Part 7

You see OLD SCARLETT'S picture stand on hie; But at your feet here doth his body lye. His gravestone doth his age and death-time shew, His office by heis token[s] you may know. Second to none for strength and sturdy lymm, A scare-babe mighty voice, with visage grim; He had inter'd two queenes within this place, And this townes householders in his life's space Twice over; but at length his own time came What he for others did, for him the same Was done: no doubt his soule doth live for aye, In heaven, though his body clad in clay.

The first of the queens interred by Scarlett was Catherine, the divorced wife of Henry VIII., who died in 1535, at Kimbolton Castle, in Huntingdonshire. The second was Mary, Queen of Scots, who was beheaded at Fotheringay in 1587, and first interred here, though subsequently transported to Westminster Abbey.

Our next example is from Bingley, Yorkshire:--

In memory of HEZEKIAH BRIGGS, who died August 5th, 1844, in the 80th year of his age. He was sexton at this church 43 years, and interred upwards of 7000 corpses.

[Here the names of his wife and several children are given.]

Here lies an old ringer, beneath the cold clay, Who has rung many peals both for serious and gay; Through Grandsire and Trebles with ease he could range, Till death called a Bob, which brought round the last change.

For all the village came to him When they had need to call; His counsel free to all was given, For he was kind to all.

Ring on, ring on, sweet Sabbath bell, Still kind to me thy matins swell, And when from earthly things I part, Sigh o'er my grave, and lull my heart.

An upright stone in the burial-ground at Hartwith Chapel, in Nidderdale, Yorkshire, bears the following inscription:--

In memory of WILLIAM DARNBROUGH, who for the last forty years of his life was sexton of this chapel. He died October 3rd, 1846, in the one hundredth year of his age.

"Thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace; thou shalt be buried in a good old age."--Genesis XV., 15.

The graves around for many a year Were dug by him who slumbers here,-- Till worn with age, he dropped his spade, And in the dust his bones were laid.

As he now, mouldering, shares the doom Of those he buried in the tomb; So shall he, too, with them arise, To share the judgment of the skies.

An examination of Pateley Bridge Church registers proves that Darnbrough was one hundred and two years of age.

An epitaph from Saddleworth, Yorkshire, tells us:--

Here was interred the body of JOHN BROADBENT, Sexton, who departed this life, August 3rd, 1769, in the 73rd year of his age.

Forty-eight years, strange to tell, He bore the bier and toll'd the bell, And faithfully discharged his trust, In "earth to earth" and "dust to dust." Cease to lament, His life is spent, The grave is still his element; His old friend Death knew 'twas his sphere, So kindly laid the sexton here.

At Rothwell, near Leeds, an old sexton is buried in the church porch. A monumental inscription runs thus:--

In memory of THOMAS FLOCKTON, Sexton 59 years, buried 23rd day of February, 1783, aged 78 years.

Here lies within this porch so calm, Old Thomas. Pray sound his knell, Who thought no song was like a psalm-- No music like a bell.

At Darlington, there is a Latin epitaph over the remains of Richard Preston, which has been freely translated as follows:--

Under this marble are depos'd Poor PRESTON'S sad remains. Alas! too true for light-rob'd jest To sing in playful strains.

Ye dread possessors of the grave, Who feed on others' woe, Abstain from Richard's small remains, And grateful pity shew;

For many a weighty corpse he gave To you with liberal hand; Then sure his little body may Some small respect command.

The gravestone bears the date of 1765.

Further examples might be included, but we have given sufficient to show the varied and curious epitaphs placed to the memory of parish clerks and sextons.

Punning Epitaphs.

Puns in epitaphs have been very common, and may be found in Greek and Latin, and still more plentifully in our English compositions. In the French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and other languages, examples occur. Empedocles wrote an epitaph containing the paronomasia, or pun, on a physician named Pausanias, and it has by Merivale been happily translated:--

PAUSANIAS--not so nam'd without a cause, As one who oft has giv'n to pain a pause, Blest son of Æsculapius, good and wise, Here, in his native Gela, buried lies; Who many a wretch once rescu'd by his charms From dark Persephone's constraining arms.

