Mr. Thomas Broadbent Trowsdale tells us: “In the fine old church of Chepstow, Monmouthshire, nearly opposite the reading-desk, is a memorial stone with the following curious acrostic inscription, in capital letters:—

Here Sept. 9th, 1680,
WAS BURIED
A True Born Englishman,
Who, in Berkshire, was well known
To love his country’s freedom ’bove his own:
But being immured full twenty years
Had time to write, as doth appears—
HIS EPITAPH.
H ere or elsewhere (all’s one to you or me)
E arth, Air, or Water gripes my ghostly dust,
N one knows how soon to be by fire set free;
R eader, if you an old try’d rule will trust,
Y ou’ll gladly do and suffer what you must.
M y time was spent in serving you and you,
A nd death’s my pay, it seems, and welcome too;
R evenge destroying but itself, while I
T o birds of prey leave my old cage and fly;
E xamples preach to the eye—care then (mine says),
N ot how you end, but how you spend your days.

“This singular epitaph points out the last resting-place of Henry Marten, one of the judges who condemned King Charles I. to the scaffold. On the Restoration, Marten was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, Chepstow Castle being selected as the place of his incarceration. There he died in 1680, in the twenty-eighth year of his captivity, and seventy-eighth of his age. He was originally interred in the chancel of the church; but a subsequent vicar of Chepstow, Chest by name, who carried his petty party animosities even beyond the grave, had the dead man’s dust removed, averring that he would not allow the body of a regicide to lie so near the altar. And so it was that Marten’s memorial came to occupy its present position in the passage leading from the nave to the north aisle. We are told that one Mr. Downton, a son-in-law of this pusillanimous parson, touched to the quick by his relative’s harsh treatment of poor Marten’s inanimate remains, retorted by writing this satirical epitaph for the Rev. Mr. Chest’s tombstone:—

Here lies at rest, I do protest,
One Chest within another!
The chest of wood was very good,—
Who says so of the other?

“Some doubt has been thrown on the probability of a man of Marten’s culture having written, as is implied in the inscription, the epitaph which has a place on his memorial.

“The regicide was a son of Sir Henry Marten, a favourite of the first James, and by him appointed Principal Judge of the Admiralty and Dean of Arches. Young Henry was himself a prominent person during the period of the disastrous Civil War, and was elected Member of Parliament for Berkshire in 1640. He was, in politics, a decided Republican, and threw in his lot with the Roundhead followers of sturdy Oliver. When the tide of popular favour turned in Charles II.’s direction, and Royalty was reinstated, Marten and the rest of the regicides were brought to judgment for signing the death warrant of their monarch. The consequence, in Marten’s case, was life-long imprisonment, as we have seen, in Chepstow Castle.”

Next is a copy of an acrostic epitaph from Tewkesbury Abbey.

Here lyeth the body of Thomas Merrett, of Tewkesbury, Barber-chirurgeon, who departed this life the 22nd day of October, 1699.

T hough only Stone Salutes the reader’s eye,
H ere (in deep silence) precious dust doth lye,
O bscurely Sleeping in Death’s mighty store,
M ingled with common earth till time’s no more,
A gainst Death’s Stubborne laws, who dares repine,
S ince So much Merrett did his life resigne.
M urmurs and Teares are useless in the grave,
E lse hee whole Vollies at his Tomb might have.
R est in Peace; who like a faithful steward,
R epair’d the Church, the Poore and needy cur’d;
E ternall mansions do attend the Just,
T o clothe with Immortality their dust,
T ainted (whilst under ground) with wormes and rust.

In the churchyard of Irongray a table stone, reared by Sir Walter Scott, commemorates Helen Walker, the prototype of Jeanie Deans, whose integrity and tenderness are, in his “Heart of Midlothian,” so admirably portrayed by that great novelist. The following is the inscription:—