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William

died Jan.

19, buried

Jan. 26, 1728-9.

His

funeral.

with the account of the Everlasting Club, or the Loves of Hilpa
and Shalum, just finished for the next day's 'Spectator,' in his
hand. Such a mark of national respect was due to the unsullied
statesman, to the accomplished scholar, to the master of pure English
eloquence, to the consummate painter of life and manners.
It was
due, above all, to the great satirist, who alone knew how to use
ridicule without abusing it—who, without inflicting a wound,
effected a great social reform, and who reconciled wit and virtue
after a long and disastrous separation, during which wit had been
led astray by profligacy, and virtue by fanaticism.1

Ten years after followed a funeral of which the inward contrast in the midst of outward likeness to that of Addison is complete. As he, for the sake of his beloved patron, Montague, had been laid apart from the rest of the poetic tribe in the Chapel of the Tudors, in the far east of Congreve, the church, so Congreve was laid almost as completely separated from them in the Nave, in the neighbourhood if not in the vault of his patroness-Henrietta Godolphin, the second Duchess of Marlborough. By that questionable alliance he, amongst the Westminster notables, the worst corrupter, as Addison the noblest purifier, of English literature, was honoured with a sumptuous funeral, also from the Jerusalem Chamber; and with the same strange passion which caused the Duchess to have a statue of him in ivory, moving by clockwork, placed daily at her table, and a wax doll, whose feet were regularly blistered and anointed by the doctors, as Congreve's had been when he suffered from the gout,' she erected the monument to him at the west end of the church, commemorating the happiness and honour which 'she had enjoyed in her intercourse.'Happiness, perhaps,' exclaimed her inexorable mother, the ancient Sarah; she 'cannot say "honour!" Yet, though private partiality may have fixed the spot, his burial in the Abbey was justified by

Macaulay's Essays (8vo. 1853), iii. 443.-To this must be added the recent inscription of Tickell's verses

6

over his grave by Lord Ellesmere. 2 Macaulay's Essays, vi. 531.

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the fame which attracted the visit of Voltaire to him, as to
the chief representative of English literature;' which won
from Dryden the praise of being next to Shakspeare; from
Steele the homage of Great sir, great author,' whose awful
' name was known' by barbarians; and from Pope, the Dedi-
cation of the Iliad, and the title of Ultimus Romanorum.
And there is a fitness in the place of his monument, of the His
'finest Egyptian marble,' by the door where many, who there
enjoy their first view of the most venerable of English sanc-
tuaries, may thankfully recall the impressive lines in which
he, with a feeling beyond his age, first described the effect of
a great cathedral on the awestruck beholder-

All is hush'd and still as death.-'Tis dreadful!
How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arch'd and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable,
Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.

He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet; he feels what he remembers to have felt before; but he feels it with great increase of sensibility; he recognises a familiar image, but meets it again amplified and expanded, embellished with beauty, and enlarged with majesty.2

monu

ment.

Prior, buried

We return to the South Transept. Matthew Prior claimed Matthew a place there, as well by his clever and agreeable verses, as by his diplomatic career and his connexion with Westminster Sept. 25, School. The monument, ' as a last piece of human vanity,' was provided by his son; the bust was a present from Louis XIV.,

1 Congreve himself judged more wisely. I wish to be visited on no other footing than as a gentleman who leads a life of plainness and 'simplicity. Such is his appearance on

his monument. (See the whole story
discussed in Thackeray's Humourists,
p. 78; see also pp. 61, 80.)
2 Johnson, ii. 197, 198.

1721.

John

Gay, died
Dec. 4,

1732.

His funeral, Dec. 23, 1732.

whom he had known on his embassy to Paris, and may serve to remind us of his rebuke to the Great Monarch when he replied at Versailles, I represent a king who not only fights 'battles, but wins them;' the inscription was by Dr. Freind, Head Master of Westminster, 'in honour of one who had 'done so great honour to the school."

