have much pleasure in expressing my grateful sense of the prompti tude with which the Cecil, Russell, Sidney, and Lennox tombs have, by the noble and illustrious Houses which they represent, been restored to their original splen dour, yet so as not to interfere with the general har mony 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, however, will sooner or later become indispen sable, 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 facili ties. 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 Monu- i See Chapter IV. PREFACE. XVL1 uients (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 con servation 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 consideration 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. Jane, 1876. NOTE TO THE FOURTH ENGLISH EDITION (which is in one volume). In order to ease the bulk of this volume, I have omit ted from it the various documents which, having been printed in the three previous Editions, are there avail able 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 8. Verses on, in the Time of James 1 597 CHAPTER III. I. Giave 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. — ((/) Depositions of Witnesses concerning the burial . . 600 {h) Judgment of the Privy Council on C09 (c) Expenses for the Legal Proceedings of tlie Chapter of Windsor 612 (d) Indenture of Henry ATI. with the Convent of West minster for the Hemoval' 615 (t ) Expenses incurred for the removal of from Windsor to Westminster ... • 616 (/) Letter to the Archbishop of York, forbidding the Worship of Henry VI. at York 617 IX NOTE. PAGE V. James I.'s Letter for the Removal of the Remains of Mary Queen of Scots from Peterborough 618 CHAPTER IV. I. Account of the Vault of Lennox, Duke of Richmond . . 620 II. Account of the Vault of Villiers, Duke of Buckingham . 624 III. Account of the Vault of Monk, Duke of Albermai'Ie . . 628 IV. Account of the 'Cromwell,' 'Monmouth,' or 'Ormond' Vault 630 V. Warrant for the Disinterment of the Parliamentarians . 633 VI. The Middle Tread, and Den Jonson's Gravestone . . . 634 CHAPTER V. I. Littlington's Buildings ... 636 II. Orders against Wandering Monks 636 III. Visit of the Bohemian Travellers in 1477 638 IV. Records of the early Painters of the Abbey 640 V. Relics lent to the Countess of Gloucester 641 CHAPTER VI. I. Feckeuham's Speech on the Right of Sanctuary .... 642 II. Extracts from Strype's edition of ' Stow's Survey ' . . . 648 CONTENTS. PACK Preface , vj; Note to the Fourth Editiox . xix List of Illustrations . . ... .... xxvii Chronological Table of Events xxix Genebal Dimensions of the Abbey Church xliii CHAPTER I. THE FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Natural growth of the Abbey, 3 I. Physical Features of London and Westminster, 4. — The Thames, the Hills and Streams, 5. — The Island of Thorns, 7. —The Spring, 11 II. Legends: Temple of Apollo, 11. — Church of Lucius, 12. — Church of Sebert a.d. 616; his Grave, 13. — Monastery of Edgar, 14 III. Historical Origin, 15. — Edward the Confessor: his Outward Appearance, 15; his Character, 16. — The Last of the Saxons, the First of the Normans, 17, 18 His motives in the Foundation of the Abbey; 1. Con secration at Reims ; 2. Situation of Thorney ; 3. Devotion to St. Peter, 19. — His Vow, 19. — Connection of the Abbey with the name of St. Peter, 21. — Legend of the Hermit of Worcester, 23. — of Edric the Fisherman, 24. — of the Cripple, 27. — of the Apparition in the Sacrament, 27 Palace of Westminster, 28. — Journey to Rome, 29. — Building of the Abbey, 30 End of the Confessor. Legend of the Vision of the Seven Sleepers, 33. — of the Pilgrim, 33. — Dedication of the Abbey (Dec. 28, 1065), 35. —Death of the Confessor (Jan. 5, 1066J, and Burial (Jan. 6), 37 xxii CONTENTS. Effects of his Character on the foundation, 39. — Its Con nection with the Conquest, >!0. — with the English Constitu tion, 42. — Legend of vVulfstan, 42. — Bayeux Tapestry, 43 CHAPTER II. THE CORONATIONS. The Rite of Coronation, 49. — The Scene of the English Coronations, 52. — Coronation of William the Conqueror (Dec. 25, 1066), 53. — Connection of Coronations with the Abbey, 56 ; the Regalia, 56. — Coronation Privileges of the Abbots and Deans of West minster, 58 ; of the Archbishops of Canterbury, 59 ; Coronation of Matilda (May 11, 1067), 60 Coronation of William Rufus (Sept. 26, 1087), 60; of Henry- I. (Aug. 5, 1100), 60; of Maude (Nov. 10, 1100), 62; of Stephen (Dec. 26, 1135), 62; of Henry II. (Dec. 19, 1154), 63 ; of his son Henry (June 14, 1170), 63, and its results, 64 ; of Richard I. (Sept. 3, 1189), 64, and its disasters, 65 ; his Second Coronation (1194), 67; Coronation of John (May 27, 1199), 67; the Cinque Po-ts, 68. — Two Coronations of Henry III. (Oct. 28, 1216; May 17, 1220), 68, 69; Abolition of Lord High Stewardship, 70. — Coronation of Edward I. and Eleanor (Aug. 19, 1274), 71 The Coronation Stone, 71: Installation of Kings, 71. — Legend and History of the Stone of Scone, 73-75. — its Capture, 75. — its Retention and Use, 77. — Prediction concerning, 78. — its In terest; the ' Spectator'; Goldsmith, 79, 80 Coronation of Edward II. (Feb. 25, 1308), 81 ; of Edward III. (Feb. 1, 1327), 82 ; of Philippa (Feb. 2, 1328), 82 ; 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, 82, 83 ; the Champion, 83. — Coronation of Henry IV. (Oct. 13, 1399) ; the Election, 85. — The Ampulla, 85. — Corona tion of Queen Joan (Feb. 26, 1403); of Henry V. (April 9, 1413), 86; and of Catherine (Feb. 24, 1420), 87; of Henry VI. (Nov. 6, 1429); and of Margaret (April 30, 1445) ; of Edward IV. (June 29, 1466), 87. — Preparations for the Coronation of Edward V. (June 22, 1483), 88; Coronation of Richard III. (July 6, 1483), 88 ; of Henry VII. (Oct. 30, 1485), 89 ; of Eliza- beth of York (Nov. 25, 1487) ; the Yeomen of the Guard ; Corona tion of Henry VIII. (June 24, 1509), 89, 90; of Anne Boleyn (June 1, 1533), 90-95; of Edward VI. (Feb. 20, 1546), 95."— Cranmer's Address, 97. — Coronation of Queen Mary (Oct. 1, 1553), 98-100; of Queen Elizabeth (Jan. 15, 1559), 100- CONTENTS. xxiii 102; of James I. (July 25, 1603), 103; of Charles I. (Feb. 2, 1625-26), 104-106 Installation of Cromwell (June 26, 1657), 107 Coronation of Charles II. (April 23, 1661), 107-110; of James II (April 23, 1685), 110-112; of William and Mary (April 11, 1689); Sanction of Parliament, 112-115. — Coronation Oath changed, 113. — Coronation of Queen Anne (April 23, 1702), 115. Coronation of George I. (Oct. 20, 1714), 116. — Reconstruction of the Order of the Bath, 117. — Installation of Knights, 119. — Lord Dundonald's Banner, 120 Coronation of George II. (Oct. 11, 1727), 121 ; of George III. (Sept. 22, 1761), 121; withdrawal of the claims to the Kingdom of France, 124 ; appearance of Prince Charles Edward at the Corona tion, 126. Coronation of George IV. (July 19, 1821), 126. — At tempted Entrance of Queen Caroline, 128,129. — Coronation of William IV. (Sept. 8, 1831), its Curtailment, 130. — Coronation of Queen Victoria (June 28, 1838), 130. — Conclusion, 131— 134 CHAPTER III. THE ROYAL TOMBS. On the Tombs of Kings generally, 137. — Peculiarities of in the Abbey: 1. In combination with Coronations, 138; 2. with the Palace, 139 ; 3. Importance of the Royal Deaths, 141 ; 4. Pub licity of the Funerals, 142 ; 5. Connection of Burials with the Services of the Church, 142 Beginning of Royal Burials : — Sebert, Ethelgoda, Harold Harefoot, Edward the Confessor, 144; Norman Kings buried at Caen, Winchester, Reading, Faversham, Fontevrault, Worcester, 144, 145; Maud (May 1, 1118), 146.— First Translation of the Con fessor (Oct. 13, 1163), 148 Henry III. — his Foundation of the Lady Chapel (1220), 149.— characteristics of his Reign ; his English feelings ; his imitation of St. Denys ; his devotion ; his addiction to Foreign Arts ; his extravagance, 150-154. — Demolition of the Old and Building of the New Church, 155, 156. — The Confessor's Shrine, 156. — Second Translation of the Confessor (Oct. 13, 1269), 159. — The Relics, 159. — His Death (Nov. 16), Burial (Nov. 20, 1272), and Tomb, 161. — Delivery of his Heart to the Abbess of Fontevrault (1291), 162 Family of Henry III. — Princess Catherine (1257), Prince Henry (1271), 163; William de Valence (1296), Edmund Earl of Lancas. ter (1296), and Aveline his Wife (1273), 164, 165 ::xiv CONTENTS. I-Ueanor of Castile (1291 ). — Alfonso (1284), 160, 167; Edward T. (1307), his Tomb and Inscription, 107, 1 OS. — opening; of Tomb (1771), 169. — Edward II. 's Tomb at Gloucester (1327). — John of Eltham (1334), 170, 171 ; Aymer de Valence (1323), 171 Philippa (1369), 172; Edward III. (1377), his Tomb, Children, Sword and Shield, 172, 173; Relics from France; the Black Prince, 174 Richard II. — his Affection for the Abbey, and Marriage, 174; his Badge and Portrait, 175. — his Wife's Burial and Tomb (1394- 95), 176, 177. — his Burial at Langley (1399), and Removtil to Westminster (1413), 178. — Thomas of Woodstock and his Wife. Philippa of York, 179 House of Lancaster. Henry' IV. buried at Canterbury ; Henry V. 's Interest in the Abbey, completion of the Nave, 179, 180. — his Death and Funeral (1422), 180, 181. — his Tomb, 182 —his Saddle and Helmet, 184, 185. — his Statue, 185. — Catherine of Valois (1437), 186, 187. — Henry VI. visits the Abbey to fix the place of his sepul ture, 187. — Withdrawal of the York Dynasty to Windsor, 190. — Margaret of York (1472), Anne of Warwick (1485), Anne Mow bray of York, 190, 191 Claims of Windsor, Chertsey, and Westminster for the burial of Henry VI., 191. — Origin of the Chapel of Henry VII., 193, 194. —The Chantry; the Saints, 194, 195. — '1 he close of the Middle Ages and of the Wars of the Roses ; revival of the Celtic Races, 196, 197. — The Beginning of Modern England, 198. — Death of Elizabeth of York (1503), 199 ; of Henry VII. (1509), 200 ; his Burial and Tomb, 200 ; Tomb of Margaret of Richmond (1509), 201, 202 —Marriage Window of Prince Henry, Intended Tomb of Henry VIII., 203, 204 The Reformation in the Abbey, 205. — Funeral of Edward VI (1553), 206.— his Tomb, 208; Anne of Cloves (1557), Queen Mary I. (1558), 20S, 209. — Obsequies of Charles V., ' Emperor of Rome' (1558), 209 Queen Elizabeth (1603), and Tomb, 210, 211. — Tombs of the Stuarts; Margaret Lennox (1577), 212. — Charles Lennox. — Mary Stuart (1587), 213. — End of the Royal Monuments, 214 Tombs of Princesses Mary and Sophia (1607), 216; Graves of Prince Henry, Arabella Stuart, 217; Anne of Denmark (1619), James I. (1625), 218; Prince Charles (1629), and Princess Anne (1640), 219 CONTENTS. xxv The Commonwealth: — The Family of Cromwell, 220; Oliver Cromwell, Elizabeth Claypole (1658), 220. — Disinterment of Cromwell's Remains, 223 The Restoration: — Intended Tomb of Charles I., 224; Henry Duke of Gloucester (1660), Mary of Orange (1660), Elizabeth of Bohemia (1661), Prince Rupert (1682), 225; illegitimate Sons of Charles II. ; Charles II. (1685), 226 Death of James II. (1701), and his Children, 228; William III. (1702), 227. — Mary II. (1694), 229. — Queen Anne (1714) and Prince George of Denmark ('.708), 230 The House of Hanover, 231. — George II. (1760) and Caroline of Anspach (1737), 231, and their Family, 234; George III.'s Vault at Windsor, 234. — Antony, Duke of Montpensier (1807), 236; Lady Augusta Stanley (1876), 239; Arthur Penrhyn Stan ley, Dean of Westminster (1881), 239 CHAPTER IV. THE MONUMENTS. Peculiarity of the Tombs at Westminster, 243. — Comparison of the Abbey with the church of Santa Croco at Florence, 245. — Result of the Royal Tombs, 246 Burials in the Cloisters : — Hugolin, Geoffrey of Mandoville, 247, 248. — First Burials within the Abbey, 248. — Courtiers of Richard II. : John of Waltham (1395), Golofre (1396), 249; Brocas (1400), Waldeby (1397), 250. — of Henry V., 250. — of Edward IV, 251. — of Henry VII., 251 Ladies of the Tudor Court: — Frances Grey (1559), 253 ; Anne Seymour (1587); Frances Howard (1598), 254; Frances Sidney (1589), 255 Elizabethan Magnates, 255. — Jane Seymour (1561), Catherine Knollys (1568), Sir R. Pecksall (1571), John Lord Russell, and his Daughter (1584), 256, 257. — Winyfred Brydges (1586), Brom ley (1587), Puckering (1596), 259. — Owen (1598), Lord Hunsdon (1596), 260. — Lord Burleigh and his Family (1598), 261-266 ; the Norris Family, 269, 270 ; William Thynne (1584), 271 Flemish Heroes : — Sir Francis Vere (1609), 266 ; Sir George Holies (1626), De Burgh (1594), 267, 268 ; the Norris Family (1598-1604), 269, 270. — Bingham (1598), 271 Courtiers of James I., 271. — Duke of Richmond (1623), 272 Courtiers of Charles I., 274 : — The Villiers Family (1605-1632), 274-280. — Cranfield, Earl of Middlesex (1645), 280. — Lord Cot- xxvi CONTENTS. tington (1652), 281; Sir T. Richardson (1635), 283. — Thomas Cary (1649), 283 Magnates of the Commonwealth: — Pym (1643), 284. — Earl of Essex (1646), 285. — Popham (1651),Dorislaus (1749), 286,287.— Ireton (1651), 287. — Blake (1657), 288. — Bradshaw (1659), 290. — Their Disinterment, 290. — Exceptions, 291 ; Popham, Ussher, Elizabeth Claypole, Essex, Grace Scot, George Wild, 291, 292 The Chiefs of the Restoration: — Monk (1670), Montague, Earl of Sandwich (1672), the Ormond Vault, 293, 294; Duke of Ormond and his Family (1684-1688), 295. — Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1674), Bishop Nicholas Monk (1661), Bishop Feme (1662), Bishop Duppa (1662), 296, 297 Heroes of the Dutch War, 298, 299 Thomas Thynne (1681), 300. — Sir E B. Godfrey (1670), T. Chiffinch (1666), Duke and Duchess of Newcastle [Cavendish] (1676-1677), 300, 301.— Holies, Duke of Newcastle (1711), 303 The Revolution of 1688 : — The Bentinck, Schomberg, and Temple Families ; Saville, Marquis of Halifax (1695), 304, 305. — States men and Courtiers of Queen Anne : Montague, Earl of Halifax (1715), 305. — Craggs, 305-=307. — Godolphin (1712), 308. — Heroes of the War of the Succession, 309,311. — Sir Cloudesley Shovel (1707), 311. — The Duke of Marlbor ough, mourning of Sarah for her sou, 312, 313 ; Funeral of the Duke (1722), 314. — Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire, and his Family (1721), 316-321 Statesmen of the House of Hanover: — John Duke of Argyll and Greenwich (1743), 322. — Wife of Sir R. Walpole (1737), 323. — Pulteney, Earl of Bath (1764), 324 Soldiers : — Roubiliac's Monument to Wade (1748), 326. — Hargrave (1750), Fleming (1751), 326 Sailors : — Hardy (1720), Cornewall (1743), Tyrrell (1766), Wager (1743), Vernon (1751), 327, 328. — Lord A. Beauclerk (1740), 328. — Lord Dundonald (1860), 332 Indian and American Wars : — Wolfe (1759), 330. — Lord Howe's Captains (1794), 331. — Rodney's Captains (1782), Burgoyue (1792), Andre' ( 1 780), 331, 332. — Wilson, Outran), Clyde, Pollock, 334. —Franklin, 335 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. rAfiB The Coronation Chair . .... , Vignette Title The Abbey To face xxi Plan of the Abbey and its precincts about A. D. 1535 . <; Reliefs 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 Den mark. 4. The Visit to the Seven Sleepers. 5. St. John and the Pilgrims . . 17 Westminster Hall and Abbey . 29 The Abbey, from the Bayeux Tapestry . ... 45 The Coronation Stone . . . 73 Installation of the Knights of the Bath, in 1812, in Henry VII.'s Chapel . . . . 119 Plan of the Tombs in the Chapel of the Kings .... 157 Queen Eleanor's Tomb 166 Chantry of Henry V. 1 83 Helmet, Shield, and Saddle of Henry V., still suspended over his Tomb . . . ... .185 Plan of the Tombs of the Abbey in 1509 . . . 198 Chapel of Henry VII 199 xxviii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Plan of the Chapel of St. Nicholas 262 St. John the Baptist ... ... 262 St. Paul ... 263 St. Edmund 263 " Chapels of St. John the Evangelist, St. Michael, and St. Andrew . 264 Monument to Sir Francis Vere 267 Plan of Buckingham (Villiers) Vault, Henry VII.'s Chapel 275 l'lanof the Chapel of St. Benedict 282 Plan of General Monk's vault, in the North Aisle of Henry VII.'s Chapel . 294 Plan of the Nave 310 EXPLANATION OF THE TYPES AND SIGNS USED IN THE PLANS. Roman capital letters indicate . . . Royal persons " smaller ditto " ... Military and Naval men " small letters " ... Literary men " ditto, with spaces between the letters Other famous personages Italic capital letters " ... Statesmen " small ditto " ... Ecclesiastics ° . ..... " . . Monuments || ....... . " ... Graves PHOTOGRAVURES. Chiefly after Etchings by Herbert Railton. PAGE The Abbey ... . . Frontispiece The Abbey from the Dean's Tark 3 Henry VII.'s Chapel (exterior) ... . 89 The Confessor's Chapel . . . . 133 Henry VII.'s Chapel Tomb . 2C0 Chapel and Tomb of Mary Queen of Scots . 212 Dean Stanley's Tomb . . 239 The Interior of the Nave .... ... 308 ' The Abbey of Westminster hath been always held the greatest sanctuary and randevou/.e 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 sw £tness of melting piety in the hearts of the beholders.' Howell's Perhistration of London (1657), p. 346. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE EVENTS CONNECTED WITH WESTMINSTER ABBEY.* 153? Fall of the Temple of Apollo ? 90-190 ? Foundation of the Abbey by Lucius V 616 ? Foundation by Sebert and Vision of Edric ? 785 ? Charter of Off a ? 951 V " ofKdgar? 1042 Fulfilment of the Vow of Edward the Confessor to St. Peter. 1049 Edwin, Abbot. Embassy to Reims. 1050 Foundation of the Abbey. 1065 Dedication of the Abbey, Dec. 28. 1066 Death of the Confessor, Jan. 5. Burial of the Confessor, Jan. 6. Coronation of Harold (?), Jan. C. Coronation of William the Conqueror, Dec. 25. 1068 Coronation of Matilda, May 11. Geoffrey, Abbot. 1069 Imprisonment of Egelric, Bishop of Durham. 1072 Egelric buried. 11)76 First Council of Westminster under Lsnfranc. Miracle of YTolfstan's Crozier. Vitalis, Abbot. 1082 Gislebert, Abbot. A. D. 1087 Coronation of William Rufus, Sept. 26. 1098 Opening of the Confessor's Coffin by Gundulph. and Gislebert. 1100 Building of New Palace of Westminster. Coronation of Henry I., Aug. 5. " of Matilda, Nov. 11. 1102 Council under Ansebn. 1115 Consecration of Bernard, Bishop of St. David's, Sept. 19. 1118 Burial of Matilda, May 1. 1120 Herbert, Abbot. Consecration of David of Ban gor, April 4. 1124 Council under John of Cremn. 1135 Coronation of Stephen, Dec. 26. 1140 Gervase, Abbot. 1154 Coronation of Henry II., Dec. 19. 1160 Lawrence, Abbot. 1163 Canonisation of the Confessor, and First Translation of his Remains, Oct. 13. 1170 Coronation of Prince Henry, June 14. 1176 Council of Westminster, and 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 death. XXX CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. A. D. 1186 Consecration of Hugh of Lin coln, Sept. 21. Consecration of William of Worcester, Sept. 21. 1189 Coronation of Richard I,, Sept. 3. Consecration of Hubert of Salisbury and Godfrey of Winchester, Oct. 22. 1191 Postard, Abbot. 1194 Consecration of Herbert of Salisbury, June 5. 1195 Trial between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Abbot. 1197 Consecration of Robert of Ban gor, March 16. 1198 Consecration of Eustace of Ely, March 8. 1199 Consecration of William of London, May 23. Coronation of John, May 27. 1200 Papillon, Abbot. Consecration of John Gray of Norwich, Sept. 24. Consecration of Giles Braose of Hereford, Sept. 24. 1203 Consecration of William de Blnis of Lincoln before the High Altar, Aug. 24. Consecration of Geoffrey of St. David's, Dec. 7. 1214 Ilumez, Abbot. 1220 Foundation of Lady Chapel, May 10. Coronation of Henrv III., Mav 17. 1221 Consecration of Eustace of London, April 25. 1222 Burking, Abbot. 1224 Consecration of William Brewer of Exeter, April 21. Consecration of Ralph Neville of Chichester, April 21. 1226 Consecration of Thomas Blun- ville of Norwich, Dec. 20. 1236 Marriage of Henry III. and Eleanor, Jan. 14. 1244 Council of State held in Refec tory. 1245 Rebuilding of the Abbey by Henry III. A. T). 1246 Crokesley, Abbot. 1247 Fulk de Castro Novo buried. Deposition of Relics. 1250 ( 'hapter House begun. Richard of Wendover, Bishop ot Rochester, buried. 1252 Excommunication of Trans gressors of Magna Charta. 1256 Parliament met in Chapter House, March 26. Council of State in Chapter House. 1257 Princess Catherine buried. 1258 Lewisham, Abbot Ware, Abbot. 1201 Ford, Abbot of Glastonbury, buried. 1263 Commons of London assemble in Cloisters. 1267 Mosaic Pavement brought from Rome. 1209 Second Translation of Edward the Confessor, Oct. 13, Marriage of Edmond and Ave- line, Earl and Countess of Lancaster. 1271 Heart of Prince Henry,Nephew to the King, placed near Confessor's Tomb. 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 Llew elyn to the Confessor. Prince Alfonso buried, Aug 14. 1285 Statute 'Circumspecte Agatis.' 1290 Council of Westminster. Ex pulsion of the Jews from England. 1291 Reinterment of Henry III., and Delivery of his Heart to the Abbess of Fontevrault. Eleanor of Castile buried, Dec. 17. 1292 Withdrawal of Claims by John Baliol in Chapter House. 1294 Inundation of the Thames. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. XXXI A.D. a. n. 1294 Assembly of Clergy and Laity in Refectory. 1378 1296 William of Valence buried. Edmund Crouchback buried. Dedication of the Stone of 1381 Scone. 1382 1303 Robbery of the Treasury. 1307 Burial of Edward I., Oct. 27. 1380 Removal of Sebert. 1391 1308 Coronation of Edward II., Feb. 25. 1393 Kydynyton, Abbot. 1394 1315 Curtlinyton, Abbot. 1395 1323 Aymer de Valence buried. 1396 1327 Coronation of Edward III., Feb. 1. 1397 1328 Coronation of Philippa, Feb. 2. Writ of Edward HI. requiring 1399 the Abbot of Westminster to give up the Stone of Scone, July 21. 1334 Henley, Abbot. John of Eltham buried. 1344 Byrcheston, Abbot. 1345 Eastern Cloister finished. 1400 1348 The Black Death. Burial of 1403 twenty-six Monks. 1413 1349 Larigham, Abbot. 1350 Statute of Provisions passed in Chapter House. Continuation of Nave and Cloisters by A bbot Langham. 1362 Littlington, Abbot. 1363 Negotiations with David II. for the Restoration of the Stone of Scone. 1413 Rebuilding of Abbot's House 1414 and of Jerusalem Chamber, 1415 and Building of South and West Cloisters, by Abbot Littlington. 1369 Burial of Philippa. 1421 1376 Langham buried. 1377 Purchase of Tower which be came the Jewel House, and later the Parliament Office, by Edward III. 1422 Burial of Ed ward III. 1429 1377 Coronation of Richard II., July 16. ;1431 Murder of Cir John Hawle in the Abbey, Aug. 11. Reopening of the Abbey, Dec. 8. Outrage of Wat Tyler. Marriage of Richard If. with Anne of Bohemia, Jan. 22. William of Colvheslcr, Abbot. Walter of Leycester buried. Statute of Praemunire passed in Chapter House. Burial of Anne of Bohemia. John of Waltliam buried. Shackle buried. Sir John Golofre buried. Prince Thomas of Woodstock buried. Robert Waldeby buried. Widow of Thomas of Wood stock buried. Sir Bernard Brocas buried. Coronation of Henry IV., Oct. 13. Conspiracy of William of Col chester. Chaucer buried. Coronation of Joan. Death of Henry IV. in Jeru salem Chamber, March 20. Conversion of Henry V. Coronation of Henry V., April 9. Removal of body of Richard II. from Langley to Windsor. -1416 Prolongation of the Nave under Henry V. by Wliit- tington. Sir John Windsor buried. Richard Courtney, Bishop oi Norwich, buried. Te Deum for the Battle of Agin- court, Nov. 23. Coronation of Catherine, Feb. 24. Hawerden, Abbot. Convention of Henry V. in Chapter House. Burial of Henry V., Nov. 7. Coronation of Henry VI., Nov. 6. Louis Robsart buried. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. 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. 1406 Norwich, Abbot. 1469 Milling, Abbot. 1470 Humphrey Bourchier buried. Lord Carew buried. Elizabeth Woodville takes Sanctuary, Oct. 1. Edward V. born in the Sanc tuary. Nov. 4. 1472 Infant Margaret of York buried, Dec. 11. 1474 Milling consecrated to Here ford in the Lady Chapel, Aug. 21. Lsleney, 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 Anne Neville, Queen of Rich ard HI., buried. Coronation of Henry VII., Oct. 30. 1487 Coronation of Elizabeth of York, Nov. 25. 1491 Caxton buried in St. Mar garet's Churchyard. 1492 Bishop Milling buried. 1495 Princess Elizabeth buried, Sept. 1498 Fascet, Abbot. Lord Wells buried in Lady Chapel. A. D. 1498 Decision ot the Privy Council on the burial of Henry VI. 1500 Blip, Abbot. 1503 Foundation of Henry VII.'s Chapel, Jan. 24. Burial of Elizabeth of York, Feb. 25. 1504 Licence of Pope Julius II. for the removal of the body of Henry VI. to Westminster. 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 Sanctuary. 1515 Reception of Wolse3-'s Hat, Nov. 18. 1523 Convocation summoned by Wolsey. Ruthell, Bishop of Durham, buried. 1529 Convocation in the Chapter House. 1531 Act of Submission, April 12. Death of Skelton in the Sanc tuary, buried in St. Mar garet's Churchyard. 1532 Abbot Islip buried. Boston or Benson, Abbot. 1533 Coronation of Anne Bolej-n, June 1. 1534 Imprisonment of Sir Thomas More in Abbot's House. 1539 Benson, Dean. 1540 Convocation in the Chapter House on Anne of Cleves, July 7. Consecration of Thirlby to the see of Westminster, Dec. 19. 1542 First Orders of Dean and Chap ter. 1543 Nowell, Head-Master. 1544 Bellringer appointed at request of Princess Elizabeth. 1545 Consecration of Kitchin, Bishop of Llandaff, May 3. Great Refectory pulled down. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. xxxni a n. 1546 Robbery of Silver Head of Statue of Henry V., Jan. 3. R547 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. Co.v, Dean. Substitution of ' Communion ' for 'Mass,' and change of Vestments. J.551 Lord Wentworth buried, March 7. Redmayne buried. Monument erected to Chaucer. 1553 Burial of Edward VI., Aug. 8. Coronation of Mary, Oct. 1. Flight of t'ox. Weston, Dean. 1554 High Mass for opening of Par liament, Oct. 5. High Mass of the Order of the Golden Fleece, Nov. 30. 1555 Abbot Feckenham installed, Nov. 22. Feckenham and his Monks walk in procession, Dec. 6. 1557 Shrine of the Confessor set up, Jan. 5. Remains of the Confessor re stored 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 Cleves, Aug. 4. Master Gennings buried, Nov. 26. VOL. I. — C A. D. 1557 1558 1559 1CC0 1561 15G3 1566 1568 15711574 1575 15771580 15841586 1087 1588 1589 Procession in the Abbcv, Nov. 30. Paschal Candle rcstored,March 21. Master Wentworth buried, Oct. 22. Burial of Mary, Dec. 13. Obsequies of Charles V. cele brated, Dec. 24. Coronation of Elizabeth, Jan. 15. Conference between Protes tants and Roman Catholics, March 31. Frances Grey, Duchess of Suf folk, buried Dec. 5. Feckenham deprived, Jan. 4. Feckenhanrs Farewell to the College Garden. Feckenham sent to the Tower, May 20. Bill, Dean. Dean Bill buried, July 22. Gabriel Goodman, Dean. Convocation in Henry VII.'s Chapel, Jan. 9-April 17. Signature of the Thirly-nine Articles, Jan. 29. Fall of the Sanctuary. Hangings of the Abbey given to the College. Lady Catherine Knollys buried. Anne Birkhead buried. Sir R. Pecksall buried. Library founded. Christening of Elizabeth Rus sell. Margaret Lennox buried. Maurice Pickering, Keeper of Gatehouse. Win. Thynne buried. John, Lord Russell, buried. Winyfred Bridges, Marchion ess of Winchester, buried. Anne Seymour, Duchess of Somerset, buried. Sir Thomas Bromley buried. AnneVere, Countess of Oxford, buried. Frances Sidney, Countess of Sussex, buried. XXXIV CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. A. D. 1589 1591 1593 15941596 1098 15991601 16021603 1605 1607 10091610 1612 1614 Mildred Cecil, Lady Burleigh, buried. Frances Howard, Countess of Sussex, buried. Elizabeth, Countess of Salis bury, buried. Elizabeth, Countess of Exeter, buried. Camden, Head-Master. Keeper appointed for theMonu- ments. John de Burgh died. Lord Hunsdon buried. Sir John Puckering buried. Hemy Noel buried. Frances Howard, Countess of Hertford, buried. Bells given by Dean Goodman. Sir Thomas Owen buried. Lord Burleigh buried. Sir R. Bingham died. Spenser buried. Schoolroom constructed. Elizabeth Russell buried. Dean Goodman buried. L. Andrewes, Dean. Monument to Henry, Lord Norris, and his Sons. Consecration of Goodwin, Bishop of Llandaff, Nov. 22. Entire Suppression of Sanctu ary Rights. Burial of Elizabeth, April 28. Coronation of James I., July 25. Meeting of Convocation. R. Neole, Dean, Nov. 5. Sir G. Villiers buried. Infant Princess Sophia buried. Infant Princess Mary buried. Sir Francis Vere buried. George Monleigne, Deon. Transference of the Body of Mar}' Stuart to Westminster, Oct. 4. Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, buried in her vault, Dec. 8. Isaac Casaubon buried. Lady C. St. John buried. (Monument.) a. r>. 1615 Arthur Agarde buried, Aug.24. Arabella Stuart buried, Sept. 27. 1016 Beaumont buried. Bilson buried. 1617 Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, buried. R. Tonnson, Dean. 1618 Sir George Fane buried. Sir W. Ralegh imprisoned in Gatehouse, Oct. 29. Sir W. Ralegh buried in St. Margaret's, Oct. 30. 1019 Sir Christopher Hatton buried. Monument erected to Spenser. Burial of Anne of Denmark, May 13. 1020 John Williams, Dean. 1021 Bishop Tounson buried. Lawrence the servant buried. 1022 Francis Holies died. Thomas Cecil, Earl of Exeter, buried. 1023 Camden buried, Nov. 10. 1G24 Lewis Stuart, Duke of Lennox and Hichmond, Feb. 17. Entertainment of the French Ambassadors in the Jeru salem Chamber, Dec. 15. Their attendance at the dinner in the College Hall. 1625 Burial of James I., May 5. 1626 Coronation of Charles L, Feb. 2. Sir Geo. Holies buried. 1027 Charles, Marquis of Bucking ham, Earl of Coventry, buried, March 16. Philip Fielding buried, Junell. 1028 George Villiers, Duke of Buck ingham, Sept. 28. 1629 Lady Jane Clifford buried. Infant Prince Charles, May 13. 1631 Sir James Fullerton buried, Jan. 3. Michael Draj'ton buried. 1632 Countess of Buckingham buried, April 21. 1633 Monument to Geo. Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, com pleted. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. XXXV A. P. 1635 1637 1638 1639 1640 1641 1642 1043 1644 1645 1646 Sir Thomas Richardson buried. Wife of Casaubou buried. Thomas Parr buried. Lilly's Search for Treasure in the Cloisters. Imprisonment of Williams. Ben Jonson buried. Marchioness of Hamilton buried. Sir Robert Ayton buried, Feb. 28. Jane Crewe, Heiress of the Pulteneys, buried. Archbishop Spottiswoode bur ied, Nov. 29. Duchess of Kichmond buried. Williams released. Convocation, April 17-May 29, in Henry VII.'s Chapel. Conference in JerusalemCham- ber. Attack on the Abbey. Sir Henry Spelman buried, Oct. 24." Williams raised to the See of York. Meeting of Bishops in the Jeru salem Chamber. Williams's second imprison ment. Regalia taken from the Abbey and broken in pieces. Williams's second release. Lord Hervej7 buried. Assembly of Divines opened, July 6". Pym buried, Dec. 13. R. Stewart, Dean. Theodore Paleologus buried, May 3. Col. Meldrum buried. Col. Boscawen and Col. Carter buried. Cranfield, Lord Middlesex, buried. Grace Scot buried. Commissioners appointed by Parliament, Nov. 18. Twiss buried, July 24. Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, buried, Oct. 22. A. D. 1048 Francis Villiers, youngest Son of Duke of Buckingham, buried, July 10. 1649 Assembly of Divines closed, Feb. 22. Isaac Dorislaus buried, June 14. Thomas Carv buried. 1050 Thomas May buried. George Wild buried, June 21. 1351 Ireton buried, Feb. 6. Col. Popham buried, Aug. Thomas Haselrig buried, Oct. 30. Humphrey Salwey buried,Dec. 20. 1653 Col. Deaue buried, June 24. 1054 Strong buried, July 4. Col. Mackworth buried, Dec. 26. Elizabeth Cromwell buried. 1605 Sir William Constable buried, June 21. Marshall buried, Nov. 23. 1606 Archbishop Ussher buried, April 17. Jane Disbrowe buried. 1607 Cromwell installed on the Stone of Scone in Westmin ster Hall, June 26. Blake buried. 1608 Denis Bond buried. Elizabeth Claypole buried, Aug. 10. Burial of Cromwell, Sept. 26. 1659 Bradshaw buried. 1660 Earles, Dean. Henry, Duke of Gloucester, buried, Sept. 13. Thomas Blagg buried. Confirmation of Election of Sheldon, Bishop of London ; Saunderson, of Lincoln; Morley, of Worcester; Henchman, of Salisbury ; and Griffith, of St. Asaph, Oct. 28. Consecration of Lucy, Bishop of St. David's; Lloyd, of Llandaff; Gaudeu, of Exe ter; Sterne, of Carlisle; XXXVI CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. 10G0 1001 1662 1003 1004 10G5 Cosin, of Durham; Walton, of Chester; and Lancy, of Peterborough, Dec. 2. Mary of Orange buried, Deo. 29". Consecration of Ironside, Bishop of Bristol; Reynolds, of Norwich; Monk, of Here ford; Nicholson, of Glouces ter, Jan. 6. Disinterment of Regicides, Jan. 29. Coronation of Charles II. , April 23. Convocation in Henry VII.'s Chapel, May lG-Oct. 20. Thomas Smith buried. Mother of Clarendon buried. Disinterment of Magnate^ rf the Commonwealth, Sept. 12. Consecration of FfJrfoul, Bishop of Glasgow; Hamil ton, of Galloway; Leighton, of Dunblane; Sha/pe, of St. Andrews, Dec. 15. Bishop Nicholas Monk buried, Dec. 20. Heart of Esme Lennox buried. Elizabeth of liohjmia buried, Feb. 17. Upper Housuof 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 ol'Earles, Bishop of Worcester, Nov. 30. John Dolben, Dean. Paul Thorndyke and Duall Pead christened, April 18. Robert South, Prebendary and Archdeacon. Consecration of Barrow, Bishop ot Sodor and Man, July 5. Consecration of Rainbow, Bishop of Carlisle, July 10. School removed to ( "hiswick on account of the plague. a. o. 1005 1006 168V lo'b 16691670 10711072 1673 1674 1075 v:ia i 077 1078 Earl of MaHjorougri buried. Loids Muskerry and Falmouth buried. Sir E. Bronghtor. buried. T. Chiffinch buried, April 10. Sn 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 Albe marle, buried, Feb. 28. Monk, Duke of A'bemarle, buried, April 29. Marriage of Sir S. Morland with Carola Harsnett. Triplet! buried. Anne Hyde, Duchess of York, buried, April 5. Ilarhnrd and Covterill died. Consecration of Carleton, Bishop of Bristol, Feb. 11. Montague, Earl of Sandwich, buried, July 3. Herbert 1'honidvke buried, July 13. Sir R. Moray buried, July 6. Hamilton, Le Neve, Spragge, died. Earl of Doncaster buried, Feb. 10, Carola Morland buried. Murgaret Lucas, Duchess of Newcastle, buried, Jan. 7. Earl of Clarendon buried, Jan. 4. Sanderson buried, July 18. Christopher Gibbons buried, Oct. 24. William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, buried, Jan. 22. Isaac Barrow buried, May 7. Transference of the York Princes from the Tower. Sir E. Berry Godfrey died. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. XXXVll a. n. 1679 Diana Temple buried, March 27. 1680 Anne Morland buried, Feb. 24. Sir Palmes Fairbornc died. Earl of Plymouth buried. Earl uf Ossory buried, July 30. 1082 Thomas Thynne buried. Prince Rupert buried, Dec. 26. 1083 Sprat, Dean. 1684 Lord Roscommon buried, Jan. 24. Duchess of Ormonde buried, July 24. 1685 Burial of Charles If., Feb. 14. Coronation of James II., April 23. Confessor's Coffin opened. 1687 George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham, buried, June 7. 1088 Nicholas Bagnall buried, March 9. Reading of the Declaration of Indulgence bv Sprat, Mav 20. James Butler, Duke of Or monde, buried, Aug. 4. Jane Lister buried, Oct. 7. Sermon by South, Nov. 5. 1G89 Coronation of William and Mary, April 11. First Chair for the Queen's Consort. Aphara Behn buried in East Cloister, April 20. Commission tor 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 burn ing of MSS. in "Williams's Library. 1695 Burial of Mary, March 5. Wharton buried, March 11. Busby buried, April 5. George Saville, Marquis of Halifax, buried, April 11. a.m. 1695 169710991700 17011702 1703 1704 170G1707 1708 1709 1710 1711 Purcell buried, Nov. 26. Sir Thomas Duppa died. Knipe, Ilcud-Master. Horncck buried, Feb. 4. Grace Gethin buried. Sir William Temple buried. John Drydcn buried, May 13. William, Duke of Gloucester, buried, Aug. 9. Sir Joseph Williamson buried, Oct. 14. Burial of William III., April 12. Coronation of Anne, April 23. Convocation, Feb. 12-June G. Duchess of Richmond buried, Oct. 22. St. Evreinond buried, Sept. 11. Mourning of the Duchess of Marlborough for her son. Major Creed died. Tom Brown buried in East Cloister. Colonel Bingfield died. Admiral Delaval buried. Jan. 23. General Killigrew died. George Stepney buried, Sept 22. Sir Cloudesley Shovel buried, Dec. 22. Consecration of Dawes, Bishop of Chester, Feb. 8. Josiah Twysden buried. Methuen buried. Blow buried, Oct. 8. Prince George of Denmark buried, Nov. 13. Heneage Twysden died. Bent hick, Duke of Portland, buried. Betterton buried, May 2. Admiral Churchill buried, May 12. Spanheim buried. Mary Kendall buried. John Phillips died. Grabe died. Carteret buried. Knipe buried. Freind, Head-Master. xxxvm CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. A. d. 1711 1712 1713 1714 1715 1716 1717 1718 17191720 1721 1722 1723 John Holies, Duke of New castle, buried, Aug. 9. Lord Godolphin buried, Oct. 8. Lady A. C: Bagnall buried, March 13. Dean Spr^t buried. Atterbury, Dean. Tompion buried. Burial of Queen Anne, Aug. 24. Coronation of George I., Oct. 20. Charles Montague, Earl of Halifax, buried, May 26. Great Bell of Westminster pur chased for St. Paul's. Baker died. South buried, July 16. John Twysden died. Convocation prorogued. Sir J. Chardin died. Nicholas Rowe buried, Dec. 14. Mrs. Steele buried, Dec. 30. Joseph Addison buried, June 26". Duke of Schomberg, Aug. 4. Almeric de Courey buried. Lady Hardy buried, May 3. Monument to Monk erected. William Longueville buried. James, first Earl of Stanhope, died. De Castro buried. James Craggs buried, March 2. Sheffield, Duke of Bucking hamshire, buried, March 25. Thomas Sprat, Archdeacon of Rochester, buried. Matthew Prior, Sept. 21. First Stone of New Dormitorv laid. Duke of Marlborough buried, Aug. 9. Arrest of Atterbury, Aug. 22. Monument to John Holies, Duke of Newcastle. Lord Cornhury buried. Charles Lennox, son of the Duchess of Portsmouth, buried, June 7. A.D. 1723 17251727 17281729 1730 1731 1732 1733 173G 1737 1738 17391740 Exile of Atterbury, June 18. Samuel Bradford, Dean. Monument to Bishop Nicholas Monk. Sir Godfre}' Kneller died. Establishment of the Order of the Bath. Sir Isaac Newton buried, March 28. Croft buried, Aug. 23. Coronation of George II. and Queen Caroline, Oct. 11. Chamberlen died. Freind died. Woodward buried, May. Congreve buried, Jan. 26. Withers buried. Occupation of the Dormitory. Anne Oldfield buried, Oct. 27. Duke of Cleveland and South ampton buried, Nov. 3. Disney buried. Dean Bradford buried. Lady Elizabeth Nightingale buried. Joseph Wilcocks, Dean. Fire in the Cloisters, Docu ments removed to Chapter House. Atterbury buried, May 12. Sir Thomas Hardy buried, Aug. 24. Monument to Samuel Butler erected. John Gay buried, Dec. 23. Nicolls, Head-Master. Henrietta, Duchess of Marl borough, buried. Wetenall died. Edmund Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire, buried, Jan. 31. Conduitt buried, Ma}' 29. Monument to Milton erected. Burial of Queen Caroline of Anspach, Dec. 27. Building of Westminster Bridge. Western Towers finished. Transference of the Remains of Duras, Earl of Feversham, CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. xxxix A. TJ. Armand de Bourbon, and 1708 Charlotte de Bourbon, to the Abbey, March 21. 1740 Ephraim Chambers buried, May 21. Lord Aubrey Beauclerk died. 1759 Monument erected to Shaks- peare. 1760 1742 Boulter, Archbishop of Ar magh, buried 1743 Captain Cornewall died. Wager died. r,i;i Catherine, Duchess of Buck inghamshire, buried, Aprils. John Campbell, Duke of Argyll and Greenwich, Oct. 15. 17G2 1744 Balchen died. 17G4 1740 William Horneck buried, April 27. 1765 Cowper entered Westminster School. 1747 General Guest buried, Oct. 16. 1766 Warren Hastings and Elijah Impey admitted into West- 1767 minster College. Saumarez died. 1748 Marshal Wade buried, March 21. !,>.! Isaac Watts died. Anno Bracegirdle buried, Sept. 1770 1750 Removal of the Sanctuary. f771 1751 General Hargrave buried, Feb. 2. General Fleming buried, March 30. Graham buried, Nov. 23. i , , '. Vernon died. 1752 Warren died. 1774 1753 The Green in Dean's Yard laid 1775 out. 1770 Mark ham, Head-Master. 1754 Monument to Lady Walpole erected. 1750 Vertue buried. Dean Wilcocks buried. 1777 Zachary Pearce, Dean 1757 Colonel Townsend died Temple West died. Admiral Watson died. 1778 1758 Viscount Howe died. W. Nightingale buried. Monument to Lady E. Night ingale erected. Removal of Old Dormitory and Brewhouse. General Wolfe died. Handel buried, April 20. Celebration of the Bicentenary of Westminster School, June 2. Burial of George II., Nov. 11. Coronation of George III. and Queen Charlotte, Sept. 22. Hales died. Holmes died. Monument erected to Thomson. Pulteney, Earl of Bath, buried, July 17. William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, buried, Nov. 10. Susanna Maria Cibber buried. Admiral Tyrrell died. Widow of the Duke of Argyll and Greenwich buried, April 3. Duke of York buried, Nov. 3. Dean Pearce retires. Bonncll Thornton buried. Hannah Prichard died. Lord Ligonier buried. George Montague, Earl of Hali fax, buried. Opening of the Tomb of Edward I. Gray died. Bust of Booth erected. Steigerr buried, Dec. 28. Goldsmith died. General Lawrence died. Courayer buried. Elizabeth Percy, Duchess of Northumberland, Dec. 8. Roberts, Secretary to Pelhain, died. Barry buried, Jan. 20. Wragg died. Gatehouse taken down. Foote buried, Nov. 3. William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, buried, June 9. xl CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. A. D. 1778 Restoration of Spenser'sMonu-' ment. Erection of Wolfe's Monu ment. 1779 Garrick buried, Feb. 1. 1780 Restoration of Camden's Monu ment. 1781 Lady Charlotte Percy, la-t 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 20-June 5. Johnson buried, Dec. 20. 1785 John Henderson buried, Dec. 9. 1780 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 I/orsley. Dean. 1794 Winteringbam died. Captains Harvey, Hutt, and Montagu, died June 1. 1795 Alexander Duroure buried. 1790 Macpherson buried. March 15. Chambers buried, March 18. 1797 Mason died. 1799 Lady Kerry buried. A. D. 1799 Captain Cook died. 1800 Warren, Bishop of Bangor, buried. M. E. Bowes, Countess of Strathinore, 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. 1305 Dr. Buchan buried. Banks died. Christopher Anstey died. 1S0G William Pitt buried, Feb. 22. Charles F'ox buried, Oct. 10. 1807 Admiral Delaval buried, Jan. 27. Antony, Duke of Montpensier, buried, May 20. Markham, Archbishop, buried, Nov. 11. Bust of Paoli erected. Lord Delaval buried. Monument to Addison erected. Agar, Lord Normanton, buried. Louise de Savoie buried, Nov. 20. Louise de Savoie 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 Granville Sharpe died. Wyatt buried, Sept. 28. 1814 E.'l-I. Delaval buried. Burney died. 1815 Dean Vincent buried, Dec. 29. 1810 Lord Kerry buried. John Ireland, Dean. Lord Minto buried, Jan. 29. Sheridan buried, Jul}' 13. 1817 Horner died. 1808 18091810 1811 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. xli A. D. 1810 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. 21). Eva Maria Garrick buried, Oct. 25. 1823 John Philip Kemblo died. Bailie died. 1824 Restoration of Altar Screen by Bernascon. 1S2G Sir Stamford Raffles died. 1827 Giffard buried, Jan. 8. George Canning buried, Aug. 10. 1S29 Davy died. Young died. Fire in the Triforium. 1830 Tierncy died. Rennell buried. April G. 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. Con secration 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 Fo'llett died. William Buckland, Dean. 1847 Consecration of three Austra lian Bishops, and of R. Gray, Bishop of Cape Town. 1848 Charles Buller died. A. D. 1849 1800 1852 1856 1858 1859 1860 18621863 1864 1S65 Sir R. Wilson buried, May 15. Consecration of Fulford,Bishop of Montreal. Wordsworth died. Peel died. Transference of the Remains of Lyndwood to the Abbey, March 6. Convocation revived, Nov. 12. Bishop Monk buried, June 14. R. C. Trench, Dean. Consecration of G. L. Cotton, Bishop of Calcutta. 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 Bangor, Stephenson buried, Oct. 21. Lord Macaulay buried, Jan. 9. Sir Charles Barry buried, May 22. Lord Duudonald buried, Nov. 14. Celebration of Tercentenary of Westminster School, Nov. 17. Elizabeth Woodfall buried. ISarl Canning buried, June 21. Sir James Outram buried, March 25. Lord Clyde buried. Aug. 22. Sir G. Cornewall Lewis died. Thackeray died. Consecration of First Mission ary Bishop to Central Africa, Orange River State. Arthur P. Stanley, Dean. Consecration of the Bishop of Ely. Acts of Parliament removed from the Parliament Office to the Victoria Tower. Lord Palmerston buried, Oct. 27. Celebration of 800th anniver sary of the Foundation of theAbbev, Dec. 28. xlii CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. A. D. A. D. 1866 Restoration of Chapter House undertaken. 1873 1867 Monument to Cobden. Restoration of Altar Screen 1874 in Marble. Royal Commission on Ritual 1875 in Jerusalem Chamber. 1868 Consecration of the Bishop of Hereford. 1876 1869 Discovery of Grave of James I. Consecration of the Bishops of 1877 Lincoln, Grafton and Armi- dale, and Mauritius, Feb. 24. Consecration of the Bishops of Auckland, Bathurst, and Labuan, June 29. 1869 Consecration of the Bishop of Montreal, Aug. 1. 1878 Consecration of the Bishop of Salisbury, Oct. 28. 1879 Funeral of George Peabody, Nov. 12. Consecration of the Bishop of Exeter, Dec. 21. Consecration of the Bishop of Oxford. Charles Dickens buried. 1870 Entertainment of Archbishop of Syria, Jan. 25. 1881 1871 Sir John Herschel buried. George Grote buried. Revision of Authorised Ver sion — Communion in Henry VII.'s Chapel. 1872 Sir George Pollock buried. 1873 Lord Lytton buried. Funeral Service for Bishop Macilwaine. Visit of the Shah. David Livingstone buried. Visit of the Emperor of Russia. Burials of Sir Sterndale Ben nett, Sir Charles Lyell, and Bishop Thirlwall. Burial of Lady Augusta Stan ley. 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 Notting ham, Dec. 21. Funeral of Sir Gilbert Scott, April 6. 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. Jubilee Service for King's College, London, June 21. Funeral of Lord Hatherley, July 15. Death (July 18) and Funeral of Dean Stanley, July 25. G. Granville Bradley, Dean, installed Nov. 1. Funeral of G. E. Street, Dec. 39. GENERAL DIMENSIONS OF THE ABBEY CHURCH. Interior. Length of the No re . Breadth of ditto . . Height of ditto . . . Breadth of the Aisles Extreme breadth of the Nave and Aisles . . Length of the Choir . . Extreme breadth of ditto Height of ditto .... Extreme, length from north to south of the Transepts and Choir . . . . . Length of each Transept Entire breadth of ditto, including Aisles . . . Extreme length from the west door to the piers of Henry A^II.'s Chapel . . Ditto, including Henry VII.'s Chapel . . " . . Exterior. Feet In. Feet In. 100 0 Extreme length of the Abbey 423 6 38 7 Ditto, including Henry VII.'s 101 S Chapel . 530 0 10 7 Height of the western lowers to the top of the pinnacles 225 4 71 9 Height of Nave and Transept 155 9 roofs . . . . . 138 3 38 4 Height of lantern .... 151 0 101 2 Height of north front, includ ing pinnacle ... 166 0 203 2 Henry VII.'s Chapel : — 82 5 Interior, length . . . 104 6 Exterior " 100 6 84 8 Interior, breadth . . 69 10 ICxterior " 82 0 Interior, height . . . 61 5 403 0 Exterior '* ... 82 0 511 0 Dimensions of the Isle of Thorns, 470 yards long, 370 yards broad. THE FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. The devout King destined to God that place, both for that it was near unto the famous and wealthy oily 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 lie reverenced with a special and singular affection (Contemporary Life of Edward the Confessor, in Ilarleian AISS., pp. 980-985). SPECIAL AUTHORITIES. The special authorities for the physical peculiarities of West- minster are : — 1. Smith's Antiquities of Westminster. London. 1807. 2. Saunders's Situation and Extent of Westminster, in A rchce- ologia, vol. xxvi. pp. 223-241. 3. Dean Buckland's Sermon (1847) on the reopening of West minster Abbey, with a Geological Appendix. 4. History of St. Margaret's, Westminster, by the Rev. Mac kenzie E. C. Walcott. For Edward the Confessor : -^ 1. Life by Ailred, Abbot of Rievaulx, A. r>. 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 Rolls : — (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. n. 1440-1450. (c) Vatican and Cants Calk MSS., probably in the thir teenth 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 ArchozoLogical Journal, No. 114, pp. 139-140.) The Abbey from the Dean's Park. I CHAPTER I. THE FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY T 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 comparison 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 forma tion : 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, certainly, which sur pass it in depth and sublimity of association ; but there is none which has been entwined by so many contin uous threads with the history of a whole nation. 4 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. I. The first origin of Westminster is to be sought in physical the natural features of its position, which in- Lond.™.0 elude the origin of London no less. Foremost of these is what to Londoners and Englishmen is, in a deeper and truer sense than was intended by Gray The Thames, when he used the phrase, our '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 out let of English commerce. Here, from the earliest times, the coracles of the British tribes, the galleys of the Roman 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 gath ered 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 1 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 1 Londinium . . copia negotiatorum et commeatuum maxima celebre. (Tac. Ann. xiv. 33.) FEATURES OF LONDON. 5 wild boars,1 of which the highest points were Hamp- stead and Highgate. A desolate moor or fen, marked still by the names of Finsbiiry, Fenchurch, and Thell„ia Moorjields, which in winter was covered with and streiuns- water and often frozen, occupied the plateau immediately north of the city. As the slope of the hills descended 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 afforded by natural situation : and therefore as we go up to Cornhill, the traditional seat of British chiefs and Roman 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 reasons which have fixed what is prop erly 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 descending from the higher hills through the winding valleys that intersected the earthen bul warks on which the old fastnesses stood. These 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 eastern2 side the Long stream (Langboriie) of ' sweet water ' flowed from the fens (of Fenchurch), and then broke into the 'shares or small rills ' of Sharcborne and Southborne, by which it reached 1 Fitzstephen. Vita S. Thomas. Descriptio nobilissimse civitatis Londonia?. 2 Arch, xxxiii. 110. 6 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. the Thames. By St. Stephen's Walbrool:, probably forming the western boundary of the Roman fortress of London,1 there flows the Brook of London Wall — the Wall Brook, which, when swelled by winter floods, rushed with such violence clown its gully that, even in the time of Stow, a young man was swept away by it.2 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 River 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 '4 as it creeps down from the breezy slopes of Hampstead. The rivulet of Ulebrig crossed the Strand under the ' Ivy Bridge,' 5 on its way to the Thames. Such are the main natural features of London. In recalling them from the graves in which they are now 1 Arch, xxxiii. 104. 2 Ibid, xxxiii. 104. Stow's Survey. Account of Downe Gate. a If ' Old Bourne,' as it appears in Stow (see also Hayward's Ed ward VI., pp. 96, 97), the aspirate has been added as a London vul garism. If ' Holebourne,' as it appears in earlier documents, it is probably derived from flowing in a hollow. See Letter in the Times, Aug. 17, 1868. 4 In a petition to the Parliament at Carlisle, in 35 Edward I. (Rot. Pari. i. p. 200, No. 59), the Earl of Lincoln stated that in old times ten or twelve ships used often to come up to Fleet Bridge with merchandise, and some even to Holborn Bridge, to scour the water course. It has been suggested to me that the word ' Fleet,' as a local designation, does not mean ' swift,' but ' shallow,' or ' flat.' In East Anglia it is always so used by the common people, as a ' fleet plate,' and so of meadows and fords in the fen country, where a rapid stream is unknown. 6 Arch. xxvi. 227. r~ i£"o & I V M R I a A HE s SCALE OF FEET 5o inn 200 «d 6 JO 609 lOBOTrtt Smiu^tACW: PJi >.-. ' PLAN OF THE ABBEY AND ITS PRECINCTS ABOUT A. D. 1535. THE ISLAND OF THORNS. ? entombed, 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 hab itations, 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 hi 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 West minster. Here too the mighty river plays an important part, but with an auxiliary which was wanting in the eastern sweep which has cradled the hills of London. Tllfi Island Those steep stiff banks of London clay forbade of Tlloins- 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 de posit 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 believed, through what once 1 Fitzstephen (as above). See Arch, xxxiii. 116. In the memory of man the vaults of the Treasury buildings were flooded. 8 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 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 Westminster at flowing tide, and the waves cast forth some part of their water towards him, and came up to his thighs.' : On the north-east a stream came up by the street thence called Channel (afterwards corrupted into Canon2) Row, through Gardiner's Lane, which was crossed by a bridge as late as the seventeenth century.3 On the north this channel spread out 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 descend ing 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 1 Fabian, p. 229. Knyghton, c. 2325. 2 From its being the residence of the canons of St. Stephen's Chapel. 3 The statement of Maitland (History of London, p. 730) and Dart (ii. 28), that the first bridge over this stream was built by Matilda, the good queen of Henry I., is probably a mistake founded on the statement of Weever, who says (p. 454) that Matilda 'builded the bridges over the River of Lea at Stratford Bow, and over the little brooke called Chanelsebridge.' The situation of the second bridge not being defi nitely given in this passage, Maitland may have assumed, as Dart actually does assume, that it was identical with the bridge near Channel Row, Westminster. On referring to Stow, however (Annals, a. j>. 1118), we find that the Queen built two stone bridges — one over the Lea at Stratford, and one not far from it, over a little brook called ' Chanelsebridge.' And it is evident from other facts which he men tions, that Stow had seen the record of proceedings in the King's Bench in 6 Edward II., in which is recited an inquisition of 32 Edward I., assigning the foundation of these two bridges, the Stratford bridge and the ' Chanelesbrigg,' near it, to Queen Matilda. Stow evidently knew nothing about the founder of the bridge near Channel Row, Westmin ster ; for in his Survey he merely mentions it as before quoted. And in his notice of Matilda's place of sepulture he makes no allusion to it. I owe this correction to Mr. F. S. Haydon. Mr. Walcott has since discovered that the bridge over the Westminster stream was called the Abbot's Bridge at TothiD. THE ISLAND OF THORNS. 9 connected the island with a similar bed of gravel, reach ing under Buckingham Palace to Hyde Park.1 Then through Prince's Street (formerly, from this stream, called Long Ditch),2 another channel began, and con tinued 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'Ayc Bourn, Tybourn* It is recognized first by the Chapel of St. Mary on its banks, Mary-lc- bournc (now corrupted into Marylebone) — then by ' Brook ' Street. Next, winding under the curve of 'Aye Hill,' 5 it ran out through the Green 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 1 See Appendix to Dean Buckland's Sermon on Westminster Abbey. 