BY A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL.

No. I.

Throw aside whatever I send you, if you do not like it, as we throw aside

the old bones, when making a new grave; and preserve only what you think

of any value--with a slight difference--you will publish it, and we

shouldn't. I was so fond of using the thing, which I have now in my hand,

when a boy, that my father thought I should never succeed with the mattock

and spade--he often shook his head, and said I should never make a sexton.

He was mistaken. He was a shrewd old man, and I got many a valuable hint

from him. "Abner," said he to me one day, when he saw me bowing, very

obsequiously, to a very old lady, "don't do so, Abner; old folks are never

pleased with such attentions, from people of your profession. They

consider all personal approaches, from one of your fraternity, as wholly

premature. It brings up unpleasant anticipations." Father was right; and,

when I meet a very old, or feeble, or nervous gentleman, or lady, I always

walk fast, and look the other way.

Sextons have greatly improved within the last half century. In old times,

they kept up too close an intimacy with young surgeons; and, to keep up

their spirits, in cold vaults, they formed too close an alliance with

certain evil spirits, such as gin, rum, and brandy. We have greatly

improved, as a class, and are destined, I trust, to still greater

elevation. A few of us are thinking of getting incorporated. I have

read--I read a great deal--I have carried a book, of some sort, in my

pocket for fifty years--no profession loses so much time, in mere waiting,

as ours--I have read, that the barbers and surgeons of London were

incorporated, as one company, in the time of Henry VIII. There is

certainly a much closer relation, between the surgeons and sextons, than

between the barbers and surgeons, since we put the finishing hand to their

work. And as every body is getting incorporated now-a-days, I see no good

reason against our being incorporated, as a society of sextons and

surgeons. And then our toils and vexations would, in some measure, be

solaced, by pleasant meetings and convivial suppers, at which the surgeons

would cut up roast turkeys, and the sextons might bury their sorrows. When

sextons have no particular digging to do, out of doors, it seems well

enough for them to dig in their closets. There is a great amount of

information to be gained from books, particularly adapted to their

profession, some of which is practical, and some of which, though not of

that description, is of a much more profitable character than police

reports of rapes and murders, or the histories of family quarrels, or

interminable rumors of battles and bloodshed. There is a learned

blacksmith; who knows but there may spring up a learned sexton, some of

these days.

The dealings with the dead, since the world began, furnish matter for

curious speculation. What has seemed meet and right, in one age or nation,

has appeared absurd and even monstrous in another. It is also interesting

to contemplate the many strange dispositions, which certain individuals

have directed to be made, in regard to their poor remains. Men, who seem

not to have paid much attention to their souls, have provided, in the most

careful and curious manner, for the preservation of their miserable

carcasses. It may also furnish matter for legitimate inquiry, how far it

may be wise, and prudent, and in good taste, to carry our love of finery

into the place, appropriated for all living. Aristocracy among the dead!

What a thought. Sumptuary considerations are here involved. The rivalry of

the tomb! The pride--not of life--but of death! How frequently have I

seen, especially among the Irish, the practice of a species of pious fraud

upon the baker and the milk man, whose bills were never to be paid, while

all the scrapings of the defunct were bestowed upon the "birril!" The

principle is one and the same, when men, in higher walks, put costly

monuments over the ashes of their dead, and their effects into the hands

of assignees. And then the pageantry and grandiloquence of the epitaph! In

the course of fifty years, what outrageous lies I have seen, done in

marble! Perhaps I may say something of these matters--perhaps not.

No. II.

Closing the eyes of the dead and composing the mouth were deemed of so

much importance, of old, that Agamemnon's ghost made a terrible fuss,

because his wife, Clytemnestra, had neglected these matters, as you will

see, in your Odyssey, L. V. v. 419. It was usual for the last offices to

be performed by the nearest relatives. After washing and anointing the

body, the guests covered it with the _pallium_, or common cloak--the

Romans used the _toga_--the Hebrews wrapped the body in linen. Virgil

tells us, that Misenus was buried, in the clothes he commonly wore.

Membra toro deffeta reponunt,

Purpureasque super vestes velamina nota

Conjiciunt.

This would seem very strange with us; yet it is usual in some other

countries, at this day. I have often seen the dead, thus laid out, in

Santa Cruz--coat, neckcloth, waistcoat, pantaloons, boots, and gloves. I

was never a sexton there, but noted these matters as an amateur. Chaplets

and flowers were cast upon the dead, by the Greeks and Romans. The body

was exhibited, or laid in state, near the entrance of the house, that all

might see there had been no foul play. While thus lying, it was carefully

watched. The body of every man, who died in debt, at Athens, was liable to

be seized by creditors. Miltiades died in jail. His son, Cimon, could not

pay his father's debts; he therefore assumed his debts and fetters, that

his father might have funeral rites. Some time before interment, a piece

of money, an _obolus_, was put in the mouth of the corpse, as Charon's

fee. In the mouth was also placed a cake, made of flour and honey, to

appease Cerberus. Instead of crape upon the knocker, some of the hair of

the deceased was placed upon the door, to indicate a house of mourning. A

vessel of water was placed before the door, until the corpse was removed,

that all who touched the dead might wash therein. This is in accordance

with the Jewish usage. Achilles was burnt on the eighteenth day after his

death. The upper ten thousand were generally burnt on the eighth, and

buried on the ninth. Common folks were dealt with more summarily. When

ready for the pile, the body was borne forth on a bier. The Lacedemonians

bore it on shields. The Athenians celebrated their obsequies before

sunrise. Funerals, in some of our cities, are celebrated in the morning.

The Greeks and Romans were very extravagant, like the Irish. If baked

meats and Chian and Falernian cost less than in more modern times--still

sumptuary laws were found necessary. Pittacus made such, at Mytelene. The

women crowded so abominably, at the funerals in Athens, that Solon

excluded all women, under threescore years, from gadding after such

ceremonies. Robes of mourning were sometimes worn; not always. Thousands

followed the bodies of Timoleon and Aratus, in white garments, bedecked

with garlands, with songs of triumph and dances, rejoicing, that they were

received into Elysium.

After the funeral, they abstained from banquets and entertainments.

Admetus says they avoided whatever bore an air of mirth or pleasure, for

some time. They sequestered themselves from company. It is particularly

stated, by Archbishop Potter, that "_wine was too great a friend of

cheerfulness to gain admission into so melancholy a society_." If Old

Hundred had been known to the Jews, it would, I dare say, have been

considered highly appropriate--but their good taste was such, that I much

doubt, if, in the short space of eight and forty hours, they would have

mingled _sacra profanis_, so very comically, as to bring champagne and Old

Hundred together. The Greek mourners often cut off their hair, and cast it

upon the funeral pile. This custom was also followed by the Romans. They

sometimes threw themselves upon the ground, to express their sorrow. Like

some of the Eastern nations, they put ashes upon their heads. They beat

their breasts, tore their flesh, and scratched their faces, with their

nails. For this, Dionysius says, the women were more remarkable, than the

men.

Burning and embalming, the latter of which was a costly business, were

practised among the Greeks and Romans; the latter much more frequently,

among the Eastern nations. We talk of getting these matters thoroughly

discussed, ere long, before the Sextons' board, to see if it may not be

well, to bring them into use again. I will send you the result.

In regard to the use of wine and other intoxicating drinks, at funerals,

we much more closely resemble the Lacedemonians now, than we did some

thirty years ago. When I was a boy, and was at an academy in the country,

everybody went to everybody's funeral, in the village. The population was

small--funerals rare--the preceptor's absence would have excited remark,

and the boys were dismissed, for the funeral. A table with liquors was

always provided. Every one, as he entered, took off his hat, with his left

hand, smoothed down his hair, with his right, walked up to the coffin,

gazed upon the corpse, made a crooked face, passed on to the table, took a

glass of his favorite liquor, went forth upon the plat, before the house,

and talked politics, or of the new road, or compared crops, or swapped

heifers or horses, until it was time to lift. Twelve years ago, a

clergyman of Newburyport told me, that, when settled in Concord, N. H.,

some years before, he officiated at the funeral of a little boy. The body

was borne, as is quite common, in a chaise, and six little nominal

pall-bearers, the oldest not thirteen, walked by the side of the vehicle.

Before they left the house, a sort of master of ceremonies took them to

the table, and mixed a tumbler of gin, water and sugar, for each.

There is in this city a worthy man--I shall not name him--the doctor's and

the lawyer's callings are not more confidential than ours. He used to

attend every funeral, as an amateur. He took his glass invariably, and

always had some good thing to say of the defunct. "A great loss," he would

say, with a sad shake of his head, as he turned off the heel-tap. I have

not seen him at a funeral, for several years. We met about five months

ago. "Ah, Mr. Abner," said he, "temperance has done for funerals."

No. III.

The board of sextons have met, and we have concluded not to recommend a

revival of the ancient custom of burning the dead. It would be very

troublesome to do it, out of town, and inconvenient in the city. I have

always thought it wrong to bury in the city; and it would be much worse to

burn there. The first law of the tenth table of the Romans is in these

words--"Let no dead body be interred or burnt within the city." Something

may be got to help pay for a church, by selling tombs below. When a church

was built here, some years ago, an eminent physician, one of the

proprietors, was consulted and gave his sanction. Yet more than one of our

board is very sure, that, on a warm, close Sunday, in the spring, he has

snuffed up something that wasn't particularly orthodox, in that church.

The old Romans were very careful of the rights of their fellows, in this

respect: the twelfth law of the tenth table runs thus--"Let no sepulchre

be built, or funeral pile raised within sixty feet of any house, without

the consent of the owner of that house." They certainly conducted matters

with great propriety, avoiding extravagance and intemperance, as appears

by the seventh law of the same table--"Let no slaves be embalmed; let

there be no drinking round a dead body; nor any perfumed liquors be poured

upon it." So also the second law--"Let all costliness and excessive

waitings be banished from funerals." The women were so very troublesome

upon these occasions, that a special law, the fifth, was made for their

government--"Let not the women tear their faces, or disfigure themselves,

or make hideous outcries."

It was not unusual for one person to have several funerals: to prevent

this, however agreeable to the Roman undertakers, the tenth law of the

tenth table was made--"Let no man have more than one funeral, or more than

one bed put under him." There was also a very strange practice during the

first Decemvirate; the friends often abstracted a finger of the deceased,

or some part of the body, and performed fresh obsequies, in some other

place; erecting there a _cenotaph_ or _empty_ sepulchre, in which they

fancied the ghost of the departed took occasional refuge, when wandering

about--in case of a sudden shower, perhaps; or being caught out too near

daylight.

