In the centre of the aisle is the noble tomb of

*Queen Elizabeth (1603), who died at Richmond in the forty-fifth year of her reign, and the seventieth of her age. The monument is by Maximilian Powtrain and John de Critz. Beneath a lofty canopy supported by ten Corinthian pillars, the figure of the queen, who was 'one day greater than man, the next less than woman,' is lying upon the low basement on a slab supported by lions. The effigy, which has a strong family likeness to that of Mary, represents her as an aged woman, wearing a close coif, from which the hair descends in curls: the crown has been stolen. The tomb was once surrounded by a richly wrought railing covered with fleurs-de-lis and roses, with the initials E. R. interspersed. This, with all the small standards and armorial bearings at the angles, forming as much a part of the monument itself as the stonework, was most unjustifiably removed in 1822 by Dean Ireland.1

'Thys queene's speech did winne all affections, and hir subjects did trye to shew all love to hir commandes; for she would say, "hir state did require hir to commande, what she knew hir people woude willingly do from their owne love to hir." Herein she did shewe her wisdome fullie; for who did chuse to lose her confidence: or who woude wytholde a shewe of love and obedience, when their Sovereign said it was their own choice, and not hir compulsion?.. We did all love hir, for she said she loved us, and muche wysdome she shewed in thys matter. She did well temper herself towards all at home, and put at variance all abroad; by which means she had more quiet than hir neighbours.

When she smiled, it was a pure sunshine, that everyone did chuse to baske in, if they could; but anon came a storm from a sudden gathering of clouds, and the thunder fell in wondrous manner on all alike. I never did fynde greater shew of understandinge and learninge, than she was blest wythe, and whoever liveth longer than I can, will look backe and become laudator temporis acti.'— Sir John Harington's Letter to Robert Markham in 1606, three years after the death of Elizabeth.

In the same tomb is buried Mary I. (1558). Her obsequies, conducted by Bishop Gardiner, were the last funeral service celebrated in the Abbey according to the Roman Catholic ritual, except the requiem ordered by Elizabeth for Charles V. The stones of the altars in Henry VII.'s Chapel destroyed at the Reformation were used in her vault. At her funeral 'all the people plucked down the hangings and the armorial bearings round about the Abbey, and every one tore him a piece as large as he could catch it.' James I. wrote the striking inscription upon the monument-'Regno consortes et urna, hic obdormimus Elizabetha et Maria sorores, in spe resurrectionis.' 'In those words,' says Dean Stanley, 'the long war of the English Reformation is closed.'

*The eastern end of this aisle has been called the Innocents' Corner. In its centre is the tomb erected in 1674 by Charles II. over the bones found at the foot of the staircase in the Tower, supposed to be those of the murdered boys, Edward V. and Richard, Duke of York.

*On the left is the monument of Princess Mary, third daughter of James I. (1607), who died at two years old, about whom her Protestant father was wont to say that he would not pray to the Virgin Mary, but for the Virgin Mary.'2 Her epitaph tells how she, 'received into heaven in early infancy,' found joy for herself, but 'left longings' to her parents.

'Such was the manner of her death, as bred a kind of admiration in us all that were present to behold it. For whereas the new-tuned organs of speech, by reason of her great and wearisome sickness, had been so greatly weakened, that for the space of twelve or fourteen hours at least, there was no sound of any word breaking from her lips; yet when it sensibly appeared that she would soon make a peaceable end of a troublesome life, she sighed out these words,

1 The almost adoration with which Elizabeth was regarded after her death caused her so-called 'monument,' with a metrical epitaph, curiously varied, to be set up in all the principal London churches; notably so in St. Saviour's, Southwark; St. Mary Woolnoth; St. Lawrence Jewry; St. Mildred, Poultry; and St. Andrew Undershaft. Several of these 'monuments' still exist.

2 Fuller's Worthies.

"I go, I go ;" and when, not long after, there was something to be ministered unto her by those that attended her in the time of her sickness, fastening her eye upon them with a constant look, she repeated, "Away, I go!" And yet a third time, almost immediately before she offered herself, a sweet virgin sacrifice, unto Him that made her, faintly cried, "I go, I go." And whereas she had used many other words in the time of her extremity, yet now, at the last, she did aptly utter these, and none but these.'-Funeral Sermon for the Princess Mary, by J. Leech, preached in Henry VII.'s Chapel, Sept. 23, 1607.

'Where Loves no more, but marble Angels moan,

And little cherubs seem to sob in stone.'

John Dart.

*On the right is Princess Sophia (1606), fourth daughter of James I., the first Sophia of English history, who died at Greenwich three days after her birth. It is a charming little monument of an infant in her cradle--'a royal rose-bud, plucked by premature fate, and snatched away from her parents, that she might flourish again in the rosary of Christ.'

'This royal babe is represented sleeping in her cradle, wherewith vulgar eyes, especially of the weaker sex, are more affected (as level to their cognisance, more capable of what is pretty than what is pompous) than with all the magnificent monuments in Westminster.'-Fuller's Worthies.

A little rudely sculptured bed,

With shadowing folds of marble lace,
And quilt of marble, primly spread
And folded round a baby's face.

Smoothly the mimic coverlet,

With royal blazonries bedight,

Hangs, as by tender fingers set,

And straightened for the last good-night.

And traced upon the pillowing stone

A dent is seen, as if, to bless

That quiet sleep, some grieving one

Had leaned, and left a soft impress.'

From the lines by Susan Coolidge, suspended above the tomb.