2 The word ' ditch ' is used for a brook, as in Kenditch, near Hamp stead. The ditch was remembered in 1799. ( Gent. Mag. Ixix. part ii. p. 577.) 3 For the whole plan of the manor or plain of Eye or Eia, contain ing the course of the brook, see Arch. xxvi. 224, 226, 234. 4 Stratford Place marks the site of the banqueting house attached to the conduits of Tybourue. (Arch. xxvi. 226.) The T'aye is proba bly from the Saxon ' net,' 'at' (as in Attwater, Attwood, Atbourne), meaning 'the road near the bourne from the island.' 5 In the case of Hay Hill, the London vulgarism has permanently prefixed the aspirate. The original 'Aye Hill' appears in a charter of Henry VI., in the archives of Eaton College 10 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. afterwards called from it the manor of Eycbury, 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 for est, was indeed locus terribilis,4, ' 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 contrasted 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 neces- 1 Tothill Fields (Vincent Square). (Arch. xxvi. 224.) 2 Or Dorney. (Burton's London and Westminster, p. 285.) There was a Thorney Abbey in Cambridgeshire and in Somersetshire. The description of one of these in Ordericus Vitalis (bookxi.) exactly de scribes what Westminster Abbey must have been. ' It is called in English the Isle of Thorns, because its woods, thick with all manner of trees, are surrounded by vast pools of water.1 8 The bones of such an ox (Bos primicerius) were discovered under the foundations of the Victoria Tower, and red deer, with very fine antlers, below the River Terrace. I derive this from Professor Owen. Bones and antlers of the elk and red deer were also found in 1868 in Broad Sanctuary in making the Metropolitan Railway. 4 ' In loco terribili ' is the phrase used by Offa in the first authentic charter, and repeated in Edgar's (Widmore's Inquiry, pp. 14, 15; Kem- ble, Codex Anijlo-Saxonicus, § 149). 6 Fluvius maximus, piscosus. (Fitzstephen. Vita Sancti Thomas. Desc. civ. Lond.) THE ISLAND OF THORNS. 11 sarily 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.1 It has been said, with a happy paradox, that no local traditions are so durable as those which are ' writ in water.' 2 So it is here. In the green of Dean's Yard there stands a well-worn pump. The spring,3 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 arose the cathedral and town of Le„endar Ely, the Abbey of Croyland, the Abbey of °"&n- 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 bub bling spring, it is impossible to decipher. The monastic traditions maintained that the earliest building had been a Temple of Apollo, shaken down by T leof an earthquake in the year A. D. 154, not, how- Ai,0ll°- ever, 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 1 See Appendix to Dean Buckland's Sermon. 2 Clark's Peloponnesus, p. 286. 3 There is also another in St. Margaret's Churchyard. 12 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. claims of the Temple of Diana 1 by a still more dubious assertion of the claims of the temple of her brother the Sun God.2 Next comes King Lucius, the legend- churchot aiT founder of the originals of St. Peter's, Lucius. Cornhill, Gloucester, Canterbury, Dover, Ban gor, Glastonbury, Cambridge, Winchester. He it was who was said to have converted the two London tem ples into churches ; 3 or, according to one version, to have restored two yet more ancient churches which the temples had superseded.4 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 of the valleys, in a voice so clear and loud, that it could be heard on the Lucien- steig (the Pass of Lucius), twelve miles off. The only authentic record of the Roman period is the sarcopha gus of Valerius Amandinus, discovered in the north green of the Abbey5 in 1869. 1 For the story of the Temple of Diana, as well as for all other illustrations rendered to the Abbey, partly by parallel, partly by con trast, from its great rival, the Cathedral of London, I have a melancholy pleasure in referring to the 'Annals of St. Paul's,' the last work of its illustrious and venerable chief, Dean Milman. 2 Letter of Sir Christopher Wren (Life, App. xxix. p. 105). The two main British divinities were so called by the Romans, and Apollo is said to have been Bel in, — according to one version the origin of Bdlingsgate. (See Fuller's Church Hist. i. § 2.) 3 Westminster alone is ascribed to him in Brompton. (Twysden, c. 724.) For his supposed establishment of the Sanctuary, see Abbot Feckenham's speech, a. d. 1555, quoted in Chap. V. 4 Ellis's Dugdale, p. 3 ; Milman's Church of S. Paul's, p. 3. 6 For a complete account of it, see the dissertations on it collected by Mr. Albert Way, and reprinted from the Archaeological Journal. It is now in the entrance to the Chapter-house. THE LEGENDARY OHIGIN. 13 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,1 as that in him we arrive at an unquestionably historical church of 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.2 But Bede's entire omission of Westminster in his account 3 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 substan tial a form, that Sebert's grave has never ceased to be shown in the Abbey from the time of the erec- Crave ot tion of the present building. Originally it ScberL would seem to have been inside the church. Then, during the repairs of Henry III., the remains were de posited on the south side of the entrance to the Chapter house,4 and subsequently, in the reign of Edward II., removed to the Choir,5 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 1 'Our father Saba,' as his wild sons used to call him, when they envied the fragments of ' white bread ' which they saw the bishop give him in the Eucharist. (Bede, ii. 5.) The fine description of the Abbey by Montalembert (Moines de I' Occident, iv. 432) is in connection with Sebert. 2 Sulcard, in Cotton MSS. Faustina, B. iii., f. 12, in marg.; Hig- den, p. 228; Thorn. Twysden, c. 1768. 3 Bede, ii. 3. 4 Flete MS. 6 Weever's Funeral Monuments, p. 456. See the Epitaph in Acker- mann, i. 83. The right arm was supposed to be still undecayed, with the skin clinging to the bone, A. d. 1307. ( Walsingham, i. 114 ; Rish- anger, p. 425.) 14 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. that of Sebert, is painted over it.1 The same tradition that records his burial in the Chapter-house adds to his remains those of his wife Ethelgoda and his sister Ricula.2 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.3 The ' terror ' of the spot, which had still been its chief characteristic in the charter of the wild Offa, had in the days of the more peaceful Edgar Foundation given way to a dubious ' renown.' Twelve of Edgar. monks is the number traditionally said to have been established by Dunstan.4 A few acres near Staines formed their chief property, and their monastic charac ter 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.' 5 But this seems to have been overrun by the Danes, and it would have had no further history but for the combination of cir cumstances which directed hither the notice of Edward the Confessor. III. It has been truly remarked that there is a strik ing difference between the origin of Pagan temples and of 1 A sarcophagus of Purbeck marble was found under the canopy, in 1866, when the modern structure of brickwork was removed, which had been erected by Dean Ireland, and which is elaborately described in Gent. Mag. xcv. p. 306. 2 His mother, according to Bede (ii. 3), sister to Ethelbert. See Chapters III. and V. 3 William of Malmesbury. De Gest. Reg. Angl. (Hardy), i. 237, 240, 247; and De Gest. Pont. Angl. (Savile, Scriptores post Bedam, p. 202.) 4 Diceto. Twysden, c. 456. 6 Charter of Offa (Abbey Archives, Charters, No. 3), 'loco terribili quod dicitur ast Westmunster.' Charter of Edgar (ibid., Charters, No. 5), ' nominatissimo loco qui dicitur Westmynster.' The name must have been given in contradistinction to St. Paul's in the East, EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 15 Christian churches. ' The Pagan temples were always the public works of nations and of communities. They were national buildings, dedicated to Hist„rical national purposes. The mediaeval churches, ong1"' on the other hand, were the erections of individuals, monuments of personal piety, tokens of the hope of a personal reward.' l This cannot be said, without re serve, of Southern Europe, where, as at Venice and Florence, the chief churches were due to the munifi cence 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 individuals, but of kings. Westminster Abbey is, in its origin, the monu ment not merely of the personal piety, but of the per sonal 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 could forget. It was almost Edwardtlie that of an Albino. His full-flushed rose-red H™oSard cheeks strangely contrasted with the milky ai'iieM'a"ce- whiteness of his waving hair and beard. His eyes were always fixed on the ground. There was a kind of magical charm in his thin white hands and his long transparent fingers,2 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 ac ceptance, he burst forth at times into a fury which 1 Merivale's Boyle Lectures, Conversion of the Northern Nations, p. 122. 2 Longis interlucentibus digitis. (Harleian Life, p. 240.) The presence of 'the pious king' is intimated in Shakspeare (Macbeth, act jv. scene 3) only by the crowd waiting to be touched for the Evil. 16 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. showed that the old Berserkir rage was not dead within him.1 ' 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 expression of his noble indignation against a peas ant who interfered with the pleasure of his chase.2 Austere as were his habits — old even as a child 3 — he startled his courtiers sometimes by a sudden smile or a peal of laughter, for which they or he could only ac count by some mysterious vision.4 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 His char- harsh to his mother. His alienation from his wife, even in that fantastic age, was thought extremely questionable.5 His good faith was not un impeachable. ' 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 by oath anything that was demanded of him.'6 On the other hand a childish kindliness towards the poor and suffering made them look upon him as their natural protector. The unreasoning benevolence which, in a 1 Harleian Life, 225. See this well drawn out in the North British Review, xlii. 361. 2 William of Malmesbury, ii. 13. (See Freeman's Norman Con quest, ii. 27.) 3 Ailred of Rievaulx, c. 373. 4 As when he saw in a trance the shipwreck of the King of Den mark (Oxford Life, 244; Cambridge Life, 1342), or the movements of the Seven Sleepers. See p. 35. 6 Harleian Life, 480-495. 6 William of Malmesbury, ii. 13. Harleian Life, 875-890. THE VISIT TO THE SEVEN SLEEPERS. ST. JOHN AND THE PILGRIMS. THE REMISSION OF THE DANEGELT. THE PARDON OF THE THIEF. THE SHIPWRECK OF THE KING OF DENMARK. RELIEFS FROM THE FRIEZE OF THE SHRINE OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 17 modern French romance, appears as an extravagance of an unworldly bishop, was literally ascribed to the Confessor in a popular legend, of which the represen tation was depicted on the tapestries that once hung round the Choir, and may still be seen in one of the compartments of the screen of his shrine.1 The king was reposing after the labours of the day. His cham berlain, 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 supposed, 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. He was the last of the Saxons — that The last or is, the last of those concerned in the long strug gle 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 1 The legends which are here cited are not found in the contempo rary life of the Confessor in the eleventh century, and therefore cannot he trusted for the accuracy of their facts or their language, but only as representing the feeling of the next generation. The screen is of the fifteenth century, but it faithfully preserves these records of the twelfth. Nothing shows the rapidity of the growth of these legends more than the fact that out of the fourteen subjects thus represented, so few are actually historical. 2 Cambridge Life, 1000-1040. 8 See the comparison in the Cambridge Life, 900-910. VOL. I. — 2 18 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 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 casks 1 which contained the gold extracted from his subjects to pay the obnox ious 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 Conti- The first nent of Europe. Hardly since the invasion of Normans. Ca;sar — certainly not since the arrival of Au gustine — 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 mater nal grandfather Richard 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, distinguishing 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 superseded in his court the old Anglo-Saxon characters ; 2 the French seals, under his auspices, became the type of the sign- manual of England for centuries.3 From him the Nor man civilisation spread not only into England, but into Scotland. His grandnephew Edgar Atheling, as the head of the Anglo-Norman migration into the north, was the father of the Scottish Lowlands. 1 Cambridge Life, 940-961. The casks are represented in the frieze of the screen. This long continued to be the mode of keeping money, as appears from the story of Wolsey and the Jester. For the abolition of the Danegelt see Cambridge Life, 922, 1884 ; Oxford Life, 302. 2 Lappenberg (Thorpe), ii. 246. 8 Palgrave's History of England, p. 328. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 19 These were the qualities and circumstances which went to make up the Founder of Westminster Abbey. We have now to ask, What special motive in- F,mi„i;ition duced the selection of this particular site and Abu'ey. object for his devotion? The idea of a regal Abbey on a hitherto unexampled scale may have been suggested or strengthened by the accounts brought back to him of Reims, where Conse,.1.atk,„ his envoys had been present at the consecration at a"""s- of the Abbey of St. Remy, hard by the cathedral in which the French kings were crowned.1 By this time also the wilderness of Thorney was cleared ; and the crowded river, with its green meadows, and Mead()Wsof the sunny aspect of the island,2 may have had Tll0rney- 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, belonging to times long since passed away. In that age, as still amongst some classes in Ro- Tlle Collfes. man Catholic countries, religious sentiment t^fti'st" took the form of special devotion to this or rete'% that particular saint. Amongst Edward's favourites St. Peter was chief.3 On his protection, whilst in Nor mandy, when casting about for help, the exiled Prince had thrown himself, and vowed that, if he re- . . His vow. turned in safety, he would make a pilgrimage to the Apostle's grave at Rome. This vow was, it is said, further impressed on his mind by the arrival of a messenger from England, almost immediately after- 1 Saxon Chronicle, 1049. 2 The combination of motives is well given in the contemporary Life. (Harleian MS. 980-985.) Quoted as the motto to this chapter. 3 The church of the Confessor's residence at Old Windsor is dedi cated to St. Peter, and the site of his palace is thence called Peter's Hill. 20 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. wards, with the announcement of the departure of the Danes, and of his own election as King.1 It was yet further confirmed by a vision, real or feigned, of Britli- wold, Bishop of Winchester, at Glastonbury,2 in which St. Peter, the patron saint of Winchester Cathedral, ap peared 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 announced to his Great Council his intention of fulfill ing 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 moun tains, the valleys, ambuscades at the bridges and the fords,' and most of all ' the felon Romans, 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 suggestion that a deputa tion 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 1 Cambridge Life, 780-825. 2 Ailred, 373. There is a difficulty in distinguishing Brithwold, Bishop of Winchester, and Brithwold, Bishop of Wilton. The chroni cles in general are in favour of Winchester. One of the Lives of the Confessor is in favour of Wilton. 3 Cambridge Life, 640-700. 4 Ibid. p. 222. The various dangers of the journey to Rome are well given in William of Malmesbury (ii. 13). EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 21 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 ; l some times by sending the heart after death,2 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 from time to time resided, and of which his friend Edwin,3 the courtier abbot, was head. It had, as far back as memory extended, been dedicated to St. Peter. A Welsh legend cnnnec- ° tiun or the of later times maintained that it was at ' Lam- Abiny with the mime of peter,' ' the Church of Peter,' that tlie Apostle »t. Peter. saw the vision in which he was warned that he must shortly ' put off his earthly tabernacle.' i If the original foundation of the Abbey can be traced back to Sebert, the name, probably, must have been given iii recollec tion of the great Roman Sanctuary, whence Augustine, the first missionary, had come.5 And Sebert was believed to have dedicated his church to St. Peter in tlie Isle of Thorns, in order to balance the compliment he had paid to St. Paul on Ludgate Hill : ° a reap pearance, in another form, of the counterbalancing claims of the rights of Diana and Apollo — the earliest 1 As in the case of the late King of Saxony. " As in the case of Edward I. of England, and Robert the Bruce and James I of Scotland. 8 See Chapter V. 4 2 Pet. i. 14. (I cannot recover the reference to this legend.) 5 See Memorials of Canterbury, p. 11. 6 Ailred, c. 384. 22 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. stage of that rivalry which afterwards expressed itself in the proverb of ' robbing Peter to pay Paul.' J This thin thread of tradition, which connected the ruinous pile in the river-island with the Roman remin iscences of Augustine, was twisted firm and fast round the resolve of Edward ; and by the concentration of his mind2 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 ' Collegiate 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,' 3 which still lingers in the low land of Battersea, came by virtue of its connection with the Chapter of Westminster.4 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.5 Of the Abbey of St. Peter at Westminster, as of the more celebrated basilica of St. Peter at Rome, it may be said that ' super hanc Petram ' the Church of Westminster has been built. 1 See Chapter VI. * Dagobert, in like manner, had a peculiar veneration for St. Denys. 3 Smith's Antiquities, p. 34. 4 The ' Cock ' in Tothill Street, where the workmen of the Abbey received their pay, was probably from the cock of St. Peter. A black marble statue of St. Peter is said to lie at fhe bottom of the well under the pump in Prince's Street. (Walcott, 73, 280.) 5 Pope Nicholas's Letter, Kemble (Codex), § 825. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 23 Round the undoubted fact that this devotion to St. Peter was Edward's prevailing motive, gathered, during his own lifetime or immediately after, the various legends which give it form and shape in con nection 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 down in the grey rock,' a holy LegeiKi of hermit ' of great age, living on fruits and ''i wor-""" roots.' One night, when, after reading in the cester' 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 a.ppeared 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 Rome ; 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 Para dise.' 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 messen gers just arrived from Rome, and determines on carry ing out the design as the Apostle had ordered.1 Another legend 2 still more precise developed the 1 Cambridge Life, 1740; Oxford Life, 270. 2 That this story was not in existence before the Confessor's reign, appears from its absence in the original charter of Edgar (Widmore's Inquiry, p. 22). The first trace of it is the allusion in the Confessor's charters, if genuine (Kemble, vol. iv. §§ 824-6). It does not appear in the contemporary Harleian Life, but is fully developed in Sulcard and Ailred. 24 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. attractions of the spot still further. In the vision to Legend of the Worcestershire hermit, St. Peter was re- Edric tlie lisiieruiiin. ported to have said that he 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 feat ures agreed. It was on a certain Sunday night in the reign of King Sebert, the eve of the day fixed by Mel- litus, first Bishop of London, for the consecration of tlie original monastery in the Isle of Thorns, that a fisher man of the name of Edricwas 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 con sented. 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 dedicated 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 revealed his name : ' I am Peter, keeper of the keys of Heaven. When Mellitus ar rives to-morrow, tell him what you have seen ; and show him the token that I, St. Peter, have consecrated my own Church of St. Peter, Westminster, and have 1 Cambridge Life, 2060; Sulcard in Dugdale's Monasticon, i. 289. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 25 anticipated the Bishop of London.1 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 Westminster.' 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 (chief- est of the miracles) the droppings of the angelic candles.' The Bishop professed himself entirely con vinced, and returned from the church, ' satisfied that the dedication had been performed sufficiently, better, and in a more saintly fashion than a hundred such as he could have done.' 2 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,3 were as- 1 ' Episcopalem benedictionein meoe sanctificationis auctoritate prspveni.' (Ailred, cc. 385, 386. Sporley and Sulcard in Dugdale, i. 288, 289.) 2 The Roman annalists are not satisfied with the purely British character of this legend, and add that Mellitus being in doubt deferred the consecration till being at Rome in a council he consulted with Pope Boniface IV., who decided against it. Surius, torn. i. in Vit. St. Jan- uar. ; Baronius, vol. viii. anno 610. 3 The bells were rung by the hands of angels, and the church was called the Chamber of Angels. (Mandet's Hist, du Velay, ii. 27.J 26 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. cribed 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 lurk ing protest against the necessity of external benediction for things or persons sacred by their own intrinsic virtue ¦ — a covert declaration of the great catholic principle (to use Hooker's words) that God's grace is not tied ' to outward forms.' But the Westminster tradition pos sesses, 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,1 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.2 It represents the earliest protest of the Abbots of West minster against the jurisdiction of the Bishops of Lon don. It was recited by them long afterwards as the solid foundation of the inviolable right of sanctuary in Westminster.3 It contains the claim established by them on the tithe of the Thames fisheries from Grave- send to Staines. A lawsuit was successfully carried by the Convent of Westminster against the Rector of 1 A ' Thames salmon,' with asparagus, was still a customary dish in the time of Charles I. (State Papers, April 12, 1629.) 2 See Lectures on the History of the Eastern Church, p. 80. 3 See Chapter V. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 27 Rotherhithe, in 1282, on the ground that St. Peter hail granted the first haul.1 The parish clergy, however, struggled against the claim, and the monastic historian Flete, in the gradually 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 representative 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 Refectory. The Prior and the whole fra ternity 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.2 The little Church or Chapel of St. Peter, thus digni fied by the stories of its first origin, was further believed to have been specially endeared to Edward by L(,KeiK] or two miracles, reported to have occurred within th0 Cl''i'i'le- it in his own lifetime. The first was the cure of a crippled Irishman, Michael, who sate in the road be tween the Palace and 'the Chapel of St. Peter, which was near,' and who explained to the inexorable Hugo lin 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.3 Before that same High Altar was also believed to have been seen one of the Eucharistical por- Legend tents, so frequent in the Middle Ages. A child, sacrament. 1 See Neale, p. 6 ; Ware's Consuetudines. 2 Pennant's London, p. 57. 3 Cambridge Life, 1920-2020 28 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. ' pure and bright like a spirit,' appeared to the King in the sacramental elements.1 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 men tioned), who placed the account of it in a chest, which, after all concerned were dead, opened of itself and re vealed 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 Roman fortress in London, or the Saxon city of Winchester, had been hitherto their usual abode. Edward himself had formerly spent his time chiefly at Puiaee of his birthplace, Islip, or at the rude palace on West minster, the rising ground, still marked by various an tique remains, above ' Old Windsor.' 2 But now, for the sake of superintending the new Church at West minster, he lived, more than any previous king, in the regal residence (which he in 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 1 Cambridge Life, 2515-55. It appears on the screen of the chapel. 2 Runny-Mede, 'the meadow of assemblies,' derives its name and its original association from this neighbourhood of the royal residence. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 29 him, or ' the Painted Chamber,' from its subsequent decorations, was the kernel of the Palace of West minster. 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 ' Nciu College' of Wykeham. The privileges x which the King was anxious to obtain for the new institution were in proportion to the mag nificence 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 privileges from the Pope. The journey to Rome was, in those Jou,.neyto troubled times, a serious affair. The deputa- Ro"1L'- tion consisted of Aldred,2 who had lately been trans lated from Worcester to York ; the King's two chap lains, Gyso and Walter ; Tosti and Gurth, the King's brothers-in-law ; and Gospatrick, kinsman of the Con fessor and companion of Tosti. Some of the la)Tmen 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 Worcester. The Pope refused his request, on tlie not unreasonable 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 l Cambridge Life, 2325. Kemble, §§ 824, 825. See Chapter V. The exact statement of these privileges depends on the genuineness of the charters, but their general outline is unquestionable. 2 Harleian Life, 755-80. 30 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 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 magnificent 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 indignation, 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 the hands of robbers at home.3 With this threat (so often repeated in 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 in building. Tlie King had spent upon it one-tenth of the property of Building of the kingdom. It was to be a marvel of its the Abbey. ]^n(j_ _^s jn ^s orjgin n Lore the 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 be tween Saxon and Norman. By birth he was a Saxon, but in all else he was a foreigner. Accordingly, the Church at Westminster was a wide sweeping innovation on all that had been seen before.4 ' Destroying the old 1 Stubbs, c. 1702. William of Malmesbury in Life of Wulfstan, pt. ii. c. 10. (Anglia Sacra, vol. ii. 250.) 2 Harleian Life, 770. 3 Brompton, c. 952 : Knyghton, c. 2336. 4 The collegiate church of Waltham, which was founded by Harold in A. D. 1060, must have been the nearest approach to this. But what ever view is taken of the present structure of the church at Waltham, EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 31 building,' he says in his Charter, ' I have built up a new one from the very foundation.'1 Its fame as 'a new style 2 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 expression of the increasing hold which the idea of the Crucifixion in the tenth century had laid on the imagination of Europe.3 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 gray 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 in firmary, with its spacious chapel,4 if not completed by Edward, were all begun, and finished in the next gener ation on the same plan. This structure, venerable as it was considerably smaller than the Abbey. The proof of the size of the Confessor's church rests on the facts — 1. That the Lady Chapel of Henry III. must have abutted on the cast end of the old choir as of tlie present. 2. That the cloisters occupied the same relative position, as may be seen from the existing substructures. 3. That the pillars, as excavated in the choir in the repairs of 1866, stand at the same dis tance from each other as the present pillars. The nave of the church and the chapel of St. Catherine must have been finished under Henry I.. the south cloister under William Rufus. 1 Kemble, No. 824, iv. 176. 2 Matthew Paris, p. 2. 3 Milman's History of Latin Christianity, vi. 507. 4 Cambridge Life, 2270-2310. 32 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 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 substructures of the dormitory, with their huge pillars, ' grand and regal at the bases and capitals ' x — 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.2 The institution was made as new as the building. Abbot Edwin remained; but a large body of monks was imported from Exeter,3 coincidently with the re moval of the see of Crediton to Exeter in the person of the King's friend Leofwin. The services still con tinued 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,'1 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.5 The affection enter tained 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. The end of the Confessor was now at hand. Two legends mark its approach. The first is as follows. It was at Easter.s He was sitting in his gold-embroidered 1 Cambridge Life, 2300. 2 See Gleanings of W esiminsier Abbey, pp. 3, 4 ; Freeman's Norman Conquest, ii. 509. 3 Cambridge Life, 2390; Oxford Life, 381. 4 Ackermann, i. 86, 87. 6 Widmore, p. 12. Compare the same process at Pershore and Norwich. 6 William cf Malmesbury, ii. 13. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 33 robe, and solemnly crowned, in the midst of his cour tiers, who were voraciously devouring their food after the long abstinence of Lent. On a sudden Legend of i ii • rro ^IC Seven he sank into a deep abstraction. Ihen came siucnere. one of his curious laughs,1 and again his rapt medi tation. He retired into his chamber, and was followed by Duke Harold, the Archbishop, and the Abbot of Westminster.2 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. Immediately on hearing this, the Duke despatched a knight, the Arch bishop a bishop, the Abbot a monk, to the Emperor of Constantinople.3 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 convulsions 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. John the Evangelist.4 As Peter, the Legend Prince of the Apostles, was the saint before Pilgrim. whom the Confessor trembled with a mysterious awe, l Ailred, c. 395. 2 The 'Duke Harold ' is named in the legend, 'Le Dues Harauldz' (Cambridge Life, 338) ; and it can hardly be doubted that by the pre late and abbot were meant the Primate and the Abbot of Westminster. 8 Oxford Life, 409. Their journey is represented in the screen. 4 By one of the Saxon chroniclers (see Freeman's Norman Conquest, ii. 512) this church is said to have been at Clavering. There was a chapel of St. John close to the palace, now that of St. Stephen (Smith, 127). The parish of St. John, in Westminster, was created in the last century. vol. i. — 3 34 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. John, the Apostle of Love, was the saint whom he venerated with a familiar tenderness.1 A beggar im plored 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,2 shortly afterwards found themselves benighted in Syria ; when suddenly 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 spe cial 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 attc Bower, and with a church dedicated to St. John the Evangelist. He acknowledged the ring, and prepared for his end accordingly.3 The long-expected day of the dedication of the Abbey at last arrived. ' At Midwinter,' says the Saxon 1 Ailred, c. 397. 2 Hence the representation of the story in the painted window of St. Lawrence's Church at Ludlow. 3 Cambridge Life, 3455-3590 ; Oxford Life, 410-40. The story is one of those which attached to St. John, from the old belief (John xxi. 23) that he was not dead, but sleeping. Compare his apparition to James IV. at Linlithgow. It occupies three compartments on the screen, and is also to be seen on the tiles of the Chapter-house floor. (See Arckceol. xxix. 39.) From the time of Henry III. a figure of St. John, as the pilgrim, stood by the Confessor's shrine ; and one such still stands in Henry V.'s Chantry. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 35 Chronicle, 'King Edward came to Westminster, and had the minster there consecrated, which he Dedication had himself built, to the honour of God and Abbey. St. Peter, and all God's saints.' It was at Christmas- ' time (when, as usual at that age, the Court ioeo. assembled) that the dedication so eagerly desired was to be accomplished. Qn Christmas Day he appeared, according to custom, wearing his royal crown ; ] Decembor but on Christmas night, his strength, prema- 2n' turely exhausted, 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. D,,cember On St. John's Day he grew so rapidly worse, ~7' that he gave orders for the solemnity to be fixed for the morrow.2 On the morning of that morrow December (Wednesday, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, 28- Childermas 3) he roused himself sufficiently to sign the charter of the Foundation. 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, a strong prejudice prevailed against beginning anything of moment on that day.4 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 i Cambridge Life, 3610. 2 Ailred, c. 399. 8 So in the Charter itself (Kemble, iv. ISO). Robert of Gloucester and Ailred of Rievaulx fix it on St. John's Day. 4 Home's Evenjday Book, i. 1648. See Chapter II. 36 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 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 consecration. He himself had arranged the ornaments, gifts, and relics ; 1 but the Queen presided at the ceremony2 (she is queen, as he is king, both in church 3 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 ^ay> a startling rally took place. His voice 31- again sounded loud and clear; his face resumed its brightness. But it was the rally of delirium. A few incoherent sentences broke from his lips. He de scribed 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, 1 For the relics, see Dart, i. 37. They consisted of the usual extraor dinary fragments of the dresses, etc., of the most sacred personages. The most remarkable were the girdle dropt by the Virgin to convince St. Thomas of her assumption (which is also shown in the Batopaxli Convent of Mount Athos). and the cross which came over sea, against winds and waves, with the Confessor from Normandy. 2 Ailred, c. 399. 3 Cambridge Life, 3655. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 37 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.1 Beside her stood her brother Harold, Rodbert the keeper of the palace, and others who had been called in by Edward's revival. They were all terrorstruck. Archbishop Sti gand alone had the courage to whisper into Harold's ear that the aged King was doting. The others care fully 2 caught his words ; and the courtly poet of the next century rejoiced to trace in 'the three J J 1066. 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.3 Then followed a calm, and on the fifth day afterwards, with words variously reported, respecting the De;lth Queen, the succession, and the ' hope that he c',*'!-eSS01. was passing from the land of the dead to the Jl"1- ° 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.4 So gloomy were the forebodings, so urgent the .... . , t> J t> ' to His burial, dangers which seemed to press, that on the Jail-e- very next day (Friday,5 the Festival of the Epiphany), 1 Harleian Life, 1480-90. 2 Cambridge Life, 3714-85. 3 Ibid. 3934. See Chapter III. 4 Ailred, c. 402. Saxon Chronicle, A. D. 1066. 5 The usual date of bis death is January 5. In Fabian, Robert of Gloucester, and the Cambridge Life it is January 4. 38 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 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.1 As usual in the funerals of all our earlier sovereigns, he was attired in his royal habiliments : his crown upon his head ; a crucifix2 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 mag nates 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 I., in the presence of Bishop Gundulf, who plucked out a hair from the long white beard;3 again when, on its 'translation ' by Henry II., lies. the ring was withdrawn ; and again at its final 1269. removal to its present position by Henry III. It must probably also have been seen both during its i.w8. disturbance by Henry VIII., and its replace- i.mt. ment by Mary ; and for a moment the inte- i6S5. rior 0f thg coffin was disclosed, when a rafter broke in upon it after the coronation of James II.4 The crucifix and ring were given to the King. 1 Harleian Life, 1590. Ailred, c. 402. * Taylor's Narrative of the Finding of the Crucifix in 1688, p. 12. 3 Ailred, c. 408. 4 Shortly after the coronation of James II., in removing the scaffold, the coffin in which it was enclosed ' was found to be broke,' and ' Charles EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 39 In the centre of Westminster Abbey thus lies its Founder, and such is the story of its foundation. Even apart from the legendary elements in which it Effects of ..... ... his chur- lS involved, it is impossible not to be struck acter on by the fantastic character of all its circum- dation. stances. 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 pro saic 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 be long 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- Taylor, Gent,' 'put his hand into the hole, and turning the bones, which he felt there, drew from underneath the shoulder-bones ' a cru cifix and gold chain, which he showed to Sancroft, Dugdale, and finally to the King, who took possession of it, and had the coffin closed. It was remarked as an omen that the relics were discovered on June 11, the day of Monmouth's landing, and given to the King on July 6, the day of his victory at Sedgmoor. (Taylor's Narrative, p. 16.) The story is doubted by Gough (Sepulchral Monuments, ii. 7), but is strongly confirmed by the positive assertion of Jam°s II. to Evelyn (Memoirs, iii. 177), and to Pepys (Letters in Camden Sociity, No. lxxxviii.p. 211), and of Patrick, who was Prebendary of Westminster at the time. ' The workmen,' he says, 'chanced to have a look at the tomb of Edward the Confessor, so that they could see the shroud in which his body was wrapped, which was a mixed coloured silk very frail.' In the original MS. of Patrick's autobiography, a small piece of stuff less than an inch square, answering this description, is pinned to the paper, evidently as a specimen of the shroud. ' It appears to be a woven fabric of black and yellow silk.' (Patrick, ix. 560.) The gold crucifix and ring are said to have been on James's person when he was rifled by the Faver- sham fishermen in 1688, and to have been then taken from him (Thoresby's Diary.) 40 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. jects. His opinions, his prevailing motives, were such as in no part of modern Europe would now be shared by any educated 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. West minster 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 clus tered, 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 goodness. He • — towards whose dust was attracted the fierce Norman, and the proud Plahtagenet, and the grasping Tudor, and the fickle Stuart, even the Independent Oliver,1 the Dutch William, and the Han overian 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 char acter of its Founder, consciously or unconsciously, in- conaection augurated the greatest change which, with one with the ° ° ° ' conquest, exception, the English nation has witnessed from that time till this. Not in vain had the slumbers 1 Beth Cromwell (see Marvell's poem on his funeral) and George IL (see Chapter III.) were compared to the Confessor on their deaths. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 41 of the Seven Sleepers been disturbed ; nor in vain the ghosts of the two Norman monks haunted the Con fessor'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 com ing 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 sculptured 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, stimulat ing 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, 42 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 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-exten sive with the interests of the whole commonwealth through all its stages — -are standing monuments of the continuity by which in England the new 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 connection strong English instinct of which, in spite of English his Norman tendencies, Edward was the rep- Constitu- . , tfon. resentative. The' first miracle believed to have been wrought at his tomb exemplifies, as in a parable, the rooted characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon basis of Miracle of the monarchy. When, after the Revolution "Wulfstan'S n , -v-r rv T, . n p - crozier. of the Norman Conquest, a French and foreign hierarchy was substituted for the native prelates, one Saxon bishop alone remained — Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester. A Council was summoned to Westminster, over which the Norman king and the Norman primate presided, and Wulfstan was declared incapable of hold ing his office because he could not speak French.1 The old man, down to this moment compliant even to ex cess, was inspired with unusual energy. He walked from St. Catherine's Chapel2 straight into the Abbey. The King and the prelates followed. He laid his pas toral staff on the Confessor's tomb before the high altar. First he spoke in Saxon to the dead King : 1 M. Paris, 20; Ann. Burt., A. d. 1211'; Knygh ton, c. 2368 (Thierry, ii. 224). 2 There, doubtless, the Council must have been held. See Chapter V. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 43 ' Edward, thou gavest me the staff ; to thee I return it.' Then, with the few Norman words that he could com mand, he turned to the living King : ' A better than thou gave it to me — take it if thou canst.'1 It re mained fixed in the solid stone,2 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.3 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 safe guard 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 intention of this figure is to indicate the close contiguity of the two buildings. If so, it is the natural architectural expres sion 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 1 Knyghton, c. 2368. 2 Brompton, c. 976 ; M. Paris, 21 ; Vit. Alb. 3. 3 Ann. Burt. a.d. 1211. 44 FOUNDATION OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 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 secu lar because it is sacred, and sacred because it is secular. It is secular in the common English sense, because it is ' specular ' in the far higher French and Latin sense : a ' saccular ' edifice, a ' saccular ' institution — 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. 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 as pirations. Go elsewhere for your smooth polished buildings, your purely ecclesiastical places of worship : go to the creations of yesterday — the modern basilica, the restored church, the nonconformist tabernacle. But it is this union of secular with ecclesiastical grandeur in Westminster Abbey which constitutes its special delight. It is this union which has made the Abbey the seat of the imperial throne, the sepulchre of kings and kinglike men, the h^me of the English nation, EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 45 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 following Chapters. THE ABBEY, FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTB.Y. THE CORONATIONS. The Queen sitting in King1 Edward's Chair, the Archbishop, assisted with the same Archbishops and Bishops as before, eomes 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 Arch bishop 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 right eousness, 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 Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesios Anglicance, vol. iii. 2. Selden's Titles of Honour. 3. Martene's De Anliquis Ecclesioz Ritibus. 4. The Liber Regalis of Richard II., in the custody of the Dean of Westminster. 5. Ogilvy's Coronation of Charles II. 6. Sandford's Coronation of James II. 7. 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 from Edward VI. to the present time, preserved in the Lambeth Library. 10. MS. Records in the Heralds' College. CHAPTER II. THE CORONATIONS. THE Church of the Confessor was, as we have seen, the precursor of the Conquest. The first event in the Abbey of which there is any certain record, The Corona, after the burial of the Confessor, is one which, wuiiam the like the Conquest, arose immediately out of c°niueror- 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 The rjte nf oldest in Christendom.1 From the Anglo- Coro»aUu"- 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 impor tance 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 1 A. d. 571. (Martene, De Antiqnis Ecclesice Ritihus, ii. 213.) It was performed by a benediction and imposition of hands — at the command, it was said, and under the lash of an angel, who appeared in a vision to Columba. (Beeves' Adamnan. 197-199.) 2 Maskell's Monumenta Ritnalia, hi. p. lxxvii. The form of the Coronation of Ethelred II. is given in Turner's Annlo-Saxons, ii. 172. 3 SeeSelden's Titles of Honour, -pp. 177, 189; Maskell, iii. p. xiv. vol. i. — 4 50 THE CORONATIONS. its full primitive savour. In Hungary, the Crown of St. Stephen still invests the sovereign with a national position ; and in Russia, 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 Charle magne by Pope Leo III., in the year 800. The rite represented the two opposite aspects of European mon archy. On the one hand, it was a continuation of the its elective 01(^ 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 elec tion of the Roman 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 pop- its sacred u^ar anc^ legal rights of the subjects. On the cimiuaer. other hand, partly as a means of resisting the 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 ceremo nies observed in the case of some of the Jewish kings, 3 was unknown in the older Empire. It first began4 1 The Earls Palatine in England wore the sword to show that they had authority to correct the King. (Holinshed, a. d. 1236.) 2 The benediction of the Abbot rather than the Bishop prevailed in the Celtic tribes both of Ireland and Scotland. (See Reeves' Adam- nan, 199.) 3 See Lectures on the History of the Jewish Church, ii. 18, 48, 331, 397. 4 Charlemagne is described as having been anointed from head to foot. (Martene, ii. 204.) In like manner, in English history, on more than one occasion the King is described as having been stripped from the waist upwards, in the presence of the whole congregation, in order that the sacred oil might flow frctly over his person. (Hoveden, a.d. THEIR SACRED CHARACTER. 51 with Charlemagne.1 The sacred oil was believed to convey to the sovereign a spiritual jurisdiction2 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.3 This unction was believed to be the foun dation of the title, reaching back to the days of King Ina, of 'Dei Gratia.'4 By its virtue every consecrated king was admitted a canon of some cathedral church.5 They were clothed for the moment in the garb of bishops.6 The ' Veni Creator Spiritus ' was sung over them as over bishops. At first five sovereigns alone received the full consecration — the Emperor, v and the Kings of France, England, Jerusalem, and Sicily. And, though this sacred circle was 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.8 A King, therefore, without a coronation was regarded 1189. Roger of Wcndover, ibid. ; Grafton, Cont. of Hardyng, p. 517 ; Maskell, iii. p. xv.) 1 Selden's Titles of Honour, p. 237. 2 33 Edward III. § 103. 3 Maskell, iii. p. xxi. 4 Ibid. p. xiii. 6 Ibid. p. xvi. 6 Taylor, p. 81. ' . . . . Lyke as a Bysshop shuld say masse, with a dalmatyk and a stole about his necke. And also as hosyn and shone and copys and gloves lyke a bysshop. .' (Maskell, iii. p. liii , speaking of Henry VI. 's coronation.) 7 Taylor, p. 37. 8 What marks the more than ceremonial character of the act is the distinction drawn between the coronation of the actual sovereigns and their consorts. The Queens of France were crowned, not at Reims, but at St. Denys (Taylor, p. 50). Of the Queens-Consort of England, out of seventeen since the time of Henry VIII., only six have been crowned (Argument of the Attorney-General before the Privy Council, July 7, 1821, in the case of Queen Caroline). The Anglo-Saxon Queens were 52 THE CORONATIONS OP almost as, by strict ecclesiologists, a bishop-elect would be regarded before his consecration, or a nonconform- ist minister without episcopal ordination.1 Hence the poLtical 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 sover eign 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 ' Stead ward,' 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 performed. The traditionary spot of the first coronation of a British sovereign is worthy of the romantic legend The scene of which enshrines his name. Arthur was t'e English curouations. crowned at Stonehenge,2 which had been transported by Merlin for the purpose to Salisbury Plain 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 Stone3 by the first deprived of the right in the ninth century, by the crimes of Eadburga, but Judith, Queen of Ethelwulf, regained it. (Maskell, iii. p. xxiv.) 1 Many Bretons maintained that Louis Philippe, not having been crowned, had no more right to exercise the right of royalty than a priest not ordained could exercise the sacerdotal functions. (Renan, Questions Contemporaines, 434.) 2 Rishanger, Annals, p. 425 ; Giraldus Cambrensis, Dist. ii. 18. 3 Still to be seen in the market-place of Kingston-on-Thames. THE SAXON KINGS. 53 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 always formed part of it.1 The day, if possible, was Sunday, or some high festival2 The general seat of the Saxon coronations, 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 Confessor'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, however, undoubted. Whether the right of the Abbey to the coronation of the sovereigns entered „ & Coronation into the Confessor's designs depends on the thee™-'" genuineness of his Charters. But, in any case, iueror- William's selection of this spot for the most important 1 Maskell, iii. p. xxxix —The breaking 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 Regalis; Maskell. iii. p lxiv. 'A Peace of God ' succeeded for eight days. (Ibid. p. lxvi.) x Brompton, c. 958; liishanger's Annals, p. 427. William of Malmesbury (Ue Gest. Pont. ii. 1) implies that the Conqueror's corona tion was the first that took place in the Abbey. 4 Relutio de Origine Will. Conq. p. 4. (Giles, Script. Rer. Gest. Will. Conq. 1845.) 6 Bayeux Tapestry. 6 Brompton, c. 958; Rishanger's Annals, p. 427; Matthew of West minster, p. 221. 54 THE CORONATIONS OF act of his life sprang directly from regard to the Con fessor's memory. To be crowned beside the grave of the last hereditary Saxon king, was the direct fulfil ment of the whole plan of the Conqueror, or ' Con- questor;' that is, the inheritor,1 not by victory but by right, of the throne of ' his predecessor King Edward.' 2 The time was to be Christmas Day 3 — doubtless be cause on that high festi\ al, as on the other two of Easter Monday, ancl Whitsuntide, the Anglo-Saxon kings had lie.-, iin, O' 10«s- appeared in state, re-enacting, as it were, their original coronations. ' Two nat'ons were indeed in the womb ' of the Ab bey 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 days before, to construct the mighty fortress of the Tower, which henceforth was to overawe the city.4 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 God frey, 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 1 The Bayeux Tapestry is devoted to the proof of this right. 2 Charter of Battle Abbey. q Midwinter Day. (Raine's Archbishops of York, i. 144.) It was also the day of Charlemagne's coronation. 4 William of Poitiers, a. d. 1066. THE NORMAN KINGS. 55 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 oppor tunity, and thus established over William an influence which no other ecclesiastic of the time, not even Hilde- brand, was able to gain.1 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 accla mation 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.2 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 soli tude 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 cere- mony was hurried on. Aldred, in the name of the Saxons, exacted from him the oath to protect them be fore he would put the crown on his head.3 Thus ended 1 See Chapter I. — An instance of this occurred in the Abbey a few years later. Aldred came up to London to remonstrate with William for a plundering expedition in Yorkshire. He found the King in the Abbey, and attacked him publicly. The King fell at his feet, trembling. The officers of the court tried to push the Archbishop away, but he per sisted, and would not leave the place without a full apology. (Stubbs, c. 1703-4 ; Brompton, c. 962.) See also, for a different account, Wil liam of Malmesbury, De Gest Pont. p. 271. 2 Ord. Vit. a.d. 1065; William of Malmesbury, p. 184; Palgrave's Normandy, iii. 379. 3 Saxon Chronicle (a. d. 1066.) 56 THE CORONATIONS OF the first undoubted Westminster coronation. William kept up the remembrance of it, according to the Saxon custom, by a yearly solemn appearance, 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 corona tion has been inalienably attached to the Abbey. Its The con- connection with the grave of the Confessor was theCorona- l°ug preserved, even in its minutest forms. tiieAbbcy ^ne regal ia were strictly Anglo-Saxon, by their The Regalia, traditional names : the crown of Alfred or of witTirrteJ St. Edward for the King,2 the crown of Edith, confessor. wife of the CoilfeSSor, for the Queen. The 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 Danegelt — 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 1 Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 259). 2 Spelman's History of Alfred. (l'lanche"s Regal Records, p. 64.) 3 The ' orb ' appears in the Bayeux Tapestry. 4 Planche, p. 85; Mill's Catalogue of Honours, p. 86; Fuller, ii §§ 16, 26. 6 Ware's Consuetudines. THE NORMAN KINGS. 57 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.' 1 If after the anointing the King's hair was not smooth, there was ' King Edward's ivory comb for that end.' 2 The form of the oath, retained till the time of James II., was to observe ' the laws of the glorious Confessor.' 