Christiana Elizabeth Musgrave (Bryan) (b. - 1859)

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Nicknames: "Christiana Byam"
Death: Died
Cause of death: Carriage accident
Managed by: Maria Edmonds-Zediker, Volunteer Curator
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About Christiana Elizabeth Musgrave (Bryan)

The remaining monument is erected to the memory of Mrs. Musgrave, who was unfortunately thrown out of her carriage (the horse becoming restive and breaking the shafts) and killed upon the spot. This unhappy catastrophe occurred in one of the streets of St. John’s, and a representation of the event, absurd as it may seem, is sculptured upon the monument (which is of white marble) in basso-relievo. In the background is the animal, apparently of the cart-horse breed, scampering away with the broken shafts and traces hanging around him; in the foreground, is the figure of a man, kneeling and supporting in his arms a female, whose listless posture portrays the dire event. The face of the female is well executed, the features expressing acute suffering, while they tell the hand of death is upon them; but the figure is execrable in its proportions, the hand and arm being quite as large as the leg and foot of the man, if not larger. The inscription is as follows:—

“No warning given! unceremonious fate! A sudden rush from life’s meridian joys! A wrench from all she loved.”

Sacred to the memory of Eliza Musgrave, Wife of William Musgrave, Esq., Of the Inner Temple, barrister-at-law. She departed this life On the morning of the 12th Feb., 1815, Aged 24 years, Beloved and lamented by all who knew her. Her God she reverenced; Towards her neighbours she never wilfully offended; To her husband she was everything His fondest wishes could picture or embrace. He idolized her while she lived, And his respect for her exalted worth Survives beyond the grave. The remembrance of her many virtues Remains indelibly inscribed In his dejected bosom. “Friends, our chief treasure, how they drop! How the world falls to pieces round about us! And leaves us in the ruin of our joy! What says this transportation of my friends? It bids me love the place where now they dwell, And scorn this wretched spot it leaves so poor.”

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