In Holy Trinity Church, Hull, is an example of a punning epitaph. It is on a slab in the floor of the north aisle of the nave, to the memory of "The Worshipful Joseph Field, twice Mayor of this town, and Merchant Adventurer." He died in 1627, aged 63 years:--

Here is a Field sown, that at length must sprout, And 'gainst the ripening harvest's time break out, When to that Husband it a crop shall yield Who first did dress and till this new-sown Field; Yet ere this Field you see this crop can give, The seed first dies, that it again may live. _Sit Deus amicus, Sanctis, vel in Sepulchris spes est._

On Bishop Theophilus Field, in Hereford Cathedral, ob. 1636, is another specimen:--

The Sun that light unto three churches gave Is set; this Field is buried in a grave. This Sun shall rise, this Field renew his flowers, This sweetness breathe for ages, not for hours.

He was successively Bishop of Llandaff, St. Davids, and Hereford.

The following rather singular epitaph, with a play upon the name, occurs in the chancel of Checkley Church, Staffordshire:--

To the Memory of the Reverend JAMES WHITEHALL, Rector of this place twenty and five years, who departed this life the second daie of March, 1644.

White was his name, and whiter than this stone. In hope of joyfole resurrection Here lies that orthodox, that grave divine, In wisdom trve, vertve did soe clearly shine; One that could live and die as he hath done Suffer'd not death but a translation. Bvt ovt of charitie I'll speake no more, Lest his friends pine with sighs, with teares the poor.

From Hornsea Church we have the epitaph of Will Day, gentleman; he lived thirty-four years, died May 22nd, 1616:--

If that man's life be likened to a day, One here interr'd in youth did lose a day, By death, and yet no loss to him at all, For he a threefold day gain'd by his fall; One day of rest is bliss celestial. Two days on earth by gifts terrestryall-- Three pounds at Christmas, three at Easter Day, Given to the poure until the world's last day, This was no cause to heaven; but, consequent, Who thither will, must tread the steps he went. For why? Faith, Hope, and Christian Charity, Perfect the house framed for eternity.

On the east wall of the chancel of Kettlethorpe Church, co. Lincoln, is a tablet to the memory of "Johannes Becke, quondam Rector istius ecclesiæ," who died 1597, with the following lines in old English characters:--

I am a BECKE, or river as you know, And wat'rd here ye church, ye schole, ye pore, While God did make my springes here for to flow: But now my fountain stopt, it runs no more; From Church and schole mi life ys now bereft, But no ye pore four poundes I yearly left.

We may add that the stream of his charity still flows, and is yearly distributed amongst the poor of Kettlethorpe.

Bishop Sanderson, in his "Survey of Lincoln Cathedral," gives the following epitaph on Dr. William Cole, Dean of Lincoln, who died in 1600. The upper part of the stone, with Dr. Cole's arms, is, or was lately, in the Cathedral, but the epitaph has been lost:--

Reader, behold the pious pattern here Of true devotion and of holy fear. He sought God's glory and the churches good. Idle idol worship he withstood. Yet dyed in peace, whose body here doth lie In expectation of eternity. And when the latter trump of heaven shall blow, Cole, now rak'd up in ashes, then shall glow.

Here is another from Lincoln Cathedral, on Dr. Otwell Hill:--

'Tis OTWELL HILL, a holy Hill, And truly, sooth to say, Upon this HILL be praised still The Lord both night and day. Upon this Hill, this HILL did cry Aloud the scripture letter, And strove your wicked villains by Good conduct to make better. And now this HILL, tho' under stones, Has the Lord's Hill to lie on; For Lincoln Hill has got his bones, His soul the Hill of Zion.

The _Guardian_, for 3rd Dec., 1873, gives the following epitaph as being in Lillington Church, Dorset, on the grave of a man named Cole, who died in 1669:--

Reader, you have within this grave A Cole rak'd up in dust. His courteous Fate saw it was Late, And that to Bed he must. Soe all was swept up to be Kept Alive until the day The Trump shall blow it up and shew The Cole but sleeping lay. Then do not doubt the Coles not out Though it in ashes lyes, That little sparke now in the Darke Will like the Phoenyx rise.