3 A copy of the Gospels, purporting to have belonged to Athelstane, was the book which was handed down as that on which, for centuries, the coronation-oath had been taken.4 On the arras hung round the choir, at least from the thirteenth century, was the representa tion of the ceremony,5 with words which remind us of the analogous inscription in St. John Lateran, expressive of the peculiar privileges of the place — Ilanc regum sedem, ubi Petrus consecrat asdera, Quam tu, Papa, regis ; e inungit et unctio regis. The Church of Westminster was called, in consequence, ' the head, crown, and diadem of the kingdom.' 7 The Regalia were kept in the Treasury of Westmin ster entirely till the time of Henry VI 1 1., and the larger part till the time of the Commonwealth, when (in 1642) they were broken to pieces.8 But the new Regalia, after the Restoration, v\ere 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. 1 Maskell, iii. p. Ixx. 2 State Papers, Feb. 2, 1625-26. 3 Taylor, 85. 4 Gent. Mag. 1838, p. 471. 5 Weever, p. 45. 6 Alluding to its exemption from the jurisdiction of the see of Lon don. See Chapter V. 7 liber Regalis ; Maskell, iii. p. xlvii. 8 Taylor, p. 94 ; see Chapters V. and VI. 58 THE CORONATIONS OF The Abbot of Westminster was the authorised in structor to prepare each new King for the solemnities The core- 0I" tne coronation as if for confirmation ; visit- priviieges m8 ^Im tw0 days before, to inform him of the Abbots and observances, and to warn him to shrive and westmin- cleanse his conscience before the holy anoint ing.1 If he was ill, the Prior (as now the Subdean) took his place.2 He also was 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.3 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, and as many fish as be come the royal dignity.' These privileges have, so far as altered times allow, descended 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 con secrating the sacred oil.4 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 voice, in modern days, through the shouts of the Westmin ster scholars, from their recognised seats in the Abbey.5 1 Taylor, p. 134 ; Liber Regalis ; Maskell, p. lxvi. 2 Liber Reqalis. 3 Ibid.; Maskell, iii. p. xlv. 4 Maskell, iii. p. xxii. See Sandford's account of the Coronation of James II. p. 91. In Charles I.'s time the King's physicians prepared it ; and Laud (who was at that time Bishop of St David's as well as Prebendary of Westminster) ' hollowed ' it on the high altar. (State Papers, Feb. 2, 1625-6.) 6 Sanford's James II, p. 83 ; Maskell, iii. pp. xlvii., xMii THE NORMAN KINGS. 59 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 coro nation was permanently fixed. Neither the Abbot of Westminster nor (as might have been expected from his share in the first coronation) the Archbishop of York could maintain his ground against the over whelming influence of the first Norman pri- Tlie rj(r)jt mate. Lanfranc pointed out to William, that °^o\tZ!l~ if the Archbishops of York were allowed to Cantei'uurv- confer the crown, they might be tempted to give it to some Scot or Dane, elected by the rebel Saxons of the north ; : and that to avoid this danger, they should be forever 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.2 From that time, accordingly, with three exceptions, the Primate of Canterbury has been always the chief ecclesiastic at the coronations.3 On that occasion, only, these prelates take their places, as by right, in the Choir of the Abbey ; and the Arch bishop of York has been obliged to remain content 1 Eadmer, c. 3; Lanfranc, 306, 378; Stubbs, c. 1706 (Thierry, ii. 145) ; Hugh Sotevagine (Raine, i. 147). 2 Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 248). 3 But by 1 W. and M. c. 6, it is now enacted ' that the coronation may he performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Arch bishop of York, or either of them, or any other bishop whom the King's Majesty shall appoint.' The claim of the Archbishop of Can terbury to marry royal personages rests on the theory that the Kings and Queens are always parishioners of the see of Canterbury : hence the protest of the nobles against the claim of the Bishop of Salisbury to marry Henry I., on the ground that the castle of Windsor was in the diocese of Salisbury. (Maskell, iii. p. lxii.) 60 THE CORONATIONS OF with the inferior and accidental office of crowning the coronation Queen-Consort, which had been performed by whitsun-"' Aldred for Queen Matilda two years after the day. May 11, iob7. Conqueror s coronation. 2. The arrangement of Lanfranc immediately came into operation. William Rufus — whose fancy for coronation Westminster manifested itself in the mag- Riicjs!'am nfficent Hall, which was to be but as a bed- septemiier chamber to the ' New Palace ' meditated by 26'1087' him in the future 2 — naturally 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.3 3. The coronation of Henry I. illustrates the impor- corouation tance attached to the act. He lost not a mo or Henry i. menj._ "Within f our days of his brother's death in the New Forest, he was in Westminster Abbey, An,?. 5, claiming the election of the nobles and the 1100. . Eleventh consecration of the prelates.4 ' At that time Sunday af ter Trinity, the present providing of good swords was oswaia. » accounted more essential to a king's coronation than the long preparing of gay clothes. Such prepara- 1 Raine, i. 144 ; Saxon Chronicle, a.d. 1067. 2 Laine (Archives de la Noblesse de France, v. 57) says Turlogh O'Brian, King of Ireland, presented William Rufus with Irish oak for the roof of the Abbey of Westminster. But this is probably a confu sion for the Pidace of Westminster. (See Mac Geogham's Ilistoire d' Irlande, i. 426.) The oak is from the oak woods of Shillela, which stood till 1760. (Young's Travels in Ireland, i. 125.) 3 Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 263). 4 Saxon Chronicle, a. d. 1100; Florence of Worcester, ii. 46; Malmesbury, v. ; Brompton, c. 997. 6 Palgrave's Normandy, iv. 688. THE NORMAN KINGS. 61 tory pomp 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.' 1 Anselm, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was absent ; and here, therefore, Lanfranc's provision was adopted, and Maurice, Bishop of London, acted in his stead. Thomas, Archbishop of York, who had made a des perate effort to recover the lost privileges of his see at Anselm's consecration, was at Ripon when the tidings of William's death reached him. He, like Henry, but ¦ for a different reason, hurried up to London. But Win chester was nearer than Ripon, and the King was already crowned.2 The disappointment of the northern Primate was met by various palliatives. The King and tlie prelates pleaded haste. Some of the chroniclers represent that he joined in the ceremony, giving the crown after Maurice had given the unction.3 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 had received from his father.4 A yet more important coronation 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 clay as when Queen Maude, the descendant of Alfred, was crowned in the 1 Fuller, iii. 1, §41. 2 Hugh the Cantor. (Raine, i. 153.) " Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 273); Diceto, c. 498; Chronicle oj Peterborough (Giles), p. 69; Walsingham (HypodigmaNeustrite, p. 443). Raine, Ordericus Vitalis (book x. i. 153), accounts for his absence bj supposing him to have died before. 4 Palgrave's Normandy, iv. 730. 62 THE CORONATIONS OF Abbey and feasted in the Great Hall.' 1 The ceremony was performed, according to some,2 by Anselm ; accord- coronatioa ing to others, by Gerard,3 at that time Bishop of Maude, ^ J L st. Martin's of Hereford, but on the very eve of mount- Dav, Nov. ' J 10, noo. ing 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.4 4. Stephen, in securing ' the regalising and legalising virtue of the crown,' 5 was, from the necessities of his Coronation position, hardly less precipitate than his pred- st.Sste-'en' ecessor. Henry I. died, of his supper of 1am- Deen26,Day' preys, on December 1 ; and whilst he still lay unburied in France, Stephen — with the devotion to favorite days then so common — chose December 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.6 But the coronation teemed with omens of the misfortunes which thickened round the unhappy King. It was observed that the Archbishop, whose consent was 1 Palgrave's Normandy, iv. 719-722 ; see Chapter III. 2 Symeon (c. 226). 3 Orderic. Vit. book x. 4 Raine, i. 159, 160. 5 I owe this expression to a striking description of this incident in an unpublished letter of Professor Vaughan. 6 Thierry ii. 393, 394. THE NORMAN KINGS. 63 directly in defiance of his oath to Maude,1 died within the year, and that the magnates who assisted all per ished miserably.2 It was remarked that the Host given at the Communion suddenly disappeared,3 and that the customary kiss of peace was forgotten.4 5. The coronation of Henry II. was the first peaceful inauguration of a King that the Abbey had witnessed. In it the Saxon population saw the fulfilment coronation of the Confessor's prophecy, and the Normans D"?.™ii5' 1L rejoiced in the termination of their own civil llu4' war. Theobald of Canterbury presided, but with the assistance of the Archbishop of Rouen and the Arch bishop of York, who was a personal friend of Theo bald.5 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 crowned during his lifetime. In A,ldofl,is his own case the ceremony of consecration j™,^'7, had been repeated several times.6 The coro- u'0' nation took place in the Abbey, during the height of the King's quarrel with Becket. Accordingly, as the Primate of Canterbury was necessarily absent, the Pri mate of York took his place. It was the same Roger of Bishopsbridge who had assisted at Henry's own inauguration. To fortify him in his precarious posi- 1 Gesta Stephani, p. 7. See the whole case in Hook's Archbishops, ii. 318. * Rudbourne (Anglia Sacra, i. 284). 3 Knyghton, c. 2384 ; Brompton, c. 1023. 4 Gervas, c. 1340; Hoveden, 481. 5 Raine, i. 234. P Maskell, iii. pp. xviii., xix. 64 THE CORONATIONS OF tion, the Bishops of London, Durham, Salisbury, and Rochester were also present;1 and the young Prince who was crowned by them rose, under the name of Henry III., 2 at once to the full pride of an actual sovereign. When his father appeared behind him at the coronation 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.3 Perhaps no event — certainly no coronation — in Westminster Abbey ever led to more disastrous con sequences. ' Ex hac consecratione, potius execratione, provenerunt, detestandi eventus.'4 — 'From this con secration, 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 the young Prince Henry himself, the tragical quarrels of his brothers, and the unhappy end of his father. 6. With the coronation of Richard I. we have the first detailed account of the ceremonial, as continued to be celebrated : the procession from the Palace - Coronation L or Richard i. f0 the Abbey — the spurs, the swords, the sceptre — the Bishops of Durham and Bath (then first mentioned in this capacity) supporting the King on the 1 Benedict, a. d. 1170. 2 See Memorials of Canterbury, p. 63. Richard of Devizes (i. § 1) calls Richard I. brother of Henry III. '¦ Taylor, 247. 4 Annals of Morgan, p. 16 (a.d. 1170). Memorials of Canterbury, c. 2. THE PLANTAGENETS. 65 right and left — the oath — the anointing, for which he was stripped to his shirt and and drawers 1 — 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 Arch bishops of Rouen, Tours, and Dublin : the Archbishop of York was absent.2 The day was, however, marked by disasters highly characteristic of the age. It was on September 3, a day fraught with associations fatal to the English monarchy in a later age, but already im 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 he told in the dreadful language of the chronicler himself : ' On that solemn hour in which the Son was immolated -r ¦ The Jewi- to the Father, a sacrifice of the Jews to their father the devil was commenced in the City of London ; and so long was the duration of the famous mystery, that the holocaust could hardly be accomplished on the ensuing day.' 5 It seems that on previous coronations 1 Benedict, a.d. 1189. 2 Hoveden, a.d. 1189. 3 Ibid. There were two such in each month, supposed to be pro scribed by the Egyptians as unwholesome foi bleeding. 4 Richard of Devizes, a.d. 1189. 5 Ibid. vol. i. — 5 66 THE CORONATIONS OF 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 enchant ments. In consequence, a royal proclamation the day before expressly forbade 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 J of York, to save his life, was baptized ' William,' after a godfather in vited 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 com pulsion. 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,' re plied, 'If he does not wish to be a man of God, let him remain a man of the devil ' 2 The Jewish story is not less characteristic. 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 1 Probably ' Baruch.' 2 Benedict, a. d. 1189. 3 The Chronicles of Rabbi Joseph (Bialloblotzky, i. 196, 197). Chap ters on Coronations, 148, THE PLANTAGENETS. 67 have been softened, a general massacre and plunder amongst the Jewish houses took place in London, ' and the other cities and 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 cir cumspect, 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 everything 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.' l 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, Richard was crowned again at Winchester, as if to reassure his subjects. This was the last trace of the old Saxon regal char- Richard's second Cnro- acter of Winchester.2 He submitted very re- nation, 1194. luctantly to this repetition ; 3 but the reinvestiture in the coronation robes was considered so important, that in these he was ultimately buried. 7. John was crowned on Ascension Day 4 — the same fatal festival as that which the soothsayer afterwards predicted as the end of his reign. On this „ 1 ° Coronation occasion, in order to exclude the rights of of John. Arthur, the son of John's eldest brother Godfrey, the elective, as distinct from the hereditary, character of 1 Richard of Devizes, a.d. 1189. 2 Ibid., a.d. 1194. 3 M. Paris, 176. See Chapter III. 4 Hoveden, 793. 68 THE CORONATIONS OF the monarchy was brought out in the strongest terms, Ascension At a later period Archbishop Hubert gave as 27, 1199. his reason for scrupulously adopting all the forms of election on that day, that, foreseeing the King's violent career, he had wished to place every lawful check on his despotic passions.1 Geoffrey, the Archbishop of York, was absent, and, on his behalf, the Bishop of Durham2 protested, but in vain, against Hubert's sole celebration of the ceremony.3 A peculiar function was now added. As a reward for the readiness with which the Cinque Ports had The cinque assisted John, in his unfortunate voyages to ports. an(i 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 plac« at the right hand of the King at the banquet, as a return for their successful guardianship of the Channel against invaders; the Conqueror alone had escaped them.4 8. The disastrous reign of John brought out the sole instance, if it be an instance, of a coronation apart from First coro- Westminster. On Henry Ill's accession the nation of Henry iii. Abbey was in the hands of Prince Louis of St. Simon ^ j'i!deSoct France, Shakspeare's 'Dauphin.' He was, ac- 28, i2ia. cordingly, crowned in the Abbey of Glouces ter, by the Bishop of Winchester, in the presence of Gualo the Legate ; but without unction or imposition of hands, lest the rights of Canterbury should be i M. Paris, 197. 2 Hoveden, 793 ; Maskell, iii, p. lviii. " He was afterwards crowned at Canterbury with his Queen, Isa bella. (Hoveden, 818 ; Ann. Morgan, a. d. 1201.) 4 Ridgway, p. 141. THE PLANTAGENETS. 69 infringed, and with a chaplet or garland rather than a crown.1 At the same time, with that inconsistency which pervades the history of so many of our legal cer emonies, 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.2 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 there in state, on Whit- Secorid Co_ Sunday, by Stephen Langton,3 having the day h^'Tii' before laid the foundation of the new Lady aY.!y'^yl7 Chapel,4 the germ of the present magnificent im church. The feasting and joviality was such that the oldest man present could remember nothing like it at any previous coronation.5 It was a kind of triumphal close to the dark reign of John. The young King him self, 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 coro- 1 Possibly this might be from John's crown having been lost in the Wash. (Pauli, i. 489.) 2 Capgrave's Henries, p. 87. — Henry IV. of France, in like manner, was crowned at Chartres. instead of Reims, from the occupation of that city by the opposite faction. 3 See Hook's Archbishops, ii. 735. 4 See Chapter HI. 5 Bouquet. Rer. Gallic. Script, xviii. 186. • 6 Epislala', § 124, p. 350 (ed. Luard). He adds a caution, founded on Judah's concession in the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, that it did not equal the royal to the sacerdotal dignity. 70 THE CORONATIONS OF nations, which implies a slight declension of the sense Abolition of 0I tneir importance. The office of Lord High H'£h0rd Steward (the temporary Viceroy between the stewardship. }ate Ring's demise and the new King's inaug uration), 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 en- coronation croachments, partly to check the power of so of Provence, formidable a potentate. Henceforward the Jan. 23, i23a. office was merely created tor the occasion. The coronation of his Queen Eleanor of Provence was observed with great state.1 But a curious incident marred the splendour of the coronation banquet. Its presiding officer, the hereditary Chief Butler, Hugh de Albini, was absent, having been excommunicated by the Archbishop of Canterbury, for refusing to let the Primate hunt in his Sussex forest.2 9. The long interval between the accession of Ed ward 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 commemo ration of the event in wearing the crown in state at the three festivals.3 But in itself it was a peculiarly wel come day, as the return from his perilous journey. It was the first coronation in the Abbey as it now appears, 1 Matthew Paris, 350. 2 ' De officio pincernarias servivit ea. die Comes Warenn' vice Hu- gonis de Albiniaco Comitis de Arundel ad quern ['nunc] illud officium spectat. Fuit autem idem . eo tempore sententia excommunica- tionis innodatus a Cant' eo quod cum fugare fecisset Archiepiscopus in foresta dicti Hugonis in Suthsex idem Hugo canes suos cepit. Dicit autem Archiepiscopus hoc esse jus suum fugandi in qualibet foresta Anglia? quandocunque voluerit.' Red Book of the Exchequer (f. 232). He was under age Matthew Paris (p. 421). 3 Camden's Remains, 338 EDWARD I. AND ELEANOR. 71 bearing the fresh marks of his father's munificence. He and his beloved Eleanor appeared together, coronation the first King and Queen who had been jointly ami' Eleanor,' crowned. His mother, the elder Eleanor, was ml' present. Archbishop Kilwarby officiated as Primate.2 On the following day Alexander III. of Scotland, whose armorial bearings were hung in the Choir of the Abbey, did homage.3 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.4 There was, however, another change effected in the coronations by Edward, which, unlike most of the in cidents related in this chapter, has a direct The coro- bearing on the Abbey itself. Besides the cere- stone. monies of unction and coronation, which properly be longed to the consecration of the kings, there was one more closely connected with the original prac- Tneinstai- tice of election — that of raising the sovereign kings. aloft into an elevated seat.5 In the Frankish tribes, ns also in the Roman 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, amongst the Gothic and Celtic races, was to place him on a huge natural stone, which had been, or was henceforth, in vested with a magical sanctity. On such a stone, the 'great stone' (morasten), still visible on the grave of l Close Roll, 2 Edw. I. m. 5. 2 Hook, iii. 311. 3 Trivet, p. 292. See Chapter III. 4 Stow's Annals; Knyghton, c. 2461. (Pauli, ii. 12.) 4 So Liber Regalis. See Maskell, iii. p. xlviii. 72 THE CORONATIONS. Odin near Upsala, were inaugurated the Kings of Swe den 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 Hun gary 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 myste rious natural charm in the Abbey itself, and this it 1 Gilbert and Churchill's Dolomite Mountains, p. 483. 2 It is now called St Columb's Stone. The marks of the feet are, according to the legend, imprinted by Columba. But Spenser's state ment of the Irish practice (See Ordnance Survey of Londonderry, p. 233) leaves no doubt as to their origin. 8 See Shirley's Fame//, p. 74. 4 Taylor, p. 303. — It is mentioned at the coronations of Richard II and Richard III. (Maskell, iii. pp. xlviii. xlix.) THE STONE OF SCONE. 73 was which Edward I. provided. In the capital of the Scottish kingdom was a venerable fragment of rock, to which, at least as early as the fourteenth cen- Legend of tury, the following legend was attached: — otsc ^cinc. The stony pillar on which Jacob 1 slept at Bethel was by his countrymen transported to Egypt. Thither came Gathelus, son of Cecrops, King of Athens, and married ¦'%*#**: TnE CORONATION STONE. Scota, daughter of Pharaoh. He and his Egyptian wife, alarmed at the fame of Moses, fled with the stone to Sicily or to Spain. From Brigantia, in Spain, it was carried off by Simon Brech,2 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 1 Or Abraham. (Rye's Visits of Foreigners, p. 10 ) For the belief still maintained that the coronation stone is Jacob's pillow, see Jewish Chronicle, June 14, 21, 1872; and an elaborate oration by the Rev. R. Glover. 2 llnlinshed, The Hislorie of Scotland (1585), p. 31. Weever's Funeral Monuments, p. 239. 74 THE CORONATIONS. ' 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 v.'ith thunder.1 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 ' Coronation Chair ; ' and a rude pillar, now serving as a monument over the graves of the rebels of 1798, is by some 2 thought to he the original ' Lia Fail.' But the stream of the Scottish tradition car ries us on. Fergus, the founder of the Scottish mon archy, 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 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.' 3 Whatever may have been the previous wanderings of the relic, at Scone it assumes an unquestionable his torical position. It was there encased in a Its history. „ , , 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 1 Ware's Antiquities of Ireland (Harris), 1764, i. 10, 124. — Compare the Llechllafar, or Speaking Stone, in the stream in front of the Ca thedral of St. David's. (Jones' and Freeman's History and Antiquities of St. David's, p. 222.) 2 Petrie's History and Antiquities of Tara (Transactions of Royal Irish Academy, xviii. pt. 2, pp. 159-161). The name of Fergus is still attached to it. 3 Holinshed's Hist. Scot. p. 132. THE STONE OF SCONE. 75 Scone became the ' Sedes principalis ' of Scotland, and the kingdom of Scotland the kingdom of Scone ; and hence for inary generations Perth, and not E linburgh, was regarded as the capital city of Scotland.1 Wherever else it may have strayed, there need be no question, at least, of its Scottish origin. Its geological formation is that of the sandstone of the western coasts of Scotland.2 It has the appearance — thus far agree ing with the tiadition of Dunstaffnage — of having once formed part of a building. But of all explanations con cerning 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 ; 3 and if so it belongs to the minister of the first authentic Western consecration of a Christian Prince 4 — that of the Scottish chief Aiclan. 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. t --n ^ Its capture. It was a still further glory to deposit there the "very seat of the kingdom of Scotland. On it he him self was crowned King of the Scots.5 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, 1 The facts respecting Scone and the Scottish coronations I owe to the valuable information of the late lamented Mr. Joseph Robertson of Edinburgh. See Appendix to Chapter II., and Preface to Statuta Ecclesice Scoticance, p. xxi. 2 This is the result of a careful examination by Professor Ramsay in 1865. 3 For the argument by which this is supported, I must refer to Mr. Robertson's statement. (Appendix.) 4 See p. 49. 5 The Life and Acts of Sir William Wallace (Blind Harry), Aber deen, 1630, p. 5. 76 THE CORONATIONS. by his sudden death at Brough-on-the-Sands. West minster was to be an English Scone. It was his latest care for the Abbey. In that last year of Edward's reign, the venerable chair, which still encloses it, was made for it by the orders of its captor ; the fragment of the world-old Celtic races was embedded 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 re doubled energy to procure, what they had never had before, a full religious consecration of their Kings. This was granted to Robert 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 cher ished 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 a d i33s 0* tne losfc relics to Scotland. Accordingly juiy 21. Richard III., then residing at Bardesly, di rected 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 1 Gleanings, p. 125; Neale, ii. 132. 2 Statuta Feci. Scoticanai, Pref. p. xlvi. 3 Ayliffe's Calendar of Ancient Charters, p. lviii. THE STONE OF SCONE. 77 the other articles of the treaty were fulfilled. Even ' the Black Rood,' the sacred cross of Holy Rood, which Edward I. had carried off with the other relics, ,, , ' Its reteu- was restored. But ' the Stone of Scone, on lkm- which the Kings of Scotland used at Scone to be placed on their inauguration, the peorle of London would by no means whatever allow to depart a. u. 1383. from themselves.'1 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 Royal Stone should be delivered out of England, and he should, after his English coro nation, be crowned upon it at Scone.2 But these arrangements were never completed. In the Abbey, in spite of treaties and negotiations, it remained, and still remains. The affection 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 present it, as a trophy of his conquest, to the Confessor's Shrine. On it the priest was to 1 T l i r, ^S USe' sit when celebrating mass at the altar of St. Edward. The Chair, doubtless, standing 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 episco pal throne. The Abbey thus acquired the one feature needed to make it equal to a cathedral — a sacred Chair or Cathedra. 1 Chronicle of Lanercost, p. 261 ; Maitland, p. 146. 2 Rymer's Fcedera. "• 426. 78 THE CORONATIONS. In this chair and on this stone every English sov ereign from Edward I. to Queen Victoria has been inaugurated. In this chair Richard II. sits, in the con temporary portrait still preserved in the Abbey. The ' Regale Scotise ' is expressly named in the coronation of Henry IV.,1 and ' King Edward's Chair ' in the coro nation of Mary.2 Camden calls it ' the Royal 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 Eng land, ' the antique regal chair of enthronisation did confessedly receive, with the person of his Majesty, the full accomplishment also of that prophetical pre diction of his coming to the crown, which antiquity The pre- hath recorded to have been inscribed thereon.' 4 diction. jj. was one 0f 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 con tained it ; but the fact that it was circulated and believed as early as the fourteenth century 6 is certain, ¦ — ¦ 1 Annates Ilenrici Quarti (St. Alban's Chronicles. Riley, A. d. 1399), p. 294. 2 Planche, p. 16. 3 Shakspeare's Henry VI. Part ii. Act i. Sc. ii. 4 Speed, p. 885. 5 Boethius, Hist. Scot. (Par. 1575), f. 2, § 30. B See Appendix. Fordun, 1. i. c. xxviii. Some inscription was upon it in the sixteenth century. (Rye's Visits of Foreigners, p. 132.) THE STONE OF SCONE. 79 Ki fallat fatum, Scoti, quocunquc locatum Invenient lapidem, rcgnare tencntur 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 impor tance attached to it by the rulers and the people of England. When Cromwell was installed as Lord Pro tector in Westminster Hall, he was placed ' in the Chair of Scotland,' brought out of Westminster Abbey for that singular and special occasion.1 It has continued, probably, the chief object of attrac tion to the innumerable visitors of the Abbey. It interest ' We were then,' says Addison,2 'conveyed to Tne.Spec_ the two coronation chairs, when my friend, Ultor' 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 Roger a little ruffled on being thus tre panned ; but, our guide not insisting upon his demand, the knight soon recovered his good humour, and whis pered 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 medieval throne ; the old- fashioned Tory of the seventeenth century, filled with an unconscious reverence for the past ; the hard-visaged 1 Forster's Life of Cromwell, v. 421. 2 Spectator, No. 329, 80 THE CORONATIONS OF eighteenth century, in the person of the guide, to whom stone and throne and ancient knight were alike indiffer ent ; the philosophic poet, standing by, with an eye to see and an ear to catch the sentiment and the humcur of the whole scene. In the next generation, the harsh indifference ha.d passed from the rude guide into the mouth of the most polished writer of the time. * Look ye there, gentlemen,' said the attendant to Goldsmith, pointing to an old oak chair ; ' there 's a Goldsmith. . . . . ' „ . „ curiosity for ye ! In that chair the Kings 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.' x But, in spite of Goldsmith's sneer, the popular interest lias 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 reck less 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, 1 Citizen of the World (Letter xiii). 2 'Peter Abbott slept in this chair July 5, 1800.' It is part of the same adventure in which the said Peter Abbott engaged for a wager, by hiding in the tombs, that he would write his name at night on Pur- cell's monument (Malcolm's London, p. 191); where, however, it does not appear. 3 A base foul stone, made precious by the foil Of England's Chair — (Shakspeare's Richard III. Act. v. Sc. iii.) THE PLANTAGENETS. 81 heathen times, which, like Araunah's rocky threshing- floor in the midst of the Temple of Solomon, carries back our thoughts to races and customs now almost extinct ; a link which unites the Throne of England to the traditions of Tara and Iona, and connects the charm of our complex civilisation with the forces of our mother earth, — the stocks 1 and stones of savage nature. 10. The first' English King who sat on this august seat in the Abbey was the unworthy Edward _ J J Coronation II.2 He and Isabella his wife were crowned ?fEl'w:lrd 11., Feb. together by Woodlock, Bishop of Winchester, ^^'j™™ one of a commission of three, named according VJ0S- to Lanfranc's arrangement, by Winchelsea, Archbishop of Canterbury,3 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.,4 against whom Woodlock had conspired.5 The like unfeeling insolence was shown in the fact that the most conspic uous 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.6 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.7 1 So the venerable 'Stone of Fevers,' evidently an old Druidical relic, at the entrance of the Cathedral of Le Puy, in Auvergne; so the 'golden stone' of Clogher, long preserved in the Cathedral of Clogher. (Todd's St. Patrick, 129.) 2 His is the first Coronation Roll. (Eymer, p. 33 ; Pauli, ii. 205.) 3 Taylor, p. 390. 4 See Chapter III. 5 Hook, iii. 438. 6 Coronation Roll of Edward II., m. 3d (Rymer, p 33). Close Roll of 1 Edward II., m. lOd (Rymer, p. 36). " ' Neale, i. 71. vol. i. — 6 82 THE CORONATIONS OF 11. Edward Ill's accession, taking place not after the death but the deposition of his father, was marked by coronation a solemn election. In a General Assembly of Edward ^ in. convened in the Abbey, January 20, 1327, Archbishop Reynolds preached on the dubious text, Vox populi vox Dei} The Prince would not accept tho Fell , 2 election till it had been confirmed by his 1:i27- father, and then within ten days was crowned. Isabella his mother, ' the shewolf of France,' affected to weep through the whole ceremony. The medal rep- Tne sword resented the childish modesty of the Prince : and Shield , . , -in of state. a sceptre on a heap of hearts, with the motto, coronation Populi dcit jura voluntas ; and a hand stretched of Philippa. -1 J Feb. 2, 1328. out to save a falling crown, Non rapit sal acciyit? The sword of state and shield of state, still kept in the Abbey, were then first carried before the sovereign.4 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 coronation the utmost detail. The ' Liber Regalis] which n , jui'y i6, prescribed its order and has been the basis of 1377. all subsequent ceremonials, has been in the The ' Liber i-r-\ Regaiis.' custody of the Abbots and Deans of West minster 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.5 Archbishop 1 Chron. Lanerc. 258. 2 Close Roll of 1 Edward HI., m. 24rf (Rymer, p. 684). 3 Chapters, p. 156. I cannot find the authority for these state ments. 4 See the Ironmongers' Exhibition ,pp. 142, 144. See also Chapter III. 5 Walsingham, i. 331, 332. It is also well given in Ridgway, pp. 126-160; Gent. May. 1831 (part ii.), p. 113. THE PLANTAGENETS. 83 Sudbury officiated. Three historical peculiarities marla d the event. It is the first known instance of The I'm- a custom, which prevailed till the time of ihe'iwci-. Charles II. — the cavalcade from the Tower. The King remained there for a week, in order to indicate that he was master of the turbulent city ; and then rode bare headed, amidst every variety of pageant, through Cheapside, Fleet Street, and the Strand, to Tim r ' 'Knights of Westminster. He was accompanied by a uioii.aii.' body of knights, created for the occasion, who, after having been duly washed in a bath, assumed their knightly dresses, and escorted their young companion 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 Tll0 of the Abbey, and proceeded to clear the way tJual"i,iou- for the procession, when they were met by Sir John Dymoke, the Champion. 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 84 THE CORONATIONS OF they sate at the gates waiting' for the end of Mass. His motto, in allusion to his name, was Uimieo 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 wail 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 pro duced the Order of the Garter and the Round Table at Windsor. It lingered clown 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 ex travagant character of the youthful Prince. The golden eagle in the Palace Yard spouted wine. The expenses was so vast as to be made an excuse for trie im manse demands on Parliament afterwards. The Bishop of Rochester, in his coronation sermon, as ii with a pre science of Wat Tyler, uttered a warniurj against ex cessive taxation : 2 Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zep'nyr blows: In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm, Regardless 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. 1 Holinshed, p. 417; Walsingham, ii. 337. See also Archceologia, xx. 207 ; Maskell, iii. p. xxxiii. 2 Turner's Middle Ages, ii. 245. 8 Gray's Bard. — See the description of the King's portrait in THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 85 13. The breach in the direct line of the Plantagenets, which is marked by the interruption of their West minster tombs, is also indicated by the un- „ J Coronation usual precautious added at the coronation of olH™ryiv. Henry IV to supply the defects of his title. V^pl The election had been in Westminster Hall. :10, ia"9- The texts of the three inauguration sermons were all significant : ' Jacob ' (a supplanter indeed) ' received the blessing ; ' ' This man ' (in contrast to the unfortunate youth) ' shall rule over us ; ' ' We ' (the Parliament) ' must take care that our kingdom be quiet' l Wednesday, The day of his coronation was the great fes- iuoa»'' tival of the Abbey, October 13, the anniversary 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. r„, ° L •> Tlie Aln- In his coronation the use of the Scottish i"llln' stone3 is first expressly mentioned; and, yet more suspiciously, a vase of holy oil, corresponding to the ampulla of Reims, first makes its appearance. The Virgin Mary had given (so the report ran) a golden eagle filled with holy oil to St. Thomas of Canterbury, during his exile, with the promise that any Kings of England anointed with it would be merciful rulers Chapter III. Queen Anne was crowned in the Abbey by Archbishop Courtenay, 1382. (Sandford, p. 193.) 1 Knyghton, cc. 2745, 2756. (Richard II. par M. Wallon, ii. 307- 312.) 2 Arch. xx. 206. 3 Annales Ric. II. et Hen. IV., S. Albans Chronicles (Riley), pp. 294, 297. 86 THE CORONATIONS OF 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, Arch bishop of Canterbury, to anoint him with it. The Archbishop refused, on the ground that the regal unction, being of the nature of a sacrament, 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 Ravenspur.3 The pall over his head was carried by the four Dukes of York, Surrey, Aurnale, and Gloucester, more or less willingly, according to their politics.4 Both Archbishops Qneen joan, joined in the coronation of this orthodox Feb. 26, J nfK- ' Jacob.' 5 His wife Joan was crowned alone, three months after her marriage.6 14. The coronation of Henry V. is the only one represented in the structure of the Abbey itself. The coronation ceremony is sculptured on each side of his April »?" V" Chantry: and assuredly, if ever there was a Sunday, coronation which carried with it a trans forming virtue, it was his.7 The chief inci dent, however, connected with it at the time was the terrible thunderstorm, which was supposed to predict the conflagration of Norwich, Gloucester, and other 1 Maskell, iii. p. xvii. 5 Pauli, iii. 3. 2 Walsingham, ii. 240. ° Strickland, iii. 78. 3 Arch. xx. 206. 7 See Chapter V. 1 Ibid. 207. THE HOUSE OF YORK. 8? cities during the ensuing summer, the heavy snow1 and rain during the ensuing winter, and the wars 2 and tumults of the rest of his reign. His Queen, QUITn Catherine, was crowned when they returned Feb.' w,"e' from France.3 15. The coronation of Henry VI. was the first of a mere child. He was but nine years old, and CoTOliatinn sate on the platform in the Abbey, ' beholding vlHNov. s, all the people about sadly and wisely.' 4 It 1429, was on the 6th of November, corresponding, as was fancifully thought, to the 6th of December,5 his birth day, and to the perfection of the number 6 in the Sixth Henry. Perhaps, in consideration of his tender Dee. n, 1431. years, was omitted, at the request of the Pope, Margaret, •> ' L L ' April 30, the prayer that the King should have Peter's 1445- keys and Paul's doctrine.6 Then succeeded his corona tion at 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.7 It was to have been early in March 1461. It was Coronation then, in consequence of the siege of Carlisle, iV.Ejnned put off till the 2Sth of June,8 'the Sunday %,''im- after Midsummer,' — the day of one other and happier coronation, hereafter to be noticed. But it juneoM was again deferred till the 29th,9 in conse- 146L quence of the singular superstition which regarded the 1 Redman, p. 62. z Capgrave, p. 125. 3 For the feast see Holiushed, p. 579. 4 Taylor, p. 163. 6 Capgrave, p. 146 ; Hook, v. 78. 6 D'Israeli's Charles I, i. 276. 7 The story of his coronation at York is a mistake, founded on an other incident. (Holiushed, iii. 616.) 8 Hall, p. 257. 9 Speed, p. 853; Saudford, p. 404. 88 THE CORONATIONS OF 28th of any month to be a repetition of Childermas Day, always considered as unlucky.1 17. All was prepared for the coronation of Edward V. — wildfowl for the banquet, and dresses for the guests.2 But he, alone of our English sovereigns, passed June 22, " to his grave ' uncrowned, without sceptre or ball.'3 His connection with the Abbey is through his birth 4 and burial.5 18. As Henry IV. compensated for the defect of his title by the superior sanctity of his coronation, so the „ ,. like defect in that of Richard III. was sup- Coronation J- inHijuiyd(i Pue(i by lts superior magnificence. ' Never,' 14S3- it was said, ' had such an one been seen.' 6 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.'7 He then went to make his offer ings 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 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 ap pearance 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 — 1 See Pnston Letters, i. 230, 235. But, according to the White Book of the Cinque Ports (Sussex Arch. Coll., xv. 180), it was on the 28th. 2 Arch. i. 387. 3 Speed, p. 909. 4 See Chapter V. 5 See Chapter TIL <• Speed, p. 933; Hall; Grafton. 7 Strickland, iii. 375. Henry VII.'s Chapel (exterior). THE TUDORS. 89 the train of the Queen borne by Margaret of Richmond l — 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 same place ; nor Bourchier, Cardinal Archbishop, that he would be dragged out, coronation in his extreme old age,2 a third time to con- vn„cS. secrate 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 pre decessor.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 coro nation.'4 His true coronation he felt to have been when, on the field of Bosworth, the crown of Richard 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 enemy at our first field.' 6 Elizabeth Cnronn. of York, from the same feeling, was not Elizabeth crowned till two years afterwards.7 Two cere- Km"ti, monies, however, were noticed in this trim- 14b7' cated inauguration. Now first, in the archers needed 1 Hall, p. 376; Heralds' College (Excerpta Historice), p. 379. 2 Hook, v. 383. 3 Hall, p. 423. 4 Bacon, Henry Vfl., p. 26. 6 Button's Bosworth, p. 132. 6 Jesse's Richard III., p. 297. 7 Leland, iv. 224 ; Jesse, p. 299. 90 THE CORONATIONS OF to guard the King's dubious claims, appear the • Yeo men of the Guard.' 1 The Bishops of Durham The ' Teo- x , men of the and of Bath and Wells, who had both been Guard.' officers under the York dynasty, were super seded in their proper functions of supporters by the Bishops of Exeter and Ely.2 20. The splendour of the coronation of Henry VIII. and Catherine of Arragon was such as might have been coronation anticipated from their position and character. offHeury Then for the last time, in the person of War- sunday4,' ham, the sanction of the see of Rome was lent 1509- to the ministration of the Archbishop of Canterbury.3 During its rejoicings Margaret of Rich mond, the foundress of the Tudor dynasty, passed away to a more tranquil world.4 coronation One other female coronation took place in Boiey™ this reign, that of Anne Boleyn. It must be 1533. told at length : — It was resolved that such spots and blemishes as hung about the marriage should be forgotten in the splendour of the coronation. If there was scandal in the condition of the Queen, yet under another aspect that condition was matter of congratulation to a people so eager for an heir ; and Henry may have thought that the sight for the first time in public of so beautiful a creature, surrounded by the most magnificent pageant which London had witnessed since the unknown day on which the first stone of it was laid, and bearing in her bosom the long-hoped-for inheritor of the English crown, might induce a chivalrous nation to forget what it was the 1 Roberts' York and Lancaster, p. 472. 2 This appears from ' the Device for the Coronation of Henry VII (p. 12), published by the Camden Society (No. XXI. 1842). 3 Hall, p. 509. * See Chapter III. THE TUDORS. 91 interest of no loyal subject to remember longer, and to ofl'ei her au English welcome to the throne. In anticipation of the timely close of the proceedings at Dunstable, notice had been given in the city early in May, that preparations should be made for the coronation on the first of the following month. Queen Anne was at Greenwich, but, according to custom, the few preceding days were to be spent at the Tower; and on the 19th of May, she was con ducted thither in state by the Lord Mayor and the city com panies, with one of those splendid exhibitions upon the water which, in the days when the silver Thames deserved its name, and the sun could shine down upon it out of the blue summer sky, were spectacles scarcely rivalled in gorgeous- ness by the world-famous wedding of the Adriatic. On the morning of the 31st of May, the families of the Loudon citizens were stirring early in all houses. M, 31 From Temple Bar to the Tower, the streets were 1633- fresh-strewed with gravel, the foot paths were railed off along the whole distance, and occupied on one side by the guilds, their workmen and apprentices, on the other by the city con stables and officials in their gaudy uniforms, ' with then- staves iu hand for to cause the people to keep good room and order.' Cornhill and Gracechnrch Street had dressed their fronts in scarlet and crimson, in arras and tapestry, and the rich carpet-work from Persia and the. East. Cheapside, to outshine her rivals, was draped even more splendidly 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 arch way, 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 splen dour which in such a pageant must have drawn along the London streets — those streets which now we know so black 92 THE CORONATIONS OF 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 con stable, 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 beau tiful occasion of all this glittering homage — Fortune's play thing 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, perhaps, as she seemed at that hour, of all England's daughters. . . . Fatal gift of greatness ! so dangerous ever ! so more than dangerous in those tre mendous times when the fountains are broken loose of the great deeps of thought, and nations are in the throes of revo lution — when ancient order and law and tradition are split ting in the social earthquake ; and as the opposing forces wrestle to and fro, those unhappy 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 outward chaos should find its way, converting the poor silly soul into an image of the same confusion — if con science should be deposed from her high place, and the Pandora-box be broken loose of passions and sensualities and follies : and at length there be nothing left of all THE TUDORS. 93 which man or woman ought to value, save hope of Cod's forgiveness ! Three short years have yet to pass, and again, on a sum mer morning, Queen Anne Doleyn 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 er rand, from which she will 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 — fur all of us — and therefore fur her. . . . With such 'pretty conceils,' at that time the honest tokens of an English welcome, the new Queen was received by the citizens of London. The King was uut 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 slept. On the following Sumi;ly morning, between eight and nine o'clock, she re- Juii0 L- 1553' turned 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 car pets across Palace Yard and the Sanctuary to the Abbey gates; and when all was ready, preceded by the Peers iu their robes of Parliament, thj 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 Winchester 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 ¦¦ wreath of diamonds. 94 THE CORONATIONS OF 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 Crammer, 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 recollec tion, pierce at that moment the incense of glory which she was inhaling'? Did any vision Hit across her of a sad mourn ing figure, which once had stood where she was standing, now desolate, neglected, sinking into the darkening twilight of a life cut short by sorrow 1 Who can tell 1 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 experience 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-intoxicatLng present ; and if that plain suffering face pre sented 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 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 ? iFroude, i. 456-58. THE TUDORS. 95 3d Gent. That I did. ls( G'e?i(. How was it? 3d Gent. Well worth the seeing. 2rf 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.1 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.' 2 21. The design which had been conceived by the Second Henry, for securing the succession by the cor onation of his eldest son before his death, Coronation also, for like reasons, took possession of the vi^Fe'u'ao, mind of Henry VIII. The preparations l',',™^ for Edward VI.'s inauguration were in pro- 1WC' gress at the moment of his father's death : in fact, it took place within the next month. The incidents in the procession from the Tower here first assume a characteristic form.3 An Arragonese sailor capered on 1 Henry VIII, Act iv. sc. 1. 2 Henry VIII.'s State Papers (i. 460). 3 Holinshed ; Taylor, p. 285; Leland, iv. 321; Prynne's Signal Royalty, part ii. p. 250. 96 THE CORONATIONS OF 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 ves tiges 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.' x On his arrival at the Abbey, he found it, for the first time, transformed into ¦ a ' cathedral.' 2 He was met not by Abbot or Dean, but by the then Bishop of Westminster, 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 Rome, 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 nation, were not allowable.' Instead of the ancient form of election, the Archbishop presented the young Prince as 'rightful and undoubted inheritor.'3 The consent of the people was only asked to the cere mony of the coronation. The unction was performed with unusual care. ' My Lord of Canterbury 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 pre sented to the Sovereign,4 an act which may perhaps 1 Leland, iv. 324. - See Chapter VI, 3 Burnet, Coll. Rec, part ii. book i. No. 4. 4 Camden's Remains, 371. THE TUDORS. 97 have suggested to the young King the substitution, which he had all but effected,1 of the Bible for St. Georoe o in the insignia of the Order of the Garter. There was no sermon ; but the 2 short address of Cranmer, consid ering the punctiliousness with which the ceremony had been performed, and the importance of his position as the Father of the Reformed Church of England, is per haps the boldest and most pregnant utterance ever de livered in the Abbey. He warned the young Anhwshop King against confounding orthodoxy with address" s morality. He insisted on the supremacy of the royal authority over both the Bishops of Rome 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 admonitions 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 the sword, which is authorised ; of their persons, which are elected of God, and endued with the gifts of His Spirit, for the better ruling and guiding of His people. The oil, if added, is but a ceremony : if it be wanting, that king is yet a perfect monarch notwithstanding, and God's anointed, as well as if he was inoiled. Now for the person or bishop that doth anoint a king, it is proper to be done by the chief- est. But if they cannot, or will not, any bishop may perform this ceremony. — He described what God requires at the 1 Anstis's Order of the Garter, i. 438. For the story of the King's remark on the Bible, in ' Chapters ' (p. 174), I can find no authority. 2 Strype's Memorials of Cranmer, i. 204; Harleian MS. 2308. Its genuineness is contested in Hook's Lives of the Archbishops, ii. 232. vol. i — 7 98 THE CORONATIONS OF hands of kings and rulers — that is, religion and virtue. Therefore, not from the Bishop of Rome, but as a messenger from my Saviour Jesus Christ, I shall most humbly admon ish your Royal Majesty what things your Highness is to perform. He required the King, like Josiah, to see God truly worshipped, and idolatry de stroyed ; to reward virtue, to revenge sin, to justify the innocent, to relieve the 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 the Queen, by an especial clause, to maintain the independence of the English Church ; and she, on the other hand, was meditating how she could introduce an adjective sab silentio, and intended to swear only that she would observe the 'just' laws and constitu tions. But these grounds could not be avowed. The Queen was told that her passage through the streets would be unsafe until her accession had been sanctioned by Parliament, and the Act repealed by which she was illegiti- matised. With Paget's help she faced down these cessioVi™" objections, and declared that she would be crowned llij'80' ^ oncei sne appointed the 1st of October for the ceremony; on the 28th 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) THE TUDORS. 99 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 pur pose better than this outburst of natural emotion : the spec tacle 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 Westmin ster through the streets was safely accomplished. The retin ues of the Lords protected 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 V I.'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 three chief prelates, the Arch- Tlie Cnro_ bishops of Canterbury and York, and the j^*'"'^ Bishop of London, were prisoners in the 1553- Tower. Gardiner, therefore, as Bishop of Winchester, officiated, ' without any express right or precedent,' as Archbishop Parker afterwards indignantly wrote.3 The 1 Taylor, p. 287 ; Holinshed. s De Ant. Brit. p. 509. - Froude, vi. 100, 101. 100 THE CORONATIONS OF sermon was by Bishop Day, who had preached at her brother's funeral.1 She had been alarmed lest Henry IV.'s holy oil should have lost its efficacy through the interdict; and, accordingly, 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 Winches ter.2 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.' 3 23. That time soon arrived. The coronation of Elizabeth, like that of her sister, had its own special Elizabeth, characteristics. The day (January 15) was fixed in deference to her astrologer, Dee, who pro nounced it a day of good luck ; and it was long observed as an anniversary in the Abbey.4 The procession was on the day before. The Pro- As she passed out to her carriage under the gates Jan. u\ of the Tower, fraught to her with such stern re membrances, 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 1 Burnet, Hist. Ref ii. 251. 2 Planchc, p. 60. — A reasonable doubt is expressed (in Gent. Mag. 1838, p. 612) whether the Winchester chair is not that which served for her marriage. 8 Fronde, vi. 102. ' 4 See Chapter VI. THE TUDORS. 101 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 rag ing 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 Reformation, whom the lurid fires of Smithlield 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 of the crowd, recollect ing who first gave the Bible to England, exclaimed, ' Remem ber old King Harry the Eighth ! ' and a gleam of light passed over Elizabeth's face — 'a natural 'child,' says Holiushed, ' 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 cloth still hold of so worthy memory, so in her doings she will resemble the same.' 1 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 1 Froude, vii, 38, 39. 102 THE CORONATIONS OF 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 wit nessed the passage of her mother.1 At the ceremony in the Abbey, on the following day, the Coronation Mass was celebrated, and the Abbot of The coro- Westminster took his part in the service for Sunday, the last time. Thus far Elizabeth's con- Jan, 15, 105a. formity to the ancient Ritual was 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.2 The see of Canter bury was vacant. The Archbishop of York demurred 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 Royal, consented to act for him, but, it was believed, afterwards died of remorse.3 ' The oil was grease, and smelt ill.' Still the ceremony was completed, and she was elected and ' proclaimed ' by the singular but ex- 1 Aikin's Elizabeth, i. 251. 