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has sacrificed surrounding enjoyments； and shut himself up from the
delights of social life； that he might the more intimately commune
with distant minds and distant ages。 Well may the world cherish his
renown； for it has been purchased； not by deeds of violence and blood；
but by the diligent dispensation of pleasure。 Well may posterity be
grateful to his memory； for he has left it an inheritance； not of
empty names and sounding actions； but whole treasures of wisdom；
bright gems of thought； and golden veins of language。
From Poet's Corner I continued my stroll towards that part of the
abbey which contains the sepulchres of the kings。 I wandered among
what once were chapels； but which are now occupied by the tombs and
monuments of the great。 At every turn I met with some illustrious
name； or the cognizance of some powerful house renowned in history。 As
the eye darts into these dusky chambers of death； it catches
glimpses of quaint effigies； some kneeling in niches； as if in
devotion； others stretched upon the tombs； with hands piously
pressed together： warriors in armor； as if reposing after battle；
prelates with crosiers and mitres； and nobles in robes and coronets；
lying as it were in state。 In glancing over this scene； so strangely
populous； yet where every form is so still and silent； it seems almost
as if we were treading a mansion of that fabled city； where every
being had been suddenly transmuted into stone。
I paused to contemplate a tomb on which lay the effigy of a knight
in complete armor。 A large buckler was on one arm； the hands were
pressed together in supplication upon the breast： the face was
almost covered by the morion； the legs were crossed； in token of the
warrior's having been engaged in the holy war。 It was the tomb of a
crusader； of one of those military enthusiasts； who so strangely
mingled religion and romance； and whose exploits form the connecting
link between fact and fiction； between the history and the fairy tale。
There is something extremely picturesque in the tombs of these
adventurers； decorated as they are with rude armorial bearings and
Gothic sculpture。 They comport with the antiquated chapels in which
they are generally found； and in considering them； the imagination
is apt to kindle with the legendary associations； the romantic
fiction； the chivalrous pomp and pageantry； which poetry has spread
over the wars for the sepulchre of Christ。 They are the relics of
times utterly gone by； of beings passed from recollection； of
customs and manners with which ours have no affinity。 They are like
objects from some strange and distant land； of which we have no
certain knowledge； and about which all our conceptions are vague and
visionary。 There is something extremely solemn and awful in those
effigies on Gothic tombs； extended as if in the sleep of death； or
in the supplication of the dying hour。 They have an effect
infinitely more impressive on my feelings than the fanciful attitudes；
the overwrought conceits； and allegorical groups； which abound on
modern monuments。 I have been struck； also； with the superiority of
many of the old sepulchral inscriptions。 There was a noble way； in
former times； of saying things simply； and yet saying them proudly；
and I do not know an epitaph that breathes a loftier consciousness
of family worth and honorable lineage； than one which affirms； of a
noble house； that 〃all the brothers were brave； and all the sisters
virtuous。〃
In the opposite transept to Poet's Corner stands a monument which is
among the most renowned achievements of modern art； but which to me
appears horrible rather than sublime。 It is the tomb of Mrs。
Nightingale； by Roubillac。 The bottom of the monument is represented
as throwing open its marble doors； and a sheeted skeleton is
starting forth。 The shroud is falling from his fleshless frame as he
launches his dart at his victim。 She is sinking into her affrighted
husband's arms； who strives； with vain and frantic effort； to avert
the blow。 The whole is executed with terrible truth and spirit； we
almost fancy we hear the gibbering yell of triumph bursting from the
distended jaws of the spectre。… But why should we thus seek to
clothe death with unnecessary terrors； and to spread horrors round the
tomb of those we love？ The grave should be surrounded by every thing
that might inspire tenderness and veneration for the dead； or that
might win the living to virtue。 It is the place； not of disgust and
dismay； but of sorrow and meditation。
While wandering about these gloomy vaults and silent aisles；
studying the records of the dead； the sound of busy existence from
without occasionally reaches the ear；… the rumbling of the passing
equipage； the murmur of the multitude； or perhaps the light laugh of
pleasure。 The contrast is striking with the deathlike repose around：
and it has a strange effect upon the feelings； thus to hear the surges
of active life hurrying along； and beating against the very walls of
the sepulchre。
I continued in this way to move from tomb to tomb； and from chapel
to chapel。 The day was gradually wearing away； the distant tread of
loiterers about the abbey grew less and less frequent； the
sweet…tongued bell was summoning to evening prayers； and I saw at a
distance the choristers； in their white surplices； crossing the
aisle and entering the choir。 I stood before the entrance to Henry the
Seventh's chapel。 A flight of steps lead up to it； through a deep
and gloomy； but magnificent arch。 Great gates of brass； richly and
delicately wrought； turn heavily upon their hinges； as if proudly
reluctant to admit the feet of common mortals into this most
gorgeous of sepulchres。
On entering； the eye is astonished by the pomp of architecture；
and the elaborate beauty of sculptured detail。 The very walls are
wrought into universal ornament； incrusted with tracery； and scooped
into niches； crowded with the statues of saints and martyrs。 Stone
seems； by the cunning labor of the chisel； to have been robbed of
its weight and density； suspended aloft； as if by magic； and the
fretted roof achieved with the wonderful minuteness and airy
security of a cobweb。
Along the sides of the chapel are the lofty stalls of the Knights of
the Bath； richly carved of oak； though with the grotesque
decorations of Gothic architecture。 On the pinnacles of the stalls are
affixed the helmets and crests of the knights； with their scarfs and
swords； and above them are suspended their banners； emblazoned with
armorial bearings； and contrasting the splendor of gold and purple and
crimson； with the cold gray fretwork of the roof。 In the midst of this
grand mausoleum stands the sepulchre of its founder；… his effigy； with
that of his queen； extended on a sumptuous tomb； and the whole
surrounded by a superbly…wrought brazen railing。
There is a sad dreariness in this magnificence； this strange mixture
of tombs and trophies； these emblems of living and aspiring
ambition； close beside mementos which show the dust and oblivion in
which all must sooner or later term