1853.] Allegories of different Creeds and Countries. carving which adorns those ill-advised resting-places, so different from our Protestant ideas of a stall in a cathedral, we find the cornices again flanked by grotesque heads carved in stone, of which it is difficult to guess either the object or the meaning. It is worthy of remark, that our medieval church architecture should delight in elaborating an unnatural hideousness in its ornaments, such as most idolatrous nations deem the especial attribute of the god whom they adore. In many parts of Tartary, and in Thibet itself, the very stronghold of Lamanism, Bhuddha is worshipped, in the absence of his human representative, under a type far inferior in comeliness to the lowest orders of the animal world; whilst the hideousness of Juggernaut is as proverbial as the ardour of his votaries thronging to crush themselves beneath his car. Thus it is with the rest of the pagan world, and thus was it in the so-called ornaments with which our own ancestors loved to surround their churches and cathedrals. Well might the Greek-he alone whose whole heart and soul were wrapped in adoration of the Beautiful-term all the other races of mankind barbarians. But with such unsightly countenances grinning down upon us, we lower our eyes shrinkingly to the ground on which we tread, and here let us pause an instant in reverence for the dead beneath our feet. Close to the altar-rails, in the area of the chancel, we find the effigy, or rather the portrait worked in bronze or brass, of a monkish dignitary, with his hands clasped in an attitude of devotion, and two cherubs, beautifully wrought and designed, supporting his shaven head. The figures are, as it were, let in upon a slab of freestone; and at the holy man's feet is a brass tablet, with two inscriptions, in Latin and NormanFrench, setting forth that this is the grave of one William de Rothwell, who seems to have been the incumbent here somewhere about the year 1220. Passing on, along the altar-steps, we find several other inscriptions, more or less imperfect, though of no great interest, whilst the walls are covered with marble tablets to the memory of the Hum 35 bles, the Lanes, the Hills, the Medlycotts, and other families of the squirearchy and clergy of the county; amongst which, that of Magdalen Lane, of Glendon, who died A.D. 1694, is remarkable for the device wrought upon it in memory of the young girl whose death it records, at the early age of eighteen. The slab is adorned by cherub-heads and foliage, with an urn vomiting flames, to surmount the whole, and on its surface bears an allegorical representation, fanciful in composition and exquisite in execution. An angel, in bas-relief, is sounding a trumpet, apparently to awaken the whole world at the resurrection; whilst a setting and a rising sun aptly betoken the end of time and the beginning of eternity. Between two trees a narrow bridge spans a gulf yawning in unfathomable horror below, and across this bridge a snow-white lamb is passing in placid confidence and security-a beautiful type of the sanctified Christian, and recalling to our minds the many allegories by which men have shadowed forth their impression of that awful passage which is to separate the present from the future. The Moslem believes that he must cross to paradise on a single bar of redhot iron, stretched over the bottomless abyss of hell, and that all the good works done in the body by the true believer shall assume a tangible form to interpose themselves between his naked feet and the glowing metal. Alas for him who has none such to claim at his need!-he winces, he totters, and down he goes amidst the flames eternal. The Red Indian is assured that his transition from this life to the next must be performed in a long and toilsome journey to the Happy Hunting-grounds, during which he will have to practise the fortitude and self-denial which stand for all the cardinal virtues in his religious creed. Nor are our northern neighbours, Christians and Presbyterians though they be, without their share of superstition, in thus confusing the spiritual with the material. It is not so very long ago since they were persuaded that the human soul, on its mysterious journey, was destined to a painful pilgrimage over a common studded with whin-bushes, during which the only protection for its naked feet would be the hose and shoes that in its terrestrial life it had bestowed upon the poor; or, as the ancient dirge quaintly expresses it When thou from hence away art passed, To whinny-muir thou comest at last, If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, And Christe receive thy saule. If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gavest nane, Every night and alle, The whinnes shall prick thee to the bare bane, And Christe receive thy saule. This is the Moslem's belief, almost to a word, inasmuch as the succeeding couplet mentions the Bridge of Dread as the very next difficulty to be surmounted after Whinny-muir has been satisfactorily traversed in a pair of thick shoes. Good works remind us of pious Owen Ragsdale. It is in the north chancel, now a vestry, that his remains have been deposited; there his virtues are commemorated in the Latin inscription we have already mentioned, beginning in characteristic sing-song Hic jacet ille vir pius et probus Owinus Ragsdale qui hospitium posuit JesuIste, &c. But we have already lingered too long above ground, and the clerk having lighted his torches, represented by two tallow candles, summons us to accompany him down amongst the dead men.' A small door near the southern porch admits us to a steep and winding stair, down which our guide has already disappeared, and up which his sepulchral voice is heard, warning us in hollow tones to mind the bottom step.' 