2 Ibid. i. 252 ; Nichols' Progresses, i. 30 ; Taylor, p. 287. Machyn (Jan. 15, 1559) speaks of the Bishops, mitred and in scarlet, singing Salve fasta dies. But this must be a mistake. 3 Burnet, ii. pt. i. p. 685. THE STUARTS. 103 pressive title — 'Empress from the Orcade Isles unto the Mountains Pyrenee.' : 24. The day of the coronation of James I. — first king of ' Great Britain ' — was chosen from his name sake the Apostle. The procession from the coronation Tower was abandoned, in consequence of the plague ; though Ben Jonson, who had been st. James's .-,,,. , Dav, July employed by the city to prepare the pageants, 20, icoa. published his account of what 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 coronation celebrated by the Anglican Reformed Church. Andrews was Dean ; Whitgift "was Archbishop. Bilson preached the ser mon.4 When James sat on the Stone of Scone,5 the first King of Great Britain, the Scots believed the ancient prediction to have been at last fulfilled. 1 he only drawback in the ceremonial was the refusal of Anne to take the sacrament : ' she had changed her Lutheran religion once before,' for the Presbyterian forms of Scotland, and that was enough.6 Several significant changes were made in the Ritual, indicative of the grasping tendency of the Stuart kings, which afterwards were attributed to Laud, on the erron eous supposition that he had made the change for 1 Planche', p. 47 ; Strickland, vi. 165, 167. 2 Aikin's James I., p. 151. They took place some months later, (Gent. Mag. 1838, p. 189.) 3 Nichols' Progresses, i. 377 ; Birch, State Papers, ii. 504 ; Strickland, v. 105. 4 On Rom. xiii. 1. 6 Speed, p. 888. See Appendix. 6 Chapters, p. 103. The real reason probably was her secret adher ence to the Church of Rome. Milman's Essays, p. 230. Cnrnnation of Cliailes I 104 THE CORONATIONS OF Charles I. For the word ' elect! was substituted ' con secrate;' and for 'the commons', 'the commonalty of your kingdom! 1 And to the ' laws 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 in the time of his father, there was no procession, nominally because of the plague ; 2 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 Parliament for supplies. Sir Robert Cotton was waiting at the stairs leading to h is Feast of the house, in the neighbourhood of the Palace, to Purincation, present, him with the ancient Gospels, ' on which 1G2.J-0. £or ,jivers 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.'3 There was a feud raging within the Chapter of Westminster — an echo of the larger struggles with out — 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, 1 Lawson's Life of Land, i. 297-305. 2 'Though the infectious air of London had lately been corrected with a sharp winter, yet . . a suspicion of danger did remain.' (Fuller's Church Hist. a.d. 1626.) 3 Ellis's Collection of Original Letters, i. 214; Gent. Mag. 1838, voL ix. p. 473. THE STUARTS. 105 took the place of his hated superior.1 The coronations of the Tudor sovereigns have been according2 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.3 The clergy were especially named as coming '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 intro duction of the prayer (omitted since the time of Henry VI.) that the King might have ' Peter's keys and Paul's doctrine.' i The words ' to the people ' were said to have been left out in the oath.5 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 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 1 It was left to Williams's choice to name a prebendary. He could not pass over Laud (as Bishop of St. David's), and he would not nomi nate him. He therefore presented a complete list, and left to the King to choose. (Fuller's Church Hist. a. d. 1626.) See Chapter VI. 2 Heylin's Laud, p. 135. 3 State Papers, Feb. 2, 1625-26. See p. 46. 4 Heylin's Laud, p. 136. 5 Oldmixon, i. 82. 106 THE CORONATIONS OF predicted in ancient days for the ' White King.' x ' 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 goldsmith, 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, in 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 Maj esty 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 com ing ' 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 be stowed, because on the last. But, if hereafter Divine Providence shall assign England another King, though 1 Oldmixon, i. 82 ; Palgrave's Normandy, iii. 880 ; Heylin's Laud, p. 138. 2 Fuller's Church Hist. a.d. 1626. 3 Baxter's Life, p. 2. THE STUARTS. 107 the transactions herein be not wholly precedented, something of state may be chosen out grateful for imitation.' x 26. At the time when Fuller wrote these words, it did indeed seem as if Charles I.'s coronation would be the last. All its disastrous omens had been verified, and a new dynasty seemed firmly established on the throne of this realm. The Regalia were gone.2 Yet even then there was a semblance preserved of the ancient Ritual. Not in the Abbey, but «mi!™-lon in the adjacent Hall, his Highness Oliver .i™"' "», ' Cromwell 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 I., Oliver was solemnly enthroned. The Bible was presented as in the time of Edward VI. : ' a book of books,' which ' doth contain both precepts and examples for good government ; ' ' the book of life, which, in the Old Testa ment, shows Christum velatum ; in the New, Christum revelation.' 3 27. The coronation of Charles II.4 was celebrated with all the splendour which the enthusiasm of the 1 Fuller's Church Hist. a.d. 1626. — Charles I. was crowned King of Scotland at Edinburgh, by Spottiswood, Archbishop of St. Andrews. (See Ellis's Letters, iii. 283 ; DTsraeli's Charles I, i. 276.) 2 See Chapters V. and VI. 8 Forster's Statesmen of the Commonwealth, v. 421, 423. 4 He had already been crowned King of Scotland, in the parish church of Scone, on January 1, 1651. The sermon was preached by the Moderator of the General Assembly. The text was 2 Kings xi. 12-17. After the sermon the King swore, with his usual facility, to carry out the Solemn League and Covenant. The crown was placed on his head by the Marquis of Argyle, who was executed after the Restoration. 108 THE CORONATIONS OF Restoration could provide. It is the first of which an coronation elaborate pictorial representation remains.1 of Charles „ - __ . , n. ' The ceremony of the King s coronation was done with the greatest solemnity and glory,' says Clar endon, ' 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 privi leges and precedency,' in order ' to discredit and dis countenance the novelties with which the Kingdom had been so much intoxicated for so many years to gether.' 2 The Proees- The procession from the Tower was revived. 22, l'eoi. 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 clay, 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 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. . . . 1 Ogilvy's Coronation of King Charles II, where every triumphal arch is described. 2 Clarendon's Life, April 23, 1661. THE STUARTS. 109 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 patience I sate from past four The Cimi_ to eleven. And a great pleasure it was to see the J"'!™^, Abbey raised in the middle all covered with red, 1U01- 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 Pre bendaries of Westminster.1 The ceremonial we need not follow, except in a few characteristic particulars. The Regalia 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 per formed by Sheldon, as Bishop of London.3 Several un toward incidents marred the solemnity. The Duke of York prevailed on the King, ' who had not high rever ence for old customs,' that Lord Jermyn should act the part of his Master of the Horse, as the Duke of Albe marle 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 1 Pepys's Diari/, April 22 and 23, 1661. The King rode, not to West minster, but to Whitehall. The banquet, however, was at Westmin ster. (Ogilvy, p. 177.) 2 Evelyn, April 23, 1661 ; Ogilvy, p. 177. 3 The sermon was preached before, on Prov. xxviii. 2, by Morley, Bishop of Worcester ; according to Pepys, on the day before, in Henry VII.'s Chapel, according to Evelyn, at the usual time of the service. 110 THE CORONATIONS OF 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.' J The King's footmen and the Barons of the Cinque Ports had a des perate 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.'2 28. As in the case of Charles II, so of James II., coronation an elaborate description of the pageant is Aprii"^11'' preserved.3 He was crowned, as his brother 1,i85- had been, on the 23rd of April, tlie 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 mag nificent inauguration of the late King. Yet those who re membered 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 he proposed to ex pend in covering his wife with trinkets. He accordingly determined to be profuse where he ought to have been frugal, and niggardly where he 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 this course is obvious. If pageantry 1 Clarendon's Life, ibid. 2 Pepys, April 23, 1661. —There was no coronation for the Queen- Consort in 1662. 3 Sandford's History of the Coronation of James II. THE STUARTS. Ill be of any use in politics, it is of use as a means of striking the imagination of the multitude. It is surely the 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 have shown a more judicious munificence and a more judicious parsimony, if he had traversed London from east to west with the accustomed pomp, and had ordered the robes of bis wife to be somewhat less thickly set with pearls and diamonds. His example was, however, long followed by his successors ; and sums which, well employed, would have afforded exquisite gratification to a large part of the nation, were squandered on an exhibition to which only three or four thousand privileged persons were admitted. James had ordered Sancroft to abridge the Ritual. The reason publicly assigned was that the day was too short for all that was to be done. But whoever examines the changes which were made will see that the real object was to remove some things highly offensive to the religious feelings of a zealous Roman Catholic. The Communion Service was not read.1 . . . Francis Turner, Bishop of Ely, preached. He was one of those writers who still affected the obsolete style of Arch bishop 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 con strued 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 1 The Coronation Oath is said to have been altered. (Oldmixon, ii. 695.) The ceremony of the presentation of the Bible was not yet a fixed part of the Ritual. 112 THE CORONATIONS OF very timidly alluded to the new and embarrassing position in which the Church stood with reference to the sovereign, and reminded bis 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 Robes, 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 it might be the last, were William and <=> o Mary. doubtless felt by many a spectator of the events which succeeded the coronation 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 te- nacity of ancient forms which distinguished the Revo lution of 1688, the rite of Coronation, so far from being „ ,. P set aside, was now first sanctioned by Act of Sanction of ' J !iation°hy" Parliament.3 It owed this recognition, doubt- Pariiament. iess^ j.Q {.jie Coronation Oath, which had always been treated as the safeguard of the liberties of the 1 Macaulay, i. 473, 474. 2 Oldmixon, i. 195 ; North, ii. 126. Three relics of James II.'s cor onation remain : — 1. The music, then first used, of Purcell and Blow. (Planche', p. 52.) 2. The tapestry, preserved in Westminster School and in the Jerusalem Chamber, of which two of the pieces, those of the Circumcision of Isaac and of Goliath, can he identified in Sand- ford's engravings. 3. The attendance of the Westminster Scholars. (Sandford, 83.) 3 1 William and Mary, c. 14." THE STUARTS. 113 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 Protestant religion as established by law.' x ' 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 the 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 Whitehall. It was delayed more TheP,.0. than two hours (from 11 A.M. to 1.30 P.M.), tcssi0"- 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 been seen before. The short King The coro- and tall Queen walked side by side, not as Saturday, king and consort, but as joint sovereigns, with iosu. the sword between them. For the first time a second chair of state was provided, which has since been ha bitually 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 1 For the whole question of the alteration of the Coronation Oath, see Macaulay, iii. 114-117. 2 The Declaration against Transubstantiation, required from the sovereign by the Bill of Rights (1 W. and M. c, 2, § 2), was made in the Abbey, down to the coronation of George IV. Since that time it has (in pursuance with the provisions of the same Act) been read previ ously before the two Houses of Parliament. 3 Clarke's James II., ii. 328, 329; Dalrymple's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 15; Lam berry, quoted in Strickland, xi. 21. James II. landed at Kinsale on March 12. vol. i. — 8 114 THE CORONATIONS OF 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.' : Behind the altar rose, for the first time, above the Con fessor'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 Regency. Amongst the gifts was (revived from the coronation of Edward VI. and the installation of Crom well) the presentation, continued from this time hence forward, of the Bible as ' the most valuable thing that this world affords.'2 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. Asaph, eminent among the seven confessors of the preceding year. On the other side Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, 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 8] with all his wonted ability, and more than his wonted taste and judgment. His grave and eloquent dis course 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 im plored 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, 1 Oldmixon's Hist, of England ; William and Mary, p. 8. 2 Maskell, iii. p. cxix. Coronation Service of William and Mary. 3 Narcissus Luttrell's Diary, i. 521. 2 Sam. xxiii. 3, 4 : ' He that ruleth over man must be just, ruling in the fear of God. And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear ihining after rain.' THE STUARTS. 115 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.1 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.2 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.3 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 fiung it on the ground,' says a spectator ; ' but as the light in Westminster Hall had utterly failed, no person could distinguish what was done.'4 30. The coronation of Anne, the last Stuart sov ereign, had been fixed long before to be, as that of her father and uncle, on St. George's Day ; and so Coi,onaMon it took place, though William had been buried aV^im', but ten days before. The Queen was carried, 1'02, owing to her gout, from St. James's to the Abbey.5 The duties of Lord Great Chamberlain were performed by Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. Her train was carried by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Archbishop Tenison 1 Macaulay, iii. 188, 199. 4 Lamberty in Strickland, xi. 2 Lamberty in Strickland, xii. 24. 27. 3 Macaulay, iii. 120. 6 Taylor, p. 111. 116 THE CORONATIONS OF 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' — doubt less 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 repre sented 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. 31. George I.'s coronation was an awkward recon ciliation between the two contending factions and nations. The ceremonies had to be explained Coronation r oct*"^' l' by the ministers, who could not speak German, m4- to the King, who could not speak English, in Latin, which they must both have spoken very im perfectly. Hence the saying, that much ' bad language' passed between them.4 Bolingbroke and Oxford en deavoured 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 cel ebrated at Oxford by Jacobite degrees, and at Bristol by Jacobite riots.6 1 It is said that she had negotiated for Ken to crown her (Strick land, xii. 48). But this would hardly have been done without expelling Tenison. 2 Ibid. 3 Taylor, p. 105. 4 Chapters, p. 188. 5 Oldmixon, ii. 578. • Stanhope's England, vol. i. 167. The additional securities for THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 117 In this reign a permanent change was effected in one of the accompaniments of the coronation, — namely, the new arrangement 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 Tower. ](?r These knights being made in time of peace, "l't||':B;it'h. 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 knighthood, as an emblem of the cleanliness and purity of their future profession, they were called Knights of 'the Bath.'1 The King himself bathed on the occasion with them. They were com pletely 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 Reformation) 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 1 1., in the Painted Chamber.'4 The badge the Church of England were now added to the Coronation Oath in consequence of those granted to the Church of Scotland in the Act of the Union. 1 The most remarkable ' hath ' ever taken by a knight, for this pur pose, was that of the Tribune Ilienzi in the porphyry font of Constan- tine, in the Baptistry of St. John Lateran. The words ' dub a knight' are said to be taken from the dip, 'doob,' in the bath. 2 Nichols's History of the Orders, iii. 341. 3 Brayley's Westminster, p. 97. 4 Diary, April 19, 1661. 118 THE CORONATIONS OF which they wore was emblematic of the saciedness of their Order — three garlands twisted together in hon our 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 I., who, by a no less audacious secularisation, left out numina, in order to leave the interpretation open for ' the junction in one ' of the three kingdoms (tria regno.) of England, Scotland, and Ireland.1 The Shamrock was added to the Rose and Thistle after the Union with Ireland, 1802.2 It occurred to Sir Robert Walpole to reconstruct the Order, by the limitation of its members to persons of merit, and by the title, thus fitlv earned, of 1725. J ' J ' '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 Marlborough, for her grandson. 'No,' she said, 'nothing but the Garter.' 'Madam,' said Walpole, 'they who take the Bath will the sooner have the Garter.' 3 The first knight created under the new statutes was William 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 1 Nichols, pp. 37, 38, 46. 2 Ibid. pp. 192, 194. * Ibid. p. 39. Quoth King Robin, * Our Ribbons, I see, are too few — Of St Andrew's the Green, and St. George's the Blue; I must find out another of colour more gay, That will teach all my subjects with pride to obey.' (Swift's Works, xii. 369.) INSTALLATION OF THE KNIGHTS OF THE BATH IX 1812, IX HF.NUY VII.'S CHAPEL. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 119 the altar ; and the other knights were duly bathed in the Prince's Chamber, and kept their vigil in Henry VII.'s Chapel, where also the installation took InstnIlations place, as has been the case ever since. The °l,^lu ot number of knights (36) was fixed to corre- theBath- spond with the number of the stalls in the Chapel. Every 20th of October — the anniversary of George I. s coronation — a procession of the knights was to take place to the Chapel, with a solemn service.1 On occa sion 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 function ary was the Great Master, an office first filled by Mon tagu, 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 recurrence of such a precedence — no Great Master has been ap pointed, 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 circumstance that the statutes were 1 Nichols, pp. 47, 52. 2 The whole scene is represented in a picture, painted by Canaletti for Bishop Wilcocks, in 1747, now in the Deanery. (See Chapter VI.) From this picture it would appear that on that occasion the procession came out by the west door. In 1803 (see Gent. Mag., Ixxiii. pt. 1, p. 460), it entered and retired by Poets' Corner; and the cook accord- in civ stood, not (as in 1747) at the west entrance, but at the South Transept door. ' Each of the knights bowed to him, and touched their hats. Some of them asked whether there were any fees to pay; to which he answered, he would do himself the honour to call upon them. We understand that be receives four guineas for this extraor dinary speech.' 3 Nichols, p. 82. 120 THE CORONATIONS OF 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 ceremony was to take place. It was his duty to receive the swords of the knights, lay them on the altar (erected for the purpose), 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 18.30 the Order underwent so ex tensive 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 Dundon aid's banner was, after the Lord on n- charges of fraud brought against him in 1814, donald's . „ . -, ,. ... banner. taken from its place, and ignomimously kicked down the steps of the Chapel. After many vicissitudes, it was restored to the family upon his death; and in 1SG0, 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. Under neath the vacant place of the shield an unknown 1 Gent. A fat/, ut supra. — In 1803 the Queen and Princesses sat in the Dean's Gallery, at the south-west corner of the Nave, and were afterwards entertained in the Deanery. The knights, in their passase round the Nave, baited and made obeisance to them, the trumpets sounding the whole time of the procession. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 121 admirer has rudely carved, in Spanish, 'Cochrane — • Chili y Liber tad viva ! ' 32. We return to the ordinary routine of coronation ^ ot George the royal inaugurations. J1-. 0ct- n- •> ° 1727. The coronation of George II.1 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 accu mulated riches of the city and suburbs could make it ; for besides her own jewels (which were a great number, and very valuable), she had on her head 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 ap pearance of her finery was a mixture of magnificence and meanness, not unlike the eclat of royalty in many other par ticulars when it comes to be really examined, and the sources traced to what money hires or flattery lends.2 33. ' The coronation of George III.3 is over,' says Horace Walpole, — 'Tis even a more gorgeous sight than I imagined. I saw the procession and the Hall ; but the return was in the dark. 1 For a quarrel with the Dean on this occasion, see Chapter Book, November 4, 1727. The ' Veni Creator' was omitted by mistake. (Lambeth Coronation Service.) Bishop Potter preached the sermon, on 2 Chron. ix. 8. (Calamy's Life, ii. 501.) 2 Lord Hervey, i. 88, 89. — This was caused by the loss of Queen Anne's jewels. 3 It is noted, that whereas few gave half-a-guinea for places to see George II.'s coronation, and for an apartment forty guineas, in the time of George III. front seats along the line of procession cost ten guineas, and a similar apartment three hundred and fifty. ( Gent. Mag., 1821, pt. ii. p. 77. Walpole 's Letters, iii. 445.) 122 THE CORONATIONS OF In the morning they had forgot the sword of state, the chairs for King and Queen, and their canopies. They used the Lord Mayor's for the first, and made the last in the Coronation or Hall : so they did not set forth till noon ; and George III., ' Tr. Sept. 22, then, by a childish compliment to the King, re served 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 lastV '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 prepos terous. . . 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 richness 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 Effingham's promise fulfilled. The King com plained that so few precedents were kept for their proceed ings. Lord Effingham owned, the Earl Marshal's office had heen strangely neglected ; but he bad 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 Roxana, was the finest figure at a distance ; she complained to George Selwyn that she was to walk with Lady Ports mouth, who would have a wig, and a stick. ' Pho,' said he, THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 123 'you will only look as if you were taken up by the con stable.' 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 Richmond as pretty as nature and dress, with no pains of 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, tlie middle age bad some good representatives in Lady Hol- derness, Lady Rocbford, 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 Hert ford'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 excel lent 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 yel low. The coronets of the peers and their robes disguised them strangely ; it required all the beauty of the Dukes of Richmond and Marlborough to make them noticed. One there Avas, 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 ad mired 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 124 THE CORONATIONS OF 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 demeles, 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 Requests. Sir William Stan hope 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 impos sible ; 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 — none of your half measures.'1 He had not much more dignity than the figure of General Monk in the Abbey. . . . Well, it was all delightful, but net half so charming as its being over. i The English representatives of the Dukes of Aqui- taine and Normandy appeared for the last time,2 and with them the last relics of our dominion over France 1 Walpole's Letters, iii. 437, 438, 440-445. The most ' diverting incident' of the day is told in iii. 440. See also the account by Bonnell Thornton in Chapters, pp. 185-192; and Gent. Mag. (1761), pp. 414- 416. The Champion rode the white charger that carried George II. on the battlefield of Dettiugen. (Ann. Reg. 1861, p. 232.) 2 Gent. RFag., 1761, p. 419. — They ranked before the Archbishop of Canterbury. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 125 vanished.1 Another incident, interpreted in a more ominous manner, was the fall of the largest jewel from the crown, which was afterwards believed to have fore told the loss of America.- When Pitt rcsign'd, a nation's tears will own, Then fell the brightest jewel of the crown. Archbishop Seeker, who officiated, had baptized, con firmed, 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-witness 3), ' not even Dooth 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 Communion, he inquired of the Archbishop whether he should not lay aside his crown The Archbishop asked the Dean of Westminster (Zachary Pearce) but neither knew, nor could say, what was the usual form.4 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.5 It is not clearly known what George IV. and William IV. did ; 6 but in the coronation of Queen Victoria, the. Rubric ran, and doubtless henceforth will run, ' The Queen, taking off her crown, kneels down.' But the most interesting peculiarity of George II I.'s 1 The claims of the Dean and Chapter of Westminster were made in Old French and English. (Chapter Book, July 31, 1761.) 2 Hughes's England, xiv. 49 ; Anecdotes of Chatham, iii. 383. 3 Life of Bishop Newton (by himself), i. S4. He was Prebendary of Westminster at the time. 4 Maskell, iii. pp. Ii. and liii. 6 Hughes, xiv. 49. b The crown was worn at tbif, part of the service by Henry VI. and Henry VIII., but was not worn by Charles II. (Maskell, iii. p. liii) 126 THE CORONATIONS OF coronation was the unseen attendance of the rival to the throne — Prince Charles Edward.1 ' I asked my Appearance -L01"^ Marshal,' says David Hume, ' the reason envies00 0I tnls strange fact. "Ay," says he, "a gen- Edward, tleman told me so who saw him there, and whispered in his ear, ' Your Royal 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.' ""* 34. The splendour of the coronation of George IV. has been described by Sir Walter Scott3 too fully to corona- need repetition. Many smaller incidents still George iv , survive in the recollection of those who were July 19, is2i. present. The heat of the day and the fatigue of the ceremony almost exhausted the somewhat portly Prince, who was found cooling himself, stripped of all 1 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 Champion then appeared, proba bly 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. 114.) 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 corona tion oath was altered to meet the new phraseology introduced by the union with the Church of Ireland, destined to be again altered by the recent Act for dissolving it. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 127 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 satis faction, 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.1 But the most remarkable feature of the day was that it furnished the materials for what was, in fact, a polit ical battle between the King and his Queen, almost between the King and his people. ' Everyone went in the morning with very uncomfortable feelings and dread.'2 On the one side the magnificence 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 creditable to the judgment of the English people, pro duced a complete reaction in favour of the successful husband against the unsuccessful wife.3 The Queen, after vainly appealing to the Privy Council, to the 1 I owe these incidents to various eyewitnesses, chiefly to Mr. Chris topher Hodgson, then acting as secretary to Archbishop Sutton. 2 Life of Lord El don, ii. 428. 3 In Seeker's copy of the service of George Ill's coronation, used as the basis of that of George IV., the orders for the Queen's appearance were significantly erased throughout. 128 THE CORONATIONS OF Prime Minister, and to the Earl Marshal, rashly deter- Attemiited mined to be present. At 6 o'clock on the Qu™rBOf morning of the day, she drove from South Caroline. Audley Street t0 Dean's Yard.1 Within the Precincts at that hour there were as yet but a few of the Abbey officials on the alert. One of 'them2 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, belong ing 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 pro cession. It was observed by those who watched her closely that her under lip quivered incessantly, the only mark of agitation. She thus reached 3 the regular approach by Poets' Corner. Sir Robert 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 is my 1 Gent. Mag., 1824, pt. ii. p. 73; Ann. Register, 1831, p. 347. 2 From this young official, for many yenrs the respected organist of the Abbey, I derive this part of the narrative. 3 This is taken from Mr. Almack, who was on the platform, and followed her. THE HOUSE OF HANOVER, 129 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 answered, in the same words, ' it is my duty to announce to you that there is no place pro vided 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-entered3 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 follow ing day she wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury (Maimers-Sutton), 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 addi tional 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 1 I have given this account as I heard it from Sir R. Inglis. A longer narrative of the dialogue between Lord Hood and the door keepers is given in the Gent. Mag., 1821, pt. i. p. 74. 2 Or with mingled cries of ' The Queen I — the Queen I ' or ' Shame ! shame!' (Ibid. p. 37.) 8 Life of Lord Eldon, ii. 428. 4 Gent. Mag., 1821, pt. ii. p. 75. 6 It is recorded that the town boys of Westminster School first ac quired at George IV.'s Coronation the privilege of attending, which had been before confined to the scholars. vol. i. — 9 130 CORONATION OF QUEEN VICTORIA. 35. As George IV. had conciliated the popular favour by the splendour of his coronation, so, in the impending tempests of the Reform agitation, William IV. Coronation of William IV. endeavoured to do the like by the reverse pro- sehpt'S8,ay' cess- A question was even raised, both by the 1831- King in correspondence1 with his ministers, and by a peer in the House of Lords, whether the coro nation might not be dispensed with. There was no procession, and the banquet, for the first time, was omitted. Queen Adelaide was crowned with her hus band.2 The day was the anniversary of her father's wedding. 36. The last coronation 3 doubtless still lives in the recollection of all who witnessed it. They will long coronation remember the early summer morning, when, vk^oriT a^ break of day, the streets were thronged, juneM?'' and tne whole capital awake — the first sight of the Abbey, crowded with the mass of gor geous 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, 1 Correspondence of William IV. and Earl Grey, i. 301, 302. 2 Gent. Mag., 1831, pp. 219-230; Ann. Register, 1831. 3 The coronation service was abridged, in consideration of the occa sion. But it was thought unnecessary (as heretofore) to insert in the Rubric an order that the sermon should be ' short.' The day was changi d from June 26 to June 28, to avoid the anniversary of George IV.'s death, and by so doing infringed on the Vigil of the Feast of St. Peter, which led to a characteristic sonnet from the Oxford Poet of that time — Isaac Williams. The procession was partly revived by the cavalcade from Buckingham Palace. The House of Commons joined for the first time in the ceremony, by nine loud and hearty cheers after the homage of the Peers. i.Gent. Mag., 1838, pt. ii. p. 198.) CONCLUSION. 131 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 safe 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.1 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 Conclusion. other building in the world. The coronations of the Kings of France at Reims, and of the Popes in the Basilica of the Vatican, most nearly approach 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 1 For the best expression which has perhaps ever been given of the full religious aspect of an English Coronation, I cannot forbear to refer to the sermon preached on that day, in the parish church of Ambleside, by Dr. Arnold. (Sermons, iv. 438.) The 'short and suitahle sermon' in the Abbey on the last two occasions was. in 1831 on 1 Pet. ii. 13, in 1838 on 2 Chron. xxxiv. 31, preached by Bishop Blomfield. 132 CONCLUSION. 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 Eatal 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, lin gering 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 unpopular 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 I., 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, lead ing 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 The Confessor's Chapel, CONCLUSION. 133 his neighbour Williams was by superseding him at the coronation 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 rela tions of the civil and ecclesiastical polity of 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 them selves felt even in these merely ceremonial functions : — the iron nerves of the Conqueror for an instant shaken ; the generosity of Cceur-de-Lion ; the martial spirit of Edward I. ; the extravagance of Richard II. ; the par simony 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 po litical and religious movements of the time have like wise stamped their mark on these transitory scenes. The struggles of the Saxon and Norman elements, not yet united, under the Conqueror; 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 un der Edward IV. and Henry VII. ; the heayings of the Reformation under Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth ; the prognostications of the Rebellion under Charles I. ; the enthusiasm of the Restoration under Charles II.; the triumph of the Constitution under William III. ; the economical spirit of the Reform era under William IV. ; 134 CONCLUSION. — 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 per manent 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.' 1 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 events in the Abbey, which, whilst it exhibits to us far more clearly the personal traits of the Kings them selves, 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 Royal Tombs is the History of the Abbey itself. 1 Walpole's Letters, iii. 444. THE ROYAL TOMBS. I have left the repository of our English Kings for the con templation of a. day when I shall find my mind disposed for so serious an amusement. {Spectator, No. 26.) SPECIAL AUTHORITIES. Besides the notices in contemporary Chronicles and Histories, must be mentioned — 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 ; (Jj) Sandford's Genealogical His tory of the Kings of England, 1677; (c) Monwnenta Weslmonasteriensia, by H. K., i. e. Keepe, 1683 ; ( ¦ n coronations and of Henry Vll. But its first coronation, Burials. as we have seen,2 sprang out of its first royal grave. Its 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.8 So Jeremy Taylor preached : Where our kings have been crowned, their ancestors lie interred, and they must walk over their grandsire's head to 1 See Mr. Clark's description of it in Vacation Tourists, 1862, p. 239. 2 Chapter II. 3 On St. James's Park. PECULIARITIES OF WESTMINSTER. 139 take his crown. There is an acre sown with royal seed, the copy of the greatest change, from rich to naked, from ceiled roofs to arched coffins, from living like gods to die like men. . . . There the warlike and the peaceful, tho fortunate and the miserable, the beloved and the despised princes min gle their dust, and pay down their symbol of mortality, and tell all the 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.1 So, before Waller and Jeremy Taylor, had spoken Francis Beaumont: Mortality, behold and fear ! What a change of flesh is here : Think how many royal bones Sleep within these heaps of stones : Here they lye, had realms and lands, Who now want strength to stir their hands. Here, from their pulpits seal'd with dust, They preach, ' In greatness is no trust ! ' 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 the residence of the 2 Com_ English Princes. The burialplaces which, in theBuriais this respect, the Abbey most resembles, were Royaihe those of the Kings of Spain and the Kings of Palace- 1 Rules of Holy Dying, vol. iv. p. 344. 140 THE ROYAL TOMBS. Scotland. ' In the Escurial, where the Spanish prince," 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 Royal Palace are as contiguous as at Westminster. There has, however, been a constant tendency to separate the two. The Escurial is now almost as desolate as the stony wilder ness 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 Iona. 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. o O The Anglo-Saxon 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 1 Jeremy Taylor, Rules of Holy Dying, vol. iv. 344. 2 ' How impressive the living splendour of the national mausoleum of England on the banks of the Thames, as compared with the neg lected graveyard which holds the best blood of Ireland on the banks of the Shannon.' Petrie's remarks on Clonmacnoise, quoted in his Life by Dr. Stokes (p. 33). BURIALS OF MEDIAEVAL KINGS. 141 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 clays of our history with which we are here 3 Iin chiefly concerned. If the coronations of sov- Jy"0™0' , J tlie Royal ereigns were then far more important than Deaths- 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 recognised in all constitutional and in most modern monarchies. But in 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 commerce became peril- 1 See Chapter IV. 2 So William I. : ' Sicut opto salvari et per misericordiam Dei a meis reatibus absolvi, sic omnes mox carceres jubeo aperiri.' (Orderi- cus Vit.) Henry II.'s widow, ' for the sake of the soul of her Lord Henry,' had offenders of all kinds discharged from prison in every county in England. (Hoveden.) I owe these references, as well as the passage itself, to an unpublished lecture of Professor Vaughan. Com pare the description of Rome after a pope's decease in Mr. Cartwright's Papal Conclaves, p. 42. 142 THE ROYAL TOMBS. ous 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 sov ereign : once on the death of the queenlike Princess, Charlotte; and again on the death of the kinglike Prince, Albert. In those early times of England, there was another meaning of more sinister import attached to the royal 4. Publicity funerals. They furnished the security to the of the , , i n Funerals. the successor that the predecessor was really dead. Till the time of Henry VII. the royal corpses lay in state, and were carried exposed on biers, to sat isfy 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, in tensified by the religious feeling of the Middle Ages, 5. Con- which brought the funerals and tombs of nection of the Burials princes more directly into connection with with the Miii services the buildings where they were interred. Ihe of the . ° ¦; church. natural grief of a sovereign, or of a people, for 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 — 1 Richard II., Henry VI., Edward IV., and Richard III. (at Leices ter), (Maskell, vol. iii. p. lxviii.) BURIALS OF MEDLEVAL KINGS. 143 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 monumental 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.1 And to attain this end — in propor tion to the devotional sentiment, sometimes we must even say in proportion to the weaknesses and vices, of the King — services were multiplied 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 mean-, at all times and places, for the departed soul, even led to the dismemberment of the royal corpse ; that so, by a heart here, entrails there, and the remainder elsewhere, the chances of assistance beyond the grave might be doubled or trebled.2 The sepulchral character of Westminster Abbey thus became 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 1 Roger of Wenclover and Matthew Paris, a.d. 1232 (in speaking of the vision of the release of Richard I. described by the Bishop of Rochester, in preaching at Sittingbourne). I owe the reference to Professor Vaughan. 2 Arch. xxix. 181. 144 THE ROYAL TOMBS. ancient temple were, as has been well remarked, 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 gradu ally became those of a vast tomb-house. The first beginning of the Royal Burials at Westmin ster is uncertain. Sebert and Ethelgoda were believed sebert and to lie bv the entrance of the Chapter House.1 Ethelgoda. J L A faint tradition speaks of the interment of Harold x Harefoot. Harold Harefoot in Westminster.2 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- Edwardthe vard> where now stands the Church of St. confessor. Clement Danes. It was the grave of Edward the Confessor which eventually drew the other royal sepulchres around it.3 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 wiiiiam the grew but slowly. In the first instance, it Conqueror , .... . . . at caen. may have indicated no more than his per- wiiiiam sonal desire to be interred in the edifice whose Rufus at Winchester, building he had watched with so much anxious care; and his Norman successors were buried on the 1 See Chapter I. 2 Saxon Citron, a.d. 1040 : Widmore, p. 11. a So the grave of St. Columba at Iona, and the grave of St. Mar garet at Dunfermline, became the centres of the sepultures of the Kings of Scotland ; so the interment of William the Silent by the acci dental scene of his murder at Delft drew round it the great Protestant House of Orange ; so round St Louis at St. Denys gathered the Kings of France ; so round St. Stanislaus at Cracow the Kings of Poland ; so round Peter the Great at St. Petersburg the subsequent princes of the Romanoff dynasty. BURIALS OF THE NORMAN KINGS. 1-15 same principle, each in his own favourite sanctuary, unless some special cause intervened. The Conqueror was buried at Caen, in the abbey which he had dedi cated to St. Stephen ; William Rufus at Winchester,1 from 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 ; Henry II.2 in the great Reading. * -Aii e-n -i/in i Stephen at Angevin Abbey of lontevrault (the founda- Pavereimm. . ° „ _ , , , . , , , „ . „ Henry II. at tion of Robert Arbrissel, by the ' fountain of Fontevrault. J Rich aril I. the robber Evrard '). His eldest son Henry atFonte- t-. T vrault. was buried at Rouen. In that same city, because it was so hearty and cordial to him,8 was laid the 'large4 lion heart' of Richard; whilst his bowels, as his least honoured parts, lay among the Poitevins, 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 footstool 5 — in the robes which he had worn at his second coronation , , , John at at Westminster.6 John's wife, Isabella, was Worcester. interred at Fontevrault,7 and his own heart was placed 1 Ord. Vit. (a. d. 1110), x. 14, by a confusion makes it Westminster. 2 Rishanger, p. 428 ; Hoveden, p. 654. * Fuller's Church History, a. d. 1189. 4 Grossitudine prastans. See Arch- xxix. 210. 6 In a work published at Angers in 1866 (L'Abbaye de Fontevrault, Notice Historique, p. 76), by Lieut. Malifaud, it is stated that the bones of Richard I., gathered together by an inhabitant of Fontevrault, on the spoliation of the tombs in 1793, were given to England, ' et. reposent aujourd'hui dans I'Abbaye de Westminster.' This is without foundation. The heart, uuder an effigy of the King, was found in the choir of Rouen Cathedral on July .31, 1838, and is now in the Museum at Rouen. (Archasologia, xxix. 203.) The body of Prince Henry was found there in 1866. G Anglia Sacra, i. 304. See Chapter II. 7 For a full account of the fate of the monuments at Fontevrault down to the present time, see M. Malifaud's work, pp. 76, 77. vol. i. — 10 146 THE ROYAL TOMBS. there in a golden cup ; but he himself was laid at Wor cester, 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 subjects, and therefore towards the dust of the last Saxon King. Along with the annual commemora tion of the victory of the Normans at Hastings, and of the Danes at Assenden, were celebrated in the Abbey the anniversaries of Emma,1 the Confessor's mother, and of Ethelred his father. Edith, his wife, ' of vener able memory,' lay beside him. And now to join them QlK.,.n came the 'good Queen Maud,' daughter of Malcolm Can more 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 kinsfolk 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 1 Coiisuel udines of Abbot Ware (pp. 566, 568, 582, 583, 587, 590). These celebrations may have been instituted only in the time of Henry HI., but they are probably of earlier date. Edith is called ' Collaterana uxor.' BURIALS OF THE NORMAN KINGS. 147 object. It was supposed to be a fulfilment of the Con fessor's last prophetic apologue, in which he described the return of the severed branch to the parent tree.1 Henry's own sepulchral abbey at Reading was built by him chiefly to expiate his father's sins against the English.2 His royal chapel at Windsor bore the name of the Confessor, till it was dedicated by Edward III. to St. George.3 He and she received from the Nor mans the derisive epithets of 'Coodric' and 'Godiva.'1 Her own name was Edith,0 after her grand -aunt, the Confessors wife. In deference to Norman prejudices she changed it to ' Matilda.' But she devoted herself with undisguised ardour to the Abbey where her kins man Edward and her namesake Edith lay buried. Often she came there, in haircloth and barefooted, to pay her devotions.6 She increased its relics by the gift of a large part of the hair of Mary Magdalene.7 The honour of her sepulture was claimed by the old Anglo- Saxon sanctuary at Winchester,8 by the Abbey of Read ing,9 and by the Cathedral of St. Paul's.10 But , • ii, i • ¦ t May 1, 111S. there is no reason to doubt the tradition that she lies on the south side of the Confessor's Shrine,11 1 See Chapters I. and III. 2 Rudborne, Anglia Sacra, i. 262. 3 Annals of Windsor, p. 27. 4 See William of Malmesbury, p. 156. Knyghton, c. 2375, says Henry's nickname was 'Godrych Godefadyr.' 5 Ord. Vit. a.d 1118. Her brothers, in like manner, had almost all Saxon names — Edgar, Edward, Ethelred. 6 Ibid. p. 712. See Chapter I. 7 Dart, i. 37 ; Fordun, Scolichronicon, pp. 480, 642. 8 Rudborne, p. 277. 9 Strickland's Queens, i. 187. 10 Langtoft (Wright), i. 462. 11 Waverley Ann.; Ord. Vit. a.d. 1118. — The statement is that she was first buried at the entrance of the Chapter House, and then re moved by Henry III. to the side of the Confessor's Shrine. Fordun gives it as 'post magnum altare in oratorio.' It has sometimes been alleged, in confirmation of this, that at the north-west angle of the 148 THE ROYAL TOMBS. and is thus the first royal personage so interred since the troubles of the Conquest.1 Henry II. carried the veneration for Edward's re mains a step farther. At the instigation of Becket, he procured from Pope Alexander II. the Bull of Canoni sation, which Innocent II. had refused.2 The Abbot Lawrence preached a sermon, enumerating the virtues and miracles of the Confessor. Osbert de Clare, the Prior, who had already made an unsuccessful expedi tion to Rome for the same object, under his predecessor Gervase, compiled the account out of which was ulti mately composed the Life of the Confessor by Ailred, Abbot of Rievaulx, and brought back the Bull of Ca- First trans- nonisation in triumph. At midnight on the Edwan/the 13th of October, 1163, Lawrence, in his new- cnn lessor, "born dignity of mitred Abbot, accompanied 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 was still visible. The ring of St.. John was taken out and deposited as a relic.3 The vest ments (with less reverence than we should think per missible) were turned into three splendid copes. An pavement, by Edward I.'s tomb, was read the word Regina, and that she was laid underneath the pavement on which his tomb was after wards raised. But the inscription is (as I have ascertained by careful examination) a mere fragment of a slab removed from elsewhere, to make the covering of what is evidently the mere substructure of Ed ward I.'s tomb ; and the words upon it are minis, regini — a portion of a broken inscription. But the statement of Abbot Ware (Consue- tudines, p. 566), that Matilda was on the south and Edith on the north side of the Shrine is decisive both as to the fact and the position of the grave. See also Smith's Westminster, p. 155. 1 The anniversary of her daughter, the Empress Maude, was cele brated in the Abbey. (Ware, p. 568.) 2 See Akerman, i. 109. 3 Gleanings, p. 132. THE TOMBS OF THE NORMANS. 149 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.1 The final step was .taken by Henry III. It may be that the idea of making the Shrine of Edward the centre of the burialplace 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 sug gested by the general theological sentiment of the time. The beginning of the thirteenth century was remark able for the immense development given, by the preach ing of St. Bernard, to the worship of the Virgin Mary.2 In architecture it was exhibited by the simultaneous prolongation of almost every great cathedral Foundation into an eastern sanctuary, a new place of chapei, ' honour behind the altar, ' the Lady Chapel.' 1220. Such a chapel was dedicated at the eastern extremity of the Abbey by the young King Henry III., on Whit- sun Eve,3 the day before his coronation. The first offering laid upon its altar were the spurs worn by the King in that ceremony.4 Underneath was buried Abbot Barking, who probably claimed the merit of having been his adviser. His abbacy was long re garded in the convent as the passage from an old world to a new.5 1 Ridgway, p. 44. — He was translated from Hereford, the first instance of a canonical translation of an English bishop. (Le Neve's Fasti, ii. 282.) 2 Montalembert's Histoire de Ste. Elisabeth, p. 21. — The girdle of the Virgin deposited in the Abbey (see Chapter I.) was, like that at Mount Athos, used for averting the perils of childbirth, and was often employed for that purpose by Queen Philippa. (Widmore, p. 65.) 3 See Chap. II. 4" Pauli, i. 517. 6 See Chapter V. 150 THE ROYAL TOMBS. Henry's long reign was a marked epoch, alike for England and for the Abbey. It was the first which Eeign of can be called pacific,1 partly from his defects, Henry in. partly frnm his virtues. He was the first English King — that is to say (like George III.) the first of his family born in England and no longer liv ing 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 Eng lish people was formed, that the national character began to exhibit those peculiarities which it has ever since retained, and that our fathers became emphatically islanders — island ers not merely in geographical position, but in their politics, their feelings, and their manners. Then first appeared with clistiuctness 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 assem blies which now meet, either in the Old or in the New World, held its first sittings. Then it was that the Com mon Law rose to the dignity of a science, and rapidly be came a not unworthy rival of the imperial jurisprudence. 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 1 This is well brought out in Rogers's History of Prices, i. 3. THE REBUILDING OF THE ABBEY. 151 seats of learning were founded. Then was formed that lan guage, less musical indeed than the languages of the South, but in force, in richness, in aptitude for all the highest pur poses 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 loveable thing in Christendom.' 2 It sprang, in the first instance, out of the per- English , . . feelings of sonal sentiment, unconsciously fostered by Henry in. 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 determined to take up his abode in Westminster, beside the Confessor's tomb. In the Abbey was solemn ised his own marriage with Eleanor of Provence, as well as that of his3 brother Richard, Earl of Cornwall, with his second wife Sanda, sister of Eleanor, — and of4 his second son Edward, Earl of Lancaster, to Ave- lina, 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 Westminster5 — received his name from 1 Macaulay's History of England, vol. i. p. 47. 2 So called by one well qualified to judge, Mr. Street (Essay on the Influence of Foreign Art on English Architecture in the Church and the World, p. 402). » Nov. 22 or 23, 1243; Rot. Purl. 28 Hen. III. 4 April 9, 1269, Harl. MS. 530, fol. 60. 5 He was sometimes called Edward III., reckoning Edward the Elder and Edward the Confessor as the first and second. (Opus Chrty nieorum, p. 37.) 152 THE ROYAL TOMBS. 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 reap pears to assert its unchanging 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. The concentration of this English Edwardian passion upon the Abbey of Westminster was encouraged by Hisimita- many converging circumstances in the reign tion of p _T TTT T - "Ill 1 ¦ ' st. Denys. of Henry 111. It is possible 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 Hisdevo- to sacred observances, strong out of all pro portion to the natural feebleness of his cha racter. 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 1 This rivalry with St. Denys appears in his anxiety to outdo it by the relic of the Holy Blood. (Matthew Paris, p. 735.) THE REBUILDING OF THE ABBEY. 153 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 complained, and added, 'You ought to hear sermons, as well as attend mass.' 1 ' I had rather see my friend than hear him talked about,' 2 was the reply of the enthusiastic Henry. He would not be content with less than three 3 masses a day, and held fast to the priest's hand during the service.4 With this English and devotional sentiment the King combined a passionate addiction to art in all its forms, which carried him far beyond the HUaddie- J tion to limits of his own country. His visits to foreign art. France recalled to him the glories of Amiens, Beauvais, and Reims.5 His marriage with Eleanor6 of Provence opened the door for the influx of foreign princes, ecclesiastics, and artists into London. The Savoy Palace was their centre. Of this union of religious feeling with foreign and o o o artistic tendencies, the whole Abbey, as rebuilt by Henry, is a monument. He determined that his new Church was to be incomparable for beauty, even in that great age of art." Its Chapter House, its orna ments, down to the lecterns, were to be superlative of their kind. On it foreign painters and sculptors 1 Rishanger, Chronica, p. 75; Trivet, p. 280. (Pauli, i. 842.) 