I had not strength enough [writes Atterbury] to attend Mr. Prior to his grave, else I would have done it, to have shown his friends that I had forgot and forgiven what he wrote to me. He is buried,

as he desired, at the feet of Spenser, and I will take care to make good in every respect what I said to him when living; particularly as to the triplet he wrote for his own epitaph; which, while we were in good terms, I promised him should never appear on his tomb while I was Dean of Westminster.2

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36

Ten years afterwards another blow fell on the literary circle. Gay's Fables,' written for the education of the Duke of Cumberland, still attract English children to his monument. But his playful, amiable character can only be appreciated by reading the letters of his contemporaries. We have all had,' writes Dr. Arbuthnot, another loss, of our worthy and dear 'friend Dr. Gay. It was some alleviation of my grief to see him so universally lamented by almost everybody, even by 'those who only knew him by reputation. He was interred at 'Westminster Abbey, as if he had been a peer of the realm; ' and the good Duke of Queensberry, who lamented him as a 'brother, will set up a handsome monument upon him.' His body was brought by the Company of Upholders from the Duke of Queensberry's to Exeter Change, and thence to the Abbey, at eight o'clock in the winter evening. Lord

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Chesterfield and Pope were present amongst the mourners.1
He had already, two months before his death, desired-

My dear Mr. Pope, whom I love as my own soul, if you survive me, as you certainly will, if a stone shall mark the place of my grave, see these words put upon it

Life is a jest, and all things show it;

I thought it once, but now I know it,

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His wish was complied with. The conclusion specially points
to his place of burial:-

These are thy honours! not that here thy bust
Is mix'd with heroes, nor with kings thy dust,
But that the worthy and the good shall say,
Striking their pensive bosoms Here lies Gay.'

This last line, which was altered at the suggestion of Swift,3

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is so dark that few understand it, and so harsh when it is explained that still fewer approve it.'4

With Gay is concluded, as far as the Abbey is concerned, the last of the brilliant circle of friends whose mutual correspondence and friendship gives such an additional interest to their graves. One of these, however, we sorely miss. I have been told of one Pope,' says Goldsmith's Chinese philosopher, as he wanders through Poets' Corner, murmuring at the obscure names of which he had never heard before: Is 'he there?' 'It is time enough,' replied his guide, 'these hundred years: he is not long dead: people have not done hating him yet.' It was not, however, the hate of his contemporaries that kept his bust out of the Abbey," but his own

Biog. Brit. iv. 2167, 2187.

2 To make room for the monument, Butler's bust (by permission of Alderman Barber) was removed to its present position. (Chapter Book,

October 31, 1733.)

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From 'striking their aching bosoms.' (Biog. Brit. iv. 2187.) Johnson, iii. 215.

' Pope, iii. 382.

Pope,

died May 30, 1744, buried at

Twicken

ham.

His epitaph.

deliberate wish to be interred, by the side' of his beloved
mother, in the central aisle of the parish church of Twicken-
ham; and his epitaph, composed by himself, is inscribed on
a white marble tablet above the gallery-

For one that would not be buried in Westminster Abbey.
Heroes and kings! your distance keep,

In peace let one poor poet sleep,
Who never flatter'd folks like you :

Let Horace blush, and Virgil too.

The Little Nightingale,' who withdrew from the boisterous company of London to those quiet shades, only to revisit them in his little chariot like 'Homer in a nutshell,'2 naturally rests there at last.

With Pope's secession the line of poets is broken for a time. None whose claims rested on their poetic merits only were, after him, buried within the Abbey, till quite our Thomson, own days. Thomson, whose bust appears by the side of Richmond, Shakspeare's monument, was interred in the parish church of 1748; his his own favourite Richmond

buried at

monument in the Abbey, erected 1762.

Gray,

buried at Stoke Pogis,

1771

Mason, buried at Aston,

in York

shire, 1797.

In yonder grave a Druid lies.3

Gray could be buried nowhere but in that country churchyard of Stoke Pogis, which he has rendered immortal by his elegy, and in which he anticipates his rest. His monument, however, is placed by Milton's; and, both by the art of the sculptor, and the verses inscribed upon it by his friend Mason, is made to point not unfitly to Milton, thus completing that cycle of growing honour which we saw beginning from the tablet of Philips. And next to this cenotaph is also, in a natural sequence, that of Mason himself, with an inscription by his own friend Hurd.

His filial piety excels

Whatever genuine story tells.'
(Swift.)

2

Thackeray's Humourists, p. 207. 3 Collins's Ode.

See pp. 306, 307.

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