And in the adjoining Chapel of St. Andrew is the heart-broken tribute of the Earl of Kerry, "to his affectionately beloved wife, Anastatia, the dearest, most loved, most faithful companion that ever blessed man, who for thirty-one years rendered him the happiest of mankind."
The last of our epitaphs must be that of Archbishop Boulter, who pulled a great many political strings in Ireland, and lived a very eventful life. But his inscription reveals us none of these things, and only describes a series of promotions, for it relates that "He was born January the 4th, 1671: he was consecrated Bishop of Bristol 1718: he was translated to the Archbishoprick of Armagh in 1723, and from thence to Heaven, on Sep. 27, 1742."
Over Abbot Islip's Chapel is a chantry, now used for keeping the few wax effigies which remain. For, as you remember, it used to be the custom at royal funerals, or indeed at any important funerals, to carry the likeness of the dead man or woman before the coffin; these painted effigies being made of boiled leather, wood, or wax, dressed up in the clothes of the person they represented. Only eleven of these remain, though at one time there must have been quite a collection of royal figures in the Abbey which were open to the public, gaze, and evidently left to the mercy of the public. Queen Elizabeth can still be seen, gorgeously dressed, but weary and sad-looking; Charles II. is there, and the beautiful Duchess of Richmond of the Stuart race, whose monument, with that of her husband, is in Henry VII.'s Chapel. Then there is the Duchess of Buckinghamshire, proud and pomp-loving, who insisted on seeing the canopy for her funeral hearse, that she might be sure it was magnificent enough, and who made her attendants promise that even when she became unconscious they would still stand in her presence. By her is her little son, and near her, her eldest son, who also died young. Queen Anne beams on us; William and Mary have the crown set between them, and he stands on a stool so as not to appear smaller than his wife. General Monk's armour is there, much the worse for wear; and Pitt, Earl of Chatham, is splendid in his Parliamentary robes. Nelson was put here from a very worldly point of view, for when he was buried in St. Paul's, such crowds went to see his grave, that Westminster Abbey was neglected, and as the pence of the sightseers were too valuable to be lost, it was decided that some memorial of the great hero must be placed in the Abbey to attract people back again. All the clothes except the coat, and certainly the hat, belonged to Nelson, but a waxwork effigy hardly seems a worthy monument to him in the place which he must have loved and honoured, nay, must have dreamt of, when he cried to his men as he led them to attack, "Westminster Abbey, or glorious victory."