2 Rishanger and Trivet, ibid. — The author of the Opus Chronicorum (p. 36) gives this as Henry's reply to a preaching friar, who was angry at the King's delay in coming to his sermon. 3 Four or five. (Opus Chronicorum, p. 35.) 4 Rishanger, Chronica, p. 75. 5 Gleanings, 20. 6 The arms of her father, the Earl of Provence, are sculptured in the south aisle of the Nave, and were painted in the windows of the Chapter-house and elsewhere. (Sandford, 95.) 7 Wykes, p. 84. See Chapter V. ' Mira? pulchritudinis' is the phrase used of it in a document in the Archives of St. Paul's. 154 THE ROYAL TOMBS. 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 jurisdiction of the see of London had been forced to make his journey to the imperial city for the sake of obtaining the Papal confir mation.1 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 through out 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.2 The arrangement to which the King was driven, perhaps, from the necessity of providing space for the new Shrine, is Spanish.3 Eleanor of Castile, his daughter-in-law, must have recognised in 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. His t-xtva- He was a Prince of almost proverbial extrava gance. His motto was, 'Qui non dat quod vaganee. 1 See Chapter V. ; Gleanings of Westminster Abbey, p. 60 ; and Fer- gusson's Handbook, ii. 18. 2 See Gleanings, pp. 19-24 ; and Mr. Street, On the Influence of For eign Art in England, p. 402. 3 Street's Gothic Architecture in Spain, p. 418. THE REBUILDING OF THE ABBEY. 155 habet, non accipit ille quod optat.'1 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 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 ;2 the vacancy of the Abbot's seat at Westminster 100 marks. A fair was established in To thill 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 main tenance,3 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 existence as a protest against the King's lavish expenditure on the mighty Abbey which it confronts.4 The rise of the whole institution thus forms a new epoch at once in English history and English architecture. With the usual disregard which Demo]itinil each generation, in the Middle Ages far more phi,1'0.,"1'1 than in our own, entertains towards the taste V2ia~ of those who have gone before, the massive venerable pile, consecrated by the recollections of the Confessor 1 Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting (Wornum), p. 20; Hard)', Pref ace to the Liberate Rolls of King John, xii. note (1). " Akerman, i. 241. 3 Fuller, book iii. ; Arch. xiii. 36, 37. 4 See Chapter V- 156 THE ROYAL TOMBS. and the Conqueror, was torn down, as of no worth at all, ' nullius omnino valoris.' J Ecclesiam stravit istam qui tunc renovavit, was the inscription once written on Henry's tomb, The New which described this mediaeval vandalism. ciim-ch. jje rehuiit exactly as far as the Confessor had built. A fragment of the nave alone was left standing. But the central tower, the choir, the tran septs, the cloisters, all disappeared ; 2 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,'3 of which St. Edward became the patron saint, almost to the exclusion of The shrine St. Peter.4 For him the Shrine was prepared of the . confessor. as the centre of all this magnificence. It was erected, like all the shrines of great local saints, at the east of the altar, by a new and strange arrange ment, as peculiar to the thirteenth century as the nu merous theological doctrines which then first assumed consistency and shape. But, in order to leave stand ing 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 i Wykes, p. 89. 2 Matthew Paris, p. 661. The end of Henry III.'s work can be traced immediately at the west of the crossing. Gleanings, 31. 3 Capgrave, p 89. 4 Redman's Henry V., p. 69 ; Smith's Westminster, p. 60. ° DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK °J. OF ELTIIAM °K DE BOIIUN (St. Edmund) = c 53? = » f.p a - wG3 > ¦4 > t-iB '-' ° Watdby (EDWARD Q Bj «l ^ ^ °Broeaa " o H ™E a *j "a „ ° W. DE VALENCE g CONFESSOR) 0 H o ~g » B9 5 (Queens (St. Edn-ai o"S O "• Chair) Chair) = c e ^ £ || HENRY TIL'S &s ¦= (Screen) ° CHILDREN £ > ° o s HO " O ed o ~ — (Altar) g (S<. Benedict) (St John aj n ye | Euan* ¦£ o f/elist) ^o be ' IFare I Henley ' Wenloclc oH5 ( Gate) I Kidington = TOMBS IN THE CHAPEL OF THE KINGS 158 THE ROYAL TOMBS. 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. Pound the Choir was hung arras, representing on one side the thief and Hugolin, on the other the royal coronations2 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 inscrip tion, now detected only at intervals, ran completely round it, ascribing the workmanship to Peter of Rome, 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 believed3 to communicate by his touch. An altar stood at its western end, of which all trace has dis appeared, 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 1 Originally the Shrine was probably visible all down the church. Not till the time of Henry VI. was raised the screen which now con ceals it. On the summit of the screen stood a vast crucifix, with the usual accompanying figures, and those of the two Apostles, St. Peter and St. Paul. See Gleanings, plates xx. and xxvii. 2 Till 1644. Weever, p. 45. 3 This was the one remark made on the Shrine by Addison — ' We were then shown Edward the Confessor's tomb, upon which Sir Roger acquainted us that he was the first who touched for the Evil.' (Specta tor, 321.) * Dart, i. 54. 5 A fragment of the Shrine, found in repairing the walls of West minster school in 1868, was replaced in its original position, after a separation of three centuries. TOMB OF HENRY III. 159 That corpse was now to be 'translated' from the coffin in which Henry II. had laid it, with a pomp which was probably suggested to the King by T] smmd the recollection of the grandest ceremony of 0';!"^'''™' the kind that England had ever seen, at which l'M'L he in his early boyhood had assisted — the translation of the remains of St. Thomas of Canterbury.1 It was on the same clay of the month that had witnessed the former removal on the occasion of Edward's canonisa tion. The King had lived to see the completion of the whole Choir and east end of the church. He was grow ing 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 Iin gland 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 Relics, 1247. Order the Templars. Amongst them may be noticed the tooth of St. Athanasius, the stone which was believed to show the footprint of the ascending Saviour,4 and (most highly prized of all) a phial con- 1 Memorials of Canterbury, p. 193. 2 Bidgway, p. 82. 3 Wykes, p. 88 ; Ridgway, p. 63. 4 M. Paris, p. 768; Widmore, p. 64. One of these footprints is still shown in the Mosque or Church of the Ascension on Mount Olivet; another is in tjie Mosque of Omar. 160 THE ROYAL TOMBS. taining some drops of the Holy Blood. This was car ried 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.1 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 Plan- tagenet race. The short, stout, ungainly old man, with the blinking left eye,2 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- poraries regard him on both accounts as the lynx fore told by Merlin,3 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 uncertainty ; sor rowful, successful, in plenty, in penury, in wealth, in want, conquered, conqueror.'4 1 M. Paris, pp. 735-9. 2 Rishanger, Chronica, p. 75 ; Trivet, p. 281, 8 Rishanger, Chronica, p. 75. " Puller's Church History, a.d. 1276. TOMB OF HENRY III. 161 Domestic calamities crowded upon him : the absence of his son Edward, the murder of his nephew Henry at Viterbo, the death of his brother Richard. He died at the Abbey of St. Edmund at Bury, on i-iemv In. the festival of the recently canonised St. Ed- buried Nov. 20 1l'7'> mund, Archbishop of Canterbury (Nov. 16), and was buried on the festival of St. Edmund the Anglo-Saxon martyr (Nov. 20), in the Abbey of West minster, the Templars acknowledging their former con nection by supplying the funeral.1 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.2 As the corpse sank into the grave, the Earl of Gloucester, in obedience to the King's dying commands, 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,3 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.' i From the East, or from France, he brouoht the precious marbles, the slabs of Bunding or ° his Tomb, porphyry, with which, ten years afterwards, mi. the tomb was built up, as we now see it, on the north side of the Confessor's Shrine ; and an Italian artist, Torel,5 carved the effigy which lies upon it.6 His Re. Yet ten more years passed, and into the fin- interment- ished tomb was removed the body of the King. Henry 1 Dart, ii. 34. 2 Wykes, p. 98. 3 He was buried in the Abbey by the Archbishop of Canterbury. (See Chapter V.) 4 Widmore, p. 76. 5 Gleanings, p. 150; Arch. xxix. 191. 6 See Westmacott in Old London, p. 187. vol. i. — 11 162 THE ROYAL TOMBS. had in his earlier years, when at his ancestral burial- place in Anjou, promised that his heart should be de posited with the ashes of his kindred in the Abbey of Fontevrault. The Abbess,1 one of the grandest of her rank in France, usually of the blood-royal, with the singular privilege of ruling both a monastery of men Delivery of and a nunnery of women, was in England at his Heart to J ° the Abbess the time of the removal of Henry s body to of Fonte- J . J vrauit, 1291. 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 delivered 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 Nave 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 armo- ¦ rial 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 1 See the description of the convent in the Memoirs of Mdlle. de Montpensier, i 49-52. The Abbess in her time was called ' Madame de Fontevrault,' and was a natural daughter of Louis XIII. 1 Dugdale's Monasticon, i. 312, 3 This disappeared in 1829, TOMBS OF THE FAMILY OF HENRY III. 163 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.1 It was these and the like shields of nobles, coeval with the building of Henry III.,2 not those of the later ages, that were still con tinued on the walls of the Nave when it was completed in the following centuries. It would seem that, with the same domestic turn which appears in Louis Philippe's arrangement of the Orleans cemetery at Drenx, Henry at Westminster had provided for the burial of his whole family in all his branches round him.3 'Twelve years before 1257 his own interment he had already laid, in a Catherine, small richly-carved tomb by the entrance of euiicTrJ^fof St. Edmund's Chapel, his dumb and very beau- Hem'y IIL tiful little daughter, of five years old, Catherine.4 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 The heart above her tomb — Richard and John.5 The Henry, 1271. 1 Gules — a lion rampant — double-tailed — argent, in N. isle. 2 Sir Gilbert Scott has pointed this out to ine, particularly in the case of Valence Earl of Pembroke, and Ferrers Earl of Derby. Even the details of Henry III.'s architecture, though modified in the Nave, were continued in the Cloisters. The shield of the Confessor is the earliest of the kind, the martlets not having yet lost their legs. See the account of a MS. description of these shields in 1598, in the Pro- ceedinqs of the Society of Antiquaries, Jan. 25, 1866. 3 Gleaninqs, p. 146; Arch. xxix. 188; Annals, a.d. 1283. 4 Matt. Paris, p. 949. In the Liberate Roll, 41 Hen. IIL, is a pay ment for her funeral on May 16. It was made by a mason in Dorset shire. Master Simeon de Well, probably Weal, near Corfe Castle, who also furnished the Purbeck marble for the tomb of John, eldest son of Edward I. (Pipe Rolls, Dorset, 41, H. iii.) I owe this to Mr, Bond of Tyneham. ' The arch is said to have been constructed by Edward I., as a 164 THE ROYAL TOMBS. heart of Henry, son of his brother Richard, who was killed in the cathedral at Yiterbo 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 inci dent, the one single notice of the Abbey in the ' Divina Commedia ' of Dante : Lo cor che'n sul Tamigi ancor si cola.1 The King's half-brother, William de Yalence, lies close wiiiiam de by, within the Chapel of St. Edmund, dedi- Valenee, - , 12%. cated to the 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.2 His whole tomb is French ; its enamels from Limoges ; his birth place Valence on the Rhone, represented on his coat- of-arms. His son 3 Aymer — so called from the father of Isabel Aymer, Count of Angouleme — built the tomb; and also secured for himself a still more splendid rest ing-place on the north side of the sacrarium, making one range of sepulchral monuments,4 with his cousins memorial to his four young children — John, Henry, Alfonso [and Eleanor?!. (See Crull, p. 28.) 1 Dante's Inferno, xii. 115 ; Gleanings, p. 138. — Benvenuto of Imola, commenting on this line, says : ' In quodam monasterio monachorum vocato ibi Guamisler.' (Robertson's History of the Church, iii. 463.) 2 Gleanings, pp. 155-157 ; Crull, p. 155. The tomb has been much injured since 1685. (Gleanings, p. 62 ) 3 His two other children, John and Margaret, occupy the richly- enamelled spaces at the foot of the Shrine. (Crull, p. 156.) The name of their father is still visible upon the grave. 4 See Old London, p. 194. TOMBS OF THE FAMILY OF HENRY III. 165 Edmund and Aveline. Aveline, the greatest heiress in the kingdom, daughter of the Earl of Albemarle, had been married to Edmund, in the Abbey, in Ave]ill0 1269, shortly after the translation of the relics ^U^t,^ of the Confessor. She died two years after [janmcd, her father-in-law the King ; and was followed faster, to the same illustrious grave by her husband, UVh' twenty-three years later.1 He was the second son of Henry. It is possible that his epithet Crotichback, 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.2 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 supposed to represent the gallant English band who engaged in that last struggle to recover the Holy Land. If in this respect he repre sents 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, ex cluded from the throne only by his deformity.3 From Provins — where he resided on his return from the Holy Land, with his second wife, Blanche of Navarre, and which he converted almost into an English town — he brought back those famous Red roses, wrongly named 1 Her tomb originally was raised upon the present basement. (See Dart, ii. 7, 10.) 2 These tombs are architecturally connected with those of Arch bishop Peckham at Canterbury, and Bishop De Luda at Ely (Gleanings, p. 62.) 3 Harding (Turner, ii. 273). 166 THE ROYAL TOMBS ' 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 completed, 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 stream flows through the Confessor's Chapel. Prince Edward and Eleanor have returned from the Crusades. Eleanor is the first to depart. The remem- Eieanor of France of their crusading kinsman, St. Louis, dfedNov. never leaves them ; and when Eleanor died at 29,1291. 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 om nium amatrix.' 1 Her entrails were- left at Lincoln ; her heart was deposited in the Blackfriars' mon- Her tomh. . T astery 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 Westminster was bound by oath to 1 See Memorials of Queen Eleanor; and Arch. xxix. 170-4, 181. r^fe 'Vj^, '°^n^u QUEEN ELEANOR S TOMB. OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 167 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.1 Eighteen years passed away. Edward had married a second time. He had erected splendid tombs, of which we have previously spoken, to his father, his wife, and his uncle. He had continued the Abbey for five bays westward into the Nave.2 The Chapel of the Confessor, where he had kept his vigil before his knight hood, 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 Alfonso, some remote sanctuary of Wales.3 His little ml. son Alfonso, called after his grandfather, Alfonso of Castile, 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.4 And now Edward himself is brought from the wild village of Burgh, on the Solway sands. For neath of sixteen weeks he lay in Waltham Abbey by j^jfj1^ the grave of Harold; and then, almost four £,3 months after his death, was buried by Anthony iM- "'¦ Beck, Bishop of Durham, between his broth- H,a tomb- er's and his father's tomb.5 The monument was not i Memorials of Queen Eleanor, pp. 175, 179 ; Old London, p. 187. „ „, . ' o, 3 See Chapters II. and V. 2 Gleanings, p. Jl- r i Matthew of Westminster, a.d. 1284; Gleanings, p. 151. 6 Rishanger, Gesla Edwardi Primi, a. d. 1307. (Pauli, ii. 178.) 168 THE ROYAL TOMBS always so rude as it now appears. There are still remains of gilding on its black1 Purbeck sides. A massive canopy of wood overshadowed it, which re mained till it disappeared 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.2 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 inscription, which runs along its inscription side : — ' Edvardus Primus Scotorum malleus sen'a.1 hie est, 1308. Pactum Serva.' 3 Is the un finished tomb a fulfilment of that famous ' pact,' which the dying King required of his son, that his flesh should 1 That it is of Purbeck marble, and that its base, as well as that of Henry HI.'s tomb, is of Caen stone, I am assured by Professor Ramsay. This disposes of a tradition that the stones of Edward I.'s tomb were brought from Jerusalem. 2 See Chapter IV. 3 Lord Hailes (Scotland, i. 27) evidently supposes this to allude to the dying compact. But there can be no doubt that the inscription is of far later date ; and the motto ' Pactum serra ' is, in all probability, a mere moral maxim, ' Keep your promise.' For — 1. The inscription is of the same character as that which runs round the Shrine of the Con fessor, which has obliterated the larger part of the older inscription ; 2. That inscription is evidently of the time of Abbot Feckenham (see Chapter VI.); 3. The like inscription on Henry V.'s toinb is also of a later date, as appears from the allusion to Queen Catherine's coffin (see p. 186); 4. All these royal inscriptions are exactly similar in style, consisting of a Latin hexameter, a date (in the case of Henry III. anil Edward I. a wrong date), and a moral maxim. Four inscriptions still remain, in whole or in part — that of Edward I., Henry III., Henry V., and the Confessor, (See also Neale, ii. 69-109.) That of Edward I. has attracted more attention, both from its intrinsic interest and from its more conspicuous position. OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 169 be boiled, his bones carried at the head of the English army till Scotland was subdued, and his heart sent to the Holy Land,1 which he had vainly tried in his youth to iecleem from the 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 ulf 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 victorious 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 Richard 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,2 opening of the tomb in and the King was found m his royal robes, 1771. wrapped in a large waxed linen cloth. Then for the last 1 Walsingham, a.d. 1307. — Two thousand pounds in silver were laid up, and 140 knights named for the expedition. How deeply this expedition was impressed on popular feeling appears from the allusion in the Elegy in Percy's Reliques (ii. 9), with the Pope's lament — 'Jerusalem, thou last y-lore [lost], The flower of all chivalry, Now King Ed ward liveth no more. Alas, that he should die ! ' 2 Arch. iii. 376, 398, 399; Neale, ii. 172; D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, iii. 81. — The corpse was six feet two inches iong, 170 THE ROYAL TOMBS time was seen that figure, lean and tall, and erect as a palm-tree,1 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 yellow 2 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. ' 3 There is yet another explanation, to which, even under any circumstances, we must in part resort, and wasteful- which carries us on to the next reign. ' As ness of Edward ii. Malleus Scotorum , "the 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.' 4 His monument is at Gloucester, as William Eufus's at Winchester, the near est church to the scene of his dreadful death. But he is not without his memorial in the Abbey. That unfin- His tomb at ished condition of the tomb of his father is Gloucester, ... 1327. the continued witness of 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,5 if not for the completion of his monument.6 1 Chron. Roff. (Pauli, ii. 178.) 2 Rishanger, p. 76. 3 Walpole's Letters, iv. 197. 4 Fuller's Church Hist. a.d. 1314. 6 Walsingham, a. d. 1307. 6 In 1866, a slight memorial of some festival in Edward II.'s reign was found in fragments of paper-hangings, bearing his arms, affixed to the pillars near the altar. OF THE PLANT A GENETS. 171 But his son, John, surnamed, from his birth in that fine old palace, of Eltham, who died at Perth at the early age of 19, was expressly ordered to be removed from the spot where he was first interred, to Tnmb of a more suitable place ' entre les royals,' 1 yet Euiiam ' so as to leave room for the King and his sue- 1334- cessors.' The injunction was either disregarded, 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 canopy 2 in the general crash of the Chapel at the time of the Duchess of Northumber land'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 I., planted, as we have seen, in the conspicuous Aymer de spot between Edmund and Aveline of Lancas- Em-ior'Pembroke, ter, — the tall pale man, nicknamed by Gav- 1323. eston ' Joseph the Jew,' 3 — the ruthless 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 after wards : ' and Aymer's mysterious death in France was regarded as a judgment for 'consenting to the death of St. Thomas.' 4 Pembroke College at Cambridge 1 Archives. The Prior and Convent received £100 fine in lieu of the horses and armour. (Sandford, 155.) 2 For the canopy, see Chapter IV. ; Crull, p. 46 ; Nichols's Anec dotes (1760 and 1777), iii. 745; Malcolm's Lond., p. 253. 3 Capgrave, p. 252. 4 Leland ; Neale, ii. 273. — For the narrow escape of Aymer's tomb from destruction in the last century, see Chapter IV. Masses were said for his soul in the Chapel of St. John, close behind his tomb. (Lysons's Environs, p. 349.) 172 THE ROYAL TOMBS 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 Royal Chapel and its area — a position peculiarly honourable in connection with the mediaeval position of the priest at the Eucharist — was now filled. The southern side carried on and Queen completed the direct line of the House of Philippa, . i n -r»i -T 1 ' 1369. Anjou. In the tomb of Philippa a more his torical spirit is beginning to supersede the ideal repre sentations of early times. Her face is the earliest attempt at a portrait ; x and the surrounding figures are not merely religious emblems, but the thirty princely personages with whom, by birth, the Prin cess of Hainault was connected,2 as the tomb is proba bly by an Hainault artist. But ' she built to herself,' says Speed, ' a monument of more glory and dura bility 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 Death of when she was hidden in her sepulchre.' His jumflii in" features are said to be 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 1 Gleanings, p. 170. 2 Neale, ii. 98; Gleanings, p. 64. 3 Speed, p. 724. i Froissart. 5 Gleanings, p. 173. '' In an account of these two tombs by a Flemish antiquary, Ed ward III.'s tomb is said to be empty, the Kiug being buried in Queen Philippa's. But this is very doubtful. OF THE PLANT AGENETS. 173 His long flowing hair and beard agree with the contem porary accounts. The godlike grace which i • i ¦ i-i , -n Hia tomb- shone m his countenance 1 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 children 2 — including those famous ' seven sons,' the springheads of all the troubles of the next hundred years — • were graven round his tomb, His of which now only remain the Black Prince, c,,lklren' 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.3 The monument of Edward III.4 is the first that has entered into our literature : — The honourable tomb That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones.5 The sword 6 and shield that went before him in France formed part of the wonders of the Abbey as His sword far back as the time of Queen Elizabeth.7 andsllield Dryden describes — How some strong churl would brandishing advance The monumental sword that conquer'd France. 1 Pauli, ii. 500; Gleanings, p. 173 2 Stow (p. 24) saw them all, as well as those on Queen Philippa's tomb. 3 Ibid. p. 173; Neale, ii. 301. 4 Feckenham's inscription on the tomb is the same as that undei Edward HP's statue at Trinity College, Cambridge. 5 Shakspeare's Richard II 6 A similar sword is in the Chapter House at Windsor. 7 Rye's England (1592), pp. 10, 92. There was then a wolf upon it. 174 THE ROYAL TOMBS Sir Roger de Coverley ' laid his hand on Edward Ill'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 sate on the English iteiics from throne.' Other valued trophies of the French nance. warg were toe 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.1 The circle of the Confessor's Chapel was now all but filled. The only space left was occupied by a small Tombs of tomb (now removed to the Chapel of St. John children. the Baptist) of the grandchildren of Edward I. — Hugh and Mary de Bohun, children of his daugh ter Elizabeth by Humphrey de Bohun. It may be from the absence of any further open space by the Edward side of the Royal Saint, that Edward the the Black . iii inii- Prince Black Prmce had already fixed his tomb un- buried at ' canterbury der the shelter of the great ecclesiastical mar- 1376. ° Hichardii. ty1 0I" Canterbury Cathedral.2 But his son HisaHec- Richard was not so disposed to leave the the Abbey. Abbey. His affection for it seems to have equalled that of any of his predecessors. In it his coronation had been celebrated with unusual formality ins mar- and splendour.3 In it his marriage, like that ria^e Jan. 22,°i3S3. of Henry IIL, had been solemnised.4 Here he had consulted the Hermit on his way to confront the rebels.5 The great northern entrance, known as Solomon's Porch, was rebuilt in his time, and once 1 Walsingham, pp. 171, 178. a Memorials of Canterbury, c. 3. 3 See Chapter II. 4 Walsingham, ii. 48; Sandford, 230; Neale, ii. 114. 6 See Chapter V. OF THE TLANTAGENETS. 175 contained his well-known badge of the White Hart,1 which still remains, in colossal proportions, 1 r His badge. painted on the fragile partition which shuts off the Muniment Room from the southern triforium of the Nave. He affected a peculiar veneration 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 por trait6 long remained in the Abbey, probably ° J r ''His portrait. in the attitude and dress in which he ap peared at the Feast of St. Edward, or (as has been con jectured) 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 1 The badge was first given at a tournament in 1396, taken from his mother, Joan of Kent. According to the legend, it was derived from the white stag caught at Besastine, near Bagshot, in Windsor Forest, with the collar round its neck, ' Nemo me tangat; Ciesaris sum.' From the popularity of Richard II., it was adopted by his followers with singular tenacity, and hence the difficulty which Henry IV. expe rienced in suppressing it. (Archceologia, xx. 106, 152; xxix. 38, 40.) Hence also its frequency as the sign of inns. Hence, in Epworth Church, in Lincolnshire, it has been recently found painted with the arms of the Mowbrays, his faithful adherents. 2 Creton. (Arch. xx. 28.) 3 It was one of the articles of the impeachment of the Earl of Surrey by Henry VIII. 4 Creton. (Arch. xx. 43.) 5 Inventory of Relics. 6 It hung above the pew used by the Lord Chancellor, on the south side of the Choir, till, injured by the wigs of saccessive occupants, it was removed, in 1775, to the Jerusalem Chamber. (See Chapter VI.) For the whole history of the portrait, and its successful restoration by Mr. Richmond, with the aid of Mr. Merrit, see the full account, by Mr. George Scharf, in the Fine Arts Quarterly Review, February 1867. 7 Riley's Preface to Walsingham's Abbots of St. Albans, vol. iii. p. lxxv. ; Weaver, p. 473, 176 THE ROYAL TOMBS It is the oldest contemporary representation of any English sovereign, an unquestionable likeness of the fatal and (as believed at the time) unparalleled beauty which turned Richard's feeble brain. The original pic ture had almost disappeared under successive attempts at restoration. It was reserved for a distinguished artist of our own clay to recover the pristine form and features ; the brow and eyes still to be traced in the descendants of his line;1 the curling masses of auburn hair, the large heavy eyes, the long thin nose, the short tufted hair under his smooth chin,2 the soft and melan choly expression, which suits at once the Richard of history and of Shakspeare.3 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 ? 4 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,5 a burial as near as possible to the Loyal Saint of Westminster. The grandchildren of Edward I. were removed from their place in the Confessor's Chapel to the Chapel of Funeral of St. John the Baptist, and on the vacant site 1394. " thus secured was raised the tomb for his wife, Anne of Bohemia, the patroness of the Wycliffites, 1 The Prince of Wales and the Princess Alice may be specially mentioned. 2 Evesham, pp. 1 62, 1 69. — In a rage his colour fled, and he became deadly pale. (Arch. xx. 43 ; Shakspeare's Richard II., act. ii. sc. 1.) 3 Compare also Gray's lines, Chapter II. For the chair in which he sits, see Mr. Scharf, Fine Arts Quarterly Review, p. 36. 4 Richard II, act iv. sc. 1. 5 Gleanings, p. 174. See Chapter IV. OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 177 the link between Wycliffe and Huss. The King's ex travagant 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.1 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, hut asked to go away before the cere mony 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 reconciliation, that night came on before it was com pleted.2 The King's affection for his wife was yet further to be shown by the arrangement of his own effigy by the side of hers, grasping her hand in his. The tomb was completed during his reign,3 Toml30f and decorated with the ostrich-feathers and omchard lions of Bohemia, the eagles of the Empire, 1L' 1395' the leopards of England, the broomcods of the Planta- genets, and the sun rising through the black clouds of Cre"cy.4 The rich gilding and ornaments can still be discerned through their thick coating of indurated dust.5 The inscription round the tomb contains the first indication of the conflict with the rising Re formers — in the pride with which Richard records his beauty, his wisdom, and his orthodoxy : 1 Weever, p. 477. 2 Trokelowe, pp. 169, 424. 3 Neale, ii. 107-112. 4 For a full description of the armorial bearings, see Arch. xxix. 43, 47, 51. Some of them appear also on Langhnm's tomb (ibid. 53). — See. Chapter V.; also Memorials of Canterbury, pp. 153, 154, 174 182. 6 Arch. xxix. 57. VOL. I. — 12 178 THE ROYAL TOMBS Corpore procerus,1 animo prudens ut Homerus, Obruit hxereticos, et eorum stravit amicos.2 But whether the King himself really reposes in the sepulchre which he had so carefully constructed is His Burial open to grave doubt. A corpse was brought at Lanyley, , iii -r-ir -i 13119. from Pomfret to London by Henry IV., with Removedto w e.-t- the face exposed, and thence conveyed to the minster,1413. Friars at Langley ; 3 and long afterwards, 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.4 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.5 Twice the interior of the tomb has been seen : once in the last century by an acci dental opening 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 re mained.6 In this tomb, thus closing the precinct of 1 This contradicts the Evesham chronicler, who says he was short (p. 169). 2 See the whole inscription in Neale, ii. 110. 3 See Pauli, iii. 60. 4 Turner, ii. 380. 6 Creton (Arch. xx. 220, 409). But Maudlin had been beheaded a month before. (Pauli, iii. 1 1.) 0 The bodies were in a small vault beneath the monument. The OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 179 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.1 The Lancastrian House, which begins the new transi tional epoch, reaching across the fifteenth century, had no place in this immediate circle. Henry IV., TlIE although he died almost within the walls of iMNL'cfs?L. the Abbey, sought his last resting-place in e",y Canterbury Cathedral ; and it may be, that had his son succeeded only to the affection of the great ecclesiasti cal party, which the crafty and superstitious usurper had conciliated, Westminster would have been Henry V. deserted for Canterbury.2 But Henry V. cherished a peculiar veneration for the Abbey, which had been the scene of that great transformation,3 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 bones and the relics were carefully replaced. The investigation is described at length in the Archaiologia of 1879. 1 Thomas of Woodstock, youngest son of Edward III., murdered at the instigation of Richard II., was interred on the south side of the Confessor's Chapel, beneath the pavement, under a splendid brass (see Sandford, p. 230), of which nothing but the in- w, oihltmk dentations can now be traced. His widow lies in the Chapel "nd his wife, of St. Edmund, under a brass representing her in her con- duc|h!». „f ventual dress as a nun of Barking. Philippa, widow of Gtaiiroster, Edward Duke of York, afterwards wife of Sir Walter Fitzwalter, was the first to occupy the Chapel of St. Nicholas, built probably in the time of Edward I., to receive the relics of phi]j_„a that snint, and next in dignity to those of St. Edward and Duchess of St. Edmund. Her tomb (now removed to the side) was 01 '' then in the middle of the Chapel. (Neale, ii. 170.) 2 After Edward the Confessor's tomb, Sir Roger de Coverley was shown ' Henry the Fourth's ; upon which he shook his head, and told us there was fine reading from the casualties of that reign.' (Specta tor, No. 329.) This was doubtless a confusion either in the good knight, or his guide, with Henry Ill's tomb. 3 See Chapter V. 180 THE ROYAL TOMBS did he bring back the dead Richard — 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 J — was, by the orders of Henry V, prolonged nearly to its present extremity by the great architect July 7, Hi3. of that age, remembered now for far other Dee 25 Hie. ' reasons — Whittington, Lord Mayor of Lon don.2 It was continued, as has been already remarked, in the same style as that which had prevailed when it was first begun, two centuries before. The first grand Nov 23 ceremonial which it witnessed was worthy of 1415- itself — the procession which assisted at the Te Deum for the victory of Agincourt.3 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 direc tions so precise as to show that he must carefully have studied the difficulties and the capabilities of the locality.4 The fulfilment of his intention derives additional force from the circumstances of his death. Like his father, he had conceived the fixed purpose of another crusade. He had borrowed from the Countess of West moreland the ' Chronicle of Jerusalem ' and the ' Voyage of Godfrey de Bouillon ; ' he had sent out a Palestine Exploration party under Chevalier Lannoy.5 Just at this juncture his mortal illness overtook him at Vin- 1 See Chapter V. 2 Redman, pp. 70-72 ; Gleanings, p. 213 ; Rymer, Feed. ix. 78. 3 Memorials of London, 621. 4 Rymer, Feed. ix. 289. 6 Arch. xxi. 312; Rymer, x. 307; Pauli, iii. 178. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 181 cennes.1 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 Jeru salem, 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 rede- in isti !' — he expired.2 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.3 But his known attachment to Westminster prevailed, „ , ,. 1 ' Funeral ot and the most sumptuous arrangements were ^0"^nhe'r made for the funeral. The long procession ,42'2 from Paris to Calais, 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, Rochester, and Dartford, funeral services were celebrated. On the procession reaching London, it was met by all the clergy.4 The obsequies were per formed 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 1 He was attacked by a violent dysentery, from the excessively hot summer, — the 'mal de S. Fiacre,' — August 31, at midnight. (Pauli, iii. 173.) 3 Walsingham, p. 407. 2 Pauli, iii. 178. * Ibid. p. 408. 182 THE ROYAL TOMBS brings the interior of the Abbey on the stage of Shakspeare : — 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. 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.2 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. Room for his grave was created by a summary process, on which no previous King or Abbot had ventured. The extreme 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, accord- His tomb. . in. ingly, was regarded almost as that of a saint in Paradise.3 The passing cloud of reforming zeal, which Chichele had feared, had been, as Chichele hoped, diverted by the French wars. From the time of Henry's conversion he affected and attained an austere piety unusual among his predecessors. 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.4 He was the most deter- 1 Shakspeare's Henry VI, First Part, act i. sc. I. 2 Previously the Kings themselves had been exhibited in theii royal attire. (Bloxham, p. 92.) See Chapter IV. 3 Monstrelet, pn. 325, 326. 4 Pauli, iii. 175. CHANT1IY OF I1EXHY V. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 183 mined enemy of Wycliffe and of all heretics that Europe contained.1 He had himself intended that the relics should be still retained in the same locality, though transferred to the chamber above his tomb.2 The recesses still existing in that chamber seem designed 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 exclusively 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, where masses might be for ever offered up.3 It was to be raised over his tomb. It was to have an altar in honour of the Annunciation.4 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.' 5 It was to be high enough for the people down in the Abbey to see the 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 Plantagenet graves beneath, as his empire towered above their kingdom. As ruthlessly as 1 Rymer, x. 291, 604 ; Pauli, iii. 177. " Rymer, ix. 28° 3 They were specified in his will, and amounted to 20,000. (Rymer, ix. 290.) John Arden was clerk of the works, and provided the Caen stone. A similar Chantry was prepared by the side of his father's tomb at Canterbury. 4 This is sculptured over the door. 5 Rymer, ix. 289, 184 THE ROYAL TOMBS any improvement of modern times, it defaced and in part concealed the beautiful monuments of 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 Bohuns 2 — is the flaming beacon or cresset light which he took for his badge, ' showing thereby that, although his virtues and good parts 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 under standing 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 ri. , „ personal accoutrements of the Black Prince at His saddle. Canterbury. The shield has lost its splen dour, but is still there.4 The saddle is that on which he 1 Unless the figure on the south side is King Arthur, in accordance with the seal of Henry V., which has the Confessor on one side and Arthur on the other. 2 See Roberts's Houses of York and Lancaster, ii. 254, 255. 3 MS. history, quoted in Cough's Sepulchral Monuments, ii. 69. 1 Its ornaments still appear in Sandford, 280. WW f ™w ' " ' § (Mi P HELMET, SHIELD, AND SADDLE OF HENRY V., STILL SUSPENDED OVER HIS TO.MB. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 185 Vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To witch the world with noble horsemanship.1 The helmet — which, from its elevated position, has almost become a part of the architectural out- v e Aii i-i 1_1*s helmet. fine 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,'2 which twice saved his life on that eventful day — ' the bruised hel met' which he refused to have borne in state before him on his triumphal entry into London, 'for that he would have the praise chiefly given to God.' 3 Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; Giving full trophy, signal and ostent Quite from himself to God. 4 Below is his tomb, which still bears some marks of the inscription 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.5 The whole of the silver was carried off by some robbers, who had 'broken in the night-season into the Church of Westminster,' at the time of the 1 Shakspeare 's Henry IV., First Part, act iv. sc. 1. 2 It is lined with leather, and must have been richly gilded out side. I. fear that the marks upon it are merely the holes for attaching the crest, &c, and not the marks of the ponderous sword of the Duke of Alencon. 3 Account of the helmet by the Ironmongers' Company, pp. 145, 146 4 Shakspeare's Henry V., act v., Chorus. 5 Inventory of Relics. (Archives.) 186 THE ROYAL TOMBS Dissolution.1 But, even in its mutilated form, the tomb has always excited the keen interest of English men. 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 Westminster, in the church may see Harry the Fifth ; ' 2 and Sir Roger de Coverley's anger was roused at the sight of ' the figure of one of our English Kings with out a head, which had been stolen away several years since.' ' Some Whig, I '11 warrant you. You ought to lock op your kings better ; they '11 carry off the body too, if you don't take care.' 3 If the splendour of Henry V.'s tomb marks the cul mination 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,4 but only in a rude tomb in the Lady Chapel beyond, in a ' badly apparelled5 state.' There the coffin lay for many years. It was,, on the destruction of that Chapel by her grand son, placed on the right side of her royal husband,6 wrapt in a sheet of lead taken from the roof; and in 1 Jan. 30, 1546. Arrhceol. xviii. 27. See Keepe, p. 155. The grates were added by Henry VI. (Rymer, x. 490.) 2 Defence of the Earl of Leicester. (P. Cunningham.) 3 Spectator, No. 329. It would seem that the name was not given. 4 Strickland's Queens, iii. 183, 209. 5 Archives. 6 As specified in Feckenham's inscription, added in the next cen tury. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 187 it from the waist upwards was exposed to the visitors of the Abbey ; and so it ' continued to be Tolllb of seen, the bones being firmly united, and ^Vluoi"? thinly clothed with flesh, like scrapings of {SaXi,8, fine leather.' 1 Pepys, on his birthday visit s' 1437' to the Abbey, 'kissed a Queen.'2 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 appointment (as he that showeth the tombs will tell you by tradition), in regard of her disobedience to her husband, for being delivered of her son, Henry VI., at Windsor, the place which he for bade.'3 This desecration was brought to an end by the interment of the remains in a vault under the Villiers monument, 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 chan try 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 his first-born son, visits of r Henry VI. who was born on St. Edward's Day.4 A long usi-ueo. recollection lived in the memory of the old officers and workmen of the Abbey, how they had, in the disastrous period between the Battle of St. Albans and the Battle of Wakefield, seen the King visit the Abbey, at all 1 Dart, ii. 39. — The position is seen in Sandford, 289. 2 Pepys's Diary (Feb. 24, 1668), iv. 253. 3 Weever, p. 475 ; Fuller, book iv. art. xv. § 48. 4 Ridgway, p. 178. 188 THE ROYAL TOMBS hours of the day and night, to fix the place of his sepulture.1 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 pos tern, 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;' 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 pro posal 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 occa sion he visited the Chapel of the Confessor 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 proposed 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 de vout King anxiously asked whether there was any spot 1 Archives. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 189 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 conven ient place;' and again, still more emphatically, and with the peculiar asseveration which, in his pious and simple lips, took the place of the savage oaths of the Plantagenets, ' 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 grave on the pavement. Within three days the Relics were removed, Dent]] of and the tomb was ordered. The 'marbler' jray1.j2V1'' (as we should now say, the statuary) and the 147L coppersmith received forty groats for their instalment, and gave one groat to the workmen, who long remem bered the conversation 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 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., though he died at Westminster, though 190 THE BOYAL TOMBS his obsequies were celebrated in St. Stephen's Chapel and in the Abbey, and though to his reign we probably withdrawal owe ^ne screen which divides the Shrine from dynasty to* the High Altar, was buried in St. George's Windsor. Chapel, over against his unfortunate rival. This severance of the York dynasty from the Con fessor's Shrine marks the first beginning of the senti ment which has eventually caused the Royal 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 Edward iv., were granted by him for the repairs of the uss: ' roof.1 But, whilst Edward lay at Windsor, buried at Windsor, George at Tewkesbury, Richard at Leicester, 1483. Edward V. and his brother in the Tower, the younger George and his sister Mary at Windsor,2 Cecilia at Quarre3 in the Isle of Wight, Anne at Thet- ford (now at Framlingham), Catherine at Tiverton, Margaret Bridget at Dartford,4 one small tomb alone — Dec'Ti' that of Margaret, a child of nine months old 1472. — 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 IIL, and daugh- 1485. ter of the Earl of Warwick, is believed to be 1 Neale, i. 92; Tobler's Bethlehem, p. 112. See Chapter V. a Green's Princesses, iii. 402. 3 Ibid. iv. 436. — Her first husband, Lord Wells, was buried in the Abbey 1498, in the Lady Chapel, not yet destroyed. (Ibid. iii. 428.) Her connection with the Isle of Wight was through her second hus band, Thomas Kyme, a Lincolnshire gentleman, with whom she lived at East Standen. 4 Ibid. iii. 437; iv. 11, 12,38,47. OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 191 ouried on the south side of the altar ; J Anne Mowbray, the betrothed wife of young Richard of York, Anne in the Islip Chapel.2 of York. But the passion for the House of Lancaster still ran underground; and when the Civil Wars were closed, its revival caused the Abbey to leap again into new life. In every important church an image of the sainted Henry had been erected. Even in York' Min ster pilgrimages were made to his figure in the rood- screen, which it required the whole authority Devotion t0 of the Northern Primate to suppress.3 This Ho,""yvl- 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.4 Accordingly, he deter mined to reconstruct at Windsor the Chapel Claims o£ at the east end of St. George's, originally ^leftKey, founded by Henry III. and rebuilt by Ed- SnTnstofnr ward IIL, in order to become the receptacle '"s bl"'ial- 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 AVestminster put in their claims for the body — Chertsey on the ground that Richard III. had taken it thence by violence to Wind sor ; 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 re membered the dates only by the imperfect sign that they were before or after ' the field of York, or of St. 1 Crull, p. 23. — -A leaden coffin was found there in 1866. Thd stone is supposed to be preserved in the pavement of the S. Transept. 2 Keepe, 133. a Order of Archbishop Booth, October 27, 1479. 4 Pauli, iii. 634. 192 THE ROYAL TOMBS Albans,' 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 contest, Decision in decided in favour of Westminster.1 Windsor west- made a stout resistance, and continued its ii98. endeavours 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 unfinished chapel at Windsor was left to the singular fate which was to" befall it in after- times — the sepulchre designed for Cardinal Wolsey, the Roman 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 re ceive the saintly corpse. Henry VII. characteristically stated the great expenses to which he was subjected, and insisted on the Convent of Westminster contrib uting its quota of 5001., (equal to 500CV. of our money) for transference of 'the holy body.'2 This sum was duly paid by Abbot Fascet. The King determined to found 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 confirmed uncle 0f blissful memory, King Henry VI.' 3 ^,e Pope Julius II. granted the licence for the 1004. removal, declaring that the obscurity in which the enemies of Henry had combined to envelope his 1 Archives. 2 Ibid. 3 Will of Henry VII. (Neale, i. pt. ii. p. 7.) OF THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER. 193 miracles, first at Chertsey and then at Windsor, was at last to be dispersed.1 This was the last cry of ' the aspiring blood of Lan caster.' Suddenly, imperceptibly, it ' sank into the ground.' The language of the Westminster Chauelnf records certainly implies that the body was ftwLZ1' removed (according to a faint tradition, of 1"mster- which no distinct trace remains) to some ' place un distinguished ' in the Abbey.2 But the language of the wills both of Henry VII.3 and of Henry VIII. no less clearly indicates that it remains, according to the Windsor tradition, in the south aisle of St. ™ ' Changed George's Chapel. Unquestionably, no solemn jJi*" Se0r 'translation' ever took place. The 'canonisa- Hom'vVir- tion,' which the Pope had promised, was never carried out. The Chapel at AVestminster 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 monumental effigy, were thought by an observant antiquary to indicate ' a strong reluctance to quit the possessions of this world;'4 and that the failure of canonisation was occasioned by his unwillingness, par simonious 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 in creased, and the remembrance of his succession to Henry of Lancaster was gradually merged in the proud 1 Rymer, xiii. 103, 101 ; Dugdale, i. 315. 2 Malcolm, pp. 218, 225; Speed, p. 869. 3 Neale (part ii.), i. 7. Will of Henry VIII. (Fuller's Church Hist. a. d. 1546.) 4 Pennant, p. 29. VOL. I. — 13 194 THE ROYAL TOMBS 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 nobk progenitors.' ' The Chapel of Henry VII. is indeed well 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 struc tures he had left to posterity ' 2 — King's College Chapel, the Savoy, AATestminster. Its very style was believed to have been a reminiscence of his exile, being ' learned in France,' by himself and his companion Fox.3 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.' 4 It was to be his chantry as well as his tomb, for he was determined not to be behind the Lancastrian The princes in devotion ; and this unusual anxiety chantry. for ^ie sa^e 0ji a goui noj. ^00 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 B ' as long as the world shall endure.'6 Almost a second Shrine, surrounded 1 Will of Henry VII. 2 Fuller's Worthies, iii. 555. 3 Speed, p. 757. This, however, is a mistake. It is partly English. 4 Fuller's Worthies, iii. 553. 5 The stalls at that time, and till the arrangements for the Knights of the Bath, left free entrance from the main Chapel into the north and south aisle on each side. These entrances were used on the occa sion of the royal funerals in those aisles. See MS. Heralds' College in the funeral of Charles II. 6 Malcolm, pp. 226, 227. For the cost (£30,000, for purchasing lands for his chapel) see Pauli, v. 644. OF THE TUDORS. 195 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 dedi cated, he had a special devotion.1 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, patriarchs, prophets, apostles, evangelists, martyrs, con fessors, and virgins,' to ' whose singular mediation and prayers he also trusted,' including the royal saints of Britain, St. Edward, St. Edmund, St. Oswald, St. Mar garet of Scotland, who stand, as he directed, sculptured, tier above tier, on every side of the Chapel ; 2 some retained from the ancient Lady Chapel ; the greater part the work of his own age. Round his tomb stand his 'accustomed Avours or guardian saints' (as round the chapel probably were their altars), to whom ' he calls and cries ' — ¦ ' St. Michael, St. John the Bap tist, 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 Redeemer.' 3 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 1 Will of Henry VII. (Neale, ii. 6, 7.) 2 For the enumeration of these see Neale, ii. 39. 3 Will of Henry VII. (Neale, ii. 6, 7.) 196 THE ROYAL TOMBS 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 ' ad joining the Abbey,' rather than forming part of it 1 — corresponds with marvellous fidelity to the pause and The close of break in English history of which Henry ....... O J v t le Middle -,7XT . -i . t-i i Ages. VII. s reign is the expression. It is the close of the Middle Ages : the apple of Granada in its orna- Tt.e close ments shows that the last Crusade was over ; of the Civil . n ¦ i ¦ ii-i -i wars. its flowing draperies and classical attitudes indicate that the Renaissance had already begun. It 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 Bosworth. 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 Red Rose of Lancaster appears in every pane of glass : and in every corner is the Portcullis — the ' Altera securitas,' 2 as he termed it, with an allusion to its own meaning, and the double safeguard of his suc cession — which he derived through John of Gaunt 1 Neale, i. 18. For the Bulls relating to the Chapel, see Dugdale, i. 316-320. 2 Neale (part ii.), i. 28; Biog. Brit. ii. 669; Roberts, ii. 257. OF THE TUDORS. 197 from the Beaufort Castle in Anjou, inherited from Blanche of Navarre by Edmund Crouchback ; 1 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 Fetterlock,2 by which the first Duke of York expressed to his de scendants that ' he was locked up from tlie 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 strange and striking thought, The revival 1 b /-, i of the Celtic as we mount the steps of Henry VII.'s Chapel, rices. that we enter there a mausoleum 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 Dragon 4 of the last British king, Cadwallader — ' the dragon of the great Pendragonship ' of Wales, thrust forward by the Tudor king in every direction, to sup plant the hated White Boar 5 of his departed enemy — 1 Stow, p. n. 2 He built his castle of Fotheringay in the form of a Fetterlock, and gave to his sons, who asked the Latin for 'fetterlock,' the expres sive answer, Hie hcec hoc taceatis. (Dallaway's Heraldic Inquiries, 384, 385.) Edward IV. built the so-called Horse-shoe Cloister also in the form of a fetterlock. 3 Owen Tudor, the brother of Edmund, who was monk in the Abbey, was buried in the Chapel of St. Blaise. (Crull, p. 233.) 