For the correction of this folly, the Decemvirs passed the sixth law of

the tenth table--"Let not any part of a dead body be carried away, in

order to perform other obsequies for the deceased, unless he died in war,

or out of his own country." It was upon such occasions as these, in which

an empty form was observed, and no actual inhumation took place, that the

practice of throwing three handsful of earth originated. This usage was

practised also by the Jews, and has come down to modern times. Baron

Rothschild (Nathan Meyer) who died in Frankfort, July 28, 1836, was buried

in the ground of the Synagogue, in Duke's Place, London. His sons, Lionel,

Anthony, Nathaniel, and Meyer, his brother-in-law, Mr. Montefiore, and his

ancient friend, Mr. Samuels, at the age of ninety-six, commenced the

service of filling up the grave,--by casting in, each one of them, three

handsful of earth. Not satisfied with carrying a bottle of sal volatile to

funerals, the women, and even the men, were in the habit of carrying pots

of essences, which occasioned the enactment of the eighth law--"Let no

crowns, festoons, perfuming pots, or any kind of perfume be carried to

funerals."

Burning or interring was adopted, by the ancients, at the will of the

relatives. This is manifest from the eleventh law, which prohibits the use

of gold in all obsequies, with a single exception--"Let no gold be used in

any obsequies, unless the jaw of the deceased has been tied up with a gold

thread. In that case the corpse may be _interred_ or _burnt_, with the

gold thread." A large quantity of silver is annually buried with the dead.

It finds its way up again, however, in the course of time.

Common as burning was, among the ancients, it was looked upon, by some,

with great abhorrence. The body to be burned was placed upon a pile--if

the body of a person of quality, one or more slaves or captives were

burned with it. When not forbidden, all sorts of precious ointments and

perfumes were poured upon the corpse. The favorite dogs and horses of the

defunct were cast upon the pile. Homer tells us, that four horses, two

dogs, and twelve Trojan captives were burnt upon the pile, with the dead

body of Patroclus. The corpses, that they might consume the sooner, were

covered with the fat of beasts. Some near relative lighted the pile,

uttering prayers to Boreas and Zephyrus to increase the flame. The

relatives stood around, calling on the deceased, and pouring on libations

of wine, with which they finally extinguished the flames, when the pile

was well burnt down. They then collected the bones and ashes. How they

were ever able to discriminate between men, dogs, and horses, it is hard

to say. Probably the whole was sanctified, in their opinion, by

juxtaposition. The bones might be distinguished, but not the dust. Such

bones as could be identified, were washed and anointed _by the nearest

relatives_. What an office! How custom changes the complexion of such

matters! These relics were then placed in urns of wood, stone, earth,

silver, or gold, according to the quality of the parties. Where are these

memorials now! these myriads of urns! They were deposited in tombs--of

which a very perfect account may be found in the description of the street

of tombs, at Pompeii.

No. IV.

The Greeks, when interment was preferred to burning, placed the body in

the coffin, as is done at present, deeming it safer for the defunct to

look upwards. To ridicule this superstition, Diogenes requested, that his

body might be placed face downward, "for the world, erelong," said he,

"will be turned upside down, and then I shall come right." The feet were

placed towards the East. Those, who were closely allied, were buried

together. The epitaph of Agathias, on the twin brothers, is still

preserved--

"Two brothers lie interred within this urn,

They died together, as together born."

"They were lovely and pleasant in their lives," said David, of Saul and

Jonathan, "and, in death, they were not divided."

Plato says, that the early Greeks buried their dead, in their own houses.

There was a law in Thebes, that no person should build a house, without

providing a repository for the dead therein. An inconvenient fashion this.

In after-times they buried out of the city, and generally by the way-side.

Hence, doubtless, arose the very common appeal, on their tablets--_Siste

Viator!_ On the road from Cape Ann Harbor to Sandy Bay, now Rockport, are

a solitary grave and a monument--the grave of one, who chanced there to

die. Our graveyards are usually on the roadside. Sometimes a common

_cart-path_ is laid out, through an ancient burying-ground. Such is the

case in Uxbridge, in this Commonwealth. This is Vandalism. Sextons, who

have had long experience, are of opinion, that the rights of the living

and the decencies of life are less apt to be maintained, wherever the

ashes of the dead are treated with disrespect. Burying, by the road-side,

has been said to have been adopted, for the purpose of inspiring

travellers with thoughts of mortality--travellers in railway cars,

perhaps! The first time I visited St. Peter's, in Philadelphia, I was much

impressed with the tablets and their inscriptions, lying level with the

floor of the church, and vertical, I supposed, to the relics below--but I

soon became familiar, and forgetful.

Every family, among the Greeks, who could afford it, had its own proper

burying-ground--as is the case, at the present day, in our own country,

among the planters and others, living far apart from any common point.

This might be well enough, where the feudal system prevailed, and estates,

by the law of descent, continued long in families. If the old usage were

now in vogue, in New York, for instance, what a carting about of family

urns there would be, on May day! Estates will pass from man to man, and

strangers become the custodiers of the dead friends and relatives of the

alienors. It is not unusual to find, on such occasions, a special clause,

in the conveyance, for their protection, and for the perpetual _tabooing_

of the place of sepulture. The first graves of the Greeks were mere

caverns or holes; but, in later times, they were capacious rooms, vaulted

and paved--so large, indeed, that in some instances, the mourners

assembled and remained in them, for days and nights together. Monuments of

some sort were of very early date; so were inscriptions, containing the

names, ages, virtues, and actions of the deceased, and the emblems of

their calling. Diogenes had the figure of a snarling cur engraved upon his

tablet. Lycurgus put an end to what he called "talkative gravestones." He

even forbade the inscription of the names, unless of men who died in

battle, or women in childbed.

Extravagance was, at one time, so notorious, in these matters, that Leon

forbade the erection of any mausoleum, which could not be erected by ten

men, in three days.

In Greece and Rome, panegyrics were often pronounced at the grave. Games

were sometimes instituted in honor of the eminent dead. Homer tells us

that Agamemnon's ghost and the ghost of Achilles had a long talk upon this

subject, telling over the number they had attended. After the funeral was

over, the company met at the house of some near relative, to divert their

sorrow; and, notwithstanding the abstemiousness of the Lacedemonians, they

had, I am compelled to believe, what is commonly called a good time. The

word, used to designate this kind of gathering, _perideipnon_, indicates

a very social meeting--Cicero translates this word _circumpotatio_.

Embalming was most in use with the Egyptians, and the process is described

by Herodotus and Diodorus. The brain was drawn through the nostrils with

an iron scoop, and the void filled with spices. The entrails were removed,

and the abdomen filled with myrrh and cassia. The body was next pickled in

nitre, for seventy days, and then enveloped in bandages of fine linen and

gums. Among the repositories of the curious, are bodies embalmed some

thousands of years ago. According to Herodotus, the place for the first

incision having been indicated, by the priest, the operator was looked

upon, with as much disgust, as we exhibit towards the common

hangman,--for, no sooner had he hastily made the incision, than he fled

from the house, and was immediately attacked with stones, by the

bystanders, as one, who had violated the dead. Rather an undesirable

office. After being embalmed, the body was placed in a box of sycamore

wood, carved to resemble the human form.

The story of Diogenes, who desired to be buried face downward, reminds me

of one, related by old Grossman, as we were coming, many years ago, from

the funeral of an old lady, who had been a terrible termagant. She

resembled, old Grossman said, a perfect fury of a woman, whose husband

insisted upon burying her, face downward; and, being asked the reason, for

this strange procedure, replied--"the more she scratches the deeper she

goes."

No. V.

Nil de mortuis nisi bonum. You will wonder where I got my Latin. If my

profession consisted of nothing but digging and filling up--dust to dust,

and ashes to ashes--I would not give a fig for it. To a sexton of any

sentiment it is a very different affair. I have sometimes doubted, if it

might not be ranked among the fine arts. To be sure, it is rather a

melancholy craft; and for this very reason I have tried to solace myself,

with the literary part of it. There is a great amount, of curious and

interesting reading upon these marble pages, which the finger of time is

ever turning over. I soon found, that a large part of it was in the Latin

tongue, and I resolved to master so much of it, as impeded my progress. I

have found, that many superb things are said of the defunct, in Latin,

which no person, however partial, would venture to say, in plain English.

The Latin proverb, at the head of this article, I saw, on the gravestone

of a poor fellow, who was killed, by a sort of devil incarnate, in the

shape of a rumseller, though some persons thought he was worried to death,

by moral suasion. _Nothing of the dead but what is good_: Well, I very

much doubt the wisdom of this rule. The Egyptians doubted it; and their

kings were kept in order, through a fear of the sentence to be passed upon

their character and conduct, by an assembly of notables, summoned

immediately after their decease. Montaigne says it is an excellent custom,

and to be desired by all good princes, who have reason to be offended,

that the memories of the wicked should be treated with the same respect,

as their own.

In England and our own Commonwealth, we have, legislatively, repudiated

this rule, in one instance, at least, until within a few years. I refer to

the case of suicide. Instead of considering the account balanced by death,

and treating the defunct with particular tenderness, because he was dead,

the sheriff was ordered to bury the body of every person, _felo de se_, at

the central point where four roads met, and to run a stake through his

body. This, to say nothing of its cheating our brotherhood out of burial

fees, seems a very awkward proceeding.

There is a pleasant tale, related of Sheriff Bradford, which I may repeat,

without marring the course of these remarks. Mr. Bradford was the politest

sheriff, that we ever had in Suffolk, not excepting Sheriff Sumner.

Sheriff Bradford was a real gentleman, dyed in the wool. It did one's

heart good to see him serve an attachment, or levy an execution. Instead

of knocking one down, and arresting him afterwards, Mr. Bradford made a

pleasant affair of it. It actually seemed, as if he employed a sort of

official ether, which took away the pain--he used, while placing his

bailiff in a lady's drawing-room, to bow and smile, so respectfully and

sympathizingly; and, in a sotto voice, to talk so very clerically, of the

instability of human affairs.

An individual, within the sheriff's precinct, cut his own throat. An

officious neighbor, who was rather curious to see the stake part

performed, brought tidings to Mr. Bradford, while at breakfast. The

informant ventured to inquire, at what time the performances would

commence. At five o'clock precisely, this afternoon, the sheriff replied.