'Well said, old mole, canst work i' the earth so fast?' we exclaim with Hamlet, and not without difficulty and a most undignified stumble, make our entrance into the vault, or crypt, we have come to visit. He would be more or less than man on whom the sight that now meets our eyes could fail to make an impression of awe and wonder that almost amounts to horror. Pile upon pile, layer upon layer, stacked with ghastly care and precision, we look upon the grinning skulls and bare bleached bones of some thirty thousand skeletons! From end to end, from top to bottom, heaped up high on every side, death stares us in the face, and turn which way we will the old familiar memento mori greets us with its hollow eyes and mocking sneer. None of the skeletons are entire, nor, as far as we could discover, are they complete. The skull, the arm, leg, and thigh-bones, the haunch, and shoulder-blades are everywhere apparent, but we could find no traces of the vertebræ or ribs, nor any of the smaller bones belonging to the human subject. It is possible these may exist, though hidden from view by the and which, without the slightest incare with which the rest are piled, tention of ridicule or disrespect, we can compare to nothing but the regularity with which bottles of portwine are stacked in a well-ordered cellar. That we have not overstated the number of those for whom this strange sepulture has been devised may be gathered from the dimensions of the vault in which their remains are bestowed. On pacing it we found its length to be as nearly as may be twelve yards. It is impossible to get the precise measurement from the mode in which the bones are disposed, as they are placed carefully along the sides and the end furthest from the entrance, leaving a clear oblong space in the centre. The vault then being as nearly as we could guess twelve yards in length, by a width of about ten, and its strange contents being packed round three sides at a height varying from four feet to nine (the whole altitude of the vault), and a depth of from three feet to five yards, being ranged besides as closely as possible, so as to form a dense mass of ossified mortality, we think no calculator who is accustomed to compute numbers by mensuration, as is done with round shot when piled, and many other articles that pack easily, would place the amount of dead in our Rothwell catacomb at much less than the figure we have stated, viz. 30,000. And now comes the question, 1853.] Difficulty of accounting for the Bones. What are they? Or rather, whose are they? Could that smooth grinning emblem of decay give us an account of its original proprietor, in what language would its old-world tale be told? Norman, Saxon, Danish, Roman, or ancient British? There are no data from which we can even hazard a conjecture as to the nation, the history, or the fate of these buried thousands. The battle of Naseby, to which in the adjoining districts of Northamptonshire all doubtful antiquities are referred, has been suggested as an explanation of the puzzle. Such a theory destroys itself at once upon the face of it. Setting aside the improbability of the dead being collected together after such an action as the great Parliamentary triumph, and carried more than ten miles for sepulture, it is extremely doubtful whether there were thirty thousand men engaged at Naseby altogether; and unless our military research strangely misleads us, amongst the decisive battles of the world there is no instance on record, save that of the Kilkenny cats, in which all the combatants were killed on both sides! No; Cromwell's conquering Ironsides and the jolly Cavaliers of hot Prince Rupert sleep far away from the vaults of Rothwell, and the Naseby solution of our problem is totally absurd. It has been suggested that the vault has been the place of sepulture of a monastery, and this at first seems to offer a probable clue to its existence and contents. Anatomists, and suchlike practical men who have visited it, distinctly pronounce that the skulls are all those of male adults, and this looks well for the supporters of the monastic theory, but if theirs were the true explanation how are we to account for the obvious marks of violence which several of the heads exhibit, showing in many cases ghastly shattering wounds that must have produced immediate death? Besides which, on turning over the layers with impious hands we found at least one skull which presented the unmistakeable attributes of the negro; the difference of the facial angle from that of the skulls around it, the narrowness of the cranium, and the protuberance of the upper jaw, 37 were all so apparent