4 Grafton, ii. 158. — The banner of the Red Dragon of Cadwallader, on white and green silk, was carried at Bosworth. Hence the Rouge Dragon Herald: 6 Roberts's York and Lancaster, ii. 461, 463. The begin ning of 198 THE ROYAL TOMBS 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, crowd not on my soul ! Ho more our long-lost Arthur we bewail : — All hail, ye genuine kings ! Britannia's issue, hail ! ' These noble lines well introduce us to the great Chapel which, as far as the Royal Tombs of the Abbey are concerned, contains within itself the whole future history of England. The Tudor sover- Engiand. eignS) uniting the quick understanding and fiery temper of their ancient Celtic lineage with the iron will of the Plantagenets, were the fit 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 Jan 24 clock at afternoon of the same day,' 2 the first Siing of stone of the new Chapel was laid by Abbot tuecual,ei. lslip) gir Reginald Bray 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,3 were swept away as ruth lessly as the Norman Church had been by Henry III. ' His granddame of right noble memory, Queen Cath erine, wife to King Henry V, and daughter of Charles 1 Gray's Bard. 2 Neale, ii. 6; Holinshed, iii. 529. 3 Probably in compensation for this the small chapel at the entrance of that of St. John the Baptist was dedicated to St. Erasmus. ¦™ (toval, PLAN OF THE TOMBS OF THE ABBEY IN 1509. PLAN OF THE CHAPEL OF HENRY VII. OF THE TUDORS. 199 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- tagenet sepulchres. His infant daughter Eliz- T b f abeth, aged three years and two months, was l^eui buried, with great 1 pomp, in a small tomb at Scpt- 14!'5' 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 new Chapel Elizabethof was that of his wife, Elizabeth of York. She l°^a^f died, in giving birth to a child, who survived bMiedteb. but a short time : 25- 1603- 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.2 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 3 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 of his affection.4 At the entrance of the city she was met by twenty- seven maidens all in white with tapers, to commemo rate her untimely death in her twenty-seventh year. Six years afterwards he died at the splendid palace l Green's Princesses, iv. 507; Stow's Survey, ii. 600; Sandford, p. 478. 2 More's Elegy on Elizabeth of York. 3 From a record communicated by Mr. Doyne Bell. 4 Antiq. Repos., p. 654; Sandford, pp. 469-471 ; Strickland, iv. 60-62. — He spent £2832 6s. Sd. upon the funeral (Heralds' College, Privy Purse MS.) 200 THE ROYAL TOMBS which he had called by his own name of Richmond, Death of at the ancient Sheen. His vehement protesta- Henry VII sutnrday,'' tions of amendment — bestowing promotions, 1509. " if he lived, only on virtuous, able, and learned men, executing justice indifferently to all men ; his expressions of penitence, passionately grasping the cru cifix, and beating his breast, were in accordance with that dread of his last hour, out of which his sepulchre Burial of had arisen. The funeral corresponded to the Henry VII., J\ May 9, 1509. grandeur of the mausoleum, which was now gradually advancing to its completion. From Rich mond the procession came to St. Paul's, where elaborate obsequies were closed by a sermon from Eisher, 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 previous 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 ta bards, and hung them on the rails of the hearse, ex claiming in French, ' The noble King Henry VII. is dead ! ' and then immediately put them on again, and cried, ' Vive le noble Roy Henry VIII. ! ' 1 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 1 Leland, Collect, (part ii.) iv. 309. Henry lull's Chapel Tomb. OF THE TUDORS. 201 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.' 1 His effigy represents him still to us, as he was known by tradition to the next generation, ' a comely personage, a little above just stature,2 His msy' well and straight-limbed, but slender,' with his scanty hair and keen grey eyes,3 'his countenance 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.' 4 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 the most beautiful and ven- „ , „ ' Tomb of erable figure that the Abbey contains. It is R-J.'jf™(^f Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and .fj0^™6 Derby, mother of Henry VII., who died, and ased09- was buried, in the midst of the rejoicings of her grand son'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 replaced. ' Everyone that knew her,' he said, ' loved her, and everything that she said or did became her.' 5 . . More noble and more refined than in 1 Bacon's Henry VII. iii. 417. 2 'Frontis honos, facies augusta,heroica forma.' (Epitaph.) 3 Grafton, ii. 232. 4 Bacon, p. 416. ° Grafton, ii. 237. 202 THE ROYAL TOMBS any of her numerous portraits, her effigy well lies in that Chapel, for to her the King, her son, owed every thing. For him she lived. To end the Civil Wars by his marriage with Elizabeth of York she counted as a holy duty.1 Her tomb bears the heraldic 2 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 VII. She was always ' Mar garet Richmond.' Her outward existence belonged to the mediaeval past. She lived almost the life, in death she almost Effigy of wears the garb, of an Abbess. Even her mar- Margaret of lie Richmond, riage with Edmund Tudor was the result of a ¦&'- vision of St. Nicholas. The last English 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 in the camp.3 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.4 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 5 greets the Foundress of St. John's and Christ's Colleges, as of the two first Di- 1 Hallstead's Margaret Richmond, p. 225. 2 The antelope at her feet is the supporter of the arms of Lancaster. The daisies on the chapel gates represent her name. 3 Camden's Remains, i. 357 ; Fuller's Worthies, i. 167. 4 Stow, p. 476. See Chapter V. ° Gray's Installation Ode. OF THE TUDOBS. 203 vinity Chairs in either University. She, who was the instructress-general of all the Princes of the Royal House,1 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 aca demical channels by the warning which Fisher gave her of the approaching changes, in which any merely conventual foundations would perish, and any collegiate institutions would as certainly survive.2 Caxton, as he worked at his printing-press, in the Almonry which she had founded, was under her special protection;3 and ' the worst thing she ever did ' was trying to draw Erasmus from his studies to train her untoward step son, James Stanley, to be Bishop of Ely.4 Strikingly are the old and the new combined, as, round the monu ment of that last mediaeval Princess, we trace the letters of the inscription5 written by that first and most universal of the Reformers. We feel, as we stand by her tomb, that we are ap proaching the great catastrophe. Yet in the Abbey, as in history, there is a momentary smoothness in the torrent ere it dashes below in the cataract of the Refor mation. It was Prince Arthur's death6 — Death of that silent prelude of the rupture with the a? See of Rome — which intercepted the magni- Ma„ia Prince thur, April 2,1502. ¦i.'l^r ficent window 7 sent by the magistrates of Dort from Gouda as a present to Henry VII. for his *- Jesse's Richard III., p. 263. 2 Hallstead, p. 226. 8 See Chapter V. 4 Coleridge's Northern Worthies, ii. 1 84. 5 Erasmus for this received twenty shillings. 6 £58 17s. 6rf. was paid to the Abbot of Winchester for a hearse, possibly for Prince Arthur (Excerpta Historica, p. 129). 7 Now in St. Margaret's Church. See its curious history in Wal- cott's Memorials of Westminster, pp. 103, 136. 204 THE ROYAL TOMBS Chapel, as a wedding-gift for Prince Arthur and Cathe rine of Arragon. The first of the series of losses which caused Henry VIII. to doubt the lawfulness of his Death of marriage with Catherine is marked by the Henry Feb. grave of the infant Prince Henry, who lies 22, 1509. a^ ^e entrance either of this Chapel, or that of the 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 to rise for the tomb of Intended i ^-, i • c a t-. tomb of himself and Catherine of Arragon. 'Peter Henry VIII. . ° 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 al tered because ' misliked by him ; ' and it forms the climax of Henry VII.'s virtues, as recorded in his epi taph, 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 hon oured 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 match less altar ' 3 at its head, as for the shrine of another Confessor. 1 Crull, p. 218. — If so, perhaps in a small leaden coffin found in 1866 before the High Altar. 2 Archceologia, xvi. 80. — A reminiscence of this may be found in the name of ' The Chapel of Henry VIII.' for the Revestry. (Dart, i. 64.; See also Chapter III. 3 Ryves's Mercurius Rusticus, p. 155. OF THE TUDORS. 205 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 Royalty could save the treas ures of the Confessor's Chapel. Then, doubtless, dis appeared not only the questionable relics of TneRefor- the elder faith, but also the coronet of Llew- the Abbey. 153S ellyn, and the banners and statues round the August. Shrine. Then even the bones of the Royal Saint were moved out of their place, and buried apart, till Mary brought them back to the Shrine which so 1M6 long had guarded them. Then broke in the Jan-30- robbers who carried off the brazen plates and silver head from the monument of Henry V.1 Then all thought of enlarging or adorning the Abbey was ex tinguished 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 deter mined 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 individuals ; the Chapter House was turned into a Record Office ; 3 and the Protector Somerset was believed to have meditated the demoli tion of the church itself. The Abbey, however, still stands. It was saved, prob ably in Henry's time by the Royal Tombs, especially i See Chapter VI. 2 A splendid tomb was prepared for him in St. George's Chapel (See Sandford, p. 494.) 3 See Chapter V. 206 THE ROYAL TOMBS by that of his father — just as Peterborough Cathe dral was spared for the grave of his wife, Catherine of Arragon, and St. David's (according 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 Westminster in its behalf, or by the sacrifice of seven teen 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.1 It was natural that under Queen Mary so great a monument 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.2 Mary's first anxiety was for her brother's fitting interment. For a whole month he edwakd lay unburied, during the long negotiations be- VI., died J „, ' , b . . ° b July e, tween Mary and her ministers as to the mode 8, 1553. of the funeral rites.3 But they ended in his burial, not, as he himself probably would have de signed, 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.'4 The procession from the Palace to the Abbey was a mass of black velvet. Side by side with the banner of his own mother Jane Seymour waved the banner of his sister's mother,5 Catherine of Arragon. He was i See Chapter VI. 2 Ibid. 3 Fronde, vi. 38, 42, 49, 58. 4 Grey Friars' Chronicle, p. 82. 6 Machyn's Diary, Aug. 8, 1553. OF THE TUDORS. 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 approached, underneath the sumptuous ' touchstone altar, all of one piece,' with its ' excellent workman ship of brass,' l ' 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 Reformed Church of England, the first ever used over an English sovereign ; and ' the last and sad dest function of his public ministry that Archbishop Cranmer was destined to perform,' was this interment of the Prince whom he had baptized and crowned.2 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 proceed ing 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 ' de parted from this life.' 3 1 Ryves's Mercurins Ruslicus, p. 155; Fuller's Worthies, ii. 37. — An engraving is to be seen in Sandford (p. 498). It resembled Eliza beth's tomb in style. There was an altarpiece of the Resurrection, sur mounted by angels, in terra cotta, at the top holding the emblems of the Passion, and a dead Christ beneath. These were the work of Tor- regiano. (See the Indenture quoted in Neale, vol. i. pt. ii. 58.) 2 Froude, vi. 58. — Day, Bishop of Chichester, 'preached » good sermon,' and Cranmer administered the Communion, ' and that poorly.1 (Strype's E. M. vol. ii. pt. ii. p. 122; Grey Friars' Chronicle, p. 82.) 3 See Appendix. 208 THE ROYAL TOMBS It is one of our many paradoxes, that the first Protes tant Prince should have thus received his burial from the bitterest enemy of the Protestant cause, and that Tomb of the tomb under which he reposed should have Edward \i. -^een ^e aitar built for the chanting of masses which he himself had been the chief means of abolish ing. It is a still greater paradox, that 'he, who de served the test, should have no monument erected to his memory,'1 and that the only royal memorial de stroyed 2 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 Anne of on. Anne of Cleves, a friend both to Mary Cleves. died .... July 17, arid Elizabeth — whose strange vicissitudes buried Aug. 4,1557. had conducted her from her quiet 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 carried3 past St. James's Palace and Charing Cross. Bonner, as Bishop of Loudon, and Feckenham, as Abbot of Westminster, rode together. The scholars, the almsmen, and the monks went before. Bonner sang mass, and Feckenham preached.4 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.5 1 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 37. 0 In 1643. (Ryves's Mercurius Rustlcns, p. 155. See Chapter VI.) The name on the grave was first inscribed in 1866. See Appendix. 3 Machyn's Diary, Aug. 3, 1 557. 1 Excerpta Historica, 295. The funeral ceremony is given, 303. r' Neale, ii. 283. — It is marked by initials A. C. A bas-relief, by some supposed to have been intended for it, was found in 1865 packed OF THE TUDORS. 209 Mary soon followed. With ' Calais on her heart ' she was borne from St. James's Palace to Henry VII.'s Chapel, and thus became the first occupant queen of the north aisle, here as in Edward's Nov. iV, Chapel, the favoured side. Bishop White is.ioss. preached on the text 'A living dog is better than a dead lion.' Heath, Archbishop of York, closed the ser vice. The black cloth in which the Abbey was draped was torn down by the people before the cere- 0bsequiC80t mony1 was well over. Her obsequies were, pg"1!!^' with one exception, the last funeral solemnity 136S- of the Roman Church celebrated in the Abbey : that exception was the dirge and requiem ordered by Eliza beth, a few days later, for Charles V., ' Emperor of Rome.' 2 The grave of Mary bore witness to the change that succeeded on her death. • The altars which she had re- erected, or which had survived the devastation of her brother's reign, were destroyed by her sister. A ill6 The fragments of those which stood in Henry 106L VII.'s Chapel were removed, and carried to 'where Mary was buried, perhaps toward the making of her monument with those religious stones.' 3 It was, how ever, forty-five years before the memory of her unhappy reign would allow a word to indicate her sepulchre. At last the hour of reconciliation came. Queen Eliza beth, the third foundress of the institution, and who in the Revestry. It was evidently made for a Roman Catholic, but probably one of a later date. The tomb seems to have been apparently built on the site of an older tomb — probably of an Abbot. See Chapter VI. 1 Machyn's Diary, Dec. 13, 1558. 2 Stirling's Cloister Life of Charles V, p. 251 ; Machyn, Dec. 23, 1558. 8 Strype's Annals, i. pt. i. p. 400; Machyn, April 16, 1561. vol. i. — 14 24, buried April 28, 1003. 210 THE ROYAL TOMBS clung to it with peculiar affection, had breathed her last 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.1 With these and other like exaggerations, which, how ever, indicate the excess of the national mourning, she was laid in the Abbey. ' The City of West- ?."fv?.f™.' minster was surcharged with multitudes of all sorts of people, in their streets, houses, win dows, 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.'2 In the twelve banners which were carried before her, her descent from the House of York was carefully em blazoned, to the exclusion of the Lancastrian line.3 On the oaken covering of the leaden coffin was carefully engraved the double rose with the simple august initials 'E. R., 1603.' Dean Andrews preached the funeral sermon. Raleigh was present as captain of the guard. It was his last public act. She was carried, doubtless 1 Camden's Remains, p. 524. See Chapter VI. 2 Stow, p. 815. The effect was increased by the fact that so many were there in mourning for the plague. (St. John's Raleigh, ii. 73.) 8 Programme of the funeral, in the tract called England's Mourning Garment, and Vetusta Monumenta, vol. ii. plnte 18, where there is also an engraving of a sketch of it (now in the British Museum) supposed to have been drawn by Camden. OF THE TUDORS. 211 by her own desire, to the North Aisle of Henry VII.'s Chapel, to the unmarked grave of her unfortunate pre decessor. At the head of the monument raised by her successor over the narrow vault 1 are to be read two lines full of a far deeper feeling than we should natur ally have ascribed to him — 'Regno consortcs et urud, h\c obdormimus Elizabctha et Maria, sorores, in spe resurrectionis! The long war of the English Reforma tion is closed in those words. In that contracted sep ulchre, admitting of none other but those two, the stately coffin of Elizabeth rests on the coffin of Maiy. 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 nameless graves of Edward and Tomboi Mary had thus far justified, that ' no child of Elizabeth. Henry VIII. should ever be buried with any memory.' This ' blind prophecy ' it was now determined to frus trate. ' Rather than fail in payment2 for Queen Eliza beth'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 compelled the King to recognise the universal feeling of the nation. Disfigured as it is, it represents the 1 See Appendix. Compare Washington Irving's Sketch Book, p. 221. 2 Letter of Viscount Cranbourne to Sir Thomas Lake. (State Papers, 1609 ) It was made of white marble and touchstone from the Royal store at Whitehall. Warrant of James I. to Viscount Cran bourne. (Ibid.) The cost, which was not to exceed £600 (ibid.), reached £965, ' besides stonework.' It was erected by Maximilian Poutram. (MS. in the possession of Baroness North.) For the wax effigy, see Chapter IV. 212 THE ROYAL TOMBS great Queen as she was best known to her contempo raries ; and of all 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.' 1 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.2 So ended the Tudor tombs in the Chapel of their Founder. But the Stuarts were not slow in vindicating their right to be considered as Kings of England, by The regarding Westminster Abbey as their new stdarts. Dunfermline or Holyrood. The Scottish dynasty lies side by side with the Welsh. Already there had been laid in the western end of the South Aisle, of which the eastern end was occupied by Mar garet Countess of Richmond, another Margaret, far less Margaret eminent in character, but claiming her place Lennox, , ,,.,, 1577. here as the link between the English and the Scottish thrones. Margaret Lennox, daughter of Mar garet Tudor by her second husband, and wife of Stuart Earl of Lennox,3 after a series of family disasters, died in poverty at what was then the suburban village of 1 Church History, book x. § 12. 2 Londiniana, i. 243. 3 For her character, see Froude's History, xi. 72. Chapel and Tomb of Mary Queen of Scots. OF THE STUARTS. 213 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,1 was partly erected by her grandson, James I. Round it kneel her children — Henry Darnley, marked, by the fragments of the crown above his head, as the unfortunate King of Ch , Scotland ; 2 and Charles Stuart, ' father to the stualt- 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.3 Next to this tomb — by a double proximity, as remarkable as that which has laid Mary Tudor with Elizabeth — is the grave of Mary Stuart. We Mal.y QUee„ need not follow her obsequies from Eotherin- elected gay Castle to the neighbouring Cathedral of } ™ s > & o toied Ju6nl' m a coac^ to the Deanery, and thence through 23, 1607. the cloisters to the Abbey.4 In the same year had died Sophia,5 rosula regia prcepropero fato decerpta, who lived but a day. The King ' took her death as a wise prince should, and wished her to be buried in West minster Abbey, as cheaply as possible, without any solemnity or funeral ; ' 6 ' sleeping in her cradle [the cradle is itself the tomb], wherewith vulgar eyes, es pecially 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 mon uments in Westminster.' 7 1 The hpnes of the York Princes were placed in ' Monk's vault,' 1678 (Dart, i. 167), but only till the urn was ready. It was made by Wren. See Appendix. 2 Fuller's Worthies, i. 490. 3 Green's Princesses, ii. 91-95. — Margaret Lennox was chief mourn er. (Sandford, p. 537.) 4 Dart, i. 167. 5 The first Sophia of English history, herself called after her grand mother. Sophia of Denmark, and bequeathing her name to her niece, the Electress of Hanover. (Strickland's Queens of Scotland, viii 286; Life, of Arabella Stuart, ii. 89.) c Fuller's Worthies, ii. 129. It cost -£140. (Lodge's Illustrations, iii. 309.) 7 Fuller's Worthies, i. 490. OF THE STUARTS. 217 Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, in whose grave were buried the hopes of the Puritan party, was laid in the South Aisle of the Chapel, 'under his Prince i ,i i ,i>i ii., Henry, died grandmothers monument, 1 m the vault which Nov. a, iii • i -r-r i i buried Dec. had been just made for her. He died ' on a s, iei2. 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 exceeding much mournfulness.' 3 His funeral was attended by 2,000 mourners. Nine banners went before, each pre ceded 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 lxxxii. 6, 7.5 The ab- AraMla sence of any special monument for one so buried sept. deeply lamented, caused much comment at ~7' lfi15, the time. Three years later Arabella Stuart, daughter of Charles Lennox, and cousin of James I., after her 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 1 So the Burial Register. 2 State Papers, Nov. 11, 1612. 3 Giles Fletcher, and others in Pettigrew's Epitaphs, p. 314. * If wise, amaz'd, depart this holy grave, Nor these new ashes ask what name they have : The graver in concealing them was wise, I'or whoso learns, strait melts in tears and dies.' 4 State Papers, Dec. 19, 1612. 6 Birch's Life of Henry Prince of Wales, pp. 363, 522. 218 THE ROYAL TOMBS 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.' a Anne of Denmark next followed. She died at Somerset House, called, from her, Denmark House, Anne of after making a dying profession of her faith, Sed Zrch ' free from Popery.' The King, detained by M-'yTsf 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 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 (Toun- son) was charged to find ' a convenient place for her,' and she was laid — at least she now lies — alone in a spacious vault 2 in the north-easternmost recess of Henry VII.'s Chapel. Archbishop Abbott preached on Psalm cxlvi. 3.3 In five years followed King James himself. Abbott, now so aged as to need a supporter, performed the james t., service. The French ambassadors would be 27! buriedh content with no place4 short of parity with Mays, 1625. the cpljef ffionmei] Charles I., even though 1 Register; Keepe, p. 105 ; Life of Arabella Stuart, ii. 246, 298. For the tomb of Lewis Stuart, Duke of Richmond, see Chapter IV. 2 Heralds' College and Lord Chamberlain's Office. State Papers, March 27, April 16, 1619. See Appendix. 3 The Prince Palatine sate in the Dean's stall; the Lord Chancellor (Bacon) in the scholars' pew. (Harl. MS. 5176.) 4 From Sir J. Finet, the Master of the Ceremonies. (Philoxenus, p. 150.) OF THE STUARTS. 219 they had 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 Eliza beth 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 patri archal sepulchre.1 His funeral sermon was preached by Dean Williams, who, with an ingenuity worthy of James himself, compared the dead King in eight par ticulars to Solomon. His hearse was of unusual splen dour, a masterpiece, as it was thought, of Inigo Jones.2 A scheme for a monument in the classical style was devised but never executed.3 Charles I.'s two infant children were the first to follow. Theirs were the first of that vast crowd of small coffins that thronged their grandmother's Pl.inoe vault. One was his eldest-born, Charles, over Surierfkay whose short life the Roman Catholic priests Aiinejdied of his mother and the Anglican chaplains of Dec- s> 1(i4°- the father fought for the privilege of baptizing him.4 The other was the Princess Anne, who, on her 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 little5 lamb gave up the ghost.' 1 See Appendix. 2 See note at end of Chapter IV. 3 Walpole's Anecdotes, 223. 4 Fuller's Worthies, i. 490. 6 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 108; Sandford, p. 608; Fisher, p. 288. 220 THE ROYAL TOMBS. Two years after the death of this ' little innocent,' the Royal Abbey passed into the hands of the Common- the wealth and the Protector. The changes of its Common- weal™ constitution will appear as we proceed. But and Pro- , . tectorate. its outward fabric was hardly injured. Ihe Royal Monuments, which cruelly suffered under Henry VIII, received, so far as we know, no harm J under Cromwell ; and the Abbey, so far from losing its attrac tions, drew into it not only, as we shall see,2 the lesser magnates of the Commonwealth, but also the Protector himself. Nothing shows more completely how entirely he regarded himself as the founder of a royal dynasty cromweii's than nis determination that he and his whole family. family should lie amongst the Kings of Eng land. 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 jane Dis- ms head.' 3 Three members of his family browe, died were interred there before his death — his sis- crmmveii, ter Jane,4 who married General Disbrowe ; his is.'iBdlf venerable mother, Elizabeth Stuart, through Elizabeth whom his descent was traced to the brother of died a°u°'. 6. the founder of the Stuarts ; and Elizabeth i'o, loss. "' Claypole, his favourite daughter.0 Cromwell, ' At three o'clock in the afternoon ' of the 1658. ' ' 3rd of September, ' a day of triumph and 1 Dart speaks of injuries to the Confessor's Shrine ; but these must have been chief!)' confined to the altar at its west end. (See Chapter VI.) 2 See Chapters IV. and VI. 3 Vines's Sermon on Essex's Funeral. See Chapter IV. 4 Nichols's Col. Top. viii. 153. Amongst the family must be reck oned ' Anne Fleetwood,' mentioned in the warrant for disinterment (see Appendix), who may be a daughter of the General Fleetwood, and granddaughter of Cromwell. 5 She died at Hampton Court August 6, and was laid in state in the Painted Chamber, and thence was buried on August 10 in a vault THE COMMONWEALTH. 221 thanksgivings for the memorable victories of Dunbar and Worcester, his most serene and renowned high ness Oliver Lord Protector was taken to his rest.' l The arrangements of the funeral were left to Mr. Kin- nersley, 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 reformer 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 col oured 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.' 2 The profusion of the ceremony, it is made on purpose. Her aunt, the wife of Dr. Wilkins, afterwards Bishop of Chester, was chief mourner. (Mercurius Politicus.) She is the 'Betty' of Oliver's earlier letters, 'who belongs to the sect rather of seekers than of finders. Happy are they who find — most happy are they who seek ! ' (Carlyle's Cromwell, i. 295.) See Appendix. 1 Commonwealth Mercury, Sept. 2-9, 1658. 2 Ludlow, pp. 259, 260. I cannot find that Philip II.'s funeral was so conducted. In fact, the Protector's corpse was removed from White hall to Somerset House on Sept. 20, and the state show began on Oct. 18. (Commonwealth Mercury, Nov. 18-25, 1658.) The expenses were paid by Parliament to Richard Cromwell. The Royalist interpretation was that it was designed to bring Richard in debt, and so ruin him, which in effect it did, The snin expended was £60,000. more by one- half than ever was used for royal funerals. (Heath's Chron., p. 411; 222 THE ROYAL TOMBS. 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,' or ' Oliver Cromwell's vault.' 1 Burial of Oliver its massive walls, abutting immediately on Cromwell, " sept. 26-. the royal vault of Henry VII., are the only Nov.r23, addition to the structure of the Abbey dating from the Commonwealth. Here 'the last ceremony of honour was paid to the memory of him, to whom (so thought his adherents 2) posterity will pay (when envy is laid asleep by time) more honour than they were able to express.' Two Royalists who stood by, and saw the procession pass, have also recorded their feelings.3 ' It was,' says Cowley, ' the funeral day of the man late who made himself to be called Pro tector. ... I found there had been 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 mag- Winstauley's Worthies, p. 605 ; Noble's Crom well, Appendix B.) The hearse was of the same form as, only more stately than, that of James I. (Heath's Chron., p. 413.) 1 Register, May 25, 1691 ; August 29, 1701. 2 Commonwealth Mercury, Nov. 23, 1658. 3 For the like feelings inside the Abbey, see Chapter VI. THE COMMONWEALTH. 223 nificence, much vain glory : briefly, a great show and yet, after all this, but an ill sight.' ' It was,' says Evelyn, ' the joyfullest funeral that I ever saw, for there were none that cried but dogs, which the soldiers hooted away with as barbarous noise, drinking and taking to bacco 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 ; x 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 North ampton,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 the Restoration. Cromwell, Ireton, Disinter. and Bradshaw were dug up on the eve of the crnmweirs 30th of January, 1661 ; and on the following f™X' day dragged to Tyburn, hanged (with their 1000~1- faces turned towards Whitehall),7 decapitated, and buried under the gallows.8 The plate found on the breast of the corpse, with the inscription, passed into the possession of the sergeant who took up the body, from 1 Elenchus mortuoruni, pt. ii. p. 231. 2 Oldmixon's Stuarts, i. 426. 8 Barkstead's Complete History, iii. 228 ; Biog. Brit. iii. 1573. 4 Pepys's Diary, Oct. 14, 1664. 5 This tradition is based on two gravestones over the Claypole vault at Northampton, one with the letters E. C, supposed to be Elizabeth Claypole; one without inscription, supposed to be her father. It is disproved by the discovery of her grave in the Abbey. (See Appendix.) 6 Heath's Flagellum, p. 187. 7 Pepys' Diary, Jan. 30, 1660-1 ; Heath's Flagellum, p. 192. 8 /. e. near Conpaught Square. 224 THE ROYAL TOMBS whom it descended, through his daughter, Mrs. Giffard, into the hands of the Hobarts, and from them to the pre sent Marquis of Ripon.1 The head was'planted on the top of Westminster Hall, on one side, as Ireton's on the other side, of Bradshaw's, which was set up in the centre,2 as over the place in which he had passed judg ment, ' to be the becoming spectacle of his treason, where, on that pinnacle and legal advancement, it is fit to leave this ambitious wretch.' 3 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.4 With the Restoration the burials of the legitimate Princes recommenced, in a gloom — it may be added, the res- a privacy — singularly contrasting with the intended ioyous solemnity of the return. Charles I. tomb of J J J charies i. himself, who had been buried at Windsor, was to have been transported to Henry VII.'s Chapel at Westminster, and reinterred, under a splendid tomb, to be executed by Wren5 ' And many good people thought this so necessary, that they were much troubled tliat it was not done.' The ' reasons given were not liked,' — the apprehension of a disturbance, the length of time that had passed, but chiefly the difficulty of . finding the grave. Since the discovery of the body at Windsor, in 1813, exactly where it was said to have been interred, we know that this reason was fictitious, 1 Barkstead, iii. 229 ; Noble's Cromwell; and Gent. Mag., May, 1867. 2 Pepys's Diary, Jan. 5, 1661-2. — They seem then to have been inside the Hall. 3 Heath's Flagellum, p. 192. — The traditions of the fate of Crom well's skull are too intricate to be here described. 4 See Chapter IV. 5 The plan is in All Souls' College Library. OF THE STUARTS. 225 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.1 The other members of the House of Stuart followed fast even amidst the rejoicings of the Restoration, to the royal sepulchre, and were all laid in the vault of their ancestress Mary. First came Henry of Henry Oatlands, Duke of Gloucester, the child who Gloucester, said he would be torn in pieces before he should is, buried Sept. 21, be made King in his elder brother's place. He ieeo. died of the small-pox,2 at Whitehall, 'the mirth and entertainments of that time had raised his blood so high.' 3 Nothing ever affected his heartless royal brother so deeply.4 Next came Mary of M f Orange, mother of William III., laid, by her burfedfbec. own desire, elose to the Duke of Gloucester, 20' 16S0' ' honourably though privately buried in Henry VII.'s Chapel.' 5 She had visited England ' to congratulate the happiness of her brother's miraculous restora- Elizabeth tion.' 6 And within the next year, ' after all her buried FeT.' sorrows and afflictions,' Elizabeth Queen of Bo- iv'ince hernia,7 eldest daughter of James I., and mother Nov. 25, i in mi- i 1-1 -r • buried Dee. of the Electress Sophia, who died at Leicester 6, ies2. 1 Clarendon's Life, ii. 15 ; History, vol. iii. pt. i. p. 393 ; Wood's Ath. Ox. ii. 703 ; Sir Henry Halford's Essays, pp. 157-192. 2 Burnet's Own Time, i. 172, 292. 5 Pepys's Diary, Sept. 5, 13, 15, 17, and 21 (1660). 4 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 204. 6 Ashmole apparently was present. (Green's Princesses, vi. 331.) Dean Earles preached on Luke ii. 12-14 on Christmas Day. He al luded to the public sorrow. (Evelyn, ii. 161.) 6 Fuller's Worthies, ii. 1 1 7. 7 Green's Princesses, vi. 84. vol. 1. — 15 226 THE ROYAL TOMBS House. ' The night of her burial fell such a storm of hail, thunder, and lightning, as was never seen the like.' 1 Her son, Prince Rupert, who had usually been brought out as chief mourner to all the lesser royal funerals, followed in 1682,2 dying in embarrassed cir cumstances, 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 Eari of progeny of Charles II. Charles Earl of Don- Peb°io,ter' caster,3 son of the Duke of Monmouth and nuke'ot °f the heiress of the House of Buccleuch ; cievetod, charles fitzroy, Duke of Cleveland and South- Eari'of ampton ; Charles Fitz-Charles, Earl of Ply- tariedjan. mouth 4 (transported here from Tangiers), lie ' * " " in the vault which had been built for Crom- nH,AdiedS well.5 Charles himself, after that last scene buried' Feb. of his life, which none can repeat after Ma caulay, was 'very obscurely buried at night, without any manner of pomp, and soon forgotten, after all his vanity.' All the great officers broke ' their staves over the grave according to form.'6 A new vault had been made 7 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 Hanove- 1 Evelyn, ii. 189. 2 Crull, p. 119. (Register.) MS. Heralds' College. 3 Register. 4 Of the other natural sons of Charles II., the Duke of St. Albans Duke of St. was buried in St. Andrew's Chapel, attracted thither by Albans. })is wife, Diana de Vere (Register, 1726 ; see Chapter Duke of IV.); and the Duke of Richmond in the Lennox vault, Richmond. /T, . ' , (Ibid.) 6 Crull, p. 111. 6 Evelyn's Diary, iii. 138 ; Register. 1 Feb. 8, Heralds' College- OF THE STUARTS. 227 rian dynasty, was known as ' the Royal Vault.' l Thus reposes 2 one of the most popular and the least deserv ing of monarchs, over whose unmarked grave Roches ter'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 indifference natural on the WlLLIAM accession of a rival House, or from the sim- Marcilsf plicity of his own character,3 reposes one of ^"11 12, the least popular, but by his public acts, one 1702~3' of the most deserving of monarchs — William III. His grave endeared the Abbey to the Nonconformist poet:4 — Preserve, O 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, to the Chapel of the English Benedictines at Paris, and deposited there in the vain hope that, at 1 Archives of the Lord Chamberlain's Office. Communicated by the kindness of Mr. Doyne Bell. 2 It is stated in Clarke's Life of James II. (ii. 6) that the rites of the Church of England were not used. The account preserved in Heralds' College proves that they were. The Scottish Covenanters rejoiced that their oppressor had been buried with the burial of an ass ; but the London housemaids all wore a fragment of black crape. (Macaulay, i. 444.) 3 His coffin-plate is distinguished from all the others on the royal coffins by the extreme brevity of the enumeration of his titles, which are given with the barest initials. 4 Watts's Works, iv. 490. 228 THE ROYAL TOMBS some future time, they would be laid with kingly James n pomp at Westminster, among the graves of ie?di7Soei?' the Plantagenets and Tudors.'1 The actual rarisdaand result was still less within the ken of the stnGra-lt0 mourners, that over their ultimate resting- place in the church of St. Germain, a monu ment should be erected to his memory by a descend ant of the dynasty that had taken his throne — ' Rcgio Cineri Pietas lieejia! His first wife, Anne Hyde,2 daughter of Lord Clarendon, and mother of the two Stuart Queens, lies in the vault of Mary Queen of Anne Hyde Scots, beneath the coffin of Elizabeth of Bo- York'ebui°ied nemia> ancestress of the line which was to fen1.15' supplant her father's house.3 Above and children of around, in every direction, crushing by the andof11' accumulated weight of their small coffins the Dukenofnne' receptacles of the illustrious dust beneath, died jui"' lie the numerous children of James II. who Aug."™ died in infancy — six4 sons and five daugh ters — and the eighteen children of Queen Anne, dying in infancy or still-born,5 ending with Wil- 1 Macaulay, v. 295; Clarke's Life of James II, ii. 599-603. The remains, which had been distributed amongst no less than three convents in Paris, were finally collected in 1814, and placed in the parish church of St. Germain-en-Laye, where the present monument was erected by George IV. in 1826. (Pettigrew's Epitaphs, pp. 258, 259.) 2 Keepe, pp. 106-110. 3 The last interment in this vault was that of the infant Prince George William, second son of George II., when Prince of Wales, who was carefully embalmed by Dr. Mead, Sir Hans Sloane, and other eminent physicians, and placed there on Feb. 16, 1717. This was prob ably the occasion when Dart saw the vault (ii. 53). The child was removed to its mother's side on her death in 1737, in George II.'s vault, where it now is. 4 Including a natural son, James Darnley, probably the son of Catherine Sedley. See Appendix. 5 Dart, ii. 52, 53. This was called sometimes ' the Royal,' but more OF THE STUARTS. 229 liam Duke of Gloucester, the last hope of the race — thus withered, as it must have seemed, by the doom of Providence.1 The two last sovereigns of that race close the series of the unfortunate dynasty in the Southern mahyii., ... i • -i i n n i ¦ lliecl Dec- 28. Aisle, over which the figure of their ances- isw. tress presides with such tragical solemnity. The funeral of Mary was long remembered as the saddest and most august that Westminster had ever seen.2 While the Queen's remains lay in state at Whitehall, the . J Her funeral, neighbouring streets were filled every day, from March 5, 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 Com mons in long black mantles. JSTo preceding Sovereign had ever been attended to the grave by a Parliament : for, till then, the Parliament had always expired with the Sovereign. . . . The whole Magistracy of the City swelled the proces sion. 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 bouses 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 waxlights. The body was deposited under u sumptuous canopy in the centre of the church while the Primate (Tenison) preached.8 The earlier part of his dis course was deformed by pedantic divisions and subdivisions : often ' the Royal Family Vault,' as distinct from the ' Royal Vault ' at the east end. (MS. Heralds' College.) 1 Register. 2 Macaulay, iv. 534, 535. 3 On Eccles. vii. 14. The Dean performed the service. 230 THE ROYAL TOMBS 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.1 A robin redbreast,2 which had taken refuge in the Abbey, was seen constantly on her hearse, and was qdeen looked upon with tender affection for its seem- Anne, died . Aug. 1, mg love to the lamented Queen. buried Aug. . 24, 1714. Anne was buried m the vault beside her Prince oeorge of sister Mary and her husband Prince George Denmark, J ° died Oct. 2s, 0f Denmark. Her unwieldy frame filled a buried Nov. J 13, 1708. coffin larger even than that of her gigantic spouse.3 An inquisitive antiquary went to see the vault before it was bricked up.4 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 scant)' sable shock'd the loyal sight. Though millions wail'd her, none compos'd her train, — Compell'd to grieve, forbidden to complain.5 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 Caen and Fontevrault, should be buried elsewhere than amongst his ancestors at Han over. But George II. and his Queen Caroline are again 1 Macaulay's account is taken from the Heralds' College. 2 Sketch in the Library of the Society of Antiquaries. 3 Strickland, xii. 459. 4 Thoresby's Diary, ii. 252. — The five coffins are described in the Register for August 24, 1714. The names on the five Royal graves were first inscribed in 1866. 5 Samuel Wesley, in Atterbury's Letters, ii. 426. OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 231 genuine personages of English History and of the English Abbey. In the centre of the Chapel the of Henry VII., which under the auspices of hanovkb. his great minister had been animated with a George i.. i-ei ii ei in! C'edJune new lite by the banners of the remodelled 11,1727, buried at Order of the Bath, J were deposited the Hanover. royal pair. Queen Caroline, the most discriminating patroness of learning and philosophy that down to that time had ever graced the throne of England — endeared to every reader of the master-works of his- Queen torical fiction by her appearance in the ' Heart Anspach, and (last of the family) Henry se'pt.l2td Frederick, Duke of Cumberland, the subject of so much real scandal and fictitious romance. No monument commemorates any of these Princes, and till within the last few years their graves were un marked by any name.3 It was the close of George 1 1 I.'s reign that witnessed the final separation of the royal interments from West minster 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 George iii.s to the vault constructed by their father under vault at J Windsor. the Wolsey Chapel at Windsor, where he and his numerous progeny were with a few exceptions in terred ; thus, by a singular rebound of feeling, restoring i See Chapter II. 2 A touching account of her funeral is given by Carter, (Gent. Mag. lxix. pt. ii. p. 942.) l'rince George William, who died in 1718, was transferred thither from the Stuart vault. 3 The names were added (from the engraving of the vault in Neale) in 1866. George IV., it is said, had the intention of erecting a monu ment to Frederick Prince of Wales in St. Paul's, ' Westminster bein« OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 235 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 grand father'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 cen tral aisle for sovereigns.1' And, though another mauso leum 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 Han over well 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 connection 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 overcrowded.' Letter of W. in the Times, April 4, 1832. A contem porary epitaph, somewhat irreverently composed on these Princes, corresponds to this neglect of their graves : Here lies Fred, Who was alive and is dead ; I had much rather Had it been his father [George II.] ; Had it been his brother [the Duke of Cumberland] Much better than another ; Had it been his sister [Princess Amelia] No one would have missed her ; Had it been the whole generation So much better for the nation ; But as it \s only Fred, Who was alive and is dead, There 's no more to be said. 1 The last removal from the Abbey was that of a stillborn child of the King of Hanover, buried in 1817, and transported to St. George's Chapel on the night of William IV.'s funeral, in 1837. The King of Hanover, the Qneen of Wurtemberg, the Princess Elizabeth of Hesse Homburg, were buried in their own vaults in Germany ; the Duke of Sussex and the Princess Sophia in Kensal Green, and the Duchess of Gloucester in the south aisle in Windsor. 236 THE ROYAL TOMBS of the English Church and nation, so much of tin. jest 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 royal which follows the mediaeval style of archi- exiles. tecture, and which thus marks the revival of the Gothic taste. It is the recumbent effigy of Antony, Antony, Duke of Montpensier, younger brother of iiont- Louis Philippe, King of the French. His end pensier, died . . .. .. May is. took place during his exile in England, at buried May r ° ° 26, 1SU7. Salthill. Dying as he did m the Church of his fathers, and attended in his obsequies by the solemn funeral rites of that Church, he was received from the Eoman Catholic chapel1 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 liochefoucault family, the Marquis de Montandre, who with his wife, the daughter of Ezekiel Spanheim,2 was buried beneath the entrance of Henry VII.'s Chapel ; and then removed Th . to a new vault, opened for the purpose, on the scription. south-east corner of the Chapel, over which the tomb was afterwards erected by Westmacott. The Latin inscription was written by the old Revolutionary 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 1 From the French Chapel, King Street, Portman Square. The body lay there in state. High mass was performed in the presence of the Duke of Bourbon, and a requiem sung there afterwards. ( Gent. Mag., 1807, pt. i. p. 584.) The account, which is in some detail, has mistaken the time, making it June 6, at half-past three. 2 Appendix to Crull, p. 39. 3 This information I owe to the kindness of H. R. H. the Duke of Aumale. OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 237 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 Eegum o.sylo requicscit.' x He remains apart from that most pathetic of royal cemeteries, the burialplace 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 ecclesiastics who lie in Westminster or St. Denys have not been able to part asunder.2 In the 1 In the correspondence on the subject between Dean Vincent and the Government, preserved in the Receiver's Office, the Dean proposes some alterations ' unless the inscription is sacred ; that is, so approved by the Duke of Orleans that it may not be touched.' It does not ap pear whether his suggestions were accepted. In the same correspon dence, Louis Philippe, then Duke of Orleans (through his secretary, M. de Brovel) communicates his gratitude to ' the Most Reverend the Dean ' and the Receiver, for their ' very safe and humane care," and to 'the venerable prelate' his full approbation of the spot chosen. A dif ficulty was raised as to whether any one not belonging 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 Eng-' lish 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 seventy. 2 In the same vault ns the Duke of Montpensier, was interred (with the burialplace marked) Louise de Savoy, the Queen of Queen Louis XVIII , who died at Hartwell. Her remains were L°mse de Sitvoy Nov removed to Sardinia on March 5, 1811 (Burial Register) ; 26, 1810. 238 THE ROYAL TOMBS corresponding Chapel on the northern side was to have been erected a corresponding monument to the un fortunate heir of the great rival dynasty of the Napo leons. 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 commem oration singularly in accordance with the traditions of the Abbey, which has always embraced within its walls these landmarks of human life and history : — Sunt lacrymse rerum, et mentem mortalia tangunt. A majority of the House of Commons, however, a year after the monument had been proposed and ac cepted, adopted a resolution declaring it inconsistent with the national character of the Abbey. The pro posal to erect the monument was in consequence with drawn, and by command of the Queen it was 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 Restoration. Posterity will judge how far the ungenerous spirit which gov erned the Parliament of 1661 survived, in an altered form, in the Parliament of 1880. and at the same time the coffins of two Spanish ambassadors — one, that of Don Pedro Ronquillo (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 deposited in the Ormond vault, March 2, 1811 — were sent back to Spain. Dean Stanley's Tomb. OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. 239 Close beside the tomb of the Duke of Montpensier,1 by the gracious desire of the Queen, and with the kindly approval of the gifted chief of the Lady Orleans family, have been laid the last remains Stanley? of one whose name will be ever dear to West- 1, buried01 minster, — mourned in France hardly less ls-a than in England — followed to her grave by the tears of all ranks, from her Royal Mistress down to her humblest and poorest neighbours, whom she had alike faithfully served, — by the representatives of the vari ous Churches, and of the science and literature, both of England and America, whom she delighted 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, 1S81, 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, 1881. He was fol- penihvii lowed by the Prince of Wales, as representative of the Stanley, died Sovereign, by other members of the Royal Family, bv buried ,'luly . 25 1S81 representatives of the three Estates of the Realm, 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 Ar menian 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 laboured unceasingly, and with which his name will always be associated.] 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 grae'd with scars, and prodigal of blood ; Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood ; Just men, by whom impartial laws we»e given ; And saints who taught, and led, the way to heaven. Tickell's Lines on the Death of Addison. (See p. 193 ) Some would imagine that all these monuments were so many monuments of folly. I don't think so ; what useful les>ons of morality and sound philosophy do they not exhibit ! — ' Burke's First Visit to the Abbey' (Prior's Life of Burke, i. 39). ¦16 SPECIAL AUTHORITIES. Bksides the ample details of Keepe, Crull, Dart, and Neale, there are for the ensuing Chapter the following authorities : — L The earlier Burial Register1 of the Abbey, contained in one volume folio, from 1G0C to 1 70U.2 II. The later Burial Registers, from 1 70G 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 u, compilation of Philip Tynchare, the Precentor who was buried ' near the door of Lord Noma's monument, May 12, 1673.' 2 These, as far as the year 1705, are published, with notes, in Nich ols's Collectanea Topographica et Geneidogica,\o\. 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 ref erences 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. /^\F all the characteristics of Westminster Abbey, ^^ that which most endears it to the nation, and gives most force to its name — which has, Peculiarity more than anything else, made it the home of Tombs at the people of England, and the most vene- minster. 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 Ger many, 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 ! 'a and which has intertwined it with so many eloquent passages of Macaulay. It is this which gives point to the allusions of recent Nonconforming statesmen least 1 See Note at end of this Chapter. 241 THE MONUMENTS. inclined to draw illustrations from ecclesiastical build ings. 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 become the ardent wish of not a few of its most ardent admirers. 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 succeeding generation. It will be the object of this Chapter to unravel this conflict of sentiments, to find the clue through this labyrinth of monumental stumbling-blocks 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 perchance will come down together. If sooner or later it must be pruned, we must first well consider the relation of the engrafted mistletoe to the parent tree. This peculiarity of Westminster Abbey is of com paratively recent origin. No theory of the kind existed when the Confessor procured its first privileges, nor yet when Henry III. planned the burial-place of the Plan tagenets. No cemetery in the world had as yet been based on this principle. The great men of Rome 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 individual 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 THE MONUMENTS. 215 to the times of the Revolution and to the tombs of Voltaire and Rousseau. The adaptation of the Pan theon at Rome to the reception of the busts of Compri,.Uon famous Italians dates from the same epoch, rj^ljf" and it ceased to be so employed after the 1''l01'e"ce- restoration of Pius VII. The nearest approach to Westminster Abbey in this aspect is the Church of Santa Croce at Florence. 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 con vent 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 fam ilies of Florence, were successively interred — not be cause of their 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 Buonarotti was laid Michael Angelo ; in the vault of the Viviani the pre ceptor of one of their house, Galileo. From those two burials the church gradually became the recognised shrine of Italian genius.1 1 I owe this account of Santa Croce to the kindness of Signor Bonaini, Keeper of the Archives at Florence. See also T. A. Trollope's Hovel- of Giulio Malatesta, vol. iii 246 THE MONUMENTS. The growth of our English Santa Croce, though dif ferent, was analogous. It sprang in the first instance Result of as a natural offshoot from the coronations and TumIbsyal interments of the Kings. 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 sepul chral 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 Em perors of Austria, the Czars of Russia, rest absolutely alone in the vaults of the Escurial, of Vienna, of Mos cow, 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 en girdled 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 Emperor's effigy lies en circled by the mailed figures of ancient chivalry — of Arthur and Clovis, of Rudolph and Cunegunda, of Ferdinand and Isabella. A like thought, but yet nobler, is that which is realised in fact by the structure of Westminster Abbey, as it is by the structure of the English Constitution. We are sometimes inclined bitterly to contrast the placid dignity of our recumbent Kings, with Chatham gesticulating from the Northern Transept, or Pitt from the western door, or Shakspeare leaning on his column in Poets' Corner, or Wolfe THE MONUMENTS. 247 expiring by the Chapel of St. John. But, in fact, they are, in their different ways, keeping guard over the shrine of our monarchy and our laws ; and their very incongruity and variety become symbols of the har monious 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 im perial 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 counter part of the irregular uncertain course of the history of England itself. Reserving for future consideration the graves of those connected 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 retainers • 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 im mediate 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 Con fessor, buried (with a fitness, perhaps, hardly appre ciated at the time) within or hard by the Royal Treasury, which he had kept so well.2 Not far off 1 See Chapter V. 2 See Chapters I. and V. 248 THE MONUMENTS. (we know not where) was Geoffrey of Mandeville, with Geoffrey of I11S wife Adelaide, who followed the Conqueror Mandeviiie. 