Study Edition · Essay 20
Thoughts in Westminster Abbey
Source: The Spectator, No. 26, Friday 30 March 1711. Text from The Spectator, ed. Henry Morley, Project Gutenberg #12030. Spelling and capitals modernized. Archaic verb forms modernized; vocabulary kept and glossed.
Addison's “Mr. Spectator” takes a quiet afternoon walk among the tombs of Westminster Abbey. What begins as gentle irony about boastful or meaningless epitaphs turns, in the last paragraph, into one of the most admired passages in English prose: a calm meditation on how death levels kings and rebels, rivals and saints.
28 sentences: 3 simple, 12 moderate, 13 complex. Hover a number for its paraphrase; click it for the full note.
Key Vocabulary
- melancholya deep, thoughtful sadness
- cloisterscovered walkways around a courtyard in a church or monastery
- comprehendedcontained; included (old sense)
- satirewriting that mocks; here spelled “satyr” in the original
- prebendarya senior priest attached to a cathedral
- promiscuousmixed together without order (old sense)
- magazinea storehouse (old sense)
- fabrica building (old sense)
- epitaphwords written on a tomb in memory of the dead
- uninhabitedempty; here, a monument with no body beneath it
- politenessrefinement; good taste (old sense)
- beaua fashionable, dandyish man
- canopy of statea cloth roof held over a throne or royal person
- rostral crowna crown decorated with ships' prows, a Roman naval honour
- festoona garland hanging in a curve
- timorouseasily frightened; timid
- inordinateexcessive; beyond proper limits
- factiona small group within a larger one, often quarrelling
- contemporariespeople living at the same time
The Essay
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
Regumque turres, O beate Sexti,
Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam.
Jam te premet nox, fabulaeque manes,
Et domus exilis Plutonia. (Horace)1
When I am in a serious humour, I very often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey; where the gloominess of the place, and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable.2 I yesterday passed a whole afternoon in the churchyard, the cloisters, and the church, amusing myself with the tombstones and inscriptions that I met with in those several regions of the dead.3 Most of them recorded nothing else of the buried person, but that he was born upon one day and died upon another: the whole history of his life being comprehended in those two circumstances, that are common to all mankind.4 I could not but look upon these registers of existence, whether of brass or marble, as a kind of satire upon the departed persons; who had left no other memorial of them, but that they were born and that they died.5 They put me in mind of several persons mentioned in the battles of heroic poems, who have sounding names given them, for no other reason but that they may be killed, and are celebrated for nothing but being knocked on the head.6
Glaukon te, Medonta te, Thersilochon te (Homer)
Glaucumque, Medontaque, Thersilochumque (Virgil)7
The life of these men is finely described in Holy Writ by the path of an arrow, which is immediately closed up and lost.8 Upon my going into the church, I entertained myself with the digging of a grave; and saw in every shovelful of it that was thrown up, the fragment of a bone or skull intermixed with a kind of fresh mouldering earth that some time or other had a place in the composition of a human body.9 Upon this, I began to consider with myself, what innumerable multitudes of people lay confused together under the pavement of that ancient cathedral; how men and women, friends and enemies, priests and soldiers, monks and prebendaries, were crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common mass; how beauty, strength, and youth, with old age, weakness, and deformity, lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous heap of matter.10
After having thus surveyed this great magazine of mortality, as it were in the lump, I examined it more particularly by the accounts which I found on several of the monuments which are raised in every quarter of that ancient fabric.11 Some of them were covered with such extravagant epitaphs, that, if it were possible for the dead person to be acquainted with them, he would blush at the praises which his friends have bestowed upon him.12 There are others so excessively modest, that they deliver the character of the person departed in Greek or Hebrew, and by that means are not understood once in a twelvemonth.13 In the poetical quarter, I found there were poets who had no monuments, and monuments which had no poets.14 I observed indeed that the present war had filled the church with many of these uninhabited monuments, which had been erected to the memory of persons whose bodies were perhaps buried in the plains of Blenheim, or in the bosom of the ocean.15
