as in the reign of Edward the Fourth, had
retired to the hermitage of Guy's Cliff, where he was a chantry
priest, and where he spent the remaining part of his life in what
he called studying and writing antiquities. Amongst other works,
most of which are not unfortunately lost, he composed a history of
the kings of England. It Begins with the creation, and is compiled
indiscriminately from the Bible and from monastic writers. Moses, he
tells us, does not mention all the cities founded before the
deluge, but Barnard de Breydenback, dean of Mayence, does. With
the same taste he acquaints us, that, though the book of Genesis
says nothing of the matter, Giraldus Cambrensis writes, that Caphera
or Cesara, Noah's niece, being apprehensive of the deluge, set out
for Ireland, where, with three men and fifty women, she arrived safe
with one ship, the rest perishing in the general destruction.

A history, so happily begun, never falls off: prophecies, omens,
judgements, and religious foundations compose the bulk of the book.
The lives and actions of our monarchs, and the great events of their
reigns, seemed to the author to deserve little place in a history of
England. The lives of Henry the Sixth and Edward the Fourth, though
the author lived under both, take up but two pages in octavo, and
that of Richard the Third, three. We may judge how qualified such an
author was to clear up a period so obscure, or what secrets could
come to his knowledge at Guy's Cliff: accordingly he retails all the
vulgar reports of the times; as that Richard poisoned his wife, and
put his nephews to death, though he owns few knew in what manner;
but as he lays the scene of their deaths before Richard's assumption
of the crown, it is plain he was the worst informed of all. To
Richard he ascribes the death of Henry the Sixth; and adds, that
many persons believed he executed the murder with his own hands: but
he records another circumstance that alone must weaken all suspicion
of Richard's guilt in that transaction. Richard not only caused the
body to be removed from Chertsey, and solemnly interred at Windsor,
but it was publickly exposed, and, if we will believe the monk, was
found almost entire, and emitted a gracious perfume, though no care
had been taken to embalm it. Is it credible that Richard, if the
murderer, would have exhibited this unnecessary mummery, only to
revive the memory of his own guilt? Was it not rather intended to
recall the cruelty