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 1 We dimly trace a few interments within the Church. Amongst these were Egelric, Bishop of Durham, im- i>eirie prisoned at Westminster, wdiere, by prayer de7ca>trolk and fasting, he acquired the fame of an novo, 1247. anchorite — buried in the Porch of St. Nich olas;2 Sir Fulk de Castro Novo, cousin of Henry III., and attended to his grave by the King;3 Richard of Wendover, Bishop of Rochester, who had the reputa- „. , , , tion of a saint ; i Ford, Abbot of Glaston- Richard of > i2oid0Aub'0t bui7;5 Trussel, Speaker of the House of Trussei261' Commons in the reigns of Edward II. and 1384' ' Edward IIL, buried in St. Michael's Chapel;6 Walter Leycester (1391), buried in the North Transept, at the foot of the Great Crucifix.7 1 Widmore, p. 21 ; Arch. xxvi. 23. 2 See Chapter V. 3 Matthew Paris, 724. 4 Anglia Sacra, i. 348-350. Weever, p. 338. 5 Domerham, 525. 8 In connection both with the House of Commons in the Chapter House, and the interment of eminent commoners in the Abbey, must be mentioned that of William Trussel, Speaker of the House of Com mons, in St. Michael's Chapel. (Crull, 290.) Mr. F. S. Haydon has assisted me in the probable identification of this ' Mons. William Trussel,' who was Speaker in 1366 (Rolls of Pari. 1369), with a pro curator for Parliament and an escheator south of Trent in 1327. If so, his death was on July 20, 1364. (Frag. p. m. 37 E. III. No. 69.) Foss's Judges, iii. 307-309. 7 Will of Walter Leycester, Serjeant-at-arms, dated at Westminster, Ssptember 3, 1389. — To be buried in the Chapel of St. Mary the THE MONUMENTS. 249 But the first distinct impulse given to the tombs of famous citizens was from Richard II. It was the result of his passionate attachment to West- courtiers 1 . ! . 1 ! . . ii/. 0F ElCllAUD minster, combined with his unbounded favour- n. itism. His courtiers and officers were the first mag nates not of royal blood who reached the heart of the Abbey. John of Waltham, Bishop of Salis- Joimnf bury, Treasurer, Keeper of the Privy Seal, isj5. ''""' 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.1 It was not without a general murmur of indignation2 that this intrusion was effected; but the disturbance of the mosaic pave ment 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 distinguished. Sir John Golofre, who was his ambassador in France, was, by the King's express command, transferred from the Grey Friars' Church at Walling- ford, where he himself had desired to be buried, and was laid close beneath his master's tomb.3 The father- virgin, in the Church of St. Margaret, Westminster — afterwards altered thus in the codicil, April 5, 1391 : ' Volo et lego quod corpus meum sepeliatur in ecclesia Sancti Petri Monasterii Westm' coram magna cruce in parte boriali ecclesie ejus- dem.' He had a house at Westminster. Amongst his executors was ' Magister Arnold Brokas.' 1 Godwin, p. 359. 2 Inter reges, multis murmurantibus. (Walsingham, ii. 218.) A* like intrusion of one of Richard's favourites into a royal and sacred place occurs in the interment of Archbishop Courtney close to Becket's shrine at Canterbury. 8 Dart, ii. 21. Golnfi-e, 1396. 250 THE MONUMENTS. in-law of Golofre,1 Sir Bernard Brocas, who was cham- Bmeas, berlain to Richard's Queen, and was beheaded 1400, on Tower Hill, in consequence of having joined in a conspiracy to reinstate him, lies in the almost regal Chapel of St. Edmund.2 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 ' ac^ count' to which Sir Roger de Coverley was so 'very attentive,' of ' the lord who cut off the King of waidebv, Morocco's head.' 3 Close to him rests Robert Waldeby, the accomplished companion of the Black Prince, then the tutor of Richard 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 codrtiers Confessor's Chapel 4 — Richard Courtney, ofHenp.vV. x j Courtney, Bishop of N orwich, who during his illness at die I Sept. ° is, 1415. Harfleur was tenderly nursed by the Kin" i«i. himself, and died immediately before the battle of Agincourt.5 Lewis Robsart, who from his exploits on that great day was made the King's 1 Crull, App. p. 20. 2 See Chapter III. 3 Spectator, No. 329. An inscription was composed by the family in 1838. See Neale, ii. 156, and Gough's Sepulchral Monuments, 1399. 4 On the north side of the Shrine — ' in ipsius ostii ingressu.' (God win, p. 438.) 5 Tyler's Henry V. ii. 148. THE MONUMENTS. 251 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 Chapels of the two St. Johns, were laid under brass effigies, Windsor, which can still be faintly traced, Sir John pedo'n, 1457. Windsor and Sir John Harpedon. The fashion slowly grew. Though Edward IV. him self, with his best-beloved companion in arms, lies at Windsor, four of his nobles were brought courtiers to Westminster. Humphrey Bourchier, who iv. J Boar- died at the field of Barnet, was buried Lord'carew, 1471. Dud- in St. Edmund's Chapel. In St. Nicholas's i«y. i«3. Chapel lie Lord 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 finan cier, and founder of the great house which bore his name. The first layman in the Chapel of St. John the Baptist is Sir Thomas Vaughan, treasurer „ , i ° Vaughan. to Edward IV. and 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. In the Chapel of St. Nicholas is courtiersof Henry interred Sir Humphrey Stanley, who with his vn. [ J J Stanley, relatives had in the Battle of Bosworth fought vm- on the victorious side.2 In the Chapel of St. Paul is the King's chamberlain and cousin, Sir Charles Dinb Daubeney, Lord-Lieutenant of Calais ; and in )l^ltU< that of St. John the Baptist his favourite 1523- 1 A curious record of Henry VII.'s adventures in crossing by the Channel Islands is preserved on Sir Thomas Hardy's monument in the Nave, erected in 1732. 2 Hence the burial oi other members of the Derby family in this chapel 'Register, 1603, 1620, 1631.) 252 THE MONUMENTS secretary Ruthell,1 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.' 2 Sir Thomas Clifford, Governor of Berwick, and his wife lie under the pavement of the Choir,3 with two or three other persons of obscure name.4 Tower Hill, Smithfield, and the ditch beneath the walls of Oxford, in that fierce struggle, contain ashes more illustrious than any interred in consecrated precincts. 1 Godwin, p. 755. — He died at Durham Place, in the Strand; hence, perhaps, his burial at Westminster. His tomb seems originally to have been in the centre, and the place which it now occupies was originally the entrance to the Chapel. The present entrance was ef fected at a later time — probably when Hunsdon's monument was erected — through the little Chapel of St. Erasmus. 2 Merye Tales of Skelton (ed. Hazlitt, p. 18). 8 Dart, ii. 23. Machyn 's Diary, Nov. 26, 1557. 1 ' Master Wentworth,' cofferer to Queen Mary. (Machyn, Oct. 23, 1558). 'Master Gennings' (ibid.), servant of Philip and Mary, who left considerable sums to the abbot and monks, and desired to be buried under a brass. Nov. 26, 1557. Diego or Didacus Sanchez, a Spanish noble, was buried in the last year of Mary (1557) in the North Tran sept. (These particulars I learn from his will, communicated by Colonel Chester.) Sir Thomas Parry, treasurer of Elizabeth's household, with a monument (1560), is in the Islip Chapel. OF THE LADIES OF THE TUDOR COURT. 253 It is characteristic of the middle of the sixteenth cen tury, when the destinies of Europe were woven by the hands of the extraordinary Queens who ruled ladies ok J The Tudor the fortunes of France, England, and Scotland, ooubt. 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 the sepul chres of illustrious ladies. Frances Grey, Fraiu.es Duchess of Suffolk, granddaughter 2 of Henry cuehessor VII., by Charles Brandon and Mary Queen Juried Dee. of France, and mother of Lady Jane Grey, 5| 1M0' reposes in the Chapel of St. Edmund, under a stately monument erected by her second husband, Adrian Stokes,3 Esquire. 'What!' exclaimed Elizabeth, ' hath she married her horsekceper ? ' ' 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 Hert ford,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,0 in which the Dean (Dr. Bill) officiated, and Jewell preached the sermon. Could her Puritanical spirit have known the site of her tomb, 1 See Chapter III. 2 Machyn's Diary, Dec. 5, 1559. 3 Nupta Duci prius est, uxor post Armigeri Stokes. (Epitaph.) 4 Cooper's Life of Arabella Stuart, i. 172. 5 Compare Edward VI.'s funeral, Chapter III. 6 Strype's Annals, i. 292. — The monument was not erected till 1563. 254 THE MONUMENTS she would have rejoiced in the thought that it was to take the place of St. Edmund's altar, and thus Her tomb. , , , „ o 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. still grander patroness of the Reformation — Anne Seymour, descended by the Stanhopes and Bourchiers se'yniour, from Anne, sole heir of Thomas of Woodstock, Duchess of oi-n n j_i somerset, herself widow of the Protector Somerset, and sister-in-law of Queen Jane Seymour — 'a mannish or rather a devilish woman, for any imperfect- ibilities intolerable, but for pride monstrous, exceeding subtle and violent.'1 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 Frances grandee in the ecclesiastical Chapel of St. countess of Benedict, is the monument of Frances Howard, 1593 sister of the Lord High Admiral who repulsed the Armada, but, by her marriage with the Earl of 1 Sir J. Hayward. See Life of Arabella Stuart, i. 170. 2 The marriage of Charles Seymour (1726), the 'proud Duke' of Somerset, to Elizabeth Percy, caused the interment and monument of her granddaughter, the first Duchess of Northumberland, in St. Nicho las's Chapel; hence the interment of the Percy family j,aclyJaDe in the same place for the last three generations. Lady Clifford, Jane Clifford, whose grave and monument are also here (1629). was a great-granddaughter of the Protector Somerset. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 255 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 genera tion. Both monuments were erected by the Earl of Hertford, son to the one and husband to the ether. Frances Sidney occupies the place of the altar in the Chapel of St. Paul. She claims remembrance as the aunt of Sir Philip Sidney,1 and the wife of Ratcliffe Earl of Sussex, known to all readers of 'Kenilworth' as the rival of Leicester. Her more splendid monu ment is the college in Cambridge, called after Frances . Sidney, her double name, Sidney Sussex, which, with countess of Sussex, her descendants of the Houses of Pembroke, isss. Carnarvon, and Sidney, undertook the restoration of her tomb. But the reign of Elizabeth also brings with it the first distinct recognition of the Abbey as a Temple of Fame. It was the natural consequence of eliza- the fact that amongst her favourites so many magnates. 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; 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 pre ceding reigns had dropped in here and there, accord ing to the uncertain light of court-favour, suddenly close I The porcupines of the Sidneys are conspicuous on her tomb- 256 THE MONUMENTS round upon us, and the vacant chapels are thronged, as if with the first burst of national life and indepen dence. 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 rev olution. 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 recum bent. 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 Sey- Lady jane mour,1 daughter of the Protector Somerset Seymour, 1581. (erected by her brother, the same Earl of Hert ford whom we have twice met already) ; and the cousin Lady of Elizabeth, Catherine Knollys, sister of Lord Catherine __ - . . , , , Kuoiiys, Hunsdon, who had attended her aunt, Anne r. p'eeksaii. Boleyn, to the scaffold. Then follow, in the died Oct. 10, J ' i57i. , same chapel, Sir R. Pecksall, with his two wives, drawn hither by the attraction of the contiguous grave of Sir Bernard Brocas, from whom, through his 1 Intended as the wife of Edward VI. — afterwards friend of Catherine Grey, daughter of the Duchess of Suffolk. (Cooper's Life of Arabella Stuart, i. 185.) OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 257 mother,1 he inherited the post of Master of the Buck- hounds to the Queen, and through whom the Brocas family were continued. They have risen from their couches, and are on their knees. The Russell family, already great with the spoils of monasteries, are hard by. John Baron Russell, second son of the second earl,2 after a long Joim Lord ° Russell, tour abroad, died at Highgate,3 and lies here im*. recumbent, but with his face turned towards the spec tator ; whilst his daughter, first of all the sepulchral effigies, is seated erect, 'not dead but sleeping,'4 in her osier-chair — the prototype of those easy postures which have so grievously scandalised our more His monu. reverential age. The monument to the father 5 me" ' 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 taste of Addison.6 The monument to their daughter EMzabeth Elizabeth is erected by her sister Anne. She RL,sse11- is a complete child of Westminster. Her mother, in consequence of the plague, was allowed by the Dean (Goodman) to await her delivery in a house within the Precincts.7 The infant was christened in the l Neale, ii. 156. — His funeral fees went to buy hangings for the reredos. (Chapter Book, 1571.) 2 Wiffin's House of Russell, i. 493, 503. 3 Lord Russell had a house within the Precincts. ( Chapter Book, 1581.) 4 Dormit, non mortua est (Epitaph). 6 Restored by the Duke of Bedford in 1867. 6 Spectator, No. 329. 7 Lord Russell's letter to tho Queen announcing the birth, is dated at Westminster College, October 22, 1575. (Wiffin's House of Russell, i. 502.) vol. i. — 17 258 THE MONUMENTS Abbey. The procession started from the Deanery. The Queen, from whom she derived her name, was god- Her elms- mother, but acted by her 'deputy,' the Coun- 1575.°' tess of Warwick, who appeared accordingly in royal state — Lady Burleigh, the child's aunt, carry ing the train. The other godmother was Frances Countess of Sussex. These distinguished 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 procession returned, through the Cloisters, to a stately, costly, and delicate banquet within the Pre cincts. Thus ushered into the Abbey by such a host of worthies, four of whom are themselves interred in it, Elizabeth Russell became maid of honour to her Her death, royal godmother, and finally was herself 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.1 Such was her real end. But the form of her monument has bred one of ' the vulgar errors ' of West- Her inonu- ° went. minster mythology. Her finger pointing to the skull, the emblem of mortality at her feet, had already2 within seventy years from her death, led to the legend that she had ' died of the prick of a needle,' 3 sometimes magnified into a judgment on her for work- 1 See 'The Visit of Queen Elizabeth to Blackfriars, in 1600,' by George Scharf, in Arch. Journal, xxiii. 131. The picture contains also the portraits of John Lord Russell (p. 218) and of Lady Catherine Knollys (ibid.). 2 Keepe, i. 1680. s Wiseman, Chirurgical Treatises, 1st ed. p. 278, 1676, who argues seriously from it that ' in ill habits of body small wounds are mortal.' OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 259 ing on Sunday. Sir Roger de Coverley was conducted to ' that martyr to good housewifery.' Upon the inter preter 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.' 1 In the Chapel of St. Nicholas lies Winyfred Brydges, Marchioness of Winchester, who was, by her first hus band, Sir R. Sackville, cousin of Anne Boleyn, Winvfrcd and mother of Thomas Lord Buckhurst, the Kv^oness poet, and of Lady Dacre, foundress of Emman- "[.ester, uel Hospital, close by the Abbey. Her second 1SS8' 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 stub bornness of the oak.' Sir Thomas Bromley (in the Chapel of St. Paul) suc ceeded Sir Nicholas Bacon as Lord Chancellor, and in that capacity presided at the trial of Mary sir Thomas Queen of Scots, and died immediately after- 1087. wards. Sir John Puckering (in the Chapel of sir John ° r Puckering, St. Nicholas) prosecuted both Mary and the 15%. unfortunate Secretary Davison, and succeeded Sir Chris topher Hatton as Lord Keeper — his ' lawyer-like and ungenteel ' appearance presenting so forcible a contrast to his predecessor, that the Queen could with difficulty 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 1 Spectator, No. 329. — Compare Goldsmith's Citizen of the World. ' He told, without blushing, a hundred lies. He talked of a lady who died by pricking her finger.' 260 THE MONUMENTS every one what he listeth, or what cometh in his brain to utter ; but your privilege is Aye or No.' x To Sir sir Thomas Thomas Owen 'of Cundover, Justice of the 1598."' Common Pleas, friend of Sir Nicholas Bacon, a fine effigy, resembling the portrait of him still pre served at Cundover, was erected by his son Roger, in the south aisle of the Choir. The tomb bears His tomb. i-i ,", - n the motto, given to him by the Queen, m allu sion to his humble origin, ' Mem'orare noj issima ; ' and his own- quaint epitaph, ' Spes, vermis, et ego! But the most conspicuous monuments of this era are those of Lord Hunsdon and of the Cecils. Henry Lord Huns- Cary, Baron Hunsdon, the rough honest chara de, 1520. herlain to Queen 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 msmonu- St. John the Baptist. The monument was re markable, even in the last century, as ' most magnificent,' 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 1 Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors, ii. 175. 2 Fuller's Worthies, i. 433. 3 Lady Hunsdon was buried with him (1606-7), also the widow of his son (1617-18) (Burial Register.) * Fuller's Worthies, i. 433. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 261 R. Sackville, ' belonged,' as Leicester said, ' to the tribe of Dan, and was Noli, me tangere.'1 'I doubt much, my Harry,' wrote Elizabeth to him after his suppression of the Northern Rebellion, ' whether that the victory given me more joyed me, or that you were by God ap pointed the instrument of my glory.' 2 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.3 Lord Burleigh was attached to Westminster by many ties. He was the intimate friend of the Dean, Gabriel Goodman ; and this, combined with his High The ce.-iis. ' ° Lord Bur- Stewardship, led to his being called, in play, leigh, was. ' the Dean of Westminster,' 4 and he had in his earlier days lived in the Precincts.5 Although he was buried at Stamford, his funeral was celebrated in the His funeral. Abbey, over the graves of his wife 6 and daughter, where already stood the towering monu ment,7 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 alto gether. ' 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 l Aikin's Elizabeth, i. 243. 2 Ibid. 3 Froude, ix. 557. 4 Strype's Memorials of Parkei: 6 Chapter Book, 1551. 6 She too had made Dean Goodman one of her chief advisers. (Strype's Annals, iii. 2. 127.) 7 The monument has been recently restored by the present Marquis of Salisbury, who is directly descended from this marriage. 262 THE MONUMENTS o^ °N. Bagenall °Sir G. Villiers || QUEEN CATHERINE °W. Brydges ° Duchess of -^ °Sir H. Stanley Northumberland || Percy Family 'Lady Jane Clitford ° PHILIPPA oe. Cecil DUCHESS OF YORK || Sir II. Spelman CHAPEL OF ST. NICHOLAS. 0 Vaughan °T. Cary °IIUOII AND MARY DE BOHUN °Lord Hunsdon °Cecil IIDevereux Earl of Exeter Earl of Essex S "Miry Kendall 0 Abbot Fascet ° Bp. Putliall " Abbot Colchester M O 6 & ° Abbot Milling tlPYM II Strode CHAPEL OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 263 CHAPEL OF ST. PAUL. °E. DE BOHUN / ° Bishop Feme °Lady Stafford / °F. Holles ¦g g ° FRANCES || GREY ¦g "EDWARD ITT.'S ;o CHILDREN ?5 °JOHN OF ELTHAM c-l ° WILLIAM DE VALENCE CHAPEL OF ST. EDMUND. 264 THE MONUMENTS N. (Saint Andrew) (Saint Michael) W. {Saint John the Evangelist) °Dr. Young 0 Sarah Siddons oj. Kemble ^ ° Abbot Kyrton ~? £ °Lord and Lady Norris °Theodore Paleologus °Sm Francis Vere A^do ° Wolfe 'Abbot Esteney S. CHAPELS OF ST. JOHN, ST. MICHAEL, AND ST. ANDREW OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 265 Garter ? ' — the answer is, that we see the great min ister of Elizabeth, ' his eyes dim with tears for the loss of those who were dearer to him beyond the whole race of womankind.' x It shows the degree of superhuman majesty which he had attained in English history, that 1 Sir Roger 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 the one is Mildred, his second wife, Mil(lreil daughter of Sir Antony Cook, and sister of the Bu7iei'iidy learned lady who wrote the epitaphs of Lord 15S1)- Russell in the adjacent chapel, ' partner of her hus band's fortunes, through good and evil, during the reigns of Henry, Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth,' — ' versed in all sacred literature, especially Basil, Chry- sostom, and Gregory Nazianzen ; ' the other Anne VBre_ ' Anne, his daughter, wedded to the Earl of gXrdT °'f Oxford;' at her feet, his second son, Robert im Cecil, first Earl of Salisbury, and at her head her three daughters, Elizabeth, Bridget, and Susan Vere. 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 his lost wife and daughter.' Robert, on whom his father invokes a long life, lies at Hatfield ; but Elizabeth his wife Elizabeth has a tomb in this chapel, countess of . Salisbury, and also (removed from its place tor the mon- 1591. , Elizabeth, ument of the Duchess of Northumberland) his countess of Exeter niece Elizabeth, wife of the second Earl of May, imi. 1 The inscription is very differently given in Winstanley's Worthies, p. 204. 266 THE MONUMENTS Exeter. The first Earl, Thomas, after a life full of Thomas years and honours, lies 1 on the other side of Cecil Earl of Exeter, the Abbey, in the Chapel of St. John the Bap- 1662 aged'so. tist. This tomb was built for himself and his Nevmey ' *wo most dear wives ' — Dorothy Neville, if08, who was interred there before him, and Fran- Frances i^62lfe'es* ces Brydges, who, living till the Restoration, aged 83. proudly refused to let her effigy fill the va cancy 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 lies in St. John's, and Kirton in St. Andrew's Chapel. But this comparative solitude was now invaded by the sud den 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 Wel- sir Francis lington. But to Sir Francis Vere, who com- vere,ieo9. manfied the forces in the Netherlands, his widow erected a tomb, which she must have copied from the scene i of his exploits — in a direct imitation 1 The funeral sermon (in the illness of Archbishop Abbott) was preached by Joseph Hall. (State Papers, March 8, 1623.) 2 See Chapter V. 3 This part of the Abbey, during the two next centuries, was known as 'The Tombs.' (Register; and see Fuller's Church History, 1621.) 4 The following epitaph, not on his tomb, records his end : — When Vere sought death, arm'd with his sword and shield, Death was afraid to meet him in the field ;' But when his weapons he had laid aside, Death, like a coward, struck him, and he died. (Pettigrew, 158.) 4 iii iiifiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif i*, 11 ii ^ liiliiiiiiiiiii'11 MONUMENT TO SIR FRANCIS VERE. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 267 of the tomb of Engelbert1 Count of Nassau, in the church at Breda, where, as here, four kneeling ° His tomb. 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.2 ' Hush ! hush ! he vill speak presently,' softly whis pered Roubiliac to a 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.3 By a natural af finity, the tomb of Sir Francis Vere drew Theveres . and Beau- after it, a century later, the last of his de- ciercs, 1702. scendants into the same vault — Aubrey de Vere, the last Earl of Oxford, and afterwards the Beauclerk fam ily, through the marriage of the Duke of St Albans with his daughter and heiress, Diana de Vere.4 Close beside is Sir George Holies, his kinsman and Sir George comrade in arms — on a monument as far re- HoUes> ia2& moved from mediawal 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 Roman 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 ; 1 Compare the arrangement of the tomb of the Emperor Lewis at Munich. 2 The tomb was injured by the workmen engaged on Wolfe's monument. ( Gent. Mag. ) 3 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.) 4 See Chapter III. 268 THE MONUMENTS and for the sake of the neighbourhood of his own and his wife's ancestors a hundred years later, rose the gigantic monument of John Holies, Duke of New castle,1 who lies at the feet of his illustrious name sake.2 Deeper yet into these chapels the Flemish trophies penetrate. Against the wall, which must have held the altar of the Chapel of St. Andrew, is De Burgh, the mural tablet of John de Burgh, who fell 1694' 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 continuation of the same mark of respect on the part of Elizabeth — not often shown, it is said — for those who had been stead fast to her mother's cause, and, curiously enough, to a house with which the family of Knollys was in con stant strife. Sir Francis Knollys, the husband of Catherine Carey, and Treasurer of the Queen's House hold,3 perhaps from their neighbourhood in Oxford- 1 Dart, ii. 2. - Another Holies — Francis, son of the Earl of Clare, who died at the age of eighteen, on his return from the Flemish war a few years later — sits, like his namesake, in Roman costume in St. Jj™jn™16,2 Edmund's Chapel, ' a figure of most antique simplicity and beauty.' (Horace Walpole.) His pedestal was copied from that on which, in a similar attitude, close by, sits Elizabeth Russell (see p. 184). The like sentiment of a premature death probably caused this twin-like companionship. The close of his epitaph deserves notice : Man's life is measured by his work, not days, No aged sloth, but active youth, hath praise. For the Holies monuments the sculptor, Stone, received respectively .£100 and £50 from Lord Clare. (Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting, ii. 59.) a Biog. Britannica. OF ELIZABETHAN MAGNATES. 269 shire, was a deadly rival to Henry Norris. ' Queen Eliz abeth loved the Knollyses for themselves ; the Nor- rises for themselves and herself. The Nor- ThoNon.is rises got more honour abroad; the Knollyses tiUW,i'- more profit at home, continuing constantly at court; and no wonder, if they were the warmest who sate next the fire.' Henry Norris was the son of that un happy man who, alone of all those who perished on the scaffold with Anne Boleyn, denied or was silent as to her guilt. Elizabeth, it is believed, expressed her grati tude 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 Wil liam of Thame, whom, from her swarthy complexion, the Queen called 'her own crow.'1 By his marriage with Margaret, Henry Norris inherited Rycote Henry Lord in Oxfordshire, where, according to his ex- 1008. pressed intention, the local tradition maintains that he is buried.2 The monument in the Abbey, however, 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- spirited men, as the Netherlands, Portugal, Little Bre- tagne, and Ireland can testify.'3 William, John, Thomas, Henry, Maximilian, and Edward, are all rep resented on the tomb, probably actual likenesses. All, except John4 and Edward, fell in battle. John died of vexation at losing the Lord Lieutenancy of Ireland, 1 Fuller's Worthies, iii. 16, 17. But rather from the Norris crest, a, raven. 2 Dart, ii. 7. — Neale (ii. 198) says that he was interred here. His daughter and sole heiress, Elizabeth, is buried in St. Nicholas's Chapel (Register, November 28, 1645.) 3 Camden, in Neale, ii. 195. 4 See Froude, xi. 108, 128, 184. 270 THE MONUMENTS and the Queen, to whose hardness he owed his neglect, John Noms, repaired the wrong too late, by one of those 1 ' stately letters, which she only could write, consoling 'my own crow' for the loss of her son.1 ' 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 Edward father, that he died soon after.' Edward Noms, 1004. a|one survived his father and brothers; and, accordingly, he alone is represented, not, as the others, in an attitude of prayer, but looking cheerfully up wards. ' 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 honourable memory.' 2 That honourable memory has long ago per ished from the minds of men ; but still, as preserved in this monument,3 it well closes the glories of the Eliza bethan court and camp in the Abbey.4 One other monument of the wars of those times, though of a comparatively unknown warrior, and lo cated 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,5 1 Fuller's Worthies, iii. 8, who gives the letter. 2 Camden, in Neale, ii. 199. 3 From this monument the Chapel was called, in the next century (see Register, Aug. 16, 1722; Aug. 8, Oct. 24, 1725), 'Norris's Chapel; as now, for a like reason, the 'Nightingale Chapel.' 4 Here also lie Sir John Burrough, Governor of the Netherlands under Lord Essex; and Henry Noel (1596), gentleman pensioner to the Queen, and buried here by her particular directions, for ' his gentile address and skill in music' (Dart, ii. 7.) 5 Is it an accidental coincidence, or an indication of Macaulay's exact knowledge, that the Lay of the contemporary 'Battle of Ivry' OF THE COURT OF JAMES I. 271 here resteth Sir Richard Bingham, Knight, who fought not only in Scotland and Ireland, but in the 8ir Rlclliml Isle of Candy under the Venetians, at Cabo So8,a™u Chrio, and the famous Battaile of Lepanto n' against the Turks ; in the civil wars of France ; in the Netherlands, and at Smerwich,1 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 founder ; and by his long life wiI]iam covering the whole Tudor dynasty, from the Jj'ed'Ma'reh reign of Henry VII., when he travelled over 13' loS4 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 monuments. They are not deficient in a CoimT certain grandeur, but it is derived rather from James L the fame of the families than of the individuals. Such are the monuments of Lady Catherine St. Lady -ri / n ... , -,, - r., x-r • i Catherine John (once m St. Michael s, now in St. JNich- st. John. olas's Chapel), of the Fanes, of the Talbots, Taibots, and of the Hattons, in the Chapels of St. Hattons, r 1610; Car- NicllolaS, St. Edmund, and St. Erasmus ; of kton, io3i, Dudley Carletou,2 the ambassador in Spain, in St. Paul's Chapel. He it was who, on his return from Spain, commences with the like strain"! Compare Froude, xi. 237. Vere's motto is also Deo exercitum. 1 For Bingham's exploits at Smerwich in Dingle Bay, see Froude, xi. 233-235. 2 Stone received for this monument £200. (Walpole's Anecdotes. ii. 62.) 272 THE MONUMENTS ' found the King at Theobald's, hunting in a very care less and unguarded manner, and upon that, in order to the 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 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 in tended, for the King continued to hunt, and gave up hunting the priests.' x The two greatest men who passed away in James I.'s reign rest far off — Bacon in his own Verulam, 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 Lord Fer- Chapel ¦ — Lord Hervey, who had greatly dis- vey, 1642. tinguished 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 Lewis aisle of Henry VII.'s Chapel was buried Stuart, Duke . J L ofitich- Ludovic Stuart, Duke of Richmond and jnond, died Feb. 16, Lennox, cousin to James I. (who had been 1623-4 ; bur- v ied Feb. 17. his one confidential companion in the ex pedition to Gowrie House), Lord Chamberlain, and 1 Burnet's Own Time, i. 12. 2 See Chapter V. 3 Register. The facts from Camden and Dugdale are communi cated by the kindness of Lord Arthur Hervey. OF THE COURT OF JAMES I. 273 Lord High Admiral of Scotland.1 The funeral cere mony took place two months after his burial, Duchess perhaps from his having died of the ' spot- mood. 1639. ted arme.'2 His widow,3 who raised the cimries ° Lennox, son monument, and, with the exception of his "fll;e 3 L Duchess of brother Esme,4 all the Lennox family, were d?°edSMa°U27' laid beside him, including the natural son of jm1'^3June Charles II., to whom his father transferred the Esme Len- name and titles of the great family then iust ' ° jo Ducliess of extinct. The heart of Esme, its last lineal Richmond, ' buried Oct. descendant, was placed in an urn at the feet 22> 1702- of his ancestors, after the Restoration ; and in the vault lies the beautiful Duchess of Richmond, widow of the last of the race, ancestress of the Stuarts of Blantyre, whose effigy was, by her own special request, placed 1 Epitaph, 2 Sam. iii. 38 : — ciironog"- an IonoratIs : qVIa prInCeps et VIr MagnVs obIIt hoDIe. The elongated letters are all the Roman numerals. If they are ex tracted, 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. IIIIIIII., i. e. 1000 4- 600 + 15 + 8 = 1623. For other like chronograms see Pettigrew's Epitaphs, 163, 164. '¦* State Paper Office, 1624. 3 She requested Charles I.'s intervention for the removal of the stone partition of the Chapel ' wherein is a door and corridors, mid for the erection of an iron grate in lieu thereof.' The king, 'though readv to do anything that may add to the honour of the duke, was careful not to command anything that may give an injury and blemish to the strength and security of that Chapel,' and therefore referred the matter to the Dean and Chapter, and they apparently objected, as the partition still remains. (State Paper Office, 1628.) The tomb has been splen didly restored at the cost of the present representative of the family, the Earl of Darnley. 4 Ho, in 1624, with much pomp, equal to that of the funeral of Anne of Denmark, was buried in the vault of his grandmother, Lady Mar garet. (See Chapter III.) vol. i. — 18 274 THE MONUMENTS close by after her death, ' as well done in wax as could be,' ' under crown-glass and none other,' J 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 court of which gather round the great favourite of the CHAKLES 1. ., ^ . r. -r r ¦ 1 1 ¦ two hrst Stuart reigns — Oeorge Viffiers, The Villiers ° ° family. Duke of Buckingham, ' Steenie. ' Never any man in any age, nor, I believe, in any country or na tion, rose in so short a time to so much greatness of honour, fame, and fortune, upon no other advantage 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 Sir Oeorge -i vniieis, loos. chapel of St. Nicholas lies the Leicestershire squire, Sir George Villiers, with his second wife, Mary Beaumont, to whom, at his own early death, he left the handsome boy, and by whose ' singular care and affec tion the youth was trained in those accomplishments 1 See Note at the end of the Chapter. " Pope's Moral Essays, Epistle iii. 96, with his own note and Whar ton's comment (vol. iii. p. 245). 3 Clarendon, i. 16. Westminster witnessed a singular proof of the Court affection and the popular hatred fur Villiers. One of his favour ites, Sir John Grimes, had a pompous funeral in the Abbey. The butchers of King Street buried a dog in Totbill Fields in ridicule of the ceremony, saying, ' the soul of a dog was as good as that of a Scot.' On that occasion the communion cloth, two copes, and Prince Henry's robes, were stolen from the Abbey. (State Pupers, Domestic, James I., vol. lxxxvi. No. 132.) Grimes's grave is unknown. OF THE COURT OF CHARLES I. 275 which befitted his natural grace.'1 Each of the two stately figures which lie on that tomb, carved by the hand of the famous sculptor, Nicholas Stone,2 lives in PLAN OF THE BUCKINGHAM (VILLIERS) VAULT IN HENRY VII. 's No. 1. is the shaped leaden coffin of Lord Francis Villiers (164S). 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 Selkirk (1739). No. 4. Catherine, Countess Grandison, (1725-6). the pages of Clarendon, as he follows the fortunes of their son. That stiff burly knight, in his plated armour 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, remov able to enter the vault. No. 11. The steps under the stone. 1 Clarendon, i. 17. 2 He received ,£560 for it, Walpole's Anecdotes, ii. 61, 276 THE MONUMENTS 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 ward robe, at midnight, ' and, fixing his eyes upon him, asked 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 be habited,' answered ' that he thought him to be that person ' — then ensued the warning, thrice repeated, and conveyed 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 countess of would never speak of it.' x And that lady, ham, buried with broad full face and flowing ermine April 21 1632. mantle, created Countess of Buckingham in her own right, and professing to be 'descended from 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 be half, when he thought that she had suffered a neglect from Henrietta Maria, he came into the Queen's 'cham ber 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 l Clarendon, i. 74, 78. 2 Epitaph. ' Clarendon, i. 69. 4 Bacon's Life, xvi. 368. OF THE COURT OF CHARLES I. 277 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 conversation with her ; ' and she, 'at the Duke's leaving her, was found over whelmed in tears, and in the highest agony imaginable.' l Within six months she received the news of the Duke's murder, and ' seemed not in the least degree surprised ; ' but heard it as if she had foreseen „ x George it, 'nor did afterwards express such a degree vnteli of sorrow as was expected from such a mother K"^ for the loss of such a son.' 2 But the thrill of bi'.weifsept. that fall, at least in the royal circle, 'the 18,ui28- 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 repre- .... , , . -, -, ¦ -, „ , His tomb. sented m his tomb3 m the north side of the 1 Clarendon, i. 78, 79. — In her grave were interred two grand daughters and two great-grandsons of the Feilding family. William, Earl of Denbigh, had married her daughter. (Burial Register, 1638, 1640, 1641.) On opening the vault in 1878 there was found on the plate of her coffin the following inscription : — >J< I. H. S. repertor QUISQUIS ES, LAMINA HUIC LOCULO INFIXA QUAM HOSPITEM ligneus habeat paucis te edoctum volo. [Then follows a de scription of her, resembling her epitaph.] nata erat ipsis calendis MAII, SED DIES ILLI MAGIS FROPRIE NATALIS ERAT IDEM QUI SANCTIS DEI, DIE SCILICET IN QUO HAS SUAS TERRENAS SUPER- INDUVIAS FELIC1TER POSUIT, ANNO JET : SUM LXII. XIX. APRIL. — FERIA QUlNTA A.D. MDCXXXII. HAEC A ME. EDOCTUS ABI IN STRUCTOR et ave maria dicas unum. It seems to imply the Roman Catholic belief either of the Countess or her survivors, and is curious in connection with Laud. Possibly it even hints at the Abbey falling into the hands of the Roman Catholics. An imperfect copy of this inscription was made in the Burial Register, on opening the vault in 1719. 2 Clarendon, i. 79. 3 He had already designed the place for his family. His son Charles Marquis Buckingham, Earl of Coventry, was buried March 17, 1626-7. 278 THE MONUMENTS central aisle of Henry VII.'s Chapel — the first intru sion of any person not of royal lineage into that mauso leum 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,1 the deep sensation in his own circle is ins inomi- shown by the inscription on his coffin, which ment, 1633. recorcis how he had been the ' singular favour ite of two Kings, and was cut off by a nefarious parri cide,' 2 and yet more by the elaborate monument erected by his widow, and completed in 1633. We seem to be present in the Court of Charles as we look at its fan tastic ornaments ('Fame even bursting herself, and trumpets to tell the news of his so sudden fall') and its pompous inscriptions, 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 ' in a little chapel on the north side of King Henry VII.'s monument ; ' and on Jan. 19, 1627-8, his nephew, Philip Feilding, the third son to William Earl of Denbigh, by the Duke's sister. (Register.) See Appendix. His wife, Lady Catherine Manners, whose effigy lies by his side, is not buried here : 1 When Manners' name with Villiers' joined I see, How do I reverence your nobility.' (Cowley.) 1 Keepe, p. 101. 2 gee Appendix. OF THE COURT OF CHARLES L 279 sun in the brightest dogdays, and remain without any warmth.' 1 There is a lesser interest attaching to the tomb, as indicating 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 ' Pro testant ; ' 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 Windsor. Lord Francis , Villiers, died Francis, born after his father s death, was the July 7, buried July first to follow, ' a youth of rare beauty and 10. 164S- comeliness 2 of person,' who fell at the battle of Kings ton, 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.' 3 The coffin of Francis, with that of his Genr<*e brother Charles, is placed above his father's ^.'"in^'Duke remains. Beneath them lies the last surviving SL^"Sg' successor in the dukedom, George Villiers, the buried1 June profligate courtier of Charles II. — the ' Zimri ' 7' 1687' of Dryden, the rival of ' Peveril of the Peak ; ' where 1 Clarendon, i. 61, 62. 2 Clarendon, vi. 96. 3 Bryan Fairfax's Life of the Duke of Buckingham, p. 24. The in scription which Fairfax gives is almost exactly the same as that found 280 THE MONUMENTS Pope's famous though fictitious description of his miser able deathbed is recalled to us, as on the decayed coffin- plate we dimly trace the record of his George and Garter — ' Periscelidis eques! l Two other magnates of that age rest in the Abbey, who must have regarded the fall of Buckingham with feelings somewhat 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.' 2 Lionel Cran- field, ' though extracted from a gentleman's family, had been bred in the City, and, being a man of great wit cranfieid antl understanding in all the mysteries of Middlesex trade, had found means to work himself into lmb- the favour of the Duke of Buckingham;'3 and was accordingly, ' with wonderful expedition,' through various lesser offices, raised to the highest financial post of Lord High Treasurer. As by his busi ness-like habits he rose to power, so by them he was led to thwart his patron's extravagance ; and hence the celebrated impeachment by which he fell, and which called forth the prophetic remonstrance of King James, in a scene which must have suggested many a page in the ' Fortunes of Nigel : ' ' By Goil, Stenny ' [the King said to the Duke in much choler] ' you are a fool, and will shortly repent this folly, and on the coffin in 1866; and records his extraordinary beauty and his nine wounds. 1 See Appendix. 2 Epitaph. 3 Clarendon, i, 39. — He was owner of Knole, where his portrait still exists. OF THE COURT OF CHARLES I. 281 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 cause to remember how much you have contributed to the weakening of the Orown.' 1 On the other side of the Abbey, in St. Paul's Chapel, is Sir Francis (afterwards Lord) Cottington.2 Look at his face, as he lifts himself up on his elbow ; and read Clarendon's description of his interviews Lord cot- with Buckingham, with James I., with Laud, less. 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 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 to any transport of anger, or any other passion, but could bear contradiction, and even reproach, without being moved, or put out of his way ; for he was very steady in pursuing what he proposed to himself, and had 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 he had no regard : his greatest fault was, that he could dissemble, 1 Clarendon, i. 41. 2 The upper part of the tomb was erected, during his lifetime, to the memory of his wife (1633), whose bust is the work of Hubert le Sueur. The lower part is by 'the one-eyed Italian Fanelli.' — Calen dars of State Papers (Domestic), 1634, Preface, p. xlii. 282 THE MONUMENTS °Countess of Hertford || Abbot ° Curtlington 3 o1*1 b p |j!6p. Spottiswoode CHAPEL OF ST. BENEDICT. OF THE COURT OF CHARLES I. 283 and make men believe that he loved them very well, when he cared not for them. He had not very tender affections, nor bowels apt to yearn at all objects which deserved com passion ; he was heartily weary of the world, and no man was more willing to die ; which is an argument that he had peace of conscience. 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 to him by Sir Thomas Eichard- sir Thomas son, who was known as the ' jeering Lord leas! 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 tablet to Thomas Thoraas Gary — the one memorial in the Abbey which Cary> 1(i34- speaks of the death of Charles I., whose attendant he was, and whose monument represents him as dying a 1 Clarendon, vi. 465, 467. — His body was brought from Valladolid, and, though he died a Roman Catholic, was interred in the Abbey. The epitaph by his son is twice inaccurate. It was not under Charles but James, that his career began in Spain; and he died, not at the age of 74, but at 77. 2 See Evelyn's Memoirs, ii. 10. 3 See Foss's Judges, vi. 359-362. 281 THE MONUMENTS second death fourteen years afterwards, in the year in which the execution of his master took place.1 Then comes the period, which, more than any other, indicates the strong hold which the Abbey had laid on the vac- tne mind °f tne whole nation ; when not even ^he(j™- tae excess of Puritan zeal, or the sternness mu-nwealth. Qf j>epUblican principles, could extinguish in the statesmen of the Commonwealth the longing to be buried in the Boyal Monastery.2 Pym, the chief of the Parliamentary leaders, was the first. He died at Derby House, close by, in Canon pym died Bow, an official residence of members of Par- buri'ed'uer- Lament. Whilst at Oxford there was a 'great 15, 1643. feast, and great preparations made for bonfires that night, for that they heard that Master Pym was dead,' the House of Commons, by a respect hitherto without precedent, ordered that his body should be ' in terred 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.' The funeral of ' Kin" Pym,' as he was called, His funeral. ° J was celebrated, worthily of such a name, with ' wonderful pomp and magnificence, in that place where the bones of our English kings and princes are com mitted to their rest.' 3 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 cf Parliament, and by the Assembly of Divines, then rutting in the 1 This appears by comparing the date of the plate on the coffin (dis covered in 1879), with the inflated inscription on the monument. 2 Here, as elsewhere, the graves of the men of letters are reserved for the consideration of Poets' Corner. 3 Clarendon, iv. 436. OF THE COMMONWEALTH. 285 Jerusalem Chamber.1 He was laid at the entrance of the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, under the grave stone 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 Slate Is but a brief commensurate ; We must enacted passions have, And laws for weeping at his grave.2 Pym's grave became the point of attraction for the next few years. Close beside him was laid Sir William Strode, with him one of the ' Five members,' sir wiiiiam and 'from his fury' known as 'the Parlia- Rf)be].t ment driver.' Within the chapel lies Eobert Ea™0™x' Devereux, Earl of Essex, the Parliamentary J^f*! 0ct. general. The critical moment of his death, 22, 1C4Ci' 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 sec their great new guest — | Talbot, Vere, Norris, Williams and the rest! 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.' 1 See Chapter VI. 2 Mercurius Britannicus, quoted in Forster's Statesmen, ii. 299, from, which the above details are taken. 286 THE MONUMENTS 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 conse quence 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 situ ation, 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 preparation, the Parliamentary funerals hence- popham, forth converged. In St. John's Chapel,4 in- bnned Aug. . -,-n -i-i, 1651. deed, with Strode and Essex, was laid the fierce Independent, Edward Popham, distinguished both 1 In Dulwich Gallery there was long possessed a portrait of 'the old man who demolished with an axe the monument of the Earl of Essex, in Westminster Abbey.' 2 His grave was in St. John's Chapel, by the right side of the Earl of Exeter's monument (Register), in a vault occupied by an Abbot, whose crozier was still perfect. (Perfect Relation of Essex's Funeral.) In 1879, after a long search, the coffin of Essex was discovered as indicated. The fragment of the crozier was still there. (Camden.) This disposes of the various conjectures in Neale, ii. 185. (See Chapter V.) 3 These particulars are taken from the Funeral Sermon, the Elegy, the Programme of the Funeral, the Perfect Relation, and the Life of Essex, all published at the time. See also Heath's Chronicle, p. 125, who mistakes the position of the hearse. 4 Dart, ii. 145 ; Kennett, p. 537. OF THE COMMONWEALTH. 287 by sea and land. But in Henry VII.'s Chapel, at the head of Elizabeth's tomb, was magnificently buried the learned Isaac Dorislaus, advocate at the T ' Isaac King's trial. Under the Commonwealth he "°*i™;ie was ambassador at the Hague, where he was 14, 1(m assassinated ' one evening, by certain highflying Eoyal- ist 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.' 1 In the same vault probably which contained the Protector and his family was deposited Ireton, his son- in-law, with an honour the more remarkable, ireton, died from the circumstance that his death took iW; buried place at a distance. His body was brought from 1650-1. ' Limerick, where he had died of the plague in the camp, and lay in state at Somerset House,2 with the hatch ment bearing the motto, Dtdce et decorum est fro patria mori, which the Cavaliers interpreted, ' It is good for his country that he should die.' 3 Evelyn watched the procession pass ' in a very solemn manner.' Cromwell was chief mourner.4 His obsequies were honoured by a sermon from the celebrated Puritan Dean of Christ- church, John Owen, on the ' Labouring Saint's Dis mission to rest.' 5 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 1 Carlyle's Cromwell, i. 311 ; Kennett's Register, p. 536. 2 Noble, i. 63. — A magniloquent epitaph, printed at the expense of Hugh Peters, was found amongst the papers of a descendant of Ireton's, in which his'victories are described as so wonderful, 'ut dixis- ses Deum pro Iretono mditasse, Iretonum pro Deo.' (Crull, Appendix, p. 28.) 8 Dart, ii. 143. 4 Evelyn, ii. 48. 5 Owen's Works, xv. 452. 288 THE MONUMENTS discovery whereof he had as happy an eye, at the great est seeming distance, when the clouds were blackest and the waves were highest, as any.' 1 Next followed Colonel Deane, the companion of Pop- T ham and Blake; Colonel Mack worth, one of Deane, June ' Mackworth Cromwell's Council ; Sir William Constable, ire*. 2°con- an(i near to nim General Worsley,2 ' Oliver's 21? i655T."ne great and rising favourite,' who had charge of YnmH the Speaker's mace when ' that bauble ' was taken from the table of the Long Parliament. After that, 'in a vault built for the purpose,'3 was B,ake laid the first of our naval heroes, whose name buned i6o7.» j^g ^en thought worthy, in the most stirring of our maritime war-songs,5 to be placed by the side of Nelson. Blake [says a great but unwilling witness 6] was the first man that declined the old track, and made it manifest that the science might be attained in less time than was im agined ; 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 1 Owen's Works, xv. 458. 2 Heath's Chronicle, p. 381. History of Birch Chapel in Manchester Parish, pp. 39-51, by the Iiev. J. Booker. There is no entry of his burial in the Register. He died in St. James's Palace (Thurloe State Papers, v, p. 122), where, in the Chapel Royal, two of his children were buried. 3 Campbell's Lives of the. Admirals, p. 128. 4 His death is variously reported Aug. 14, 17, 27, but his will was proved Aug. 20. His funeral was arranged on the model of that of Colonel Deane. 6 Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow. 6 Clarendon, vii. 213, 215-217. OF THE COMMONWEALTH. 289 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 might}' things they could do if they were resolved ; and taught them to fight in tire 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 wonder ful, and will never be forgotten in Spain and the Canaries ' — that Blake on his return ' 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, Crom well causing him to be brought up by land to London in all the state that could be ; and to encourage his offi- Blake's cers to venture their lives, that they might be funeral- 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 West minster 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 1 Clarendon, vii. 215. — His dear friend, General Lambert, rode in the procession from the landing place. (Campbell's Admirals, ii. 126.) 2 Hallam's Const. Hist. ii. 356. vol. i. — 19 290 THE MONUMENTS caused the report that the Devil was coming, and that Cromwell, not being prepared, had given bond for his appearance,1 and he was probably interred in Henry VII.'s Chapel.2 Last of all came Bradshaw, who died in the short interval of Bichard Cromwell's Protectorate, and was Bradshaw, interred from the Deanery, which had been Nov. 2, 1659. assignefi to him as Lord-President of the High Court of Justice.3 He was laid, doubtless, in the same vault as his wife,4 'in a superb tomb amongst the kings.'5 The funeral sermon was preached by his favourite Independent pastor, Eowe, on Isaiah lvii. 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 Disinter- seen.6 For the rest, the King sent an order mentofthe , magnates of to the Dean of Westminster, to take up the the Com monwealth, bodies of all such persons as had been unwar- Sept. 12, r 1661- rantably buried in Henry VII.'s Chapel or the Abbey, since the year 1641, and to bury them in some place in the churchyard adjacent.7 The order was carried out two days afterwards. All who were thus designated — in number twenty-one — were ex humed, and reinterred in a pit dug at the back-door 1 To these maybe added — from the Register, and from the war rant in Nichols's Collect, viii. 153 — (under the Choristers' seats in the Choir) Colonel Boscawen and Colonel Carter (1645); close to Lord Norris's tomb, Colonel Meldrum (1644); on the north side of the Confessor's Chapel, Humphrey Salwey (December 20, 1652); on its south side, Thomas Haselrig (October 30, 1651); the poet May. and the preachers Twiss, Strong, and Marshall (1646-55). See Chapter III. 2 Kennett's Register, p. 536. 3 Heath, p. 430. 4 See Nichols's Collect, viii. 153. 5 Evelyn, January 30, 1660-61 6 See Chapter III. 7 The warrant is given verbatim in Nichols's Collect, viii. 153. OF THE COMMONWEALTH. 291 of one of the two prebendal houses : 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 some what apart. Seven only of those who had been laid in the Abbey by the rulers of the Commonwealth escaped Spv(,n ,,x. what Dr. Johnson calls this 'mean revenge.' c°i,tlons- Popham was indeed removed, but his body was con veyed to some family burial-place ; and his monument, by the intercession of his wife's friends (who popimni's had interest at Court), was left in St. John's "lu"ument- Chapel, on condition either of erasing the inscription, or turning it inwards.2 Archbishop Ussher had been buried in state, at Cromwell's express desire, and at the cost of £200, paid by him.3 When the corpse approached London, it was met by the carriages of all the persons Archbishop • -i t Ussher, died of rank then m town. The clergy of London at Rebate, OJ March 21, and its vicinity attended the hearse from Som- ibm-o ; "* buried April erset House to the Abbey, where the con- i?, I863- course of people was so great that a guard of soldiers was rendered necessary. This funeral was the only 1 Kennett's Register, p. 534. — The houses stood till February 17, 1738-39 (Chapter Book ; see Chap. VI.), and are to be seen in an old plau of the Precincts, and in Sandford's plan of the Procession at the Coronation of James II. The back-yard was in what is now the green between the churchyard and the Abbey. According to Neale [Hist, of the Puritans, iv. 319), this 'work drew such a general odium on the government, that a stop was put to any further proceedings.' The warrant, however, confines the outrage to those who have been named. 