the ugly and the ludicrous.

Be that as it may, we of Westminster Abbey have become, like other
Englishmen, repairers and restorers. Had we not so become, the nation
would have demanded an account of us, as guardians of its national
mausoleum, the building of which our illustrious Dean has so well said--

'Of all the characteristics of Westminster Abbey, that which most endears
it to the nation and gives most force to its name--which has, more than
anything else, made it the home of the people of England and the most
venerated fabric of the English Church--is not so much its glory as the
seat of the coronations, or as the sepulchre of the kings; not so much
its school, or its monastery, or its chapter, or its sanctuary, as the
fact that it is the resting-place of famous Englishmen, from every rank
and creed, and every form of genius. It is not only Reims Cathedral and
St. Denys both in one; but it is what the Pantheon was intended to be to
France--what the Valhalla is to Germany--what Santa Croce is to Italy. . .
It is this which inspired the saying of Nelson--Victory or Westminster
Abbey. It is this which has intertwined it with so many eloquent
passages of Macaulay. It is this which gives point to the allusions of
recent Nonconformist statesmen, least inclined to draw illustrations from
ecclesiastical buildings. It is this which gives most promise of
vitality to the whole institution. Kings are no longer buried within its
walls; even the splendour of pageants has ceased to attract. But the
desire to be buried in Westminster Abbey is as strong as ever.

'This sprang, in the first instance, as a natural off-shoot from the
coronations and interments of the kings. Had they, like those of France,
of Spain, of Austria, of Russia--been buried far away in some secluded
spot, or had the English nation stood aloof from the English monarchy, it
might have been otherwise. The sepulchral chapels built by Henry the
Third and Henry the Seventh might have stood alone in their glory. No
meaner dust need ever have mingled with the dust of Plantagenets, Tudors,
Stuarts, and Guelphs. . . . But it has been the peculiar privilege of
the kings of England that neither in life nor in death have they been
parted from their people. As the Council of the Nation and the Courts of
Law have pressed into the Palace of Westminster, and engirdled the very
throne itself, so the ashes of the great citizens of England have pressed
into the