that it was impossible to doubt the Ethiopian origin of the living proprietor, and this, we think, makes against the probability of our vault being a monastic place of sepulture. Black monks doubtless there have been, but they have never been common in England, nor have we any historical mention of a variety which would surely have called forth observation and remark from our gossipping old chroniclers and historians. Again, all the remains appear to be of the same date, as far as we can judge by their marks of decay, and several of the skulls are so beautifully white and polished as to warrant the assumption that they have never lain in the moulds.' Neither, with these obvious objections, can we allow it to have been a place of general sepulture, not one skull having yet been discovered belonging to woman or child. No; they are all men, and men too of the most stalwart type that adorns the human race-several of their remains arguing proportions that must have approached the gigantic. We ourselves measured a Patagonian thigh-bone that was an honest twenty-five inches in length, and the circumference of which at the smallest place was four inches and five-eighths-a pretty good thigh on which to gird a sword! The presumption is that these must all be the remains of warriors, and we think this may fairly be inferred from the length and size of the bones, showing that they were the framework of large powerful men, and from the marks of violence which we have already mentioned as existing in many of the skulls. It is remarkable that none appear to have sustained gun-shot wounds, though sword and spear seem to have hacked and hewed and stabbed ferociously amongst their living ranks. One frightful wound, which must have occasioned instant death, is curiously plain on the surface of nearly the largest skull in the vault. It was obviously dealt by a lance, and delivered with such good-will as to pierce through the entire cranium, as is evident from the wide gash where the weapon entered, and the smaller corresponding orifice where the point made its exit.. There is also another head on which a crashing thrust seems to have been delivered from above, and which shattering the top of the skull must have gone right through the brain down to the very throat of the overmastered warrior. What an image of hand to hand conflict!-the two furious fighting champions reeling in the fierce revelry of battle. Man the animal, in his noblest form clothed in the majesty of wrath and strength-man the intellectual, degraded to a sport for fiends, who laugh to see him making a very hell of his inheritance-They thrust, they parry-foot and hand keep swordman's time-and thirsting for a brother's blood, each glares upon the other like a demon. They close, they totter, and down they go-one gleaming blade flies aloft into the air, and in another instant a suppliant figure on its knee seems to implore that mercy from the conqueror which armed it would have scorned to ask for from a host. In vain-the avenger's hand is upthat lightning thrust has settled all accounts, and the dreaded warrior of the morning lies a weltering corpse. Væ victis! said old Brennus the Gaul. So has it ever been -so must it ever be. Besides the horrible injuries several of them have sustained, there are other peculiarities in many of the skulls, which will amply repay examination. There is, as we presume the generality of people are aware, a line across the head of every human subject, which professional men denominate the suture, and which we believe is the identical mark of that early closing movement' practised by cunning nurses upon the pates of new-born babes. Such a line may be seen upon all the Rothwell skulls in common with the rest of mankind; but amongst the former there are two on which, besides the transverse suture there is another, extending from the top of the cranium across the forehead down to between the eyes-a singularity which we believe anatomists will bear us out in stating to be extremely uncommon. We can in no way account for this peculiar formation, but there it exists, as distinctly as the clerk himself, who, by the light of his tallow-candle, delights to point out this freak of nature to his mystified visitors. Another skull is obviously deformed, and in a manner which we never recollect to have seen in a living subject. Not only is the forehead so narrow as to be scarcely human, but one templebone, and consequently the orifice of one eye, is placed several inches above the other, a formation which in the individual's countenance must have produced a degree of hideousness scarcely imaginable. Judging from his skull, and supposing him to have been a warrior, we may conclude that this specimen, when in the flesh,' was a 'very ugly customer!' Another skull (not that of the negro) is nearly black, and bears a polish almost equal to tortoiseshell; and, doubtless, should we deem ourselves justified in disturbing the bones of the dead by turning over and examining the different layers, we should find many more curiosities most interesting to the anatomist and the phrenologist. Several of the latter, as our friend the clerk assured us, have visited these remains, but their remarks