At the foot of the steps leading to Henry VII.'s Chapel Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1674), grandfather of Queen Mary II. and Queen Anne, who died in exile at Rouen, having been impeached for high treason, is buried, with his wife Frances, her mother Lady Aylesbury, and other members of his family. We must look back from the northern ambulatory upon the richly sculptured arch of Henry V.'s chantry. It is this arch which was so greatly admired by Flaxman. The coronation of Henry V. is here represented as it was performed in this church by Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Henry Beaufort, the uncle of the king. Over the canopies which surmount the figures are the alternate badges of the antelope and swan (from the king's mother, co-heiress of the Bohuns), and on the cornices the same animals appear chained to a tree, on which is a flaming cresset, a badge which was borne by Henry V. alone, and which was intended as typical of the light by which he hoped to 'guide his people to follow him in all honour and virtue.'1

On the left are the beautiful tombs of Queen Eleanor and of Henry III., and beyond these the simple altar-tomb of Edward I. On the right are the tombs of—

1 See Brooke, in Gough's Sepulchral Monuments, cut xv.

William Pulteney, Earl of Bath (1764), by Wilton.

Admiral Holmes, 1761.

Entering the Chapel of St. Paul, we see before us the noble altar-tomb of

*Sir Giles Daubeny (1507), and his wife Elizabeth. He was Lord Lieutenant of Calais and Chamberlain to Henry VII. His effigy, which is executed with the

minutest care, is in plate armour, with the insignia of the Order of the Garter. Observe the kneeling and weeping monks in relief on the soles of his shoes.

Near this is the stupid colossus, whose introduction here is the most crying evidence of the want of taste in our generation: a monument wholly unsuited in its character to the place and in its association with its surroundings- which, on its introduction,

burst through the pavement by its immense weight, laid bare the honoured coffins beneath, and fell into the vaults below, but unfortunately was not broken to pieces.

James Watt (1819), 'who directing the force of an original genius early exercised in philosophic research to the improvement of the steam-engine, enlarged the resources of his country and increased the power of man, and rose to an eminent place among the most illustrious followers of science and the real benefactors of the world.' The inscription is by Lord Brougham, the statue by Chantrey.

Making the circuit of the chapel from the right, we see the monuments of

*Lodowick Robsart (1431), and his wife Elizabeth, heiress of Bartholomew Bourchier, after his marriage with whom he was created Lord Bourchier. He was distinguished in the French wars under Henry V., and made the king's standard-bearer for the courage which he displayed upon the field of Agincourt, of which the banners on the tomb are a reminder. On the marriage of Henry V. to Katherine de Valois he was immediately presented to the queen, and appointed the especial guardian of her person. His tomb, which forms part of the screen of the chapel, is, architecturally, one of the most interesting in the Abbey. It has an open roof in the form called 'en dos d'âne,' and the whole was once richly gilt and coloured, the rest of the screen being powdered with gold Katherine-wheels.

Anne, Lady Cottington (1633), a bust by Hubert le Soeur, of great simplicity and beauty. Beneath is the reclining effigy of Francis, Lord Cottington (1652), ambassador for Charles I. in Spain, who for his faithfull adherence to ye crowne (ye usyrpers prevayling) was forc't to fly his country, and, during his exile, dyed at Valladolid.' Clarendon describes him

'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, 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 compassion: he was heartily weary of the world, and no man was more willing to die; which is an argument that he had peace of conscience. He left behind him a greater esteem of his parts than love to his person.'

Frances Sidney, Countess of Sussex (aunt of Sir Philip), 1589. She was the foundress of Sidney-Sussex College at Cambridge. Her recumbent statue affords a fine specimen of the rich costume of the period: at her feet is her crest, a porcupine, in wood.

Dudley Carleton, Viscount Dorchester (1632), Secretary of State under Charles I. This tomb was executed by Nicholas Stone for £200.

Sir Thomas Bromley (1587), who succeeded Sir Nicholas Bacon as Lord Chancellor in the reign of Elizabeth, and presided at the trial of Mary, Queen of Scots. The alabaster statue represents the Chancellor in his robes: the official purse appears at the back: his children, by Lady Elizabeth Fortescue, kneel at an altar beneath.

There are fine portraits of Dudley Carleton and his wife, by Cornelius Jansen, in the National Portrait Gallery.

Sir James Fullerton (1631), and Mary his wife. He was First Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Charles I. 'He dyed fuller of faith than of feare, fuller of resoluc❜on than of paiennes; fuller of honvr than of dayes.'

Near the foot of this monument Archbishop Usher was buried in state, March 1656, at the cost of Oliver Cromwell. He died at Reigate. His chaplain, Nicholas Barnard, preached his funeral sermon in the Abbey on the text, And Samuel died, and all the Israelites were gathered together.'

Sir John Puckering (1596), who prosecuted Mary, Queen of Scots, and became Keeper of the Great Seal under Elizabeth. The monument was erected by his widow, who added her own statue; their eight children kneel below.

Sir Henry Belasyse of Brancepeth (1717), 'lineally descended from Belasius, one of the Norman generals who came into England with William the Conqueror and was knighted by him.' The monument is by Scheemakers.

Sir Rowland Hill (1879), the originator of penny postage. A bust by W. D. Keyworth-a most terrible eyesore needlessly and ruthlessly engrafted upon the Belasyse tomb.

The entrance to the next chapel, or, more properly, the Shrine of St. Erasmus, is one of the most picturesque bits' in the Abbey,