On the north side of the chancel is an arch surmounting a tomb, the oolite slab of which measures 6 ft. 6 in. long by 2 ft. wide at the top, and 1 ft. 6 in. wide at the foot. This tomb is apparently ancient. On the slab is an incision that probably contained a cross. At the back of the recess, in the wall, is an elegant Latin inscription, composed by Bishop Claughton (of St. Albans) and placed on a brass there by Canon Chesshyre, a former rector, to this effect: "If by chance anywhere near here lie the remains of Bertha, wife of King Ethelbert, let them rest in peace till the last coming of the Lord Jesus."
The arch above the tomb is a poor imitation of a Norman one, and stands under a curious round-headed opening in the wall, which may mark the position of a Norman window.
This tomb was always shown as "Queen Bertha's," and is still often called so even in the present day, owing to the statement that the queen was buried "in porticu Sancti Martini"; but this, of course, refers to the apse or transept of St. Martin's Chapel in the monastery church of St. Augustine, where Bertha was laid on the south side of the altar.
The tomb was opened on January 12th, 1883, and beneath the covering slab of oolite was discovered a coffin of stone, hollowed out into the shape of the body, and having a small semi-circular opening (about 9 inches in diameter) for the head of the corpse. This latter opening had been bricked off from the rest of the tomb, and was thus formed into a receptacle for fragments of bones and other human remains, the rest of the coffin being filled up with flints, bricks, and rubbish. The bones were pronounced by a surgeon who was present to be probably those of an elderly man, aged about seventy years, and of small proportions. This was an apparent confirmation of a theory previously broached—viz. that the tomb possibly contained the remains of the restorer of the church in the thirteenth century. But alas for hasty conclusions! We have since ascertained that the tomb had been opened before 1844, and, so far as one can trust to oral tradition, it was then empty, except for a little human dust. Our informant also told us that there was a small cross, made of grass, which crumbled away when exposed to the air, but he was evidently confusing this with the cross made of two twigs that was found at the opening of Henry IV.'s tomb in the Cathedral.
Where, then, did the bones come from? There is an arch of an Edwardian monument in the vestry, but no coffin underneath; and our conjecture is that, when the present vestry (a kind of recess) was thrown out from the church, the tomb, which stood in the way, was moved back to its outer wall, and the bones were transferred to the so-called tomb of Queen Bertha. It is possible that the coffin-lid found in the square-headed Roman doorway was also taken from the same source.
So far as we can ascertain, no authentic records were kept at the time of the restoration of the church in 1844-45, which was done without a faculty. There is no doubt that its condition then was very dilapidated, and that we owe almost its actual preservation to the munificent liberality of Mr Daniel Finch and the careful judgment of its rector, Canon Chesshyre; but we must necessarily regret the absence of full particulars, and the opportunities that were then lost of exploring thoroughly the walls, floors, and general antiquities of the church.