“It will be remembered that poor Cribb, after enjoying the sunshine of good fortune for a series of years, respected by all classes, from the prince to the peasant, o’erstepped the bounds of prudence and self-consideration, fell into distress, and retired to the house of his son, at Woolwich, where after a lingering illness, he died on the 11th May, 1848. Happily, through the sympathy of those who felt as we felt, his last moments were soothed by the enjoyment of every comfort, and he departed in peace, deeply grateful to those whose kindness he had experienced. The last sad duty of consigning his remains to their final resting place was performed in Woolwich churchyard, his ashes mingling with those of naval and military heroes honourably distinguished in their respective vocations. We took care that every expense connected with his illness and death was defrayed, but we still felt that such a man should not depart from among us without some lasting token of the estimation in which the noble qualities by which he had been distinguished were held, and therefore suggested the erection of a monument to his memory—such a monument as would honour and preserve it. This suggestion received a ready response. Our work is now nearly accomplished, and we would fain hope it will be found to fulfil our desire, that of showing to our expected foreign visitors, as well as to our countrymen, that, however humble our heroes, where valour is accompanied by sterling honesty and humanity, we have pride in commemorating their deeds and their virtues....
CRIBB’S MONUMENT IN WOOLWICH CHURCHYARD.
“The grave over which this monument is to be erected has long since been bricked and covered with a suitable slab. Upon this will be placed a plinth, also of solid Portland stone, about two feet in height, to receive the statue. On the edge of the plinth will be engraved this impressive sentence, ‘Respect the ashes of the brave.’ The grave being on an elevated bank close to the path leading to the church from the town of Woolwich, the whole will command the attention of all persons entering the burial ground from London, or passing along that thoroughfare immediately in front, which at all hours of the day is thronged with soldiers, sailors, dockyard men, and civilians.
“We hardly doubt that this monument, from the moral it is calculated to enforce, will be without its beneficial effects on the minds of all those by whom it is seen, and we trust it may be gratifying to those strangers who on their visits to the Arsenal will have an opportunity of witnessing the veneration in which Englishmen hold the memory of those who, although not ‘licensed’ warriors, are yet honest types of our national principles and character.”
On the eve of the first of May, 1854, the monument, of which we here give an engraving, was placed in the position it now occupies in Woolwich Churchyard, and its first view by the public was coincident with the first opening of the first Great Exhibition in Hyde Park. We again quote Bell’s Life:—“Far be it from us to connect this simple occurrence further than in point of time with the Exhibition in question; but the coincidence is fortunate, and the object creditable to those by whom it has been carried out—that object being to testify the respect entertained for the memory of a man who, in his position, entitled himself to universal respect for his unimpeachable honesty, indomitable courage, and unquestionable humanity. Exception may be taken to the sphere in which those qualities were exhibited, but those acquainted with English feeling, English character, and English habits must hold in estimation the memory of a man who, in his own person and by his own acts, impressed on thousands, we might say millions, those principles of fair play, combined with gallant bearing, which have been the distinguishing features of our countrymen, soldiers, sailors, or civilians, in whatever circumstances placed. From these feelings sprung a desire to erect the present monument, for the double purpose of perpetuating the memory of the most distinguished of his class, and of impressing on those who followed in his footsteps the sense entertained of the virtues he so prominently displayed. A subscription was commenced, at the head of which were the names of noblemen and gentlemen of the highest rank, swollen by more humble contributors. The work has been accomplished, thanks to the unceasing assiduity and generous devotion of Mr. Timothy Butler, the sculptor, who has performed his task in a manner that must increase his reputation, and entitle him to a distinguished position in the profession of which he is so bright an ornament. The design is simple yet grand in its conception. It represents a British lion grieving over the ashes of a British hero; for, putting aside all prejudice, Cribb was a hero of whom his country might well be proud. The drawing affords a correct idea of the monument, but falls short of the effect of the original; for we do not believe there is in existence a more beautiful specimen of animal sculpture, whether we regard the exquisite proportions of the figure, or the deep impression of sorrow expressed on the countenance. The paw of the lion, it will be seen, rests on an urn supposed to contain the ashes of the dead, over which is lightly thrown the belt which was presented to Cribb as ‘the Champion of England.’ For obvious reasons—principally the close proximity to the House of Peace—all allusion to the circumstances which have led to this distinction is avoided, and the inscription is simply this:—‘Sacred to the Memory of Thomas Cribb, born July 8, 1781, died May 11, 1848.’ On the plinth beneath are the words—‘Respect the ashes of the brave’—an inscription which, it is hoped, will prevent those encroachments in which idle visitors to a churchyard but too often indulge. The lion, of colossal size, stands on a rock, and the whole was sculptured from a solid block of Portland stone weighing twenty tons, from which some idea may be formed of the labour and perseverance with which such a chef d’œuvre has been accomplished and removed without accident from the studio of the artist in Middlesex Place, New Road, to its present position. The monument stands on a plinth which elevates it among surrounding tombs, rendering it visible even from the river Thames; while from the footpath, in front of the churchyard, it invites immediate attention as well as admiration—a sentiment which has been unequivocally expressed by thousands.
“It is fit we should state that there are some fastidious persons in Woolwich, the town in which poor Cribb breathed his last, who find fault with the erection of such a monument in such a place. It is due to the rector of Woolwich, to state, that although he may in some respects participate in the feelings of the parishioners, his objections were removed by the statement of the fact, that before the monument was commenced, the drawing of the design was submitted to his predecessor, by whom it was so heartily approved that he regretted it could not be surrounded by an iron railing, to protect it from trespassers, who are but too apt to treat with indifference the most exquisite specimens of art.[[143]] There were, however, some words in the inscription to which the rector did object, and which at his request have been omitted. Respect for this gentleman’s impressions has induced us to omit the following not inappropriate epitaph:—
“‘When some proud earl or rich patrician dies,
Unmoved we mark the storied marble rise,
Unmoved we read the praises blazoned forth,