Our next example was inscribed in Peterborough Cathedral, to the memory of Sir Richard Worme, ob. 1589:--

Does Worm eat Worme? Knight Worme this truth confirms, For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms. Does worm eat Worme? sure Worme will this deny, For Worme with worms, a dish for worms don't lie. 'Tis so, and 'tis not so, for free from worms 'Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms.

On a person named Cave, at Barrow-on-Soar, Leicestershire, we have the following epitaph:--

Here, in this Grave, there lies a Cave. We call a Cave a Grave: If Cave be Grave, and Grave be Cave, Then, reader, judge, I crave. Whether doth Cave here lie in Grave, Or Grave here lie in Cave; If Grave in Cave here buried lie, Then Grave, where is thy victory? Go reader, and report, here lies a Cave, Who conquers Death, and buries his own Grave.

In Bletchley, ob. 1615, on Mrs. Rose Sparke:--

Sixty-eight years a fragrant Rose she lasted, Noe vile reproach her virtues ever blasted; Her autumn past expects a glorious springe, A second better life more flourishing.

Hearken unto me, ye holy children, and bud forth as a Rose.--Eccles. xxxix., 13.

From several punning epitaphs on the name of Rose we give one more specimen. It is from Tawton Church, ob. 1652, on Rose Dart:--

A Rose springing Branch no sooner bloom'd, By Death's impartial Dart lyes here entombed. Tho' wither'd be the Bud, the stock relyes On Christ, both sure by Faith and Hope to rise.

In Barnstaple Church, ob. 1627, on Grace Medford, is an epitaph as follows:--

Scarce seven years old this Grace in glory ends, Nature condemns, but Grace the change commends; For Gracious children, tho' they die at seven, Are heirs-apparent to the Court of Heaven. Then grudge not nature at so short a Race; Tho' short, yet sweet, for surely 'twas God's Grace.

On a punster the following was written:--

Beneath the gravel and these stones, Lies poor JACK TIFFEY'S skin and bones; His flesh I oft have heard him say, He hoped in time would make good hay; Quoth I, "How can that come to pass?" And he replied, "All flesh is grass!"

Manxland Epitaphs.

Several of the churchyards in the Isle of Man contain monuments of more than local interest, and will repay a careful inspection. The ancient graveyard of Kirk Braddan, surrounded with beautiful trees, and situated in a secluded spot not far distant from the busy town of Douglas, is the most celebrated. It not only contains numerous modern tombstones of unusual interest, but some Runic monuments of importance which have given rise to some strange stories, and suggested a theme for the poet and a study for the antiquary.

An old time-worn stone near the chief door of the church attracts much attention. It states:--

Here underlyeth ye body of ye Reverend Mr. PATRICK THOMPSON, minister of God's word forty years, at present Vicar of Kirk Braddan. Aged 67 anno 1678. Deceased ye 24th of April 1689.

It will be seen from the foregoing that the stone was prepared eleven years prior to the death of the vicar.

Some of the gravestones bear records of longevity, the most important being the following:--

In memory of PATRICK M'CARREY of Douglas, who departed this life the 9th December 1851, aged 102 years; also in memory of JANE M'CARREY, alias Leech, wife of the above-named PATRICK M'CARREY, who departed this life the 19th December 1851, aged 100 years. They lived together upwards of 70 years.

It will be noticed that although the pair had lived together as man and wife for three score years and ten, the widow only lived ten days after the death of her husband. On many of the tombstones the maiden name of the wife is given, and preceding it is the word _alias_.

Major Wilks, on his retirement from the Governorship of St. Helena, where he had the charge of the Emperor Napoleon, settled in the Isle of Man. He brought with him a black servant, who died a few years after leaving his native country. He was buried in this graveyard, and over his remains Major Wilks erected a stone bearing an inscription as follows:--

SAMUEL ALLEY, An African, and native of St. Helena, Died 28th May 1822, aged 18 years, Born a slave, and exposed In early life to the corrupt influence Of that unhappy state, he became A model of Truth and Probity, for The more fortunate of any country Or condition. This stone is erected by a grateful Master to the memory of a faithful Servant, who repaid the boon of Liberty with unbounded attachment.