He instantly dispatched a deputy to the son of the defunct, with a note,

full of the most respectful expressions of condolence, and informing him,

that the law required the sheriff to run a stake through his father's

body, _if to be found within his precinct_, and adding that he should call

with the stake, at 5 P. M. The body was, of course, speedily removed, and

_non est inventus_ was the end of the whole matter. Civilization

advanced--several of the upper ten thousand cut their throats, or blew

their brains out; and it would have been troublesome to carry out the

provisions of the law, and cost something for stakes. The law was

repealed.

Some sort of ignominious sepulture, for self-murderers, was in vogue, long

ago. Plato speaks of it, de legibus lib. ix., p. 660. The attempt to

shelter mankind from deserved reproach, by putting complimentary epitaphs

upon their gravestones, is very foolish. It commonly produces an opposite

effect. One would think these names were intended as a hint, for the

Devil, when he comes for his own--a sort of _passover_.

I am inclined to think, if a grand inquest of any county were employed, to

discover the last resting places of their neighbors and fellow-citizens,

having no other guide, but their respective epitaphs, the names and dates

having been previously removed or covered up, that inquest would be very

much at a loss, in the midst of such exalted virtues, and supereminent

talents, and extraordinary charities, and unbroken friendships, and great

public services.

Some inscriptions are, perhaps, too simple. In the burying-ground at the

corner of Arch and Sixth streets, Philadelphia, and very near that corner,

lies a large flat slab, with these words:

"Benjamin and Deborah Franklin,

1790."

In Exeter, N. H., I once read an epitaph in the graveyard, near the

Railroad Depot, in these words:

"Henry's grave."

Pope's epitaph, in the garden of Lord Cobham, at Stow, on his Lordship's

Italian friend, was, doubtless, well-deserved, though savoring of

panegyric:

To the memory

of

SIGNOR FIDO,

an Italian of good extraction,

who came into England

not to bite us, like most of his countrymen,

but to gain an honest livelihood.

He hunted not after fame,

yet acquired it.

Regardless of the praise of his friends,

But most sensible of their love,

Though he lived among the great,

He neither learned nor flattered any vice.

He was no bigot,

Though he doubted not the 39 articles.

And, if to follow nature,

And to respect the laws of society

Be philosophy,

He was a perfect philosopher,

A faithful friend,

An agreeable companion,

A loving husband,

Distinguished by a numerous offspring,

All which he lived to see take good courses.

In his old age he retired

To the house of a clergyman, in the country,

Where he finished his earthly race,

And died an honor and an example to the whole species.

Reader

This stone is guiltless of flattery;

For he, to whom it is inscribed,

Was not a man

but a

GREYHOUND.

No. VI.

It could not have been particularly desirable to be the cook, or the

concubine, or the cup-bearer, or the master of the horse, or the

chamberlain, or the gentleman usher of a Scythian king, for Herodotus

tells us, book 4, page 280, that every one of these functionaries was

strangled, upon the body of the dead monarch.

Castellan, in his account of the Turkish Empire, says, that a dying Turk

is laid on his back, with his right side towards Mecca, and is thus

interred. A chafing-dish is placed in the chamber of death, and perfumes

burnt thereon. The Imam reads the thirty-sixth chapter of the Koran. When

death has closed the scene, a sabre is laid upon the abdomen, and the

next of kin ties up the jaw. The corpse is washed with camphor, wrapped in

a white sheet, and laid upon a bier.

The burial is brief and rapid. The body is never carried to the mosque.

Unlike the solemn pace of our own age and nation, four bearers, who are

frequently relieved, carry the defunct, almost on a run, to the place of

interment. Over the bier is thrown a pall; and, at the head, the turban of

the deceased. Women never attend. Mourning, as it is called, is never

worn. Christians are not permitted to be present, at the funeral of a

Mussulman.

It is not lawful to walk over, or sit upon, a grave. A post mortem

examination is never allowed, unless the deceased is so near confinement,

that there may be danger of burying the living with the dead. The corpse

is laid naked in the ground. The Imam kneels in prayer, and calls the name

of the deceased, and the name of his mother, thrice. The cemeteries of the

Turks are without the city, and thickly planted with trees, chiefly

cypress and evergreens. Near Constantinople there are several

cemeteries--the most extensive are at Scutari, on the Asiatic side of the

Bosphorus. There, as here, marble columns designate the graves of the

eminent and wealthy, but are surmounted with sculptured turbans. The

inscriptions are brief and simple. This is quite common: "_This world is

transient and perishable--today mine--tomorrow thine_."

The funeral ceremonies of the Hindoos are minute, trivial, and ridiculous,

in the extreme. A curious account may be found, in the Asiatic Researches,

vol. 7, page 264. Formal, or nominal obsequies are performed, says Mr.

Colebrooke, not less than ninety-six times, in every year, among the

Hindoos.

We do, for the dead, that, which we would have done for ourselves. The

desire of making a respectable corpse is quite universal. It has been so,

from the days of Greece and Rome, to the present. Such was the sentiment,

which caused the Romans to veil those, whose features were distorted in

death, as in the case of Scipio Africanus: such obsequies were called

_larvata funera_. Such has ever been the feeling, among the civilized and

the savage. Such was the opinion of Pope's Narcissa, when she exclaimed--

One need not sure be ugly, though one's dead;

And Betty, give this cheek a little red.

The Roman female corpses were painted. So are the corpses of the

inhabitants of the Polynesian Islands, and of New Zealand. When a New

Zealand chieftain dies, says Mr. Polack, the relatives and friends cut

themselves with muscle shells, and let blood profusely, because they

believe that ghosts, and especially royal ghosts, are exceedingly partial

to this beverage. The body is laid out by the priests. The head is adorned

with the most valued feathers of the albatross. The hair is anointed with

shark oil, and tied, at the crown, with a riband of _tapa_. The lobes of

the ears are ornamented with bunches of white, down, from the sea-fowl's

breast, and the cheeks are embellished with red ochre. The brow is

encircled with a garland of pink and white flowers of the _kaikatoa_.

Mats, wove of the silken flax, are thrown around the body, which is placed

upright. Skulls of enemies, slain in battle, are ranged at its feet. The

relics of ancestors, dug up for the occasion, are placed on platforms at

its head. A number of slaves are slaughtered, to keep the chieftain

company. His wives and concubines hang and drown themselves, that they

also may be of the party. The body lies in state, three or four days. The

priests flourish round it, with wisps of flax, to keep off the devil and

all his angels. The _pihe_, or funeral song, is then chanted, which I take

to be the Old Hundred of the New Zealanders, very much resembling the

_noenia_, or funereal songs of the Romans. At last, the body is buried,

with the favorite mats, muskets, trinkets, &c., of the deceased.

The Mandans, of the Upper Missouri, never inhume or bury their dead, but

place their bodies, according to Mr. Catlin, on light scaffolds, out of

the reach of the wolves and foxes. There they decay. This place of deposit

is without the village. When a Mandan dies, he is painted, oiled, feasted,

supplied with bow, arrows, shield, pipe and tobacco, knife, flint, steel,

and food, for a few days, and wrapped tightly, in a raw buffalo hide. The

corpse is then placed upon the scaffold, with its feet to the rising sun.

An additional piece of scarlet cloth is thrown over the remains of a chief

or medicine man. This cemetery is called, by the Mandans, the village of

the dead. Here the Mandans, especially the women, give daily evidence of

their parental, filial, and conjugal devotion. When the scaffold falls,

and the bones have generally decayed, the skulls are placed in circles,

facing inwards. The women, says Mr. Catlin, are able to recognize the

skulls of their respective husbands, by some particular mark; and daily

visit them with the best cooked dishes from their wigwams. What a lesson

of constancy is here! It is a pity, that so much good victuals should be

wasted; but what an example is this, for the imitation of Christian

widows, too many of whom, it is feared, resemble Goldsmith's widow with

the great fan, who, by the laws of her country, was forbidden to marry

again, till the grave of her husband was thoroughly dry; and who was

engaged, day and night, in fanning the clods. Some thirty years ago, my

business led me frequently to pass a stonecutter's door, a few miles from

the city; and, in a very conspicuous position, I noticed a gravestone,

sacred to the memory of the most affectionate husband, erected by his

devoted and inconsolable widow. It continued thus, before the

stonecutter's shop, for several years. I asked the reason. "Why," said the

stonecutter, "the inconsolable got married, in four months after, and I

have never got my pay. They pass this way, now and then, the inconsolable

and her new husband, and, when I see them, I always run out, and brush the

dust off."

No. VII.

I told that anecdote of the inconsolable widow, related in my last, to old

Grossman. He and Smith were helping me at a grave, in the Granary ground.

Bless my heart, how things have changed! We were digging near the Park

Street side--the old Almshouse fronted on Park Street then--and the

Granary stood where Park Street Church now stands, until 1809, and the

long building, called the Massachusetts Bank, covered a part of Hamilton

Place, and the house, once occupied by Sir Francis Barnard and afterwards

by Mr. Andrews, with its fine garden, stood at the corner of Winter

Street, on the site of the present granite block; and--but I am burying

myself, sexton like, in the grave of my own recollections--I say, I told

Grossman that story--the old man, when not translated by liquor, was

delightful company, in a graveyard--we were digging the grave of a young

widow's third husband. Grossman said she poisoned them. Smith was quite

shocked, and told him Mr. Deblois was looking over the Almshouse wall.

Grossman said he didn't mean, that she really gave all three of them

ratsbane; but it was clear enough, she was the end of them all; and he had

no doubt the widow would be a good customer, and give us two or three jobs

yet, before she left off. This led me to tell that story. Smith said there

was nothing half so restless, as an Irish widow. He said, that a young

Tipperary widow, Nelly McPhee, I think he called her, was courted, and

actually had an offer from Tooley O'Shane, on the way to her husband's

funeral. "She accepted, of course," said Grossman. "No, she didn't," said

Smith--"Tooley, dear," said she, "y'are too late: foor waaks ago it was, I

shook hands wi Patty Sweeney upon it, that I would have him, in a dacent

time, arter poor McPhee went anunderbood." "Well," said Grossman, "widows

of all nations are much alike. There was a Dutch woman, whose husband,

Diedrick Van Pronk, kicked the bucket, and left her inconsolable. He was

buried on Copp's Hill. Folks said grief would kill that widow. She had a

figure of wood carved, that looked very like her late husband, and placed

it in her bed, and constantly kept it there, for several months.

In about half a year, she became interested in a young shoemaker, who got

the length of her foot, and finally married her. He had visited the widow,

not more than a fortnight, when the servants told her they were out of

kindling stuff, and asked what should be done. After a pause, the widow

replied, in a very quiet way--"Maype it ish vell enough now, to sphlit up

old Van Pronk, vat ish up shtair."

