fty years British
Ambassador in the East. His cousin, Earl Canning, Viceroy of India
during the Mutiny, was succeeded in that post, after the outbreak was
quelled, by Lord Lawrence, whose grave and bust we saw in the nave. From
the third statue, that of George Canning, Prime Minister in 1827, we look
across the transept to his colleague in his last Cabinet, Lord
Palmerston, a statesman who must ever be associated with our foreign
policy for the first half of Queen Victoria's reign. Further to the left
we see another Tory politician, Viscount Castlereagh, with whom George
Canning once actually fought a duel; but the two men made up their
quarrel, and Canning afterwards succeeded his former foe at the Foreign
Office. Castlereagh was unfortunate in his end and unpopular during his
life. He committed suicide while temporarily insane, and his burial here
was the {114} occasion of a great outburst of feeling, when the indignant
mob outside hammered on the doors of the church while the funeral service
proceeded inside. The huge monument, which fills up the last arch on the
western side, was erected by Parliament, at the cost of 6000 pounds, as a
tribute to the fame of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham. Bacon was guilty
of this enormity, while Westmacott perpetrated the equally tasteless
allegorical group over the west door, which commemorates the younger
Pitt. Father and son lie together in this aisle. Not far from theirs
are the graves of two other statesmen, Henry Grattan, the eloquent Irish
orator, and his dear friend, Charles James Fox, "near whom in death it
would have been his pride to lie." We saw the monuments of Pitt and Fox
on our first entrance into the nave. Chatham's name must ever recall the
severance of the United States from the Mother Country, while his son,
"the great Commoner," is associated with our struggle to break the power
of Napoleon, whose downfall Pitt did not live to see. Between the last
columns further south is the statue of Chatham's brilliant legal
adversary, Lord Mansfield. Behind him stands another distinguished
lawyer, who belonged to a later generation, Sir William Webb Follett,
{115} Attorney-General in Peel's last Ministry. Before turning the
corner into the western aisle it is impossible not to notice the two
Admirals, Vernon and Wager, whose memorials unfortunately cover the wall
arcading on either side of the north door. Their very names are unknown
to the average person nowada