decay which time must ever bring with it, until the reign of William and Mary, during which the attention of Parliament was at last directed towards its fallen condition. A suitable grant was then voted for the repair of the parts already built, and the final completion of the original design. This task was entrusted to the talents of Sir Christopher Wren; and such was the skill and labour employed by that incomparable architect, that Westminster Abbey rose from his hands more perfect and more beautiful than it had ever been before. The outside was all newly coated, and the ornaments of the interior were renovated with singular taste; the western extremity was furnished with the two stately towers, which are generally considered of as delicate a workmanship as any other part of the fabric; and the present large window was placed in venerable beauty at the end of the south aisle. Such are the more prominent services rendered to this ancient fabric by the genius which had no competitor in the production of St. Paul's Cathedral: the other additions made under his guidance, though signal and meritorious, are too many to be here described.

The length of Westminster Abbey, from east to west, is 375 feet; the length of the cross, from north to south, is 195 feet; and the breadth of the nave and side-aisles seventy-two feet. The height of the inner roof is 100 feet, and from the pavement of the choir to the lantern 140 feet. The principal charm of this Abbey, next to the fact of its having been the model for all other edifices of the kind throughout the kingdom, is the complicated style and delicacy with which the whole has been executed. But there is another singular beauty particularly obvious upon a first entrance at the great western portico, and that is the unusual construction by which the main row of pillars have been raised, so as not to exclude a view of the opening of the aisles. From one end to the other, the prospect is fair and unbroken, even to the painted window over the portico of Henry the VII.'s chapel.

In treating of Westminster Abbey, some account of its more prominent beauties is indispensably necessary. There are also many remains as curious as memorable within its precincts, which, though particularly entitled to attention, can nevertheless, from their very nature, find no interesting place of record in the body of this work. The present seems the only opportunity for a cursory tribute to these two objects, and to them the remaining portion of this sketch is therefore devoted. Next to the general style of the architecture so admirably preserved throughout the structure, and the chaste workmanship of the choir, is the altar and the mosaic work of the pave

ment around it. Before the coronation of George the IV. the altar at Westminster Abbey was a beautiful specimen of Grecian art, in fine white marble, which was presented to the church by Queen Anne, who removed it from Hampton Court in 1707. The glaring inconsistency of such a piece of furniture, however rare and elegant, in a Gothic temple, was at last admitted; and the substitution of the present altar, which is built in affinitive taste, followed with great propriety and considerable effect in 1821. The Mosaic pavement, which is considered the finest in the world, was sunk in 1260, by Richard de Ware, Abbot of Westminster, who brought the stones that compose it, and the artificers to set it, from Rome. This information was formerly to be collected from a Latin inscription, set round it in letters of brass, but they are now so worn out as to be nearly illegible. Of the design and character of the figures which are symbolical, the following explanation has been given :—

The subject represented is the duration of the world, which is to be inferred from this acceptation of the signs introduced into the composition. First, there is a triple hedge, which is put for three years, because a hedge was usually supposed to last for that period only;. then there is a dog, which stands for three times that date, nine years being conjectured to be the length of a dog's life; next is a horse, which for the same reason counts 27 years: a man, for 81 years; a hart, for 243 years; a raven, for 729 years; an eagle, 2187 years; a large whale 6561 years; and thence the world 19,683 years. From this computation it appears that each succeeding object was supposed to live or endure for a period three times longer than that of the foregoing one.

Attached to the Abbey, or included in it, are nine chapels, which are thus entitled:-St. Edward the Confessor's, St. Benedict's, St. Edmund's, St. Nicholas', Henry the VII.'s, St. Paul's, St. John the Evangelist's, St. John the Baptist's, and Islip's Chapel. Of these the Chapel of Edward the Confessor stands east of the choir, and seems more parted from than added to the body of the Abbey. The leading feature of curiosity contained in it is the ancient shrine erected to the memory of Edward the Confessor, and last King of the Saxon race, by Henry the III. Edward the Confessor died in 1066, and was canonised in 1269 by Pope Alexander the III., who addressed a bull upon the occasion to Lawrence, Abbot of Westminster, and the monks in his charge, by which he and they, with the Christian world, were specially enjoined to honour Edward's body on earth as his soul was

glorified in heaven. Of the monarch thus commended, a curious story is told to prove his insensibility of all mortal enjoyment and worldly pleasure. At the early age of 18, he took to his wife one of the fairest and most accomplished women of the age, daughter of Earl Godwin, and nevertheless permitted this attractive wife to live and die a virgin. His tomb, which is composed of three tiers of pillars, was richly studded with stones of the most variable brightness; and profusely decorated with the finest gold. In ancient times lamps were always kept burning before it, and it was arrayed with a shining crowd of the most valuable statues. On one side stood a silver image of the Blessed Virgin, presented with two large jewels of considerable worth, by Queen Eleanor, wife of Henry the III. To correspond, on the other side was a second image of the Virgin in ivory, which was offered by the celebrated Thomas à Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury. To this shrine Edward the I. upon his return with victory from Scotland, gave the regalia and chair of state in which the kings of the latter country were anciently crowned at Scone; and to it Alphonso, his third son, tendered the jewels and golden coronet of Llewellyn, Prince of Wales.