I could not but be very much delighted with several modern epitaphs, which are written with great elegance of expression and justness of thought, and therefore do honour to the living as well as to the dead.16 As a foreigner is very apt to conceive an idea of the ignorance or politeness of a nation from the turn of their public monuments and inscriptions, they should be submitted to the perusal of men of learning and genius before they are put in execution.17 Sir Cloudesley Shovel's monument has very often given me great offence: instead of the brave rough English admiral, which was the distinguishing character of that plain gallant man, he is represented on his tomb by the figure of a beau, dressed in a long periwig, and reposing himself upon velvet cushions under a canopy of state.18 The inscription is answerable to the monument; for, instead of celebrating the many remarkable actions he had performed in the service of his country, it acquaints us only with the manner of his death, in which it was impossible for him to reap any honour.19 The Dutch, whom we are apt to despise for want of genius, show an infinitely greater taste of antiquity and politeness in their buildings and works of this nature, than what we meet with in those of our own country.20 The monuments of their admirals, which have been erected at the public expense, represent them like themselves; and are adorned with rostral crowns and naval ornaments, with beautiful festoons of seaweed, shells, and coral.21
But to return to our subject.22 I have left the repository of our English kings for the contemplation of another day, when I shall find my mind disposed for so serious an amusement.23 I know that entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds and gloomy imaginations; but for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy; and can, therefore, take a view of nature in her deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones.24 By this means I can improve myself with those objects, which others consider with terror.25 When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow.26 When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions and debates of mankind.27 When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.28
Sentence Notes
In plain English: “Pale Death knocks with impartial foot at the huts of the poor and the towers of kings. O fortunate Sestius, life's short span forbids us to begin long hopes. Soon night will close in on you, and the ghosts of legend, and the bare house of Pluto.”
Reference & context: Horace, Odes I.4, lines 13–17. Each Spectator paper opened with a Latin or Greek motto. This one announces the theme: death treats rich and poor alike. Pluto was the Roman god of the underworld.
In plain English: When I'm in a serious mood I often walk alone in Westminster Abbey. The gloom of the place, its use as a burial ground, the solemn building and the state of the dead lying there all tend to fill the mind with a gentle sadness, or rather a thoughtfulness, that is actually pleasant.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: Addison piles up four noun phrases before reaching the verb, letting the sentence itself feel slow and solemn.
Reference & context: Westminster Abbey in London has been the coronation church of English monarchs since 1066 and holds the tombs of kings, statesmen and poets.
Modernized: lye → lie
In plain English: Yesterday I spent a whole afternoon in the churchyard, the cloisters and the church, passing the time reading the tombstones and inscriptions in those different parts of the burial ground.
In plain English: Most of them said nothing about the dead person except that he was born on one day and died on another. His whole life story was reduced to those two facts, which everyone shares.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: A gently ironic observation: two dates, which apply to everyone, are all that remains of a whole life.
In plain English: I couldn't help seeing these records of existence, in brass or marble, as a kind of mockery of the dead, who had left nothing to remember them by except the facts of their birth and death.
Modernized: satyr → satire
In plain English: They reminded me of the minor warriors in epic poems who are given impressive names only so that they can be killed, and who are famous for nothing except dying.
Reference & context: Addison is thinking of the long lists of slain soldiers in Homer's Iliad and Virgil's Aeneid.
In plain English: “Glaucus, and Medon, and Thersilochus”: three warriors named only to be listed among the dead.
Reference & context: The same line appears in Homer's Iliad 17.216 (in Greek) and in Virgil's Aeneid 6.483 (in Latin), where Aeneas sees these ghosts in the underworld. Addison's point is that we know nothing about them except their names.
In plain English: Scripture beautifully describes the life of such men as being like the path of an arrow through the air, which closes up at once and leaves no trace.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: A haunting image of how little trace most lives leave behind.
Reference & context: Biblical: Wisdom of Solomon 5:12, “as when an arrow is shot at a mark, it parteth the air, which immediately cometh together again, so that a man cannot know where it went through.”
In plain English: When I went into the church I watched a grave being dug, and in every shovelful I saw a piece of bone or skull mixed with fresh, crumbling soil that had once, at some time, been part of a human body.
Reference & context: Compare the gravedigger scene in Shakespeare's Hamlet (Act 5, Scene 1), where skulls are tossed up from a grave.
In plain English: This made me think about the countless people lying mixed together under the cathedral floor: men and women, friends and enemies, priests and soldiers, monks and canons, all crumbled together into one mass. Beauty, strength and youth lay alongside old age, weakness and ugliness, impossible to tell apart in one jumbled heap.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: Pairs of opposites, then two balanced triplets, show death erasing every difference that seems to matter in life.
In plain English: Having looked at this great storehouse of the dead as a whole, I examined it in more detail by reading the inscriptions on the monuments put up all around that old building.
