I conjectured that there might have been another victory
over the Russians, that perhaps the northern side of Sebastopol had
surrendered; but soon I saw the riddle that these merry bells were
proclaiming. There were a great many private carriages, and a large
concourse of loungers and spectators, near the door of the church that
stands close under the eaves of the Abbey. Gentlemen and ladies, gayly
dressed, were issuing forth, carriages driving away, and others drawing
up to the door in their turn; and, in short, a marriage had just been
celebrated in the church, and this was the wedding-party. The last time
I was there, Westminster was flinging out its great voice of joy for a
national triumph; now, for the happy union of two lovers. What a mighty
sympathizer is this old Abbey!
It is pleasant to recognize the mould and fashion of English features
through the marble of many of the statues and busts in the Abbey, even
though they may be clad in Roman robes. I am inclined to think them, in
many cases, faithful likenesses; and it brings them nearer to the mind,
to see these original sculptures,--you see the man at but one remove, as
if you caught his image in a looking-glass. The bust of Gay seemed to me
very good,--a thoughtful and humorous sweetness in the face. Goldsmith
has as good a position as any poet in the Abbey, his bust and tablet
filling the pointed arch over a door that seems to lead towards the
cloisters.
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