Some persons have busied themselves, in a singular way, about their own

obsequies, and have left strange provisions, touching their remains.

Charles V., according to Robertson and other writers, ordered a rehearsal

of his own obsequies--his domestics marched with black tapers--Charles

followed in his shroud--he was laid in his coffin--the service for the

dead was chanted. This farce was, in a few days, followed by the real

tragedy; for the fatigue or exposure brought on fever, which terminated

fatally. Yet this story, which has long been believed, is distinctly

denied, by Mr. Richard Ford, in his admirable handbook for Spain; and this

denial is repeated, in No. 151 of the London Quarterly Review.

Several gentlemen, of the fancy, of the present age, and in this vicinity,

have provided their coffins, in their life time. The late Timothy Dexter,

commonly called Lord Dexter, of Newburyport; there was also an eminent

merchant, of this city. This is truly a Blue Beard business; and, beyond

its influence, in frightening children and domestics, it is difficult to

imagine the utility of such an arrangement. After a few visitations, these

coffins would probably excite just about as much of the _memento mori_

sensation, as the same number of meal chests.

Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, states that John Zisca, the general

of the Hussites, ordered a drum to be made of his skin, after he was dead,

persuaded, that the sound of it would terrify his foes.

When Edward I., of England, was dying, he bound his son, by an oath, to

boil his body, and, separating the bones, to carry them always before him

in battle, against the Scots; as though he believed victory to be chained

to his joints.

The bodies of persons, executed for crime, have, in different ages, and

among different nations, been delivered to surgeons, for dissection. It

seems meet and right, that those, who have been worse than useless, in

their lives, should contribute, in some small degree, to the common weal,

by such an appropriation of their carcasses. In some cases, these

miserable creatures have been permitted to make their own bargains, with

particular surgeons, beforehand; who have, occasionally, been taken in, by

paying a guinea to an unscrupulous fellow, who knew, though the surgeons

did not, that he was sentenced to be hung in chains, or, as it is commonly

called, gibbeted. The difficulty of obtaining subjects, for anatomical

purposes, has led to outrages upon the dead. Various remedies have been

proposed--none effectual. Surgical students, will not be deterred, by the

"Requiescat in pace," and the judges, between the demands of science and

of sympathy, have been in the predicament of asses, between two bundles of

straw. A poor vagabond, _nullius filius vel ignoti_, was snatched, by some

of these young medical dogs, some years ago, and Judge Parsons, who tried

the indictment, with a leaning to science, imposed a fine of five dollars.

Not many years after, a worthy judge, a reverencer of Parsons, and a

devotee to precedent, imposed a fine of five dollars, upon a young sloven,

who but half completed his job, and left a respectable citizen of Maine,

half drawn out from his grave, with a rope about his neck.

It seems scarcely conceivable, that a pittance should tempt a man to take

his fellow's life, that he might sell the body to a surgeon. In 1809,

Burke was executed in Edinburgh, for this species of murder. It was his

trade. Victims were lured, by this vampyre, to "the chambers of death,"

strangled or suffocated, without any visible mark of murder, and then sold

to the surgeons.

This trade has been attempted in London, at a much later day. Dec. 5,

1831, a wretch, named Bishop, and his accomplice, Williams, were hung, for

the murder of an Italian boy, Carlo Ferrari, poor and friendless, whose

body they sold to the surgeons. They confessed the murder of Ferrari and

several others, whose bodies were disposed of, in a similar manner.

From a desire to promote the cause of science, individuals have, now and

then, bequeathed their bodies to particular surgeons. These bequests have

been rarely insisted upon, by the legatees, and the intentions of the

testator have seldom been carried out, by the executors; a remarkable

exception, however, occurred, in the case of the celebrated Jeremy

Bentham, an account of which I must defer for the present, for funerals

are not the only things, which may be of unreasonable length.

No. VIII.

That eminent friend of science and of man, Jeremy Bentham, held the

prejudice against dissection, in profound contempt, and bequeathed his

body, for that object, to Dr. Fordyce, in 1769. Dr. Fordyce died, in 1792,

and Mr. Bentham, who survived him, and seems to have set his heart upon

being dissected, aware of the difficulties, that might obstruct his

purpose, chose three friends, from whom he exacted a solemn promise, to

fulfil his wishes. Accordingly, Mr. Bentham's body was carried to the Webb

Street School of Anatomy and Surgery, and publicly dissected, June 9,

1832, by Dr. Southwood Smith, who delivered an admirable lecture, upon

that occasion. I wholly object to such a practice, not, upon my honor,

from selfish motives, though it would spoil our business; but because the

moral injury, which would result, from such a disposition of mortal

remains, would be so much greater, than the surgical good. Mr. Bentham's

example is not likely to be commonly adopted.

A great amount of needless care is sometimes taken, by the living, in

regard to their relics, and their obsequies, which care belongs,

manifestly, to survivors. Akin to the preparation of one's coffin, and

storing it in one's domicil, for years perhaps, is the preparation of

one's shroud, and death cap, and all the et caetera of laying out. In

ninety and nine cases, in every one hundred, these things are done, for

the gratification of personal vanity, to attract attention, and to procure

a small sample of that lamentation, which the desolate widower and orphans

will pour forth, _one of these days_. It is observed, by one of the

daughters, that the mother is engaged in some mysterious piece of needle

work. "What is it, dear mother?" "Ah, my child, you should not inquire. We

all must die--it is your poor mother's winding sheet." The daughter is

convulsed, and pours forth a profluvium of tears. The judicious parent

soothes, and moralizes, and is delighted. The daughter flies to her

sisters; and, gathering in some private chamber, their tears are poured

forth, as the fact is announced. The husband returns--the eyes of his

household are like beet roots. They gather round their miserable meal. The

husband has been informed. The sweet-breads go down, untasted. How

grateful these evidences of sympathy to the wife and mother! A case

occurred in my practice, of this very description, where the lady

survived, married again, and the shroud, sallowed by thirty years' _non

user_, was given, in an hour of need, to a poor family.

Montaigne, vol. 1, page 17, Lond., 1811, says, "I was by no means pleased

with a story, told me of a relation of mine, that, being arrived at a very

old age and tormented with the stone, he spent the last hours of his life

in an extraordinary solicitude, about ordering the pomp and ceremony of

his funeral, pressing all the men of condition, who came to see him, to

promise their attendance at his grave."

Sophia Charlotte, the sister of George I., of England, a woman of

excellent understanding, was the wife of Frederic I. of Prussia. When

dying, one of her attendants observed how sadly the king would be

afflicted by her death. "With respect to him," she replied, "I am

perfectly at ease. His mind will be completely occupied in arranging the

ceremonial of my funeral; and, if nothing goes wrong in the procession, he

will be quite consoled for my loss."

Man goeth to his long home, as of yore, but the mourners do not go about

the streets, as they did, when I was young. The afternoons were given to

the tolling of bells, and funeral processions. This was about the period,

when the citizens began to feel their privations, as cow-yards grew

scarce; and, when our old friend, Ben Russell, told the public, in his

Centinel, that it was no wonder they were abominably crowded, and pinched

for gardens, for Boston actually contained seventeen thousand inhabitants.

I have seen a funeral procession, of great length, going south, by the Old

South Church, passing another, of equal length, going north, and delaying

the progress of a third, coming down School Street. The dead were not left

to bury the dead, in those days. Invitations to funerals were sent round,

as they are at present, to balls and parties. Othello Pollard and Domingo

Williams had full employment then. I have heard it stated of Othello,

that, having in hand two bundles of invitations, one for a fandango, of

some sort, and the other for a funeral, and being in an evil condition, he

made sad work in the delivery. Printed invitations are quite common, in

some countries.

I have seen one, in handbill form, for the funeral of a Madame Barbut, an

old widow, in Martinique, closing with these words, "_un de profundis, si

vous_," etc. Roman funerals were distinguished as _indictiva_ and

_tacita_: to the former, persons were invited, by a crier; the others were

private. The calling out, according to a prearranged list, which always

gave offence to somebody, was of old the common practice here. Such was

the usage in Rome, where the director was styled _dominus funeris_ or

_designator_. I doubt, if martinets are more tenacious of their rank, in

the army, than mourners, at a funeral.

There was a practice, in Rome, which would appear very grotesque, at the

present time. Pipers, _tibicines_, preceded the corpse, with players and

buffoons, who danced and sang, some of whom imitated the voice, manner and

gestures of the defunct. Of these, Suetonius gives some account, in his

lives of Tiberius, Vespasian, and Caesar.

The practice of watching a corpse, until the time of burying or burning,

was very ancient, and in use with the Greeks and Romans. The bodies of

eminent men were borne to the grave, by the most distinguished citizens,

not acting merely as pall bearers, but sustaining the body on their

shoulders. Suetonius states, that Julius Caesar was borne by the

magistrates; Augustus by the senators. Tacitus, Ann. iii. 2, informs us,

that Germanicus was supported, on the shoulders of the tribunes and

centurions. Children, who died, before they were weaned, were carried to

the pile by their mothers. This must have been a painful office.

No. IX.

When I first undertook, there was scarcely any variety, either in the

inscriptions, or devices, upon gravestones: death's heads and crossbones;

scythes and hour glasses; angels, with rather a diabolical expression;

all-seeing eyes, with an ominous squint; squares and compasses; such were

the common devices; and every third or fourth tablet was inscribed:

Thou traveller that passest by,

As thou art now, so once was I;

As I am now, thou soon shalt be,

Prepare for death and follow me.

No wonder people were wearied to death, or within an inch of it, by

reading this lugubrious quatrain, for the hundredth time. We had not then

learned, from that vivacious people, who have neither taste nor talent for

being sad, to convert our graveyards into pleasure grounds.

To be sure, even in my early days, and long before, an audacious spirit,

now and then, would burst the bonds of this mortuary sameness, and take a

bolder flight. We have an example of this, on the tablet of the Rev.

Joseph Moody, in the graveyard at York, Maine.

Although this stone may moulder into dust,

Yet Joseph Moody's name continue must.

And another in Dorchester:

Here lies our Captain and Mayor of Suffolk,

Was withall,

A godly magistrate was he, and major general.

Two troops of hors with him here came, such

Worth his love did crave.

Ten companyes also mourning marcht

To his grave.

Let all that read be sure to keep the faith as

He has don;

With Christ he lives now crowned, his name

Was HUMPHREY ATHERTON,

He dyed the 16 of September, 1661.

