_Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit, et Ancus._
HOR. _Ep._ vi. l. i. ver. 27.
With Ancus, and with Numa, kings of Rome,
We must descend into the silent tomb.
My friend Sir Roger de Coverley told me the other night, that he had been
reading my paper upon Westminster Abbey, "in which," says he, "there are
a great many ingenious fancies." He told me at the same time, that he
observed I had promised another paper upon the Tombs, and that he should
be glad to go and see them with me, not having visited them since he had
read history. I could not at first imagine how this came into the
Knight's head, till I recollected that he had been very busy all last
summer upon Baker's _Chronicle_, which he has quoted several times in his
disputes with Sir Andrew Freeport since his last coming to town.
Accordingly I promised to call upon him the next morning, that we might
go together to the Abbey.
I found the Knight under his butler's hands, who always shaves him. He
was no sooner dressed than he called for a glass of the widow Trueby's
water, which they told me he always drank before he went abroad. He
recommended to me a dram of it at the same time, with so much heartiness,
that I could not forbear drinking it. As soon as I had got it down, I
found it very unpalatable, upon which the Knight observing that I had
made several wry faces, told me that he knew I should not like it at
first, but that it was the best thing in the world against the stone or
gravel.
I could have wished indeed that he had acquainted me with the virtues of
it sooner; but it was too late to complain, and I knew what he had done
was out of goodwill. Sir Roger told me further, that he looked upon it to
be very good for a man whilst he stayed in town, to keep off infection,
and that he got together a quantity of it upon the first news of the
sickness being at Dantzick: when of a sudden, turning short to one of his
servants who stood behind him, he bid him call a hackney-coach, and take
care it was an elderly man that drove it.
He then resumed his discourse upon Mrs. Trueby's water, telling me that
the widow Trueby was one who did more good than all the doctors or
apothecaries in the country: that she distilled every poppy that grew
within five miles of her; that she distributed her water gratis among all
sorts of people; to which the Knight added, that she had a very great
jointure[165], and that the whole country would fain have it a match
between him and her; "and truly," says Sir Roger, "if I had not been
engaged[166], perhaps I could not have done better."
His discourse was broken off by his man's telling him he had called a
coach. Upon our going to it, after having cast his eye upon the wheels,
he asked the coachman if his axle-tree was good; upon the fellow's
telling him he would warrant it, the Knight turned to me, told me he
looked like an honest man, and went in without further ceremony.
We had not gone far, when Sir Roger, popping out his head, called the
coachman down from his box, and, upon presenting himself at the window,
asked him if he smoked; as I was considering what this would end in, he
bid him stop by the way at any good tobacconist's and take in a roll of
their best Virginia. Nothing material happened in the remaining part of
our journey, till we were set down at the west end of the Abbey.
As we went up the body of the church, the Knight pointed at the trophies
upon one of the new monuments, and cried out, "A brave man, I warrant
him!" Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudesley Shovel[167], he flung his
hand that way, and cried, "Sir Cloudesley Shovel! a very gallant man!" As
he stood before Busby's tomb, the Knight uttered himself again after the
same manner, "Dr. Busby[168], a great man! he whipped my grandfather; a
very great man! I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been a
blockhead; a very great man!"
We were immediately conducted to the little chapel on the right hand. Sir
Roger, planting himself at our historian's elbow, was very attentive to
everything he said, particularly to the account he gave us of the lord
who had cut off the King of Morocco's head. Among several other figures,
he was very well pleased to see the statesman Cecil[169] upon his knees;
and concluding them all to be great men, was conducted to the figure
which represents that martyr to good housewifery, who died by the prick
of a needle. Upon our interpreter's telling us that she was a maid of
honour to Queen Elizabeth, the Knight was very inquisitive into her name
and family; and after having regarded her finger for some time, "I
wonder," says he, "that Sir Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his
_Chronicle_."
We were then conveyed to the two coronation chairs, where my old friend
after having heard that the stone underneath the most ancient of them,
which was brought from Scotland, was called "Jacob's pillar," sat himself
down in the chair; and looking like the figure of an old Gothic king,
asked our interpreter, what authority they had to say that Jacob had ever
been in Scotland? The fellow, instead of returning him an answer, told
him, that he hoped his honour would pay his forfeit[170]. I could observe
Sir Roger a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but our guide not
insisting upon his demand, the Knight soon recovered his good humour, and
whispered in my ear, that if Will Wimble were with us, and saw those two
chairs, it would go hard but he would get a tobacco-stopper out of one or
the other of them.
Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand upon Edward the Third's
sword, and leaning upon the pommel[171] of it, gave us the whole history
of the Black Prince; concluding, that, in Sir Richard Baker's opinion,
Edward the Third was one of the greatest princes that ever sat upon the
English throne.
We were then shown Edward the Confessor's tomb; upon which Sir Roger
acquainted us, that he was the first who touched for the evil[172]; and
afterwards Henry the Fourth's, upon which he shook his head, and told us
there was fine reading in the casualties[173] of that reign.
Our conductor then pointed to that monument where there is the figure of
one of our English kings without an head; and upon giving us to know,
that the head, which was of beaten silver, had been stolen away several
years since: "Some Whig, I'll warrant you," says Sir Roger; "you ought to
lock up your kings better; they will carry off the body too, if you don't
take care."
The glorious names of Henry the Fifth and Queen Elizabeth gave the Knight
great opportunities of shining, and of doing justice to Sir Richard
Baker; who, as our Knight observed with some surprise, had a great many
kings in him, whose monuments he had not seen in the Abbey.
For my own part, I could not but be pleased to see the Knight show such
an honest passion for the glory of his country, and such a respectful
gratitude to the memory of its princes.
I must not omit, that the benevolence of my good old friend, which flows
out towards every one he converses with, made him very kind to our
interpreter, whom he looked upon as an extraordinary man; for which
reason he shook him by the hand at parting, telling him, that he should
be very glad to see him at his lodgings in Norfolk Buildings, and talk
over these matters with him more at leisure.