=H= ere or elsewhere--all’s one to you, to 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 oft-tryed 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 thou, mine says,
=N= ot how you end, but how you spend your days.[25]
Having retired to that asylum which is the common lot of humanity, his
ashes were for some years permitted to rest in peace. But at length a
clergyman of the name of <g>Chest</g>, we are told, was appointed to the
vicarage of Chepstow, who, glowing with admiration for those principles
of the constitution which he considered had been subverted, openly
declared that the bones of a regicide should never pollute the chancel
of that church of which he was vicar, and immediately ordered the corpse
to be disinterred, and removed to the place where it now reposes, in the
middle of the north transept, and over it the stone is placed that bears
the epitaph before mentioned.
About this time, as Heath informs us, “there came to reside at Chepstow
a person of the name of Downton, who afterwards married a daughter of
the Rev. Mr. Chest; but, whatever affection he might cherish for the
lady, the father was one unceasing object of his ridicule and contempt;
and when the vicar died, he publicly satyrised him in the following
lines:--
‘Here lies at rest, I do protest,
One Chest within another;
The chest of _wood_ was very good--
Who says so of the other?’”
<g>Marten’s</g> apartment, as we have said, was in “the first story of the
eastern tower, or keep; for this part of the building contained only a
single room on each floor, if we except those near the top. Could he
have detached from his recollection the idea of Sterne’s starling--‘I
can’t get out, I can’t get out’--the situation might have been chosen
out of remembrance or tenderness to the rank he had formerly held in
society; for though it bore the name of a _prison_, it was widely
different from the generality of such places. The room measured fifteen
paces long, by twelve paces wide, and was very lofty. On one side, in
the centre, was a fire-place, two yards wide; and the windows, which
were spacious, and lighted both ends of the apartment, gave an air of
cheerfulness not frequent in such buildings. In addition to this, he
could enjoy from its windows some of the sweetest prospects in Britain.
This apartment continues to bear the name of ‘Marten’s Room’ to this
day, and few travellers enter the castle without making it an object of
their attention.”
“Marten,” says Mr. Seward, “was a striking instance of the truth of
Roger Ascham’s observation, who, in his quaint and pithy style,
says--‘Commonlie, men, very quick of wit, be very light of conditions.
In youth, they be readie scoffers, privie mockers, and over light and
merrie. In age they are testie, very waspish, and always over miserable;
and yet few of them come to any great age, by reason of their miserable
life when young; and a great deal fewer of them come to show any great
countenance, or beare any great authority abroade, in the world; but
either they live obscurely, men wot not how, or dye obscurely, men mark
not when.’[26]
“In the dining-parlour of St. Pierre, near Chepstow, there hung,” in the
time of the writer, “a painting, said to be of Harry Marten. He is
represented at three-quarters length, in armour. In his right hand he
holds a pistol, which he seems about to discharge; while with the left
he grasps the hilt of his sword. Behind him is a page, in the act of
tying on a green sash; the whole conveying an idea that the person was
about to undertake some military enterprise. Judging from the picture,
the likeness appears to have been taken when Marten was about forty-five
years of age. He there seems of thin or spare habit, with a high
forehead, long visage; his hair of a dark colour, and flowing over the
right shoulder. The cravat round the neck does not correspond with the
age in which he lived, being tied in the fashion of modern times. There
is a great deal of animation and spirit in his countenance,
characteristic of the person it is said to represent.”[27]
Having adverted to Mr. Southey’s “Inscription,” and its parody by
_George Canning_, we subjoin the following copies from the originals.
The first, by Southey, is thus headed:--