The following, also, in the graveyard at Attleborough, upon the tablet of

the Rev. Peter Thacher, who died in 1785, is no common effort, and in the

style of Tate and Brady:

Whom Papists not

With superstitious fire,

Would dare to adore,

We justly may admire.

And another, in the same graveyard, upon the slave, Caesar, is very clever.

The two last lines seem by another hand:

Here lies the best of slaves,

Now turning into dust,

Caesar, the Ethiopian, craves

A place, among the just.

His faithful soul is fled

To realms of Heavenly light,

And by the blood that Jesus shed,

Is changed from black to white.

January 15, he quitted the stage,

In the 77 year of his age.

An erratum, ever to be regretted, is certainly quite unexpected, on a

gravestone. In the graveyard at Norfolk, Va., there is a handsome marble

monument, sacred to the memory of Mrs. Margaret, &c., wife of, &c., who

died, &c.: "_Erratum, for Margaret read Martha_."

In olden time, there was a provost of bonny Dundee, and his name was

Dickson. He was a right jolly provost, and seemed resolved to have one

good joke beyond the grave. He bequeathed ten pounds, apiece, to three

men, remarkable above their fellows, for avarice, and dulness, on

condition, that they should join in the composition of his epitaph, in

rhyme and metre. They met--the task was terrible--but, Dr. Johnson would

have said, what will not a Scotchman undertake, for ten pounds! It need

not be long, said one--a line apiece, said the second--shall I begin? said

the third. This was objected to, of course; for whoever commenced was

relieved from the onus of the rhyme. They drew lots for this vantage

ground, and he, who won, after a copious perspiration, produced the

following line--

Here lies Dickson, Provost of Dundee.

This was very much admired--brief and sententious--his name, his official

station, his death, and the place of his burial were happily compressed

in a single line. After severe exertion, the second line was produced:

Here lies Dickson, here lies he.

It was objected, that this was tautological; and that it did not even go

so far as the first, which set forth the official character of the

deceased. It was said, in reply, by one of the executors, who happened to

be present, and who acted as _amicus poetae_, that the second line would

have been tautological, if it _had_ set forth the official station, which

it did not; and that as there had once been a female provost, the last

word effectually established the sex of Dickson, which was very important.

The third legatee, though he had leave of absence for an hour, and

refreshed his spirit, by a ramble on the Frith of Tay, was utterly unable

to complete the epitaph. At an adjourned meeting, however, he produced the

following line,

Hallelujah! Hallelujee!

There are some beautiful epitaphs in our language--there are half a dozen,

perhaps, which are exquisitely so, and I believe there are not many more.

I dare not present them here, in juxtaposition with such light matter.

Swift's clever epitaph, on a miser, may more appropriately close this

article:

Beneath this verdant hillock lies

Demer, the wealthy and the wise.

His heirs, that he might safely rest,

Have put his carcass in a chest--

The very chest, in which, they say,

His other self, his money, lay.

And if his heirs continue kind

To that dear self he left behind,

I dare believe that four in five

Will think his better half alive.

No. X.

Catacombs, hollows or cavities, according to the etymological import of

the word, are, as every one knows, receptacles for the dead. They are

found in many countries; the most ancient are those of Egypt and Thebes,

which were visited in 1813 and 1818, by Belzoni. Psamatticus was a famous

fellow, in his time: he was the founder of the kingdom of Egypt; and,

after a siege of nearly three times the length of that at Troy, he

captured the city of Azotus. The flight of the house of our lady of

Loretto from Jerusalem, in a single night, would have seemed less

miraculous to the Egyptians, than the transportation of the sarcophagus of

Psamatticus, by a travelling gentleman, from Egypt to London. So it fell

out, nevertheless. Belzoni penetrated into one of the pyramids of Ghizeh;

he obtained free access to the tombs of the Egyptian kings, at

Beban-el-Malook; and brought to England the sarcophagus of Psamatticus,

exquisitely wrought of the finest Oriental alabaster. Verily kings have a

slender chance, between the worms and the lovers of _vertu_. "Here lie the

remains of G. Belzoni"--these brief words mark the grave of Belzoni

himself, at Gato, near Benin in Africa, where he died, in December, 1823,

safer in his traveller's robes, than if surrounded with aught to tempt the

hand of avarice or curiosity. The best account of the Egyptian catacombs

may be found in Belzoni's narrative, published in 1820.

The catacombs of Italy are vast caverns, in the via Appia, about three

miles from Rome. They were supposed to be the sepulchres of martyrs, and

have furnished more capital to priestcraft, for the traffic in relics,

than would have accrued, for the purposes of agriculture, to the fortunate

discoverer of a whole island of guano. The common opinion is, that they

were heathen sepulchres--the _puticuli_ of the ancients. The catacombs of

Naples, according to Bishop Burnet, are more magnificent than those of

Rome. Catacombs have been found in Syracuse and Catanea, in Sicily, and in

Malta.

Jahn, in his Archaeologia, sec. 206, speaks of extensive sepulchres, among

the Hebrews, otherwise called the _everlasting houses_; a term of peculiar

inapplicability, if we may judge from Maundrell's account of the shattered

and untenantable state, in which they are found. They are all located

beyond the cities and villages, to which they belong, that is, beyond

their more inhabited parts. The sepulchres of the Hebrew kings were upon

Mount Zion. Extensive caverns, natural or artificial, were the common

burying-places or catacombs. Gardens and the shade of spreading trees were

preferred, by some; these are objectionable, on the ground, suggested in a

former number: to alienate the estate and leave the dead, without the

right of removal, reserved, is, virtually, a transfer of one's

ancestors--and to remove them may be unpleasant. For this contingency the

Greeks and Romans provided, by reducing them to such a portable compass,

that a man might carry his grandfather in a quart bottle, and ten

generations, in the right line, in a wheelbarrow. Numerous catacombs are

to be found in Syria and Palestine. The most beautiful are on the north

part of Jerusalem. The entrance into these was down many steps. Some of

them consisted of seven apartments, with niches in the walls, for the

reception of the dead.

Maundrell, in his travels, page 76, writing of the "grots," as they were

styled, which have been considered the sepulchres of kings, denies that

any of the kings of Israel or Judah were buried there. He describes these

catacombs, as having necessarily cost an immense amount of money and

labor. The approach is through the solid rock, into an area forty paces

wide, cut down square, with exquisite precision, out of the solid mass. On

the south is a portico, nine paces long, and four broad, also cut from the

solid rock. This has an architrave, sculptured in the stone, of fruits and

flowers, running along its front. At the end of the portico, on the left,

you descend into the passage to the sepulchres. After creeping through

stones and rubbish, Maundrell arrived at a large room, seven or eight

yards square, cut also from the natural rock. His words are these:--"Its

sides and ceiling are so exactly square, and its angles so just, that no

architect, with levels and plummets, could build a room more regular."

From this room you pass into six more, of the same fabric; the two

innermost being deepest. All these apartments, excepting the first, are

filled around with stone coffins. They had been covered with handsome

lids, and carved with garlands; but, at the period of this visit, the

covers were mostly broken to pieces, by sacrilegious hands. Here is a

specimen of the "everlasting houses," and a solemn satire upon the best of

all human efforts--impotent and vain--to perpetuate that, which God

Almighty has destined to perish. But of this I shall have more to say,

when I come to sum up; and endeavor, from these dry bones, to extract such

wisdom as I can, touching the best mode, in which the living may dispose

of the dead, whose _memories_ they are bound to embalm, and whose _bodies_

are entitled to a decent burial.

The catacombs of the Hottentots are the wildest clefts and caverns of

their mountains. The Greenlanders, after wrapping the dead, in the skins

of wild animals, bear them to some far distant Golgotha. In Siberia and

Kamtschatka, they are deposited in remote caverns, with mantles of snow,

for their winding sheets. It is the valued privilege of the civilized and

refined to snuff up corruption, and swear it is a rose--to bury their

dead, in the very midst of the living--in the very tenements, in which

they breathe, the larger part of every seventh day--in the vaults of

churches, into which the mourners are expected to descend, and poke their

noses into the tombs, to prove the full measure of their respect for the

defunct. But the tombs are faithfully sealed; and, when again opened,

after several months, perhaps, the olfactory nerves are not absolutely

staggered--possibly a dull smeller may honestly aver, that he perceives

nothing--what then? The work of corruption has gone forward--the gases

have escaped--how and whither? Subtle as the lightning, they have

percolated, through the meshes of brick and mortar; and the passages or

gashes, purposely left open in the walls, have given them free egress to

the outward air.

Very probably neither the eye nor the nose gave notice of their escape.

Doubtless, it was gradual. The yellow fever, I believe, has never been

seen nor smelt, during its most terrible ravages. I do remember--not an

apothecary--but a greenhorn, who, in 1795, heard old Dr. Lloyd say the

yellow fever was in the air, and who went upon the house top, next morning

early, to look for it--but he saw it not; and, ever after, said he did not

think much of Dr. Lloyd. I have something more to say of burials under

churches, and in the midst of a dense population.

No. XI.

A few more words on the subject of burying the dead under churches, and in

the midst of a dense population. If men would adopt the language of the

prologue to Addison's Cato--"_dare to have sense yourselves_"--the folly

and madness of this practice would be sufficiently apparent. Upon some

simple subjects, one grain of common sense is better, than any quantity of

the uncommon kind. But it is hard to make men think so. They prefer

walking by faith--they must consult the savans--the doctors. Now I think

very well of a good, old-fashioned doctor--one doctor I mean--but, when

they get to be gregarious, my observation tells me, no good can possibly

come of it. At post mortems, and upon other occasions, I have, in my

vocation, seen them assembled, by half dozens and dozens, and I have come

to the conclusion, that no body of men ever look half so wise, or feel

half so foolish.

Some of the faculty were consulted, in this city, about thirty years ago,

upon the question of burying under churches; and, on the strength of the

opinion given, a large church, not then finished, was provided with tombs,

and the dead have been buried therein, ever since. Now I think the public

good would have been advanced, had those doctors set their faces against

the selfish proposition. That it is a nuisance, I entertain not the

slightest doubt. The practice of burying in their own houses, among the

ancients, gave place to burying without the city, or to cremation. The

unhealthiness, consequent upon such congregations of the dead, was

experienced at Rome. The inconvenience was so severely felt, in a certain

quarter, that Augustus gave a large part of one of the cemeteries to

Maecenas, who so completely purified it, and changed its character, that it

became one of the healthiest sites in Rome, and there he built a splendid

villa, to which Augustus frequently resorted, for fresh air and repose.