In plain English: Some were covered with such over-the-top epitaphs that, if the dead person could read them, he would blush at the praise his friends had heaped on him.
In plain English: Others are so extremely modest that they describe the dead person in Greek or Hebrew, so that hardly anyone understands them from one year to the next.
In plain English: In Poets' Corner I found poets with no monuments, and monuments with no poets under them.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: A neat chiasmus (the pattern A–B, B–A) that turns a fact into a witty paradox.
Reference & context: Poets' Corner, in the south transept of the Abbey, holds Chaucer, Spenser and others. Some great poets were buried elsewhere, while some monuments marked no grave.
In plain English: I noticed that the current war had filled the church with many such empty memorials, put up for men whose bodies probably lay on the battlefield of Blenheim or at the bottom of the sea.
Reference & context: The War of the Spanish Succession (1701–1714). At the Battle of Blenheim (1704) in Bavaria, the Duke of Marlborough won a famous victory over France. Addison had celebrated it in his poem The Campaign.
In plain English: I was very pleased by several recent epitaphs, written elegantly and with sound judgement, which do credit to the living who wrote them as well as to the dead.
In plain English: Since foreigners easily judge whether a nation is ignorant or cultured from the style of its public monuments and inscriptions, these should be checked by educated and talented men before they are made.
In plain English: Sir Cloudesley Shovell's monument has often annoyed me. He was a plain, brave, rough English admiral, but his tomb shows him as a fashionable dandy in a long wig, lounging on velvet cushions under a royal canopy.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: A comic contrast between the real man and the absurdly pampered statue.
Reference & context: Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell drowned in 1707 when his fleet was wrecked on the Isles of Scilly. His monument by Grinling Gibbons, in the south aisle of the Abbey, still shows him reclining in a Roman-style pose and an enormous wig.
In plain English: The inscription is just as bad: instead of praising his many great deeds for his country, it only tells us how he died, a shipwreck in which he could not possibly have won any glory.
In plain English: The Dutch, whom we tend to look down on as unimaginative, show far better classical taste and refinement in their buildings and monuments than we do.
In plain English: Their admirals' monuments, paid for by the state, show them as they really were, decorated with naval crowns, ship ornaments and lovely garlands of seaweed, shells and coral.
Reference & context: For example, the tombs of Admirals Tromp and De Ruyter in Delft and Amsterdam.
In plain English: But back to the main topic.
In plain English: I have saved the royal tombs for another day, when I'm in the mood for such a serious pastime.
Reference & context: Addison kept this promise in Spectator No. 329, where Sir Roger de Coverley visits the Abbey (essay 22 in this collection).
In plain English: I know that visits like this tend to fill nervous, gloomy people with dark thoughts. But although I am always serious, I am never depressed, so I can enjoy nature's solemn scenes as much as its cheerful ones.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: A careful distinction between seriousness and gloom that sums up Addison's calm temperament.
In plain English: So I can learn and grow from the very things that frighten other people.
In plain English: Looking at the tombs of the powerful, I lose all envy; reading the epitaphs of the beautiful, I lose all excessive desire. When a tombstone records parents' grief for a child, I feel deep sympathy; and when I see the parents' own tomb, I realise how pointless it is to grieve for people we must soon follow.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: A rhythmic series of “when … then” clauses, each pairing a tomb with the feeling it cures. It is a model of balanced 18th-century prose.
In plain English: When I see kings buried next to the men who overthrew them, rival writers lying side by side, or religious leaders who split the world with their quarrels, I think with sadness and amazement about how petty human rivalries and disputes are.
Reference & context: In the Abbey, for example, Elizabeth I lies in the same vault as her half-sister and rival Mary I, and Mary, Queen of Scots, whom Elizabeth had executed, lies nearby.
In plain English: When I read the dates on the tombs, some from yesterday and some from six hundred years ago, I think of the Day of Judgement, when we will all exist at the same moment and stand together.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: The essay's famous last line: a single word, “contemporaries,” collapses six centuries into one moment.
Reference & context: Christian belief in the general resurrection on the Last Day, when all the dead will rise together for judgement (1 Corinthians 15:52; Revelation 20:12).
Fun Fact
Addison now lies in Westminster Abbey himself. He was buried there in 1719, in the Henry VII Chapel, and a statue of him in a dressing gown was added to Poets' Corner in 1809. Sir Cloudesley Shovell's “beau” monument is still there too, wig and all, so visitors can judge Addison's complaint for themselves.