fate occasioned to the race of mortals. Opposite to this, we behold the same goddess of Victory, as if she had been, since the last exercise of her vocation, taking a lesson of the moderns, presenting Captain Burgess, who fell in the battle off Camperdown, not with the palm or wreath, but with a sword, after the manner of our city corporations; and the hero who receives it would seem, by the state of nudity in which he is represented, to express that he is not without the need of one to fight for a coat to his back. The bas relief of a monument to Captain Westcott, presents to you a groupe of naked boys sporting round a giant. You ask, what allusion these figures can possibly have to the hero who fell "so gloriously in the victory obtained over the French fleet off Aboukir," and are told by your guide, that this giant is the god Nilus, and these boys the little Nili, or in plainer terms, that the one represents the river Nile, and the others the various streams that flow into it! In the same taste for inconceivable personification, we have figures male and female descriptive of deceit, oppression, discomfiture, disgrace, shame, and other equally abstract ideas. Nor do these creations of fancy always till a subordinate and auxiliary part in the animated marble, for in some instances we find them occupying the most central and prominent places of the composition, while the figures of the real personages who are intended to be commemorated are thrown into the back ground, or, what is worse, represented in paltry medallions, of which their godships are the showfolks. In the monument, for example, "erected at the national expense, to those valiant and distinguished

officers, Captains Mosse and Riou," two colossal figures of Victory and Fame, seated on a plinth, are the chief objects that at first strike the eye, and it is only on approaching nearer that you discover that they are keeping guard over two small medallions, on which are sculptured likenesses of the gallant men whose heroism was meant to be recorded to future ages. One of the most honourable exceptions to this school of absurdity, is an equestrian monument to the memory of Sir Ralph Abercromby, by Westmacott. The general is represented as mortally wounded, yet with placid dignity of countenance, dropping from his horse into the arms of one of his brave Highlanders; and below the fore feet of the horse, which is springing forward in a very spirited attitude, is the body of a fallen foe. The figures are dressed after the fashion of the times in which they lived, and neither god nor goddess intermingles in the group. It is a passage of real history, simply and expressively told. "No false allegory is spread beforethe eye, to amuse the fancy at the expense of the understanding, but every thing is in place and in nature; nor are we compelled to arrest the full flow of sensibility and sentiment, by stopping to inquire into the attributes of imaginary beings," who, suggesting nothing of themselves, are in fact representatives of nothing, either in "the heavens above, the earth beneath, or the waters under the earth." The monuments recently erected to Lords Nelson and Howe, by Flaxman, and to Generals Picton and Houghton, by Chantrey, are also very favourable examples of an increasing purity of taste in this delightful branch of art.

It is due, at the same time, to the artists on whose

works we have been animadverting, to observe, that there is but too much reason to think that they have not always been allowed the free exercise of their own judgments, but have been often obliged to embody the gross conceptions of ignorant committees of superintendence and direction. When the dean and chapter first came to the resolution of admitting monuments into the cathedral, they resolved that no monument should be erected without the design being first approved of by a committee of the Royal Academicians; but it is asserted, that "from the influence of some unexplained imperium in imperio, the ultimate decision was not intended to be given to the committee." A vindicator of Chantrey from his share in the allegorical mania, says, that the design in which it occurs was made entirely in deference to the powers who sit in judgment on these occasions, and under the certain conviction, that without submission to the prevailing taste his model would have been thrown aside, as he had before repeatedly experienced. (Britton and Pugin's Illustration of the Public Buildings of London.)

But few of the persons to whom monuments are erected in the cathedral, have been really buried here. Among the number, the first who claims our notice is the great architect of the building, Sir Christopher Wren. Descending to the vaults by a broad flight of steps, you see beneath the south east window, inscribed on a low tomb, the following simple epitaph ; "Here lies Sir Christopher Wren, Knight, builder of this Cathedral Church of St. Paul, who died in the year of our Lord MDCCXXIII., and of his age XCI." On the wall above, there is an additional in

scription in Latin, with which the public are more familiar, and which may be thus translated.

"Beneath lies Christopher Wren, the builder of this church, and of this city, who lived upwards of ninety years, not for himself, but for the public good. "Reader, would'st thou search out his monument? Look around."

"He died 25th February, 1723, aged 91."

Admired as this inscription has been, yet we can say from experience, that the direction to "look around," when the reader is in the midst of a dark gloomy vault, has a very contrary effect to that intended.

At the suggestion of the late Mr. Mylne, the Architect, it has been repeated on a tablet in front of the organ gallery in the choir; yet even there the effect is incomplete. Considering that Wren was in truth the builder, both " of this church and this city," the reader should be enabled, to “look around" on both, to behold" his monument."

In these vaults also, repose the mortal remains of that Prince of Enterprize, the Immortal Nelson, and of his friend and companion in victory, Lord Collingwood, both of which were deposited here with all those funeral honours, which a sorrowing country could bestow. Here too lie interred those eminent masters Reynolds, Barry, and Opie, in contiguous graves; the eloquent and sagacious Loughborough; the learned and pious Dr. Newton, Bishop of Bristol; Dr. Boyce, the organist and composer; the eccentric disciple of Animal Magnetism, Mainandot; and a few others of inferior note.

After examining all that is to be seen in the lower part of the cathedral, the visitor has still to make the VOL. II.]

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ascent to the summit, to examine the interior of the vast dome, and to enjoy the magnificent views, which the outside galleries furnish of this vast metropolis, before his curiosity can be fully gratified. You ascend by a spacious circular staircase, to a gallery which encircles the lower part of the interior of the dome, and is called the Whispering Gallery, from the circumstance, that the lowest whisper breathed against the wall in any part of this vast circle, may be accurately distinguished by an attentive ear on the very opposite side. The paintings within the dome, you find, even on this nearer inspection, scarcely distinguishable. All the lower parts have perished utterly, and the rest are in a state of rapid obliteration. The subjects were all chosen from the life of St. Paul, as recorded in the scriptures, from his Miraculous Conversion near Damascus, to his Shipwreck at Melita. Branching off from the circular staircase at this place, there are passages which lead to other galleries and chambers over the side aisles. One conducts you to the Library of the chapter, which is immediately over the consistory. The floor of this apartment is a great curiosity, being entirely constructed of small pieces of oak, without either nail or peg, and disposed into various geometrical figures, with the utmost nicety. Above the chimney, there is a good half length portrait of the protestant bishop, Dr. Compton, who bequeathed the whole of his books to the library, which is not however of much value as a collection. Over the morning prayer chapel, at the opposite end of the transept, is a room called the Trophy Room, from being hung round with various shields and banners used at the ceremony of Lord Nelson's funeral. In