Horace alludes to this transformation, Sat. 8, lib. 1, v. 10, and the

passage reminds one of the change, which occurred in Philadelphia, when

the Potter's field was beautifully planted, and transformed into

Washington Square.

Hoc miserae plebi stabat commune sepulchrum,

Pantolabo scurrae; Nomentanoque nepoti.

Mille pedes in fronte, trecentos cippus in agrum

Hic dabat, heredes monumentum ne sequeretur.

Nunc licet Esquiliis habitare salubribus, atque

Aggere in apprico spatiari, qua modo tristes

Albis informem spectabant ossibus agrum.

Millingen, in his work on Medical jurisprudence, page 54, remarks--"From

time immemorial medical men have pointed out to municipal authorities the

dangers, that arise from burying the dead, within the precincts of cities,

or populous towns."

The early Christians buried their martyrs, and afterwards eminent

citizens, in their temples. Theodosius, in his celebrated code, forbade

the practice, because of the infectious diseases.

Theodolphus, the Bishop of Orleans, complained to Charlemagne, that vanity

and the love of lucre had turned churches into charnel houses, disgraceful

to the church, and dangerous to man.

Cuthbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, first sanctioned the use of churches,

for charnel houses, in 758--though Augustine had previously forbidden the

practice. As Sterne said, in another connection, "they manage these

matters much better, in France;" there Maret, in 1773, and Vicq d'Azyr, in

1778, pointed out the terrible consequences, so effectually, that none,

but dignitaries, were suffered to be buried in churches. In 1804,

inhumation, in the cities of France, was wholly forbidden, without any

exception. The arguments produced, at that time, are not uninteresting, at

this, or any other. In Saulien, about 140 miles from Paris, in the year

1773, the corpse of a corpulent person was buried, March 3, under the

church of St Saturnin. April 20, following, a woman was buried near it.

Both had died of a prevailing fever, which had nearly passed away. At the

last interment a foul odor filled the church, and out of 170 persons

present, 149 were attacked with the disease. In 1774 at Nantes, several

coffins were removed, to make room for a person of note; and fifteen of

the bystanders died of the emanation, shortly after. In the same year, one

third of the inhabitants of Lectouse died of malignant fever, which

appeared, immediately after the removal of the dead from a burial-ground,

to give place to a public structure.

The public mind is getting to be deeply impressed, upon this subject.

Cities, and the larger towns are, in many instances, building homes for

the dead, beyond the busy haunts of the living. The city of London has,

until within a few years, been backward, in this sanatory movement. At

present, however, there are six public cemeteries, in the suburbs of that

city, of no inconsiderable area: the Kensall Green Cemetery, established

by act 2 and 3 of William IV., in 1832, containing 53 acres--the South

Metropolitan, by act 6 and 7 William IV., 1836, containing 40 acres--the

Highgate and Kentish Town, by act 7 and 8 William IV., containing 22

acres--the Abney Park, at Stoke Newington, containing 30 acres, 1840--the

Westminster, at Earlscourt, Kensington road, 1840--and the Nunhead,

containing 40 acres, 1840. Paris has its beautiful Pere La Chaise,

covering the site of the house and extensive grounds, once belonging to

the Jesuit of that name, the confessor of Louis XIV., who died in 1709.

New York has its Greenwood; Philadelphia its Laurel Hill; Albany its Rural

Cemetery; Baltimore its Green Mount; Rochester its Mount Hope; we our

Mount Auburn; and our neighboring city of Roxbury has already

selected--and well selected--a local habitation for the dead, and wants

nothing but a name, which will not long be wanting, nor a graceful

arrangement of the grounds, from the hands of one, to whom Mount Auburn is

indebted, for so much of all that is admirable there. I shall rejoice, if

the governors of this cemetery should decree, that no _tomb_ should ever

be erected therein--but that the dead should be laid in their _graves_.

My experience has supplied me with good and sufficient reasons--one

thousand and one--against the employment of tombs, some of which reasons I

may hereafter produce, though the honor of our craft may constrain me to

keep silence, in regard to others. Some very bitter family squabbles have

arisen, about tombs. Two deacons, who were half brothers, had a serious

and lasting dispute, respecting a family tomb. They became almost furious;

one of them solemnly protesting, that he would never consent to be buried

there, while he had his reason, and the other declaring, that he would

never be put into that tomb, while God spared his life. This, however, is

not one of those one thousand and one reasons, against tombs.

No. XII.

The origin of the catacombs of Paris is very interesting, and not known to

many. The stone, of which the ancient buildings of Paris were constructed,

was procured from quarries, on the banks of the river Bieore. No system

had been adopted in the excavation; and, for hundreds of years, the

material had been withdrawn, until the danger became manifest. There was a

vague impression, that these quarries extended under a large part of the

city. In 1774 the notice of the authorities was called to some accidents,

connected with the subject. The quarries were then carefully examined, by

skilful engineers; and the startling fact clearly established, that the

southern parts of Paris were actually undermined, and in danger of

destruction. In 1777 a special commission was appointed, to direct such

works, as might be necessary. On the very day of its appointment, the

necessity became manifest--a house, in the Rue d'Enfer, sunk ninety-two

feet. The alarm--the fear of a sudden engulphment--was terrible.

Operatives were set at work, to prop the streets, roads, palaces, and

churches. The supports, left by the quarriers, without any method or

judgment, were insufficient--in some instances, they had given way, and

the roof had settled. Great fear was felt for the aqueduct of Arcueil,

which supplied the fountains of Paris, and which passed over this ground,

for it had already suffered some severe shocks; and it was apprehended,

not simply that the fountains would be cut off, but that the torrent would

pour itself into these immense caverns. And now the reader will inquire,

what relation has this statement to the catacombs? Let us reply.

For hundreds of years, Paris had but one place of interment, the Cemetery

des Innocens. This was once a part of the royal domains; it lay without

the walls of Paris; and was given, by one of the earlier kings, to the

citizens, for a burying-place. It is well known, that this gift to the

people was intended to prevent the continuance of the practice, then

common in Paris, of burying the dead, in cellars, courts, gardens,

streets, and public fields, within the city proper. In 1186 this cemetery

was surrounded with a high wall, by Philip Augustus, the forty second king

of France. It was soon found insufficient for its purpose; and, in 1218,

it was enlarged, by Pierre de Nemours, Bishop of Paris. Generation after

generation was deposited there, stratum super stratum, until the

surrounding parishes, in the fifteenth century, began to complain of the

evil, as an insufferable nuisance. Such a colossal mass of putrescence

produced discomfort and disease. Hichnesse speaks of several holes about

Paris, of great size and depth, in which dead bodies were deposited, and

left uncovered, till one tier was filled, and then covered with a layer of

earth, and so on, to the top. He says these holes were cleared, once in

thirty or forty years, and the bones deposited, in what was called "_le

grand charnier des Innocens_;" this was an arched gallery, surrounding the

great cemetery.

With what affectionate respect we cherish the venerated name of Francois

Pontraci! _Magnum et venerabile nomen!_ He was the last--the last of the

grave-diggers of _le grand charnier des Innocens_! In the days of my

novitiate, I believed in the mathematical dictum, which teaches, that two

things cannot occupy the same place, at the same time. But that dictum

appears incredible, while contemplating the operations of Pontraci. He was

a most accomplished stevedore in his department--the Napoleon of the

charnel house, the very king of spades. All difficulties vanished, before

his magic power. Nothing roused his indignation so much, as the

suggestion, that a cemetery was _full_--_c'est impossible!_ was his

eternal reply. To use the terms of another of the fine arts, the touch of

Pontraci was irresistible--his _handling_ masterly--his _grouping_

unsurpassed--and his _fore-shortening_ altogether his own. _Condense!_

that word alone explained the mystery of his great success. Knapsacks are

often thrown aside, _en route_, in the execution of rapid movements. In

the grand march of death, Pontraci considered coffins an encumbrance.

Those wooden surtouts he thought well enough for parade, but worse than

useless, on a march. He had a poor opinion of an artist, who could not

find room, for twenty citizens, heads and heels, in one common grave.

Madame Pontraci now and then complained, that the fuel communicated a

problematical flavor to the meat, while roasting--"_c'est odeur, qui a

rapport a une profession particuliere, madame_," was the reply of

Pontraci. The register, kept by this eminent man, shows, that, in thirty

years, he had deposited, in this cemetery, ninety thousand bodies. It was

calculated, that twelve hundred thousand had been buried there, since the

time of Philip Augustus. In 1805, the Archbishop of Paris, under a resolve

of the Council of State, issued a decree, that the great cemetery should

be suppressed and evacuated. It was resolved to convert it into a market

place. The happy thought of converting the quarries into catacombs

fortunately occurred, at that period, to M. Lenoie, lieutenant general of

police. Thus a receptacle was, at once, provided for the immense mass of

human remains, to be removed from the Cemetery des Innocens. A portion of

the quarries, lying under the _Plaine de Mont Souris_, was assigned, for

this purpose. A house was purchased with the ground adjoining, on the old

road to Orleans. It had, at one time, belonged to Isouard, a robber, who

had infested that neighborhood. A flight of seventy-seven steps was made,

from the house down into the quarries; and a well sunk to the bottom, down

which the bones were to be thrown. Workmen were employed, in constructing

pillars to sustain the roof, and in walling round the part, designed for

_le charnier_. The catacombs were then consecrated, with all imaginable

pomp.

In the meantime, the vast work of removing the remains went forward, night

and day, suspended, only, when the hot weather rendered it unsafe to

proceed. The nocturnal scenes were very impressive. A strange

resurrection, to be sure! Bonfires burnt brightly amid the gloom. Torches

threw an unearthly glare around, and illuminated these dealings with the

dead. The operatives, moving about in silence, bearing broken crosses, and

coffins, and the bones of the long buried, resembled the agents of an

infernal master. All concerned had been publicly admonished, to reclaim

the crosses, tombstones, and monuments of their respective dead. Such, as

were not reclaimed, were placed in the field, belonging to the house of

Isouard. Many leaden coffins were buried there, one containing the remains

of Madame de Pompadour. During _the_ revolution, the house and grounds of

Isouard were sold as national domain, the coffins melted, and the

monuments destroyed. The catacombs received the dead from other

cemeteries; and those, who fell, in periods of commotion, were cast there.

When convents were suppressed, the dead, found therein, were transferred

to this vast omnibus.

During the revolution, the works were neglected--the soil fell in; water

found its way to the interior; the roof began to crumble; and the bones

lay, in immense heaps, mixed with the rubbish, and impeding the way. And

there, for the present, we shall leave them, intending to resume this

account of the catacombs of Paris, in a future number.

