pers, a charge redeemed by his
publication of the 'Troubles and Trials' of the Archbishop in 1694.

But this with other labours were mere by-play. The design upon which his
energies were mainly concentrated was "to exhibit a complete
ecclesiastical history of England to the Reformation," and the two
volumes of the 'Anglia Sacra,' which appeared during his life, were
intended as a partial fulfilment of this design. Of these, as they now
stand, the second is by far the more valuable. The four archiepiscopal
biographies by Osbern, the three by Eadmer, Malmesbury's lives of
Aldhelm and Wulstan, the larger collection of works by Giraldus
Cambrensis, Chaundler's biographies of Wykeham and Bekington, and the
collection of smaller documents which accompanied these, formed a more
valuable contribution to our ecclesiastical history than had up to
Wharton's time ever been made. The first volume contained the chief
monastic annals which illustrated the history of the sees whose
cathedrals were possessed by monks; those served by canons regular or
secular were reserved for a third volume, while a fourth was to have
contained the episcopal annals of the Church from the Reformation to the
Revolution.

The last however was never destined to appear, and its predecessor was
interrupted after the completion of the histories of London and St.
Asaph by the premature death of the great scholar. In 1694 Battely
writes a touching account to Strype of his interview with Wharton at
Canterbury:--"One day he opened his trunk and drawers, and showed me his
great collections concerning the state of our Church, and with a great
sigh told me his labours were at an end, and that his strength would not
permit him to finish any more of that subject." Vigorous and healthy as
his natural constitution was he had worn it out with the severity of his
toil. He denied himself refreshment in his eagerness for study, and sat
over his books in the bitterest days of winter till hands and feet were
powerless with the cold. At last nature abruptly gave way, his last
hopes of recovery were foiled by an immoderate return to his old
pursuits, and at the age of thirty-one Henry Wharton died a quiet
scholar's death. Archbishop Tenison stood with Bishop Lloyd by the grave
in Westminster, where the body was laid "with solemn and devout anthems
composed by that most ingenious artist, Mr. Harry Purcell;" and over it
were graven words that tell the broken story of so many a s