2 Dart, ii. 145; Crull, p. 140. It would seem from the state of the monument that the inscription was erased. 3 Winstanley's Worthies, p. 476. — He erroneously states that Ussher was buried in Henry VII.'s Chapel. 292 THE MONUMENTS 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;'1 and the body was then de posited 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 Boyalist 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 me morial to mark the spot. Elizabeth Claypole escaped the general warrant, probably from her husband's favour with the Court;3 Elizabeth tlie Earl of Essex, perhaps from his rank; Earl'oi'6' Grace Scot,4 wife of the regicide Colonel Scot, Grace perhaps from her obscurity ; George Wild, the scot, 1045-6. brother of John Wild) M P; Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer under the Parliament ('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 1 Elrington's Life of Ussher, p. 279. 2 Sir James Fullerton was buried near the steps ascending to King Henry VII.'s Chapel, Jan. 3, 1630-31. (Register.) 3 See Chapter III. 4 Her touching monument is in the North Transept, 1645-46. Her husband was executed in 1660. She lies close by in the vault of her own family, the Mauleverers. (See Register 1652-53, 1675, 1687, 1689, 1713.) 6 He died Jan. 15, and was buried near St. Paul's Chapel door, Jan. 21, 1649-50. (Register.) The inscription can still be read. OF THE RESTORATION. 293 the period of the Eestoration 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 of1 Sandwich; James Butler, Duke of Ormond — followed the precedent set by the interment of the Duke of Buckingham in the reign of Charles THECniEPS I., and of the Parliamentary leaders under "10™^ES' the Commonwealth. They were all buried Monk, Duke amongst the Kings in the Chapel of Henry mai-ielmed VII. At the head of Queen Elizabeth's buried April 29 1670. tomb, in a small vault, probably that from Montague, which Dorislaus had been ejected, Monk was |?„dwich, laid with Montague, 'it being thought reason- Juy3'167 ¦ able that those two great personages should not be separated after death.' 2 Monk, who died at his lodg ings in Whitehall, lay in state at Somerset House, and ' then, ' by the King's orders, with all respect imaginable, 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 ca reer, was to be laid there himself.3 Dolben (as Dean) officiated.4 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 1 The Earl of Sandwich, in Pepys's Diary, as his chief, is always cMy lord.' For the programme of his funeral, see Pepys's Correspond ence, v. 484. Evelyn was present. (Memoirs, ii. 372 ) 2 Crull, p. 107. — In the interval between Monk's death and funeral his wife died, and was buried in the same vault, February 28, 1669-70. 'This twain were loving in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided.' (Ward's Sermon, 29.) 3 Campbell's Admirals, ii. 272. 4 See the whole account in Sandford's Funeral of Monk. The Dean ^nd Prebendaries wore copes. Offerings were made at the altar. 294 THE MONUMENTS The Ormond Vault. Ormond, with his whole race, was deposited in the more august burial-place at the foot of Llenry 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 1670. A 1. Duke of Albemarle, General Monk. A 2. Duchess of Albemarle. 1719. A3. Joseph Addison. 1720. A 4. James Craggs. 1710. B 1. George Fitzroy, Duke of Northumberland. B 2. {The plate is absent.) Catherine, Duchess of Northumberland, his first wife. 170S. 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. 173S. E 1. Mary, second Duchess of Northumberland. 1744. E 2. Grace, Countess Granville. 1734. Fl. 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.) nobles who died in London, and who lie there un- Eari of marked by any outward memorial. The first (Issorv, July so, ioso. who was so interred was Ormond s own son, the Earl of Ossory,2 over whom he. made the famous 1 Ward's Sermon, p. 32. 'I saw him die erect in his chair, uti im- peratorem decuit.' '* Keepe, p. 109. His body is said to have been removed to the family vault in Kilkenny Cathedral, but not till after his father's burial. (Ormond's will.) (Carte's Life of Ormond, ii. 499.) There is now no OF THE RESTORATION. 295 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 God my case Du(,, s of is not quite so deplorable as he who condoles j"^1' with me, for I had much rather have my ]f^ls dead son than his living one.' There his wife ofonii'™d? was buried, on a yet sadder day ; and there Aus' *' 1(|S3' his own body, 'by long sickness utterly wasted and decayed,' J 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 IT., who took to himself the grant given him for his father's monument,2 that not one of these illustrious persons was honoured by any public memorial.3 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 testi mony of the popular favour, and of the regal weight of the general and statesman on whom, during the calami ties of the Great Civil War, of the Great Plague, and the Great Fire,4 the King and nation had leaned for counsel and support. His ducal cap, till almost within trace of this coffin in that vault. When opened in 1864 it contained many bones, but only one leaden coffin, and that of a female. I owe this to the Rev. James Graves of Kilkenny. 1 Keepe, ii. 506, 550. 2 See Chapter III. 3 The banners, pennons, and guidons, of Monk and Sandwich, and other insignia of honour, were hanging over their graves in 1711. (Crull, p. 110.) The names were inscribed in 1867. 4 ' If the general had been here, the city had not been burned.' (Ward's Sermon, p. 30.) 296 THE MONUMENTS 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.1 At length, in pursuance of the will of his son Christopher, who lies by his side, Monument the present monument was erected by the of Monk, *¦ J 1720 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 ; ' 2 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 Eir] nt in the Abbey.3 Clarendon, its great historian, janre4,d011' was brought from his exile at Eouen, and laid 1674-5. jn ^ famjiy vault, but without a stone or name to mark the spot, at the foot of the steps to Bishop Henry VII.'s Chapel.4 In St. Edmund's Monk'Dee. Ghapel lies Nicholas Monk, 'the honest 2o,,i6oi. clergyman ' who 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 1 See Note on the Waxworks. 2 Campbell's Admirals, ii. 273. 3 Thomas Blagg, who defended the Castle of Wallingford, and died November 14, 1660, was buried on the 'north side of the church.' Sir Thomas Ingram, Privy Councillor to Charles II., who died Feb. 13, 1671-72, has a monument at the entrance of St Nicholas's Chapel. 4 The name was added in 1867. Here was laid his mother (1661) and his third son (1664-65), and afterwards his grandson, Lord Corn- bury (1723), (who 'represented' Queen Anne, as Governor of New York, by appearing at a levee in woman's robes). His niece, Anne Hyde, wife of Sir Ross Carey, was buried on July 23, 1660, in the centre of the Choir, with a quaint epitaph, commemorating this mem orable date. OF THE RESTORATION. 297 poor man was glad when he was gone, and never had the courage after to undertake the like employment.' x 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.2 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. Close to Nicholas Monk, under a simple slab, lies Feme, Bishop of Chester, and Master of Trinity, who had attended Charles I., Feme, J . March 25, during his imprisonments, almost to the last, 1662. and ' whose only fault it was that he could Bishop not be angry.' Brian Duppa, Bishop, first of April 24, Salisbury, and 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 Hismo]lu. the North Ambulatory, with a small monu- mo,lt- ment, which recalls some of the chief points of interest in his chequered life : — how he had learned Hebrew, when at Westminster, from Lancelot Andrewes, then Dean ; how affectionately he had clung to Reicn op Eichmond, the spot where his education of Charles ti- Charles II. had been carried on ; how, after the Eestora tion,3 he had there built the hospital, which he had vowed during his pupil's exile ; how there he died, almost in the arms of that same pupil, who came to see 1 Clarendon, vii. 383, 384. State Papers, 1662. 2 Evelyn, ii. 184. 8 Kennett, p. 650. Pepys's Diary, July 29, 1660. — ' To Whitehall Chapel. Heard a cold sermon of the Bishop of Salisbury (Duppa), and the Communion did not please me ; they do so overdo that.' 298 THE MONUMENTS him a few hours before his death, and received his final blessing — one hand on the King's head, the other raised to heaven.1 In the wake of the mighty chiefs who lie in Henry VII.'s Chapel, are monuments to some of the lesser Eari of Mail- SOidiers of that time. In the North Transept juiieu'1 an<^ lts neighbourhood are five victims of Mulen-y, the Dutch war of 1665— viz., William Earl Lord19' of Marlborough, Viscount Muskerry, Charles june^-' Lord Falmouth, Sir Edward Broughton, and jiinefuT' Sir William Berkeley. Of these, all fell in Berkeley, battle except Broughton, who ' received his death-wound at sea, and died here at home.' Berkeley, brother of Lord Falmouth, was ' embalmed by the Hollanders, who had taken the ship when he Hamilton, was slain,' and ' there in Holland he lay dead Neve/iiig6 in a sugar-chest for everybody to see, with his septr23J,gge' nag standing up by him.' He was then ' sent over by them, at the request and charge of his relations.' 2 From the Dutch war of 1672 were brought, to the same North Aisle, Colonel Hamilton, Captain Le Neve, 3 and Sir Edward Spragge,4 the naval favourite of James II., and the rival of Van Tromp, 5 whose un timely loss his enemy mourned with a chivalrous iiarbordand regret — 'the love and delight of all men, as Cottrell, ° ° ' 1072. well for his noble courage as for the gentle sweetness of his temper.' In the Nave, beside Le Neve's tablet, is the joint monument to Sir Charle? 1 The monument originally was where that of Lord Ligonier now is. A monument of his namesake, Sir Thos. Duppa, who outlived the dynasty he had served (1694), is in the North Aisle. 2 Register; Pepys, June 16, 1666. 8 Under the organ-loft. (Ibid.) A Campbell's Admirals, ii. 338. 6 Ibid. ii. 349, 350. OF CHARLES II.'S REIGN. 299 Harbord J and Clement Cottrell, ' to preserve and unite the memory of two faithful friends, who lost „ . , J ' Fau'borne, their lives at sea together, in the terrible fight 1 AprL1 10j and not being ill this morning at six o'clock, i«ee. yet dead before seven. ... It works fearfully among people nowadays, the plague, as we hear, increasing rapidly again.' 2 We pass to a monument of this epoch, erected not by public gratitude, but by private affection, which commemorates a husband and wife, both re- william markable in the whole of the period which ^J™^11' they cover. In the solitude of the North ^|fe' Transept, hitherto almost entirely free from 1G76~7- 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, danc ing, 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 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 particular opinions which were grown up in it, and distin guished it into parties, than as he detested whatsoever was like to disturb the public peace.8 With him is buried his second wife, herself as re markable as her husband — the most prolific Margaret of female writers, as is indicated by her book duchess of and inkstand on the tomb. She was sur- j^T**' rounded night and day with young ladies, 1673~4' who were to wake up at a moment's notice ' to take 1 He was the brother of the more notorious William Chiffinch. 2 Pepys's Diary, April 4, 1666. 8 Clarendon, iv. 517. 302 THE MONUMENTS down her Grace's conceptions ; ' authoress of thirteen folios, written each without corrections, lest her com ing fancies should be disturbed by them ; of whom her husband said, in answer to a compliment on her wis dom, ' Sir, a very wise woman is a very foolish thing : ' but of whom, in her epitaph, with more unmixed admi ration, 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.'1 ' 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.' 2 ' There is as much expectation of her coming,' said Pepys, ' as if it were the Queen of Sweden.' He describes her appear ance at the Eoyal 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 ! ' 3 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 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 1 Spectator, No. 99. It has been suggested to me that this may have been inspired by a passage in Moliere's Georges Dandin, acted in 1668, act i. scene 4 — 'Dans la maison de Sotenville, on n'a jamais vu de coquette ; et la bravoure n'y est pas plus he're'ditaire aux males que la chastete' aux femelles.' 2 Walpole (L.ondiniana, i. 127). ' Pepys's Diary, April and May, 1667. OF THE REVOLUTION. 303 the air, that you may lie every night at one of your own!' 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 attracted to its position by a triple affinity to this particular spot. John Holies was descendant both of the families of George John Holies, Holies and Sir Francis Vere, who lie imme- Newcastle, diately behind; and after his marriage with ml the granddaughter of William Cavendish, who lies immediately by his side, he was created Duke of New castle.2 By all these united titles he became 'the richest subject that had been in the kingdom His monu. for some ages;'3 and his monument is pro- Ilient' 1723- portionably 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 exam ple 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. Ben- 1 The houses of these two Dukes of Newcastle can still be traced ; that of Cavendish in Newcastle Place in Clerkenwell, that of Holies in the neighbourhood of Lincoln's Inn and of Newcastle Street in the Strand. 2 See p. 61. 3 Burnett's Own Time, vi. 62 (orii. 580) ; and see his epitaph. 4 ' Sincerity ' lost her left hand in the scaffolding of George IV.'s coronation. 6 The Chapel behind was, from his vault, formerly called the ' Holies 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.) 304 THE MONUMENTS tinck, the Earl of Portland, with his first descendants, favourite and friend of William IIL, lies in the Or- the revo- mond vault, just ' under the great east win- i68™°N dow.' 1 When Marshal Schomberg fell in Duke'nf1' tne Passage of the Boyne, it was felt that i709.land* ' tne only cemetery in which so illustrious a The Duke of warrior, slain in arms for the liberties and Schomberg, . *_»«• *. religion of England, could properly be laid,' i ased79. was Westminster Abbey. His corpse was em balmed and deposited for that purpose in a leaden coffin sir Joseph on *ne field- But, in fact, he was never car- died'oc't°3' rie(X further than Dublin, where he now lies buried det: in gt Patrick's Cathedral3 His family, how- Diana ever, are interred in the Ormond vault at Temple, rlt1?1',27', Westminster — brother, son, and daughter. 1679. Lady ' ' o ?,?'"i,lej. In the vault of the Duke of Eichmond,4 1694. Sir ' FebTimple' W1th whose family he was connected by mar- 169S-9. riage,5 is Sir Joseph Williamson, the English plenipotentiary at Eyswick.3 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,7 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 Hal- 1 Register. 2 Macaulay, iii. 638. 3 Beside the monument inscribed with the famous epitaph by Swift. (Pettigrew's Epitaphs, 186.) 4 Register. — This seems hardly compatible with the statement in Crull (p. 120), that he was buried in the same small vault that con tained Elizabeth Claypole, which is on the other side of the Chapel. 6 Nichols's Collect, viii. 12. 6 In St. Paul's Chapel is the monument of Sir Henry Bellasyze, governor of Galway, 1717. 7 Register. See Macaulay's Essay on Sir W. Temple. Halifax,April 11, OF THE REVOLUTION. 305 ifax, who, with his wife and daughter, lies in the vault of Monk close by. But its position marks his Gcoj, o importance. It is the first visible memorial Jr1""' , A Marquis of of any subject that has gained a place in the aisle which holds the tomb of Queen Eliz- ie95 abeth. Its classical style, with its medallion portrait, marks the entrance into the eighteenth century, which with its Augustan age of literature, and its not un worthy line of ministers and warriors, compensates by magnificence of historic fame for its increasing degra dation of art and taste. Close beside George Saville is the monu- Eei(;nof ment of the second Halifax, who lies with ?"EEN Anne. Charles him 1 in General Monk's vault — Charles Montague, his successor in the foremost ranks K'of™' of the state, his more than successor as a May 26, patron of letters: — When sixteen barren centuries had past, This second great Maecenas came at last.2 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 handsome plain monument.' 3 The yet more famous ashes of his friend Addison were attracted, as we shall see, to that spot, by the contiguity James of him who ' from a poet had become the chief died Feb. i6, patron of poets.' On Addison's coffin rests mYi'hU the coffin of James Craggs, Secretary of State, ' and, in spite of their divergent politics, the friend both of Addison and Pope. The narrow aisle, where he was 1 Ho lies on Lady Stanhope's coffin (Register), i.e. the daughter of George Saville. "- Dr. Sewell to Addison. (British Poets.) 8 Biog. Brit. v. 306. ,. vol. i. — 20 306 THE MONUMENTS buried, could not afford space for more monuments ; and in the erection of his memorial, at the western extremity of the church, we have at once the earliest example of a complete dissociation of the grave and His monu- tomb, and also the first monument of impos- ment. jng appearance erected in the hitherto almost vacant Nave.1 His premature end at the age of thirty- five, by the smallpox, then making its first great rav ages 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 ill ness ; the inscription on the urn, which he saw ' scored hi- lit over *n ^e Abbey.' The epitaph remains. ' The Latin inscription,' he says, ' 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 sub ject: 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 in spires them invariably in themselves. The heart glows while the tongue falters.'4 It exhibits the conflict in 1 It stood originally at the east end of the Baptistery. 2 Johnson's Poets, ii 63. 8 See Pope's Works, iii. 368 ; vi, 374. 4 Pope, ix. 427, 428, 442. — For the character of Craggs, see his OF THE REVOLUTION. 307 public opinion between Latin and English in the writ ing 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 CEAGGS, B.EGI MAGNjE BRITANNIA A SECBETIS ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS, PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPULI AMOR . ET DELICIiK : VIXIT TITULIS 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 to the violence with which they are torn from the poem that first contained them. We may, how ever, observe some defects. There is a redundancy of words in the first couplet : it is superfluous to tell of Criticism him, who was sincere, true, and faithful, that he of Dr. . Johnson. was in lionour clear, there seems to be an opposi tion 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 verso 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 Epistle (ibid. iii. 295, 296 ; and for the original inscription, ibid. iv. 290). 308 THE MONUMENTS artless expedient, or of an attempt unaccomplished. Such an epitaph resembles the conversation of a foreiguer, who tells part of his meaning by words, and conveys part by 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 memo rials 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 Lord of Queen Anne during the nine first glorious Gndnlphin, ... died sept, years of her reitm,' buried in the south aisle — 15, buried J ° Oct. 8, 1712. ' a man of the clearest head, the calmest tem per, and the most incorrupt of all the ministers of states ' that Burnet had ever known 2 — ' 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 Henrietta, of the way.' 4 The bust was erected to him by Mao- " Henrietta (his daughter-in-law), daughter and 1733. ° heiress of the great Duke of Marlborough, who was buried beside him and his brother. Her mother Sarah was standing by Lord Godolphin's death bed, with Sir Eobert Walpole, then in his early youth. The dying Earl took Walpole by the hand, and turning to the Duchess, said : ' Madam, should you ever desert 1 Johnson's Poets, iii. 205, 206. 2 Own Time, vi. 135 (or ii. 614). 8 Ibid. ii. 240 (or i. 479). * See Pope, v. 256. The Interior of the Nave. •*&*:&& t^wSmmiiP :Smi>mmK^~'4d>^V^±^fA a«ik' iMIBflWBI""*' iC3 ^=fV:|:-Ti~ • OF QUEEN ANNE'S REIGN. 309 this young man, and there should be a possibility of returning from the grave, I shall certainly appear to you.' 1 Before passing to Walpole and the ministers of the Hanoverian dynasty, we must pause on the War of the Succession in Germany and Spain, as before war of we were involved in the Flemish wars of cession.' 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 Gen- Kiingrew, eral Killigrew, killed in the battle of Al- 1707. manza ; to Colonel Bingfieid4 aide-de-camp Bingfieid,Mav 23 to the Duke of Marlborough, killed at the nob. battle of Eamillies, whilst ' remounting the Duke on a 1 Walpole 's Letters, vol. i. p. cxxiii. 2 One such monument was placed there long after Addison's time. Old Lord Ligonier, after having fought all through the wars of Anne, died at the age of 92 (1770), in the middle of the reign of George III. 8 Spectator, No. 26 (1711). 4 'Poor Bingfieid, holding my stirrup for me, and lifting me on horseback, was killed. I am told that he leaves his wife and mother in a poor condition.' (Letter to the Duchess of Marlborough on the next day, March 24, 11 a.m.) There is a similar expression in the formal despatch : ' You may depend that Her Majesty will not fail to take care of poor Bingfield's widow.' (Coxe's Life of Marlliornugh, ii. 354, 357.) He is called on the monument Bringfield. His head was struck off by a cannon-ball. The monument records that he had often been seen at the services in the Abbey. 310 THE MONUMENTS (Gate) 'Newton ° Stanhope ° || Andre 0 F airborne 0 Townsuend ° GO DOLPHIN 0 Hargrave °Sir W. Temple 0 Dr. Mead ° Lord DuNDONALD = SPENCEIl PERCEVAL ° Kennell 0 1| Telford 'Banks "Livingstone °Ben Jonson 0 Pollock "Wilson ° Hunter °Dr. Woodward 0 Lyell 0 IIarvey and Hutt "Graham "Tom pion °FOX 0 Mackintosh °Lortn °montasu g HOLLAND a. °TIEPNEY "Z. Macaulay P "Rennell "Conduit t ° PITT "Hardy "Clyde " Outram 0 Herries ° Wade " Sprat ° Adm. Tyrrell 0 Dr. Jreind ° Congreve 0 Wharton ^ || Atterbury ^ \\WilcOCks o o ° Words worth ° Keble (Baptistery] PLAN OF THE NAVE. OF QUEEN ANNE'S REIGN. 311 fresh horse, his former " fayling " J under him, and in terred at Bavechem, in Brabant, a principal part of the English generals attending his obsequies ; ' to Heueage Lieutenant Heneage Twysden, killed at the sept. 1709. battle of Blaregnies, and his two brothers, JnimTwys- 0 ' ' den, Oct. 22, John and Josiah, of whom the first was lieu- 17u7- tenant under Sir Cloudesley Shovel, and per- Tw'-sden ished with him, and the second was killed at 170s' 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 the spot. ' It was erected by Creed his mother,' ' near another which her son, 1704, while living, used to look up to with pleasure, for the worthy mention it makes of that great man the Earl of Sandwich, to whom he had the honour to be re lated, and whose heroic virtues he was ambitious to emulate.' 2 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 cried, ' Sir Cloudesley Shovel, a very gallant man ! ' The sir ciomies- ¦' J ° lev Shovel, ' Spectator ' had passed there before, and ' it died Oct. 22, 1 r buried Dee. had often given him very great offence. In- 22, 1707. stead of the brave rough English Admiral, which was the distinguishing character of that plain gallant man, 1 The horse did not 'fayl,' but the Duke was thrown in leaping a ditch. (Coxe, ii. 354.) 2 Epitaph. — It originally stood where Andre's monument now is, and therefore nearer to Harbord's monument, to which it alludes. 312 THE MONUMENTS he is represented by the figure of a beau, dressed in a long periwig, and reposing himself on velvet cushions, under a canopy of state. The inscription 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.' 1 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 Eng land. 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 ' Arun- dell,' 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.2 At the time when the ' Spectator ' surveyed the Abbey the great commander of the age was still living. The precincts had already witnessed a scene of mourn ing, in connection with his house, more touching than any monument, more impressive than any funeral. At The Duke King's College, Cambridge, is a stately monu- of Marl- . . borough. ment, under which lies the Duke s only son, cut off there in the flower of his promise. The Duke 1 Spectator, No. 139. 2 Campbell's Admirals, iii. 28-30. Plymouth Memoirs, by James Yonge, p. 40. — There is no monument to Admiral Delaval, long the companion of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who died in the North, and was OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 313 himself had been obliged to start immediately for his great campaign. But a young noble 1 amongst the West minster boys, as he played in the cloisters, recognised a strange figure, which he must have known in the great houses of London. It was Sarah, Duchess of Moui.llin„ ot Marlborough, who 'used, by way of mortifica- Duchess of tion and as a mark of affection, to dress herself borough., for like a beggar, and sit with some miserable Fa,s°2o', wretches 2 in the cloisters of Westminster 1702~8- 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 Marlborough'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 Atterbury 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: O rus, quando ego te aspiciam, quandoque licebit Ducere sollieita? jucunda oblivia vitas? buried in the Abbey on January 23, 1706-7 (ibid. iii. 8 ; Charnock's Naval Biography, ii. 1 ), at the upper end of the West Aisle. (Register.) 1 The Duchess of Portland said ' the Duke (her husband) had often seen her, during this mourning of hers, when he was a boy at Westmin ster 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. Delany's Auto- bioqraphy, iii. 167.) 2 A Chapter order. May 6, 1710, mentions the 'Appointment of a constable to restrain divers disorderly beggars daily walking and beg ging 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.' 3 Letters, iv. 6. 311 THE MONUMENTS In that case I shall fancy I hear the ghost of the dead thus entreating me : At tu sacratse ne parce malignus arena? Ossibus et capiti inhumato Particulam dare . . . Quamquam festinas, non est mora loriga : licebit Injecto ter pulvere curras. There is an answer for me somewhere in Hamlet to this request, which you remember though I do not : ' Poor ghost, thou shall 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. Sedme Imperiosa trahit Proserpina, vive valeque. Death of ^ne Tory prelate and the Tory poet waited, ofMarike n0 doubt, long and impatiently for the slow jun°eu]g6, cavalcade of the funeral of the Great Duke, fbneraif IS whose Whiggery they could not pardon even vm. 9' at that moment — 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 detach ment 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. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 315 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 achieve ments. To the sides shields were affixed, exhibiting em blematic representations of the battles he had gained, and the towns he had conquered, with the motto, ' Hello 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 b}r 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 dignitaries and members of the Church, in their splendid habiliments ; 1 and the venerable pile blazed with tapers and torches innumerable. . . . The pro cession then moved through the JSTave and Choir to the Chapel of Henry VII.2 — to the vault3 which contained the ashes of Ormond, and which had once contained the ashes of Cromwell. The expenses were defray id by Sarah herself. Twenty-four years afterwards the body was removed to a mausoleum, erected under her superintendence, in 1 See note in Atterbury's Letters, iv. 6, 7. — The Dean and Canons appear in copes. The Dean set up an altar at the head of Henry VH.'s tomb (ibid, iv. 11), as in Monk's funeral. 2 Coxe's Marlborough, vi. 385. 3 Register. 316 THE MONUMENTS the Chapel at Blenheim, and there, a few weeks later, she was laid by his side.1 Admiral The Duke's brother, Admiral Churchill, who buried'May preceded him by a few years, rests in the 12, nio. south aisle of the Choir. Whilst Atterbury and Pope were complaining of the hard fate of having to assist at the funeral of the Duke of Marlborough, they were also corresponding about Sheffield an other tomb, preparing in Henry VII.'s Buekh"'- Chapel, over the grave of one. whose claims d?ed Febe,24, to so exalted a place were made up of heter- Mai'eh 25, ogeneous materials, each questionable of itself, 1,1 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 Buckingham shire or of Buckingham,2 by some of his humble co- temporaries regarded as a poet, has won a place in Johnson's ' Lives of the Poets,' and has left one cele brated line.3 He has achieved for his name4 a more legitimate place in Poets' Corner than his verses could have given him, by uniting it with the name of Dry den,5 on the monument which he there erected to his favourite author. ' 1 It appears from the Duchess's will, dated August 11, 1744, that the Duke's body was then still in the Abbey, and from the account of her funeral in October 1744, that it had by that time been removed. (Thomson's Memoirs of tlie Duchess of Marlborough, pp. 502, 562.) 2 Johnson's Lives, ii. 153. — The ambigu'ty of the title was to guard against confusion with Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. His full title was ' the Duke of the County of Buckingham.' 3 A faultless monster which the world ne'er saw. (Johnson, ii. 155.) 4 ' Muse, 'tis enough — at length thy labour ends, And thou shall live — for Pmckingham commends, Sheffield approves, consenting Phcebus bends.' (Pope, iii. 331.) 6 See p. 121, OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 317 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 character, who at twelve years undertook to educate himself; who maintained the presence of mind ascribed to him in the extraordinary peril at sea to which he was exposed by the Sheffield's perfidy of Charles II. ; who, by his dexterous monument. answers evaded the proselytism of James II. and the suspicions of William III. But probably his family connections carried the day over all his other qualifi cations. 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 monu ment 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 ' Btoeldngham House,' created by his skill out of the old mulberry garden in St. James's Park, with the inscription Bits in urbe, ' as you see from the garden nothing but country.' 1 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 1 Defoe's Journey through England, i. 194. 2 Gent. Mag., vol. lxxxiv. pt. ii. p. 548. 3 Walpole, i. 234. — One of the monks tried to make her observe how ragged the pall was, but she would not buy a new one. 318 THE MONUMENTS martyrdom of her grandfather, Charles I., 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.' 1 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 magnifi cent as that of the great Duke of Marlborough ; and Sheffield's n^s monument to be as splendid as the Italian SarchM taste of that pedantic age could make it. 1721. Pope was in eager communication with her and the artist Belluchi, to see that the likenesses were faithful.2 Three children, two sons and a His family. daughter, were transferred at the same time to their father's vault, from the neighbouring Church of St. Margaret.3 One son alone 4 remained, the last of Edmund tne h°use> from whom his mother was insep- Duke of ' arable ; and when he died in early youth at hamsiiire Eome,a few years later, she revived the pageant Borne' Oct. once more. Priding herself on being ' a Tory buried' jL. Duchess of Marlborough,' she wrote to Sarah, to 31, i,o5-6. borrow the triumphal car that had transported the remains of the 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.' 5 The waxen effigies of herself and of her son, which were prepared for this solemnity, are still preserved in the 1 Walpole's Reminiscences. 2 Pope, viii. 336; ix. 228. 3 Register. i On the monument Time is represented bearing away the four children. 5 Walpole's Reminiscences. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 319 Abbey.1 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.2 The Duchess settled her own funeral with the Garter King-at-Arms, on her deathbed, and ' feared dying before the pomp should come home.' ' Why Catherine, -,-,,, Duchess of don t they send the canopy for me to see ? Bucking- J hamshire, Let them send it, though all the tassels are April 8,1743. 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,3 and Pope wrote a touching epitaph for her4 (which was, however, never inscribed), and corrected an elaborate description in prose of her char acter and person, written by herself.5 She quarrelled with the poet, but accepted the corrections, and showed the character as his composition in her praise. Sheffield's epitaph on himself is an instructive memo rial at once of his own history and of the strange turns of human thought and character.6 ' Pro Eege Sneffleld.s scepe, pro Republicd semper! well sums up his ePltaPh- political career under the last three Stuarts, Then comes the expression of his belief : — 1 See Note on the Waxworks, p. 208. 2 Walpole's Reminiscences, i. 234. * For the Duchess, see Atterbury's Letters, iv. 135, 153, 161, 163,253, 268, 310, 317 ; and for the young Duke, ibid. iv. 149, 155. 4 Johnson's Lives of the Poets, iii. 216. " Pope, vii. 323, 325. 6 The sensation produced by the epitaph at the time is evident from the long defence of it ' by Dr. Richard Fiddes, in answer to a Free thinker' (1721) 320 THE MONUMENTS Dubius sed non improbus vixi ; lncerlus morior, non perturbatus. Humanum est nescire et errare. Deo confido Omnipolenti benevolentisshno Ens entium, miserere mei. 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 1 than Sheffield, unhappily, could assert, there is in the final expression a pathos, amount ing 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 mei, 1 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 inscription breathing a spirit so exclusively drawn from natural religion found its way, unrebuked and uncorrected, into a Christian church. Their won der will be increased when they hear that it once 1 Unless ' non improbus ' refers to his opinions, 'not hardened.' 2 Scott's Eclectic Notes, p. 265. 3 Fiddes (p. 40), who quotes- from Cce/ius Rhodigenius (torn. ij. lib. 17, c 34), and adds the prayer of the friends who are supposed to bo stand ing by the philosopher's deathbed — ' Qui philosophorum animas excipit el tuam colliget.' (Ibid. torn. ii. lib. 18, c. 31.) OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 321 contained that very expression of awestruck affection for the Eedeemer, which would fill up the void ; that it originally stood ' Christum cidvencror, Deo confido.' 1 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 inscription was submitted. And this marvel takes the form of a sig nificant lesson in ecclesiastical history, when we are told the grounds of the objection — that the word adveneror ' was not full enough as applied to Christ.' 2 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 inter val that elapsed between the Duke of Buckingham's funeral and his own, wrote the well-known lines, which, though professedly founded on a perverse interpreta tion of the charitable hope of the Burial Service, evi dently point in reality to the deep-seated suspicion of Atterbury's own sincerity : 1 The original inscription is given at length in Crull, ii. 49 (1722) ; and also in Fiddes's Letter (1721), who argues at length on the force of the expression (p. 38). It was in this form that it received the approval of Erasmus Darwin. (Life, by Charles Darwin, p. 15.) 2 The opposite party, in the published copies of the inscription, in serted solo after Deo. (Fiddes, p. 39.) VOL. 1. — 21 1678-1743.Duke of Argyll and Greenwich, buried Oct 15, 1743. 322 THE MONUMENTS 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.1 Three statesmen stretch across the first half of the eighteenth century. John Campbell, Duke of Argyll and Greenwich — soldier and statesman alike, of the first order in neither service, but con spicuous in both as the representative of the northern kingdom, which through his influ ence more than that of any single person was united to England — was buried in a vault 2 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 situation 3 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 sculptured emblems, History pauses at the title of ' Greenwich,' which was to die with him. ' Eloquence,' with outstretched hand, in an attitude which won Canova's special praise,4 represents the ' thunder ' 5 1 Pope's Works, ix. 209. 2 This new vault was made in 1743. His widow was interred there April 23, 1767 ; his daughters, Caroline, Countess of Dalkeith, in 1791, and Mary (Lady Mary Coke) in 1811 (Register), 'the lively little lady who, in the Heart of Midlothian, banters her father after the interview with Jeannie Deans. 3 The monument displaced the ancient staircase leading from the 1791-1819 Dormitory. (Gleanings, p. 48.) Close to it were charac teristically pressed the monuments of two lesser members of the Campbell clan. 4 Life of Nollekens, ii. 161. 6 'Argyll, the state's whole thunder born to wield, And shake alike the senate and the field.' — (Pope.) OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 323 and ' persuasion ' 1 described by the poets of his age. The inscription which History is recording, and which was supplied by the poet Paul Whitehead,2 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. 3 But he is commemorated in the Abbey by the monument of his first wife, Catherine Shorter, whose beauty, with the good looks of his own youth, caused them M Wal_ to be known as ' the handsome couple.' The p"1?- !}jed position of her statue, in the south aisle of 1737- 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 re mains a striking proof both of his affection for her and his love of art. The statuo itself was copied Her statue. in Rome from the famous figure of ' Modesty, and the inscription, 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,4 but 1 ' From his rich tongue Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate.' — (Thomson.) 2 Neale, ii. 258. 3 Coxe's Walpole, chap. Ixii. and lxiii. * Walnole's Letters, ii. 277. 324 THE MONUMENTS ' 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 courage to venture alone among the Westminster boys ; they are as formid able to me as the ship-carpenters at Portsmouth.' 4 Pulteney, after his long struggles, determined, when he had reached his peerage, to be buried in the Abbey, puiteney which he had known from his childhood as a Bath "died Westminster boy. A vault was constructed bunedjuiy f°r himself and his family in the Islip Chap- 17, 1764. e^2 an(j there, in his eightieth year, his obse- h.s mnerai. qUj6g were performed by his favourite Bishop Zachary Pearce.3 In the pressure to see his funeral (which, as usual, took place at night), a throng of spec tators stood on the tomb of Edward I., 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 1 Walpole's Letters, i. 352. 2 Probably attracted by the grave of Jane Crewe, heiress of the Pulteneys in 1 639, whose pretty monument is over the chapel door. 3 The most conspicuous monument in the Cloisters is that of David Pulteney, who died September 7, 1731, buried May 17, 1732. (Regis ter.) He was M.P. for Preston, and in 1722 a Lord of the Admiralty. It seems that the independence which is so lauded in this epitaph showed itself in his opposition to Walpole, and his defence of free trade and of the interests of the British merchants abroad (see Parliamentary History, viii. 1, 608, 647). i Gent. Mag. 1817, parti, p. 33. — The antiquary Carter was present, as a boy : ' I stood, with many others, on the top of the tomb. ... A dreadful conflict ensued. Darkness soon closed the scene.' (Ibid. 1799, part ii. p. 859.) OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 325 career is celebrated by the monument to his 'very faithful' secretary, Roberts, in the South Roberts Transept. His brother the Duke of New- |S.'.',7°f castle is faintly recalled by the monument 177(i- on the opposite side to Robinson, who was distin guished by the name of ' Long Sir Thomas Robinson.' 1 ' 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 Newcastle, 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 frequently clone, 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 accordingly, at his next coming, the porter, as soon as he had opened the gate, and without waiting for what he had to say, dis missed him in these words : Sir, his Grace has gone out, the clock stands, and the monkey is dead.' His epitaph commemorates his successful career in Barba- does, and 'the accomplished woman, agreeable compan ion, and sincere friend ' he found in his wife. General The rebellion of 1715 has left its trace in ^doct. the tablet erected in the North Transept to tneilalt ln General Guest, ' who closed a service of sixty Cl0ister- 1 Hawkins' Johnson, p. 192, which erroneously states that he 'rests in the Abbey.' He was called ' Long ' from his stature, to distinguish him from the ' German ' Sir Thomas Robinson of the same date, who was a diplomatist. 'Long Sir Thomas Robinson is dying by inches,* said some one to Chesterfield. 'Then it will be some time before be dies.' The appointment to the governorship of Barbadoes, mentioned on his monument, was given to him because Lord Lincoln wanted his house. (Walpole's Letters, i. 22; vi. 247.1 326 THE MONUMENTS years by faithfully defending Edinburgh Castle against the rebels1 in 1745;' and in the elaborate monument „ . , of Roubiliac, in the Nave, to Marshal Wade, Marshal > ' Mandib2ir'ed wnose military roads, famous in the well- ne!ir~the known Scottish proverb, achieved the subju- chougate. gation 0f tiie Highlands. A cenotaph in the East Cloister celebrates ' two affectionate brothers, val- The iant soldiers and sincere Christians,' Scipio 1745, 1765. and Alexander Duroure, of whom the first fell at Fontenoy in 1745 ; and the second was buried here in 17G5, 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, ' remarkable for their monuments in Westminster Abbey,' but' for little General beside. That to General Fleming was erected Marcii'lb, bv Sir John Fleming, who also lies there, ' to 1751 • General the memory of his uncle, and his best of Feb, 2, ' friends.' 2 That to General Hargrave appears both buried to have provoked a burst of general indiena- nearthe 1 & . ° choir -ate. tion at the time. It was 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 falling pyramids has been so lost, that they have even 1 ' My old commander General Guest,' says Colonel Talbot in Wa- verley, vol. iii. chap. 3. 2 Epitaph. — The whole Fleming family are congregated under these monuments. (Register.) 8 ' Some rich man.' (Goldsmith's Citizen of the World, p. 46.) It was said that a wag had written under the figure struggling from the tomb, ' Lie still if you 're wise ; you '11 be damned if you rise.' (Hut- ton's London Tour.) * Malcolm, p. 169. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 327 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 com plaint : ' I find in Westminster Abbey several new monuments erected to the memory of several great men. The names of the great men I abso- HonMiiac's lutely forget, but I well remember that Rou- mo'llu"e"ts- biliac was the statuary who carved them. . . . Alas ! alas ! cried I, such monuments as these confer honour not on the great men, but on little Eoubiliac.' x 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 monument 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 Eome, 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 end is the tablet of Captain Wil- Wiiiiam liam Horneck, the earliest of English engi- A^im'' neers, who learned his military science under 174S' the Duke of Marlborough, and is buried in his father's grave in the South Transept. There also is 0 iii Sir Thomas told the story of Sir Thomas Hardy — descend- Hardy, Aug. ant of the protector of Henry VII. on his Lady Hardy, r J May 3, 1720. voyage from Brittany to England, and ances tor of the companion of Nelson — who, for his services 1 Goldsmith. 2 Life of Reynolds, i. 119. 3 Akermann, ii. 37. 328 THE MONUMENTS under Sir George Eooke, lies buried (with his wife) near the west end of the Choir. There, too, is the first monument erected by Parliament to naval heroism — the gigantic memorial of the noble but now forgotten comewaii death of Captain Cornewall, in the battle off Tyrreii! lufci Toulon ; and, close upon it, the yet more pro- junee, nee. (ijgjous mass of rocks, clouds, sea, and ship, to commemorate the peaceful death of Admiral Tyrrell.1 In the North Transept and the north aisle of the Choir follow the cenotaphs of a host of seamen — Baker, who ,. , died at Portmahon ; Saumarez, who fought Baker, died " Nov. 20, from his sixteenth to his thirty-seventh year oet'iT2' under Anson and Hawke ; the ' good but un- atpiym'imth fortunate ' Balchen, lost at sea ; Temple West, Bakhen, j-^g gon-in-law ; Vernon, celebrated for his we'st^W 'fleet near Portobello lying'; Lord Aubrey vernon, Beauclerk, the gallant son of the first Duke Beaucierk, of gt ArbanS, who fell mider Vernon at Car- 175™"' thagena, and whose epitaph is ascribed to buried in Young ; and Warren, represented by Eou- NorthTransept, biliac with the marks of the small-pox on 1743.Holmes, his face. Wager, celebrated for his 'fair char acter,' who in his youth had fought in the service of the American Quaker, Captain Hull, is buried in the North Transept,2 and Admiral Holmes is near St. Paul's Chapel. 1 The idea of the monument seems to be to represent the Resurrec tion under difficulties. Tyrrell, though he died on land, was buried in the sea, and is sculptured as rising out of it. Compare 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 injunction, still observed, that the apprentices 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. 2 ' There was never any man that behaved himself in the Straits (of OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 329 The narrow circle of these names takes a wider sweep as, with the advance of the century, the Colonial Em pire 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 , Admiral Hole of Calcutta, and at Chandernagore ; J as Watson ° ' buried at the elephant and Mahratta captive on that of °al°l,tta' Sir Eyre Coote, and the hill of Trichinopoly j^5^^ on that of General Lawrence, recall, a few a^3ocl(bu™. years later, the glories of Coromandel and the iS'™06' Carnatic. George Montague, Earl of Halifax, Mm'fague, ' Father of the Colonies,' from whom the capi- Halifax, tal of Nova Scotia takes its name, is com memorated in the North Transept; Massachusetts2 and Ticonderoga,3 not yet divided from us, appear on 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, and has left the fairest character.' (Walpole, i. 248.) 1 Gideon Loten, governor of Batavia, with Ps. xv. 1-4 for his char acter, has a tablet in the North Aisle (1789). 2 Massachusetts is the female figure on the top of the monument. It was executed by Schumberg. 3 Ticonderoga appears also on the monument, not far off, of Colonel Townsend, executed by T. Carter. ' Here,' says the sculp- T0wnsen(j tor's antiquarian sou, 'I recall my juvenile years. . . I killed July then loved the hand that gave form to the yielding marble. °' / I now revere his memory, deeper engraved on my heart than on that part of the monument allotted to perpetuate the name of the sculptor.' (Gent. Mag. 1799, pt. ii. p. 669.) Yet it was not entirely Carter's: Pray, Mr. Nollekens,' asked his biographer, ' can you tell me who ex ecuted the basso-relievo of Townsend's monument 1 . I am sorry to find that some evil-minded persons have stolen one of the heads.' Nol lekens : ' That 's what I say. Dean Horsley should look after his monuments himself. Hang his waxworks ! Yes, I can tell you who did it. Tom Carter had the job, and employed another man of the name of Eckstein to model the fillet. It 's very clever. Flaxmnn used to say he would give something for the possession of the name of the 330 THE MONUMENTS the monument in the south aisle of the Nave, erected T ,„ to Viscount Howe, the unsuccessful elder Lord Howe, ' 175s ; monu- hrother of the famous admiral. But the one ment erected im.u' conspicuous memorial of that period is that woireTkiiied °f his brother's friend — 'friends to each other sei?tuei3?<;' as cannon to gunpowder ' : — General Wolfe. oreelfwleh, He was buried in his father's grave at Green- 1759. 2iiis wich, at the special request of his mother ; monument. ^ ^ ^^ excited by hig premature death in the moment 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 dislodging the monument of Abbot Esteney. It marks, in fact, the critical moment of the culmination and decline of the classical costume and artist who executed the sculptural parts of this monument, which he considered as one of the finest productions of art in the Abbey.' (Smith's Life of Nollekens, ii. 308.) 1 Walpole's Memoirs of George. II. 2 The bronze bas-relief is by Capitsoldi. It is exact down to the minutest details of Wolfe's cove, the Chateau de St. Louis, &c. This monument is by Wilton, who ' carved Wolfe's figure without clothes to display his anatomical knowledge.' (Life of Nollekens, ii. 173.) 3 Note and Queries, xii. 398. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 331 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.1 Earl Howe — great not only by his hundred fights, but by his character, ' undaunted and silent as a rock, who never made a friendship but at the cannon's mouth ' 2 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 Par liament, 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. The two enormous monuments t°*?n,, HOWE is of Captains Harvey and Hutt, and of Captain Cactains. Montagu, who fell in the same fight, originally nuttTaiid stood side by side between the pillars of the S'june Nave,3 the first beginning of an intended '¦ 1794, series of memorials of a like kind. Corres- cl^Iml ponding to these three captains of the Nave, Bayne, but of a slightly earlier date, are the three Manners, captains of the North Transept — Bayne, Blair, 1732. and Lord Eobert Manners, who perished in like manner in Eodney's crowning victory, and whose colossal monu ment 4 so cried for room as to expel from its place the 1 Life of Reynolds, ii. 206. 2 Campbell's Admirals, vii. 240. 3 (Neale, ii. 228.) They were transposed by Dean Vincent, Montagu to the west end, and Harvey and Hutt, greatly reduced, to one of the windows. 4 It was shut up for seven years after its erection, from the delay of the inscription. (Gent. Mag., vol. lxiii. pt. ii. p. 782.) 332 THE MONUMENTS font of the church, which has since taken refuge in the western end of the Nave.1 The tablet of Kempenfelt in the Chapel of St. Michael commemorates the loss of the ' Eoyal George.' 2 Ad- Kempeufeit, miral Harrison is buried at the entrance into Aus- 29, i7S7. the Cloisters, with the two appropriate texts, Harrison, x x x Oct. 26,1791. Ecus porlus metis et refttgium, and Ecus mon- EariDnn- stretvit miracidct sua in wrofundis : and the donald, died J. J > "*-¦*: 3\. funeral of Lord Dundonald, in the Nave — buried Nov. ii. lseo. thus at the close of his long life reinstated in the public favour — terminates the series of naval heroes which begins with Blake. Nelson,3 who at Cape St. Vincent looked forward only to victory or West minster Abbey, found his grave in St. Paul's. The military line still runs on. The unfortunate General Burgoyne, whose surrender at Saratoga lost Burgoyne, America to England, lies, without a name, in buried Aug. , ^ . 13, i79i the A, orth Cloister. But of that great struggle 4 the most conspicuous trace is left on the southern wall And.- , died °^ tne Nave by the memorial of the ill-fated buried xLv!' Major Andre,5 whose remains, brought home 2b, is2i. after a lapse of forty years, lie close beneath. When,6 at the request of the Duke of York, the body 1 Neale, ii. 208- * Near this are the monuments of Admirals Storr (1783), Poeock (1793), and Totty (1800), and of Captain Cook, who fell in the sea- fight in the Bay of Bengal (1799), and the handsome medallion of Captain Stewart (1811). 3 See a humorous allusion to this in Lusus West. ii. 210. See Note on the Waxworks. 4 The only other mark of the American war, showing the tragic Wragp-, d ied interest it excited, is the monument to William Wragg, Sept. 3, 1777- shipwrecked in his escape from South Carolina. 5 The bas-relief appears to represent Andre as intended to be shot : not, as was the case, to be hanged. e Life of Major Andre', by Winthrop Sargeant, pp. 409-411. Burial Register. Annual Register, 1821, p. 333 OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 333 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 West minster. 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,1 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 Eng land, 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 Eevestry. On the monument, in bas-relief,2 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 Eepublic has paused before the sight of the sad story.3 Often has the head of Washington or Andre" been carried off, perhaps by republican or royal ist indignation, but more probably by the pranks of Westminster boys : ' the wanton mischief,' says Charles 1 In 1868 died an old American lady who had as a girl given him a peach on that occasion. 2 The monument was deemed of sufficient importance to displace that of Major Creed. 3 Amongst them Benedict Arnold (through whose act Andre had suffered). Peter von Schenck, p. 147. 331 THE MONUMENTS Lamb, ' of some school-boy, fired perhaps with some raw notions of Transatlantic freedom. The mischief was done,' he adds, addressing Southey, 'about the time that you were a scholar there. Do you know anything about the unfortunate relic ? ' 1 Southey, always susceptible at allusions to his early political principles, not till years after could forgive 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 fune ral, 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 son, iiay 15, Father.2 Sir Eobert Wilson, like Lord Dun- sir James donald, after many vicissitudes, has found a Outram, died at Pau, place in the north aisle of the Nave.3 There March 11, r buried als0 the late Indian campaigns are representee Lorf ci de kv the two chiefs, Outram and Clyde, uniteu buriedlAu14' in tne c^ose Pr0Xlinity of their graves, after IirG8e6or..e ^ w,1§ rivairy °f tneir lives, followed by Sir m2?ck' George Pollock, whose earlier exploits pre served Afghanistan. The Crimean War, the Indian Mutiny, and the loss of the ' Captain,' will be long recalled by the stained glass of the North Tran sept. 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 1 Lamb's Elia. 2 Lord Teignmouth's Life, i. 268. 3 Two young officers, Bryan and Beresford, who fell at Talavera (1809), and Ciudad Rodrigo (1812), have monuments in the North Aisle. OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 335 fell in those campaigns, and whose names acquire an additional glory from the most illustrious of their num ber, Lord Eaglan.1 A monument not far from Kem- penfelt, in the Chapel of St. John, was erected to the memory of Sir John Franklin by his hardly Monument less famous widow, a few weeks before her p|ankiinhn own death in her 83rd year. Its ornaments 1S75- 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. 1 The erection of the column (1861) is commemorated, and the in scription given in Lusus West., ii. 282-85. end or VOL. I.