Great was the glory of this tomb in the remote ages of our ancestry; but now there remains no trace of its splendour, whether to excite admiration or abate regret, excepting the mosaic pavement, which was exquisitely finished by Pietro Cavalini, the first who wrought in that ingenious style of ornament. It is supposed that the artist was brought into England by the Abbot Ware, already mentioned, who visited Rome about the year 1256. Melancholy indeed are the thoughts which arise upon the view of this worn-out memorial of all that was splendid in religion, popular in fame, and great in monarchy. If such be the fate of a sovereign and a saint, how vilely may one not imagine the subject and the sinner to rot away after death! A hollow piece of common stone-work is all that at present exists of the sumptuous shrine of King Edward the Confessor. Soon after the coronation of James the II. it was accidentally broken; and in consequence laid entirely open. Within it were discovered a number of bones, a silver crucifix, finely enamelled, and a gold chain twenty inches long. A report of these contents was made to the King, who kept the ornaments of his catholic predecessor, and replaced the old coffin in a new one, which was strongly bound with iron. South of the shrine of St. Edward, lies the tomb of Editha, his queen, who survived him eight years, and proved all the bitter consequences of those political changes

which were the result of that cold spirit of chastity which induced her lord and master to deny himself the gratification, and his country the advantages, of a lineal heir to the throne. Her interment by the side of her husband took place at the express orders of William the Conqueror, who treated her with much kindness in her latter days, and allowed her apartments in Winchester Palace.

North of the chapel is situated the tomb of Henry the III.; the panels were polished porphyry, bordered with mosaic of scarlet and gold; the pillars wreathed, gilt and enamelled; and high upon the sarcophagus remains a brazen statue of the King, which is said to have been the first cast of the sort made in England: it is remarkable for the spirit with which it is executed. At the feet of Henry the III., a tabular monument with a rough head, in relief, points the grave of Eleanor, queen of Edward the I., who reposes in the plain coffin of grey marble near at hand. This large enclosure seems to justify the assertion of history respecting the long shanks and tall slenderness of this monarch: otherwise there is nothing curious or interesting about it.

In the south of this chapel stands a Gothic canopy surmounting the grave of Edward the III., whose tomb encloses the body of his wife, though a distinct monument in her honour adjoins this remarkable fabric. The monarch is represented recumbent upon a table of grey marble; and the whole was decorated with effigies of his children. At his head is the huge sword, seven feet long, and eighteen pounds in weight, and the large shield which were both carried before him in the many wars he so triumphantly waged. Near his resting-place is the monument in black marble of his affectionate wife, the mother of his fourteen children, Queen Philippa, who lived a signal life of twoand-forty years with this monarch. Edward's sorrow for her loss was violent, and his respect for her memory exemplary: on her deathbed she had requested, that where she was interred he would also direct himself to be laid; and when arrived in turn to the last scene of life, he confirmed the wish, and they were in consequence bound together in death, as they had so long been in life. This tomb was the profuse tribute of a husband's gratitude to the memory of a wife's virtues; and of no work in all the Abbey has a more sumptuous account been given, than of this monument. No expense was grudged, no labour spared, no time refused, to make the undertaking worthy of the virtues of the wife, and the attachment of the husband. The work was generally applauded, and richly decorated: no less than thirty statues in brass, including every monarch, potentate and noble, with

whom Queen Philippa was connected by the ties of relationship, were placed around as honorary supporters of the tomb.

The only remaining monument to royalty in this ancient chapel is erected to the memory of Richard the II., who was murdered at Pomfret Castle, on Valentine's Day, in the year 1399, and his first consort Anne. The workmanship of his statue deserves particular attention; it is curiously wrought in peashells, open and emptied, which have been supposed to indicate the contrast between that possession which Richard once had of a crown and country, and the vain title with which alone he met his death. The canopy of wood above the statue is also remarkable for an ancient painting, still darkly visible, of our Saviour and his Virgin Mother. Another specimen of early art is to be traced along the frieze of the screen of this chapel, which represents fourteen carved subjects from the life of Edward the Confessor. The first of these is the trial of Queen Emma; the second, the birth of Edward; the third gives his coronation; the fourth, pictures the cause which moved him to the abolition of the Dane-gelt, and which was an apparition of the devil dancing upon his money casks; the fifth, gives the story of Edward watching the thief who robbed his treasury; the sixth, represents a legendary revelation, which he is said to have received of our Saviour; the seventh, shows the Danish king drowning, through which an invasion of the country by his followers was frustrated; the eighth, gives a quarrel between Tosti and Harold, when boys, by which the nature of their subsequent fortunes is predicted; the ninth, describes the King's vision of the seven sleepers; the tenth, his interview with St. John the Evangelist, disguised as a pilgrim; the eleventh, describes the miracle of his curing the blind, by washing their eyes in dirty water; in the twelfth, St. John delivers to some pilgrims a ring, which the King had given him as an alms in the meeting already recounted, and the return of which was accompanied with a warning of approaching death; in the thirteenth, the pilgrims fulfil their trust, restore the ring, and communicate the message; the fourteenth, consequently expresses the exertions made by the monarch to finish the works of this chapel, before the consummation of his earthly career.

The mausoleum of Henry the V. adjoins the chapel of Edward the Confessor, and is only divided from it by an aged iron screen, which is guarded as it were on either side by images of ancient sculpture, wrought in the full size of life. Within stands the shattered remains of the monument erected in admiration of his valorous reign by Henry the VII.: it is of a black marble, surmounted with his statue,