No. XIII.

In 1810, the disgusting confusion, in the catacombs of Paris, was so much

a subject of indignant remark, that orders were issued to put things in

better condition. A plan was adopted, for piling up the bones. In some

places, these bones were thirty yards in thickness; and it became

necessary to cut galleries through the masses, to effect the object

proposed.

There were two entrances to the catacombs--one near the barrier d'Enfer,

for visitors--the other, near the old road to Orleans, for the workmen.

The staircase consisted of ninety steps, which, after several windings,

conducted to the western gallery, from which others branched off, in

different directions. A long gallery, extending beneath the aqueduct of

Arcueil, leads to the gallery of Port Mahon, as it is called. About a

hundred yards from this gallery, the visitor comes again to the passage to

the catacombs; and, after walking one hundred yards further, he arrives at

the vestibule, which is of an octagonal form. This vestibule opens into a

long gallery, lined with bones, from top to bottom. The arm, leg, and

thigh bones are in front, compactly and regularly piled together. The

monotony of all this is tastefully relieved, by three rows of skulls, at

equal distances, and the smaller bones are stowed behind. How very French!

This gallery leads to other apartments, lined with bones, variously and

fancifully arranged. In these rooms are imitation vases and altars,

constructed of bones, and surmounted with skulls, fantastically arranged.

This really seems to be the work of some hybrid animal--a cross, perhaps,

between the Frenchman and the monkey.

These crypts, as they are called, are designated by names, strangely

dissimilar. There is the Crypte de Job, and the Crypte d'Anacreon--the

Crypte de La Fontaine, and the Crypte d'Ezekiel--the Crypte d'Hervey, and

the Crypte de Rousseau. An album, kept here, is filled with mawkish

sentimentality, impertinent witticism, religious fervor, and infidel

bravado.

The calculations vary, as to the number of bodies, whose bones are

collected here. At the lowest estimate, the catacombs are admitted to

contain the remains of three millions of human beings.

While contemplating the fantastical disposition of these human relics, one

recalls the words of Sir Thomas Browne, in his Hydriotaphia--"Antiquity

held too light thoughts from objects of mortality, while some drew

provocatives of mirth from anatomies, and jugglers showed tricks with

skeletons."

Here then, like "_broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show_," are the broken

skeletons of more than three millions of human beings, paraded for public

exhibition! Most of them, doubtless, received Christian burial, and were

followed to their graves, and interred, with more or less of the forms and

ceremonies of the Catholic church, and deposited in the earth, there to

repose in peace, till the resurrection! How applicable here the language

of the learned man, whom we just quoted--"When the funeral pyre was out,

and the last valediction over, men took a lasting adieu of their interred

friends, little expecting the curiosity of future ages should comment upon

their ashes; and having no old experience of the duration of their relics,

held no opinion of such after-considerations. But who knows the fate of

his bones, or how often he is to be buried! Who hath the oracle of his

ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?" How little did the gay and

guilty Jeane Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour, imagine this rude

handling of her mortal remains! She was buried in the Cemetery des

Innocens, in 1764--and shared the common exhumation and removal in 1805.

It seems to have been the desire of mankind, in every age and nation, to

repose in peace, after death. In conformity with this desire, the

cemeteries of civilized nations, the morais of the Polynesian isles, and

the cities of the dead, throughout the world, have been, from time

immemorial, consecrated and tabooed. So deep and profound has been the

sentiment of respect, for the feelings of individuals, upon this subject,

that great public improvements have been abandoned, rather than give

offence to a single citizen.

Near forty years ago, a meeting was held in Faneuil Hall, to consider a

proposition for some change, in the Granary burying-ground, which

proposition, was rejected, by acclamation. During the Mayoralty, of the

elder Mr. Quincy, it was the wish of very many to continue the mall,

through the burial-ground, in the Common. The consent of all, but two or

three, was obtained. They were offered new tombs, and the removal of their

deceased relatives, under their own supervision, at the charge of the

city. These two or three still objected, and this great public improvement

was abandoned; and with manifest propriety. The basis of this sentiment is

a deep laid and tender respect for the ashes of the dead, and an earnest

desire, that they may rest, undisturbed, till the resurrection; and this

is the very last thing, which is likely to befall the tenant of a TOMB;

for the owner--and tombs, like other tenements, will change owners--in the

common phraseology of leases, has a right to enter, "to view, and expel

the lessee"--if no survivor is at hand to prevent, and the new proprietor

has other tenants, whom he prefers for the dark and gloomy mansion. And

they, in process of time, shall be served, in a similar manner, by

another generation. This is no exception; it is the general rule, the

common course of dealing with the dead. A tomb, containing the remains of

several generations, may become, by marriage, the property of a stranger.

His wife dies. He marries anew. New connections beget new interests. The

tomb is _useless_, to him, because it is _full_. A general clearance is

decreed. A hole is dug in the bottom of the tomb; the coffins, with an

honorable exception, in respect to his late beloved, are broken to pieces;

and the remains cast into the pit, and covered up. The tablet, overhead,

perpetuates the lie--"Sacred to the memory," &c. However, the tomb is

white-washed, and swept out, and a nice place he has made of it! All this,

have I seen, again and again.

When a tomb is opened, for a new interment, dilapidated coffins are often

found lying about, and bones, mud, and water, on the bottom. We always

make the best of it, and stow matters away, as decently as we can. We are

often blamed for time's slovenly work. Grossman said, that a young

spendthrift, who really cared for nothing but his pleasures, was, upon

such an occasion, seized with a sudden fit of reverence for his great

grandfather, and threatened to shoot Grossman, unless he produced him,

immediately. He was finally pacified by a plain statement, and an

exhibition of the old gentleman's bones behind the other coffins. We could

not be looked upon, more suspiciously, by certain inconsiderate persons,

if we were the very worms that did the mischief. As a class, we are as

honorable as any other. There are bad men, in every calling. There is no

crime, in the decalogue, or out of it, which has not been committed, by

some apostle, in holy orders. Doctors and even apothecaries are,

occasionally, scoundrels. And, in a very old book, now entirely out of

print, I have read, that there was, in the olden time, a lawyer, _rara

avis_, who was suspected of not adhering, upon all occasions, to the

precise truth. Tombs are nuisances. I will tell you why.

No. XIV.

Tombs are obviously more liable to invasion, with and without assistance,

from the undertaker and his subalterns, than graves. There may be a few

exceptions, where the sexton does not cooperate. If a grave be dug, in a

suitable soil, of a proper depth, which is some feet lower than the usual

measure, the body will, in all probability, remain undisturbed, for ages,

and until corruption and the worm shall have done their work, upon flesh

and blood, and decomposition is complete. An intelligent sexton, who keeps

an accurate chart of his diggings, will eschew that spot. On the other

hand, every coffin is exposed to view, when a tomb is opened for a new

comer. On such occasions, we have, sometimes, full employment, in driving

away idlers, who gather to the spot, to gratify a sickly curiosity, or to

steal whatever may be available, however "sacred to the memory," &c. The

tomb is left open, for many hours, and, not unfrequently, over night, the

mouth perhaps slightly closed, but not secured against intruders. During

such intervals, the dead are far less protected from insult, and the

espionage of idle curiosity, than the contents of an ordinary toy-shop, by

day or night. Fifty years ago, curiosity led me to walk down into a vault,

thus left exposed. No person was near. I lifted the lid of a coffin--the

bones had nearly all crumbled to pieces--the skull remained entire--I took

it out, and, covering it with my handkerchief, carried it home. I have, at

this moment, a clear recollection of the horror, produced in the mind of

our old family nurse, by the exhibition of the skull, and my account of

the manner, in which I obtained it. "What an awful thing it would be," the

dear, good soul exclaimed, "if the resurrection should come this very

night, and the poor man should find his skull gone!" My mother was

informed; and I was ordered to take it back immediately: it was then dark;

and when I arrived at the tomb, in company with our old negro, Hannibal,

to whom the office was in no wise agreeable, the vault was closed. I

deposited the skull on the tomb, and walked home in double quick time,

with my head over my shoulder, the whole way. I relate this occurrence, to

show how motiveless such trespasses may be.

There is a morbid desire, especially in women, which is rather difficult

of analysis, to descend into the damp and dreary tomb--to lift the coffin

lid--and look upon the changing, softening, corrupting features of a

parent or child--to gaze upon the mouldering bones; and thus to gather

materials, for fearful thoughts, and painful conversations, and frightful

dreams!

A lady lost her child. It died of a disease, not perfectly intelligible to

the doctor, who desired a post mortem examination, which the mother

declined. He urged. She peremptorily refused. The child was buried in the

Granary ground. A few months after, another member of the same family was

buried in the same vault. The mother, notwithstanding the remonstrances of

her husband, descended, to look upon the remains of her only daughter;

and, after a careful search, returned, in the condition of Rachel, who

would not be comforted, because it was not. In a twofold sense, it was

_not_. The coffin and its contents had been removed. The inference was

irresistible. The distress was very great, and fresh, upon the slightest

allusion, to the end of life. Cases of premature sepulture are, doubtless,

extremely rare. That such, however, have sometimes occurred, no doubt has

been left upon the mind, upon the opening of tombs. These are a few only

of many matters, which are destined, from time to time, to be brought to

light, upon the opening of _tombs_, and which are not likely to disturb

the feelings of those whose deceased relatives and friends are committed

to well-made _graves_. On all these occasions, ignorance is bliss.

Tombs, not only such as are constructed under churches, but in common

cemeteries, are frequently highly offensive, on the score of emanation.

They are liable to be opened, for the admission of the dead, at all times;

and, of course, when the worms are riotous, and corruption is rankest, and

the pungent gases are eminently dangerous, and disgusting. Even when

closed, the intelligible odor, arising from the dissolving processes,

which are going on within, is more than living flesh and blood can well

endure. Again and again, visitors at Mount Auburn have been annoyed, by

this effluvium from the tombs. By the universal adoption of well-made

graves, this also may be entirely avoided.