Governor Wilks was a gentleman of high character, personable and courtier-like manners. He was a writer of some ability, and was the author of a "History of the Mahratta War," which Napoleon read and admired. The ex-Emperor greatly esteemed the Governor, and his departure from St. Helena, where it is said that he made many wise and lasting improvements, was much regretted. Shortly prior to leaving the island, Governor Wilks introduced his daughter to Napoleon, who, it is reported, looked at her with a pleasing smile and said, "I have long heard from various quarters of the superior elegance and beauty of Miss Wilks; but now I am convinced from my own eyes that report has scarcely done her sufficient justice," and concluded by most politely bowing to Miss Wilks. In course of conversation he said, "You will be very glad to leave this island." She replied "Oh no, sire; I am very sorry to go away." "Oh! Mademoiselle, I wish I could change places with you." He presented her with a bracelet in memory of her visit. She subsequently became Lady Buchan, and died in May, 1888, at the advanced age of ninety-one years; and at the time of her death it was stated that "she was one of the last surviving persons who had a distinct recollection of the first Napoleon."

There is a curious bit of lore connected with the estate of Governor Wilks in the Isle of Man; it is situated not far from Kirk Braddan, and called Kirby, a name corrupted from two Manx words, "Cur Bee," meaning "Give food." In the olden days the owner of the estate had to provide bed and board to the Bishop on his journey to and from England, and from this circumstance is derived its name.

In the churchyard rest the mortal remains of the brother of Mrs. William Wordsworth, Captain Henry Hutchinson. The poet Wordsworth wrote the epitaph which appears on his tombstone. The inscription can only be read with great difficulty, and in a few years will be effaced by the effects of the weather on the tender stone. The following is a literal copy of the epitaph, and perhaps the only one which has been printed:--

In memory of HENRY HUTCHINSON, born at Penrith, Cumberland, 14th June 1769. At an early age he entered upon a Seafaring life in the course of which, being of a thoughtful mind, he attained great skill, and knowledge of his Profession, and endured in all climates severe hardships with exemplary courage & fortitude. The latter part of his life, was passed with a beloved Sister upon this Island. He died at Douglas the 23rd of May 1839, much lamented by his Kindred & Friends who have erected this stone to testify their sense of his mild virtues & humble piety.

Hutchinson wrote poetry of much merit, and one of his sonnets is included in the works of Wordsworth. It is autobiographical in its character, and is as follows:--

From early youth I ploughed the restless Main, My mind as restless and as apt to change; Through every clime and ocean did I range, In hope at length a competence to gain; For poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain. Year after year I strove, but strove in vain, And hardships manifold did I endure, For Fortune on me never deigned to smile; Yet I at last a resting place have found, With just enough life's comforts to procure, In a snug Cove on this our favoured Isle, A peaceful spot where Nature's gifts abound; Then sure I have no reason to complain, Though poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain.

Inside the church there is another monument of some literary interest, placed to the memory of the Rev. John Kelly, LL.D., J.P., etc., Rector of Copford, near Colchester. He was the compiler of a polyglot dictionary in the Manx, Gaelic, and Erse languages. The work has quite a romantic history. We are told, "whilst conveying the manuscript, on which he had spent much time and care, to England, he was wrecked between Ramsey and Whitehaven, but, with great fortitude, he supported himself on the sea, and held the manuscript at arm's-length above the waters for the space of five hours." Several other interesting tablets are inside the church.

There is a striking monument in the churchyard to the memory of Lord Henry Murray, fifth son of the Duke of Atholl. The inscription states--"This sincere testimonial of affection and deep regret for their commander and their friend is erected by the officers of the regiment." He was the Lieutenant-Colonel Commandant of the Royal Manx Fencibles, and died in 1805, at the age of thirty-eight years.

