From the same.

An Account of Westminster-Abbey.

Honoured Madam,

I have this Afternoon been at Westminster-Abbey, and not a little pleased with what I have seen there. If there can be Majesty in the Grave, here we see it: And such was the solemn Effect the sacred Repository had upon me, that I never found an awful Reverence equal to what I felt on that Occasion. Whatever be the Intention of erecting these costly Monuments, they seem to me very capable of being made an excellent Sermon to succeeding Generations; for here the most sumptuous Piles serve only to shew, that every one of us must submit to the same Fate, that has overtaken those whom Empire itself could not save. And how humble ought the Person to be, who surveys the Royal Ruins of Mortality, preserved (as if in a vain Defiance of Time) to shew nothing more than the Certainty of our Dissolution!

These, Madam, were my general Sentiments on this Occasion; but as I know you expect more particular Descriptions from me, I will tell you what most struck my Notice among the many remarkable Curiosities to be here met with.

Among the Royal Monuments, those of antient Date pleased me best; because they look agreeable to what I read of the plain Royalty of our former Sovereigns. I lamented the Loss of Henry the Fifth's Head, which being Silver, as they say, was stolen during the Civil War. I much wonder it has never yet been supply’d from some of his Busto’s. He wanted not a Head, to speak in the metaphorical Style, while living; and France can testify, that his Heart deserved all things of English Men: For he was the Terror of the one, and the Glory of the other.

Henry the Seventh's Chapel, in every Part of it, is surprisingly magnificent and beautiful; and, as far as I can judge of such Things, far surpasses all I have seen, either of antient or modern Date.

In this Chapel is the Chair in which our Kings for many Ages have been crown’d. ‘Tis very plain, and looks as if it were not worth more than the Forfeit paid for sitting in it.