When a family becomes, or is supposed to be, extinct, or has quitted the

country, their dead kindred are usually permitted to lie in peace, in

their _graves_. It is not always thus, if they have had the misfortune to

be buried in _tombs_. To cast forth a dead tenant, from a solitary

_grave_, that room might be found for a new comer, would scarcely be

thought of; but the temptation to seize five or six _tombs_, at once, for

town's account, on the pretext, that they were the tombs of extinct

families, has, once, at least, proved irresistible, and led to an outrage,

so gross and revolting, in this Commonwealth, that the whole history of

cemeteries in our country cannot produce a parallel. In April, 1835, the

board of health, in a town of this Commonwealth, gave notice, in a

_single_ paper, that certain tombs were dilapidated; that no

representative of former owners could be found; and that, if not claimed

and repaired, within sixty days, those tombs would be sold, to pay

expenses, &c. In fulfilment of this notice, in September following, the

entire contents of five tombs were broken to pieces, and shovelled out. In

one of these tombs there were thirty coffins, the greater part of which

were so sound, as to be split with an axe. A portion of the silver plate,

stolen by the operatives employed by the board of health, was afterwards

recovered, bearing date, as recently as 1819. The board of health then

advertised these tombs for sale, in _two_ newspapers. Nothing of these

brutal proceedings was known to the relatives, until the deed of barbarity

was done. Now it can scarcely be credited, that, in that very town, a few

miles from it, and in this city, there were then living numerous

descendants, and relatives of those, whose tombs had thus been violated.

Some of the dead, thus insulted, had been the greatest benefactors of that

town, so much so, that a narrative of their donations has been published,

in pamphlet form. Among the direct descendants were some of the oldest and

most distinguished families of this city, whose feelings were severely

tried by this outrage. The ashes of the dead are common property. The

whole community bestirs itself in their defence. The public indignation

brought those stupid and ignorant officials to confession and atonement,

if not to repentance. They passed votes of regret; replaced the ashes in

proper receptacles within the tombs; and put them in order, at the public

charge. A meagre and miserable atonement, for an injury of this peculiar

nature; and, though gracelessly accorded,--extorted by the stringency of

public sentiment, and the fear of legal process,--yet, on the whole, the

only satisfaction, for a wrong of this revolting and peculiar character.

The insecurity of tombs is sufficiently apparent. An empty tomb may be

attached by creditors; but, by statute of Mass., 1822, chap. 93, sec. 8,

it cannot be, while in use, as a cemetery. But no law, of man or nature,

can prevent the disgusting effects, and mortifying casualties, and

misconstructions of power, which have arisen, and will forever continue to

arise, from the miserable practice of burying the dead, in _tombs_.

No. XV.

There is, doubtless, something not altogether agreeable, in the thought of

being buried alive. Testamentary injunctions are not uncommon, for the

prevention of such a calamity. As far, as my long experience goes, the

percentage is exceedingly small. About twenty-five years ago, some old

woman was certain, that a person, lately buried, was not exactly dead. She

gave utterance to this certainty--there was no _evidence_, and ample room

therefore for _faith_. The defunct had a little property--it was a clear

case, of course--his relatives had buried him alive, to get possession! A

mob gathered, in King's Chapel yard; and, to appease their righteous

indignation, the grave was opened, the body exposed, doctors examined, and

the mob was respectfully assured, that the man was dead--dead as a door

nail. A proposition to bury the old woman, in revenge, was rejected

immediately. But she did not give up the point--they never do. She

admitted, that the party was dead, but persisted, that his death was

caused, by being buried alive.

Some are, doubtless, still living, who remember the affair in the Granary

yard. Groans had been heard there, at night. Some person had been buried

alive, beyond all doubt. A committee was appointed to visit the spot. Upon

drawing near, subdued laughter and the sounds of vulgar merriment arose,

from one of the tombs--a light was seen glimmering from below--the strong

odor, not of corruption, but of mutton chops, filled the air. Some

vagabonds had cleared the tomb, and taken possession, and, with broken

coffins for fuel, had found an appetite, among the dead. The occupation of

tombs, by the outcasts of society, was common, long before the Christian

era.

That the living have been buried, unintentionally, now and then, is

undoubtedly true. Such has probably been the case, sometimes, under

catalepsy or trance, the common duration of which is from a few hours, to

two or three days; but of which Bonet, _Medic., Septentrion, lib. 1, sec.

16, chap. 6_, gives an example, which lasted twenty days. Bodies have been

found, says Millingen, in his Curiosities of Medical Experience, page 63,

where the miserable victims have devoured the flesh of their arms; and he

cites John Scott and the Emperor Zeno, as examples. Plato recites the case

of a warrior, who was left ten days, as dead, upon the field of battle,

and came to life, on his way to the sepulchre. In Chalmers' Memoir of the

Abbe Prevot, it is related, that he was found, by a peasant, having fallen

in an apoplectic fit. The body was cold, and carried to a surgeon, who

proceeded to open it. During the process, the Abbe revived, only, however,

to die of the wound, inflicted by the operator.

The danger of burying alive has been noticed by Pineau, _Sur le danger des

Inhumations precipitees, Paris, 1776_. Dr. John Mason Good, vol. 4, page

613, remarks, that catalepsy has been mistaken for real death; and, in

countries where burial takes place speedily, it is much to be feared,

that, in a few instances, the patient has been buried alive. A case of

asphyxy, of a singular kind, is stated, by Mr. Pew, and recited by Dr.

Good, of a female, whose interment was postponed, for a post mortem

examination--most fortunately--for the first touch of the scalpel brought

her to life. Diemerbroeck, _Tractat de Peste_, _Lib. 4, Hist. 8_, relates

the case of a rustic, who was laid out for interment. Three days passed

before the funeral. He was supposed to have died of the plague. When in

the act of being buried, he showed signs of life, recovered, and lived

many years. Dr. Good observes, that a critical examination of the region

of the heart, and a clear mirror, applied to the mouth and nostrils, will

commonly settle the question of life or death; but that even these signs

will sometimes fail. What then shall be done? Matthaeus Hildanus and

others, who give many stories of this kind, say--wait for the infallible

signs of putrefaction. It may be absurd to wait too long; it is indecorous

to inhume too soon.

The case, recited by Mr. Pew, reminds me of Pliny's account of persons who

came to life, on the funeral pile. "Aviola in rogo revixit: et, quoniam

subveniri non potuerat, praevalente flamma, vivus crematus est. Similis

causa in L. Lamia, praetorio viro, traditur."--Lib. 7, sec. 53.

Old Grossman's stories, in this connection, were curious enough. He gave a

remarkable account of a good old deacon, who had a scolding wife. She fell

sick and died, as was supposed, and was put in her coffin, and screwed

down, and lifted. Everything, as Grossman said, went on very pleasantly,

till they began to descend into the tomb, when the sexton, at the foot,

slipped, and the coffin went by the run, and struck violently against the

wall of the tomb. One instant of awful silence was followed, by a shrill

shriek from the corpse--"_Let me out--let me out!_" The poor old deacon

wrung his hands, and looked, as Grossman expressed it, "real melancholy."

The lid was unscrewed, as soon as possible, and the lady, less in sorrow,

than in anger, insisted on immediate emancipation. All attempts to

persuade her to be still, and go home as she came, for the decency of the

thing, were unavailing. The top of the coffin was removed. The deacon

offered to help her out. She refused his proffered hand; and, doubling her

fist in his face, told him he was a monster, and should pay for it, and

insisted on walking back, in her death clothes. About six months after,

she died, in good earnest. "The poor deacon," said Grossman, "called us

into a private room, and reminding us of the sad turn things took, last

time, begged us to be careful; and told us, if all things went right, he

would treat us at his store, the next day. He retailed spirit, as all the

deacons did, being the very persons, pointed at, by the finger of the law,

as men of sober lives and conversations."

Grossman told another story. We could scarcely credit it. He offered to

swear to it; but we begged he wouldn't. It was of a woman, who was a cider

sot. Her husband had tried all sorts of preventive experiments, in vain.

His patience was exhausted. He tapped a barrel, and let her drink her

fill. She and the barrel gave out together. She was buried. The coldness

of the tomb brought her to life. She felt around the narrow domicil, in

which she lay. Her consciousness, that she was in her coffin, and that she

had been buried, was clear enough; but her other impressions were rather

cloudy. It never occurred to her, that she had been buried alive. She

imagined herself, in another world, and, knocking, as hard as possible,

against the lid and sides of her coffin, she exclaimed, "Good people of

the upper world, if ye have got any good cider, do let us have a mug of

it." Luckily, the mouth of the tomb had not been closed, and, when the

sexton came to close it, he was scandalized, of course, to hear a thirsty

corpse, crying for cider; but the woman was soon relieved from her

predicament. The Mandans, whose custom of never burying their dead, I have

alluded to, may possibly be influenced, by a consideration of this very

contingency. In some places, bodies have been placed in a lighted room,

near the charnel house, there to remain, till the signs of corruption

could no longer be mistaken. The tops of the coffins being loose; and a

bell so connected with the body, as to ring on the slightest movement.

No. XVI.

My profession is very dear to me; and nothing would gratify me more, than

to see my brother artists restored to their original dignity. It is quite

common to look upon a sexton, as a mere grave-digger, and upon his

calling, as a cold, underground employment, divested of everything like

sentiment or solemnity.

In the olden time, the sexton bore the title of sacristan. He had charge

of the sacristy, or vestry, and all the sacred vessels and vestments of

the church. At funerals, his office corresponded with that of the Roman

_dominus funeris_ or _designator_, referred to by Horace, Ep. i., 7,

6--and by Cicero to Atticus, iv., 2. He was, in point of law, considered

as having a freehold, in his office, and therefore he could not be

deprived, by ecclesiastical censure. It was his duty to attend upon the

rector, and to take no unimportant part, in all those inestimable forms,

and ceremonies, and circumgyrations, and genuflections, which render the

worship of the high church so exceedingly picturesque. The sexton of the

Pope's chapel was selected, from the order of the hermits of St.

Augustine, and was commonly a bishop. His title was _prefect of the Pope's

sacristy_. When the Pope said mass, the sexton always tasted the bread and

wine first. And, when the Pope was desperately sick, the sexton gave him

extreme unction. I recite these facts, that the original dignity of our

office may be understood.

The employment of sextons has been rather singular, in some countries. M.

Outhier states, that, when he visited the church of St. Clara, at

Stockholm, he observed the sexton, during the sermon, with a long rod,

waking those, who had fallen asleep.

I fully believe, that the sextons of this city are all honorable men; and

yet it cannot be denied, that the solemn occasion, upon which their

services are required, is one, upon which, pride and sensibility forbid

all higgling, on the part of the customer. However oppressively the charge

of consigning a relative to the ground may bear, upon one of slender

means, the tongue of complaint is effectually tied. The consciousness of

this furnishes a strong temptation to imposition. The same desire to

promote the public good, which induced Mr. Bentham to give his body for

dissection, has led distinguished individuals, now and then, to prescribe

simple and inexpensive obsequies, for themselves.