In the Kirk Braddan Cemetery, situated not far from the old churchyard, is buried John Martin, the celebrated artist, and brother of the notorious Jonathan Martin, who set fire to York Minster, and the eccentric William Martin, the anti-Newtonian philosopher. Martin painted some remarkable pictures, and was a man of genius. He was one of the most popular artists of his day, although he was never a member of the Royal Academy. According to the local guide-books, "his latest productions,--'The Great Day of His Wrath,' 'The Day of Judgment,' and 'The Plains of Heaven,'--owe much of their atmospheric grandeur and scenery to the residence of the painter on this island." A marble slab on a large square vault bears the following inscription:--

In memory of JOHN MARTIN, historical painter, born at Haydon Bridge, Northumberland, 19th July 1789, died at Douglas, Isle of Man, 17th February 1854.

Martin was a man greatly esteemed, and did much to promote intercourse between men and women devoted to literature, science, and art. Mr. Samuel Carter Hall, in his pleasant "Memoirs of Great Men," supplies a genial sketch of this artist. "Martin, like so many other artists," says Mr. Hall, "had a terrible wrestle with adversity on his way to fame. I remember his telling me that once he 'owned' a shilling; it was needful to hoard it, but, being very hungry, he entered a baker's shop to buy a penny loaf. To his shame and dismay, he found the shilling was a bad one. 'So long afterwards,' added the painter, then at the realisation of his hopes and aims, 'when I had a shilling, I took care to get it changed into penny-pieces.'"

A gravestone in the churchyard of Santon Parish Church contains the following curious inscription:--

Here, friend, is little Daniel's tomb-- To Joseph's age he did arrive. Sloth killing thousands in their bloom, While labour kept poor Dan alive. How strange, yet true, full seventy years Was his wife happy in her tears!

DANIEL TEAR died 9th December 1707, aged 110 years.

Epitaphs on Notable Persons.

We have under this heading some curious graveyard gleanings on remarkable men and women. Our first is from a tombstone erected in the churchyard of Spofforth, at the cost of Lord Dundas, telling the remarkable career of John Metcalf, better known as "Blind Jack of Knaresborough":--

Here lies JOHN METCALF, one whose infant sight Felt the dark pressure of an endless night; Yet such the fervour of his dauntless mind, His limbs full strung, his spirits unconfined, That, long ere yet life's bolder years began, The sightless efforts mark'd th' aspiring man; Nor mark'd in vain--high deeds his manhood dared, And commerce, travel, both his ardour shared. 'Twas his a guide's unerring aid to lend-- O'er trackless wastes to bid new roads extend; And, when rebellion reared her giant size, 'Twas his to burn with patriot enterprise; For parting wife and babes, a pang to feel, Then welcome danger for his country's weal. Reader, like him, exert thy utmost talent given! Reader, like him, adore the bounteous hand of Heaven.

He died on the 26th of April, 1801, in the 93rd year of his age.

A few jottings respecting Metcalf will probably be read with interest. At the age of six years he lost his sight by an attack of small-pox. Three years later he joined the boys in their bird-nesting exploits, and climbed trees to share the plunder. When he had reached thirteen summers he was taught music, and soon became a proficient performer; he also learned to ride and swim, and was passionately fond of field-sports. At the age of manhood it is said his mind possessed a self-dependence rarely enjoyed by those who have the perfect use of their faculties; his body was well in harmony with his mind, for when twenty-one years of age he was six feet one and a half inches in height, strong and robust in proportion. At the age of twenty-five, he was engaged as a musician at Harrogate. About this time he was frequently employed during the dark nights as a guide over the moors and wilds, then abundant in the neighbourhood of Knaresborough. He was a lover of horse-racing, and often rode his own animals. His horses he so tamed that when he called them by their respective names they came to him, thus enabling him to find his own amongst any number and without trouble. Particulars of the marriage of this individual read like a romance. A Miss Benson, the daughter of an innkeeper, reciprocated the affections of our hero; however, the suitor did not please the parents of the "fair lady," and they selected a Mr. Dickinson as her future husband. Metcalf, hearing that the object of his affection was to be married the following day to the young man selected by her father, hastened to free her by inducing the damsel to elope with him. Next day they were made man and wife, to the great surprise of all who knew them, and to the disappointment of the intended son-in-law. To all it was a matter of wonder how a handsome woman as any in the country, the pride of the place, could link her future with "Blind Jack," and, for his sake, reject the many good offers made her. But the bride set the matter at rest by declaring: "His actions are so singular, and his spirit so manly and enterprising, that I could not help it."