were couched in a language totally unintelligible to his ears, with the exception of one gentleman, and 'he, our informant added with a dash of satire, which, perhaps, was totally unintentional, seemed the cleverest of the lot on 'em.' As may be supposed, this vault has been visited by the curious from all parts of the world. Scientific and literary men from half the countries of Europe have added their tribute of wonder to that of doctors, anatomists, antiquarians, squires, and parsons of our own isle. But, notwithstanding all the speculation that has been at work, not one of these astonished visitants, foreign littéraire, British archæologian, or indigenous fox-hunter, has ventured to hazard a probable explanation of this gathering of the dead. Nor has this interesting discovery been made as public as it deserves. Many men of research to whom we have mentioned 'the bones at Rothwell,' as they are familiarly called, declared themselves totally ignorant of their existence; and one gentleman, we have been informed, who had resided all his life in a neighbouring county, heard of this curious assemblage, for the first time, from a Polish savant whom he met at a table d'hôte in Italy! The Britisher, however, was a man of action, and a true antiquarian. He ordered post-horses on the spot, and travelled night and day till he reached the peaceful little town of Rothwell, when he dived instantaneously beneath the church, satisfied his curiosity, and returned to the Land of Song in the same post-haste manner that he had left it, where we presume he finished the dinner that had been so unceremoniously interrupted. It is now one hundred years since this crypt was first discovered, when certain workmen in digging a grave somewhat beyond the usual depth, came upon a yielding surface, which at length gave way, and disclosed to their astonished eyes the charnel house and its mouldering inhabitants in the very state in which they may now be seen, and which we have endeavoured to describe. The greatest care had evidently been taken in their disposition, and the vault which protects them is of the most durable description of architecture. Supported by massive Saxon wheel-arches, to use the technical term, and hewn as it is out of the very bowels of the earth, it promises long to outlast the fragments it contains. Our own idea is that this vault is far anterior in date to the church which has been built over it, possibly in utter ignorance of its existence; and the older we suppose it to be, the more easily can we account for its being left without mention in all the archives connected with the spot. Nay, there is not even a legend to serve as a peg on which to hang an antiquarian theory-not a letter on which to found an argument, erudite and captious as that never-to-be-forgotten controversy, which originated in 'Aiken Drum's Lang Ladle.' Certain marks there are, at the further end from the entrance, which sanguine speculators pronounce to be a picture. On the closest examination there may be discovered a few stains that are either the exhalations of earth-damp or the remains of red 39 paint. If a picture, the great Turner is not so original as is generally supposed. These faded streaks appear above the lowest place at which the dead are piled, in a mass of perhaps not more than four feet square. It has been suggested that if this were cleared away, the rest of the assumed painting, and perhaps an inscription at the bottom, might throw some light upon the subject; and we were informed, though of this we can only speak from hearsay, that the incumbent has applied to his spiritual superiors for leave to commence such a removal. The church, however, seems to have damped the ardour of her inquiring son, and to have suggested that it would be more decent to leave to time the development of whatever there may be to find out, than to disturb the bones, whether Christian or pagan, that repose beneath her care. Such sensitiveness is so entirely a matter of individual opinion, or rather individual feeling, that it would be absurd to comment upon it. It seems, however, highly improbable that any inscription intended, as all such must be, for the information of the future, should be placed in the very spot where it must be completely hidden till the last of those relics are removed to which it refers; and we are much afraid that even were we to interrupt the sleep of the defunct an enormity we confess we should have small scruple in committing-neither line nor letter would be found to reward us for our iniquity in scattering the bones of this mysterious congregation over the floor of their restingplace, and our trouble in piling them decently up again as before. It has never been our good fortune to visit the ghastly catacombs of Paris, nor have we seen a strange collection of human remains which exists at Palermo; but in both of these places, horror alone predominates in the mind of the visitorthere is no room for curiosity where the date, the nation, and the whole antecedents of the skeleton throng are matters of history, with which all are well acquainted; but in our Northamptonshire charnel house, the case is entirely different. Here we seem to tread upon the verge of |